He stood like a bashful penguin behind me, toes out, hands in jacket pockets, head down. Had we some ancient sand beneath our feet, I would have expected him to stub a toe in it.

And he was probably used to this duo!

At least the full frontal view vanished when they took their seats in tandem. They moved in eerie harmony, like paired Dobermans I'd seen, littermates trained together.

Their sandaled feet rested on small stools and their hands on the elaborate chair arms. Their profiles turned to each other in imitation of a tomb wall painting.

"This is the one?" the man asked.

"Yes. Her lion hound is a remarkable warrior. Our hyena-kas were forced to return to their bodies here."

"She could be comely, although she is large and cumbersome."

The woman's delicate features made a moue of distaste. "I prefer the sources we find in the lands of the morning sun, Kephron. They are quite trim and portable."

"And she has disinterred and is seeking to withhold He Who Is Born Again and Dies Again, the dead one we wish to dwell in our house and memory?" he asked.

"She is an asker of questions and that is always annoying, especially now," she answered.

"She is quiet at the moment, Kepherati."

The man turned his face forward to fully inspect me. He was as beautiful as the woman in the same exotic, almost precious way.

Either they were fabulously wealthy delusionists, or I was regarding actual Egyptians who spoke English. Who would the ancient Egyptians' true descendants be? Two thousand years of invasion would dilute any race. The modern-day Copts were Christians who had converted in the early days of the disciples. They claim that when the Arabs invaded Egypt in the seventh century, they kept themselves apart and never intermarried. This could be some sect that revived the ancient ways and resembled their long-ago forebears the way you saw ancient Mayan temple faces on living descendants in Mexico and Central America even today.

Kepherati had turned with him to eye me also. I got a cold chill icy enough to make my vertebrae chatter. Their speaking so freely in front of me implied the assumption of utter power or the assurance that if they didn't like how much I heard, I could be easily offed.

"Those arm cuffs are lovely in design," the woman said. "Give them to me." She stretched out a slender brown arm, tattooed at the wrist and inner elbow. I saw tattoos ringing her neck and had glimpsed designs on her inner thighs and even peeking out from around the backs of her knees.

He was tattooed in all the same places, including the elaborate ones circling his nipples.

As Kepherati lifted her arm a heavy wave of exquisite scent, spicy and musky and sweet, swirled around my face. It was so overpowering I almost raised my forearm in turn, preparing to take off the armlets. Of course I couldn't.

"I can't," I said.

"You can and will do anything we ask," she said in a soft husky voice.

"I cannot. This…silver design is as permanently attached to me as your tattoos."

Their profiles consulted each other in silence.

Kephron turned back first. "Skin is removable."

Another icy chill up my spine. "This design is mobile. It moves to avoid its own destruction."

"Ah." Kepherati clapped her tiny hands together. I noticed that her fingertips were stained red, as well as her nails. "Such a clever accessory. I want it more than ever now."

The twin arm cuffs became living serpents and circled down my forearms to fill my palms with thick silver hafts. My fists held a pair of intricately scalloped and edged battle axes. That startled even me, who was used to playing canvas for the silver familiar's shape-shifting ways, but I liked being so seriously armed.

The pair lifted their outer hands.

A wave of shuffling and rattling echoed like thunder and lightning in the massive hall. Behind me, Ugarte swallowed a cocker spaniel whimper of despair.

I watched the walls, as if suddenly papered by a mob, sprout brown and black bodies glittering with metal weapons. The painted figures had come to life, and then some. Perhaps they'd always been three-dimensional figures, only standing so still that I mistook them for bas-relief sculptures.

"Pharaoh's armies will use your decoration's blades for toothpicks," Kephron warned.

The paired battle axes melted onto my hands and again became cuff bracelets. Even my defensive talisman knew when to back down.

"Which pharaoh do you speak of?" I slipped a finger into my jeans pocket to turn on my cell phone voice recorder, thinking I could look up a historical reference to identify these creatures when I got away. If I got away.

"We are Pharaoh," they said in unison, their heads tilting together. "Kephron and Kepherati, Lord and Lady of the Two Lands, son and daughter of the God Sethmose and God's Wife Sethset, may they live forever."

And then I got it. The dainty couple before me was not only a product of royal Egyptian breeding, but of inbreeding. I'd heard of dynastic marriages between siblings, between progeny and parents even. As I stood there wondering if the silver familiar was only fastened to me until death did us part, I realized that Keph and Keph were more than siblings, they were twins. And married lovers.

The mind boggled. If I got out of here with my skin and silver familiar intact, I'd be doing a ton of Groggling the Web on ancient Egyptian customs and artifacts… artifacts like the twin pair of golden sculptures bracketing the incestuous royal couple.

I eased my cell phone from my pocket enough to shoot a few photos, hoping I captured the throne scene. The sculptures were odder than any ancient Egyptian items I'd ever seen. They stood about five feet tall, like the pharaonic pair, and resembled flower pots impaled with a long, leafless stick from which what looked like a headless animal was tied by its tail.

Dead dog dangling. More likely a cat. Here I'd thought the culture revered felines.

But maybe this was an ersatz Egyptian cult. Much more likely. And who was this person of theirs I was trying to disinter? I wasn't trying to disinter anyone. That was Ric's job, Cadaver Kid territory.

I had nothing to do with the disinterment of anything, not even a zombie.

And then I got it. Sunset Park. Ric had joined with me to dowse for water, and he'd unearthed the two dead bodies. One was He Who Is Born Again and Dies Again.

"The dead bone boy," I said aloud. My normal tones seemed almost shouting in that echoing chamber.

Kepherati forgot my bracelets.

"He is not dead, just sleeping," she said.

"He is only bones," I said.

Kephron nodded. "Yes, but we can raise the dead from ancient bones, even if they are no longer in their wrappings."

"But, his bones aren't ancient. He's only been dead six hundred years"

"Yes, Krzysztof is a mere boy compared to us." Kepherati stroked Kephron's smooth brown cheek. "Yet he is a prince, and descended from the founder of a royal line that lasted for almost three centuries. Of course, that is nothing compared to our descent of many millennia. Prince Krzysztof is a mere newcomer, really, but better than modern stock. He is an ideal beginning for our purposes." Kepherati ran her ruddy fingertip over her consort's lips.

"Good," Ugarte hissed in a low whisper. "If they make the beast with two backs their conjoined Eye of Horus will be upon themselves, not me."

I recognized his reference to a sacred protective symbol that was also a hieroglyph of the eye. Some said today's "private eye" expression came from that ancient icon of godly oversight and protection.

I agreed with Ugarte, miserable weasel that he was. This creepy couple needed to get it on with each other and forget about us.

Their profiles were sipping from each other's lips, a passionless yet sick sort of symbiosis. Kepherati turned her face toward me again.