Page 20 of Disturbing the Dead
“Miss Mitchell,” Gray says.
I glance over, ready to apologize for the theatrics. If we need to unwrap this poor soul, then I want to make it count and hold their attention. But if Gray has a problem with how I’m treating the procedure, I’ll defer to him.
Yet the look he’s giving isn’t one of warning. In fact, he’s not looking at me at all. He’s staring down at the corpse.
Gray hasn’t been unwrapping as quickly as I have, so his section—the head—is still covered. But he’s standing there, gazing down with a deep crease between his brows.
“Hmm?” I say as I move to him.
He looks at me and then down again. I don’t see what he’s…
Oh, that’s odd. At my end of the body, the skin appeared dark under the last layers. That’s expected, whatever the skin color of the mummified person. But while Gray still has a few layers to go, a poorly wrapped section exposes part of the cheek through the gap. And that skin isn’t much darker than mine.
“Something on the face?” I whisper as I move closer. “Some sort of under-the-wrap death mask?”
He motions for me to touch the still-wrapped portion of the cheek. I frown, but I do as he asks.
“Press down,” he whispers.
“What the devil is going on?” someone says. “You’re almost there. Get on with it.”
I ignore the murmur of assent that follows. I press my fingers on the wrapped cheek, and there’s give where there should not be give.
“Something went wrong with the desiccation process?” I whisper.
Gray hesitates. Then he says, “Yes, that must be it.”
He clears his throat and turns to the audience. “There appears to be an issue with the upper part of the body. It may not have been properly desiccated. We are going to leave that for now and turn our attention to the legs.”
A grumble ripples through the crowd.
“We will return to the head,” I say. “Once we have ascertained the damage.”
The children look at each other. Michael steps up to us and lowers his voice.
“What sort of damage?” he whispers.
“The face is not as we expect it,” I say. “It could indicate a failed mummification.”
His frown grows. “That does happen but…”
“The skin seems very pale. I expected darker, from the process.”
He shakes his head. “No, natron dries without the significant darkening you’d see in a natural mummification. There were also paler-skinned people in ancient Egypt, with those who traveled from Rome and Greece.”
“That might be it. But the skin also seems softer than I’d expect.”
“Oh?” He hesitates. “Oh, that is…” He shakes his head. “Perhaps it is a poor mummification, as you said. Forgive the interruption. Continue.”
I want to ask what he’s thinking, but he’s moved away, and now he’s in a whispered conference with Phoebe. Lady Christie moves closer to join in the discussion.
Gray is already at the mummified corpse’s leg, where I had almost finished the unwrapping.
“We are nearly done here,” Gray says, “and seeing what we ought to.”
“Yes,” I join in as I raise my voice for the audience. “The flesh is hard beneath the bandages, and the desiccation has darkened the skin.”
Except, as Michael said, the skin shouldn’t be darkened. It must really be a poor mummification.
