Hearing the angry hisses and shambling, dragging steps, they raced back down the passageway, whirled around a corner and threw themselves against the tomb’s wall.

“Quick, get a mirror!” Indy cried, fumbling for his whip, for all the good that would do.

Having run out of patience with Jones two sirens, a succubus, and three harpies ago, Marion pulled the sword from her scabbard with one hand, hefted the mirror with other, and snapped, “You’d better be asking me ‘cause I’m always prepared for demi-goddesses who can turn you to stone if you look at them and not because I’m a girl.”