The Locket (Chapter Two)

Genre: adventure, horror, occult

Musical Inspiration: "Down" by Love and Death

The Locket is a four-part story. Visit Booksie to read the full story.

"May I see it?" asked Bentley in that presumptive tone that carried with it a distinct whiff of superiority. He extended his greedy hand toward the object -- a hand that hadn't moved a single shovelful of sand in the week they'd been on site.

Carter masked a sneer by wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. He turned away from the professor toward the antiquities expert as she approached.

Sandrine Boisclair had become a regular member of Professor Bentley's expeditions. She'd introduced herself to the professor in Paris three years earlier after he had given a lecture at Sorbonne University. She had stroked the old man's ego with sufficient intensity and regularity to make her an indispensable member of his team. As a rule, Bentley preferred to surround himself with sycophants.

Sandrine was not a beautiful woman in the traditional sense. Her overlarge round glasses were practical, neither enhancing nor even particularly complimentary to her otherwise plain features. She wore her dark hair up and pulled back while on expedition, secured to the back of her head with a latticework of black barrettes that blended in with her hair colour.

Carter had wondered on more than one occasion what she might look like with her glasses off and hair down, but Sandrine was professional to a fault and never deviated from her austere look.

She wore baggy pants and loose-fitting tops that revealed little of her feminine physique; however, the way she walked suggested a grace that Carter found alluring.

What have you found, Carter?" she asked.

He liked the sound of her French accent, especially the way she pronounced his name.

There were four battery-powered lamps secured atop metal tripods that had been set up in the corners of the rough-hewn chamber. Carter moved into the light cast by one of the four lamps and held the locket out for Sandrine's inspection, cupping the dusty object protectively between his dirty hands.

At first glance, the device might have been mistaken for some oddly constructed (albeit comically large) pocket watch. The general shape was about right, and there was also a loop at the top that had a small section of chain attached, as a pocket watch might.

But closer inspection revealed details that made it clear that this was something else entirely.

For one thing, there was a second loop below the first, consisting of three separate sections that, when aligned, created an open-ended cylinder. The outer two sections of the cylinder were attached to the front face of the object, while the middle third (supporting the top loop above) was attached to the back face. Presumably, the object could be opened by separating the three loops; however, a sturdy chain ran through the triple loop and was secured tightly at both ends to something inside the device.

As for the front face of the locket, it was etallic with a brownish-grey colour. There were seven rivets around the perimeter that appeared to hold the structural components of the object together. Interestingly, there seemed to be stress fractures in the metal around some of the rivets.

In the middle of the front face was a transparent circular section of either thick glass or clear resin. It was quite dirty, but some sort of gear or sprocket could be seen beneath.

"Can you clean it up a bit?" asked Sandrine, straining to see beneath the glassy layer.

Carter obliged, licking his dirty thumb and rubbing away most of the grime from the transparent surface.

At first, all they could see were several small circular sprockets with spines or spokes radiating outward from the center.

Suddenly, a blue light -- like an energy pulse -- emerged and zipped around behind the glass before disappearing back into the depths of the clockwork device.

Sandrine gasped, her dark eyes widening behind her large glasses.

"Did you see that?" she whispered.

Carter met her startled gaze and nodded. He had seen it too, but an increasingly frustrated Professor Bentley had not. Carter continued ti angle the object so that only he and Sandrine had a good view of it.

"What do you think it is?" asked Carter.

Sandrine nibbled her upper lip and shook her head slightly. When she reached for the object, Carter closed his hands around it protectively. She backed off, showing him her empty hands.

"Je veux seulement..." she began, "...that is to say, I only want to see the back of the artifact."

Carter nodded, flipped the object over and exposed the back surface for her inspection. It was unremarkable and constructed of the same smooth metal as the front, but without rivets or any visible areas of stress. There were no engravings or other markings on the back.

Carter flipped the locket back over, and the light blue energy pulse, which had been spread accross the interior glass surface, disappeared again as if trying not to be seen.

Sandrine was frowning. She retreated a few steps back toward the shadows.

"What are you thinking?" Carter asked.

She crossed her arms and her eyes darted back and forth between Carter and Bentley several times before she finally spoke.

"This is going to sound...more than a little crazy," she began, her soft voice projecting clearly in the otherwise quiet subterranean chamber, "but I have read several books on mythology and the occult, including one written in the late nineteenth century that described an object similar to this one."

"Is it valuable?" asked Carter.

The professor frowned at Carter and stepped forward.

"Sandrine." Bentley's voice was refined and authoritative.

She obediently shifted her attention to the professor, which infuriated Carter.

Bentley took note of Carter's negative body language with no small amount of satisfaction. The labourer was uncultured and uneducated, completely lacking the credentials to participate in any academic discussion.

"What do you believe we have found?" he asked her.

Carter bristled at the word 'we' but held his tongue with some effort, more interested in hearing her response than putting the old coot in his place.

Sandrine adjusted her glasses by grasping the top and bottom of the thin frame between her middle finger and thumb of her right hand, with her pinkie outstretched. She pressed her thin lips together.

"As I was saying," she began, "I have seen an illustration of such an object, along with its description, in an occult book written in Arabic, dating back, je pense, to the late 1880s. The device is referred to as 'fakhu aljini. Fakhu means 'trap' in Arabic, and aljini refers to..."

Sandrine took a deep breath through her nose and exhaled from her mouth. A plume of fine dust particles, caught in the wake of her exhalation, danced in the lamplight. She glanced at the object in Carter's hand with trepidation before continuing.

"According to occult beliefs, evil spirits could be captured and held in such device."

"An interesting artifact," stated Bentley, placing a bent index finger sideways over his pursed lips, his thumb beneath his chin. "We should bring it back to Ankara with us for further examination. Your expertise has proven invaluable once again, Sandrine."

She flushed and bowed her head.

I think I'm going to puke, thought Carter.

Bentley raised a thin, saggy arm toward Carter, hand open. "I'll take the artifact, Mr. Laslo."

Carter sneered at the professor and grabbed the crotch of his pants with his free hand. "If you want to hold onto something, you can start with this," he said, jostling the front of his pants at Bentley with no small amount of enthusiasm.

Sandrine blinked and frowned. She clasped her hands together nervously.

Bentley appeared unfazed and even less impressed.

"Don't be juvenile, Laslo. Even a common labourer such as yourself should understand that all artifacts recovered during this expedition are the property of the Carmichael Antiquities Museum for which I am the head ccurator." He snapped his fingers ostentatiously then wiggled his spindly fingers in an impatient gesture.

The reek of pretentiousness emanating from Bentley was overpowering. Carter wrinkled his nose and held the object firmly to his chest.

"No, I think I'll hold onto this myself."

Bentley sighed. "Unless you wish to have your pay withheld, I suggest you relinquish the artifact."

Carter snorted and spat on the ground beside his boot. "An empty threat if there ever was one. You pay me peanuts."

"Professor," interjected Sandrine timidly. She adjusted her glasses again.

"There appears to be some type of energy contained within the device. It may not be safe to transport," she shot a glance toward Carter, "or even handle."

Bentley's abundant grey eyebrows furrowed.

When the professor lowered his arm, Carter wondered with a smirk whether the motion was in adherence to Sandrine's warning or because the old man was exhausted from simply holding it up for so long.

"How do you know this?" Bently asked pointedly.

"I saw it," she responded, then nodded toward Carter. "We both did."

The professor folded his bony arms across his chest. "You don't actually believe that there is some sort of entity confined within the artifact."

Carter drew the object close to his face, watching the interior carefully for evidence of the blue energy. He lifted his gaze toward Sandrine. "What sort of...entity...was this device meant to hold?"

One of the four lamps flickered then diminished in intensity, casting Sandrine in a softer light.

She stepped forward into one of the brighter beams, casting the left side of her face in shadow.

"The Arabic work aljini, synonymous with Ifrit, meaning 'wicked,' translates to 'jinn.' In Roman mythology, djinns were powerful entities, some malevolent, others simply mischievous."

The dimmed lamp flickered again and went out. Darkness reigned supreme in one corner of the room.

"Are you saying there could be a genie in here?" asked Carter. "The kind that grants wishes?"

Bentley scoffed. "That is nothing but a childish fairy tale, Laslo."

Carter's lip curled and he narrowed his eyes spitefully, but he didn't turn to give the old man the satisfaction of seeing his reaction. Instead he addressed the expert.

"What do you think, Sandrine?"

She glanced over her shoulder toward the extinguished lamp in the dark corner before turning back to Carter. She rubbed the outside of her shoulder as if to warm it against a sudden chill.

"I agree with Professor Bentley that the anglicized and romanticized story of Aladdin's Lamp unrealistically depicts the djinn as a spirit bound to the holder of the lamp. Nowhere in my readings have I come across anything to suggest that such an entity would be anything other than free-willed."

Carter frowned and lowered his eyes to the locket. It was mounted in his palm like a dark gemstone, his dirt-encrusted fingernails acting as prongs.

I command you to show yourself, thought Carter.

A blue glow illuminated Carter's face, and his eyes widened. A deranged smile spreak across his haggard face.

Suddenly the three remaining lights went out, casting the chamber into darkness.

From the Author

In my writing, regardless of genre, I explore the emotive.  Engaging readers with an interesting, well-written story is important, but my purpose goes beyond that.  When I write, I seek to captivate readers so they become immersed in the story and invest themselves emotionally in the characters and their circumstances.  Evoking human emotion through storytelling is what separates great writers from good writers, in my opinion.  That is where the magic resides.

-- John Grim

Discover more of John Grim's work on Booksie.