Darque Wants

by Diana Steele

  Thena made her way to the other side of the library, where they stocked hundreds of old newspapers from decades ago right up to modern day, all stored away in drawers carefully labelled according to month and year. She spend a while staring in awe at the countless scribble dates on the drawers, wandering back and forth until she found the section she wanted – 1922.

  She opened the drawer and took out a stack of newspapers at random, flopping them down onto the nearest desk with a soft thud. Sighing at the enormity of the task in front of them, she began with the first of the stack and opened it up, scanning her eyes through the headline of every single article on every single page, trying to be as quick as she could, but thorough at the same time. She had a lot to get through.

  An hour and a half later and Thena was fast approaching the two hour deadline her and Dorian had given themselves before they were due to meet up. She was imagining that Dorian had probably had better luck than her, seeing as how most things could be found online these days. She was doing it the old fashioned way, an approach that was still worth doing nevertheless, simply to cover all bases.

  She was just about to give up and go find him, her brain numbing with the boredom of her task, when something unexpected happened.

  A vision.

  She was nearing the back of one of the newspapers when it hit her, in the process of turning a page, her fingers brushing against something on the other side that caused the sight to wash over her.

  Young Harvey Jenkins, standing over the dead body of another young boy, a cold, unfeeling look in his eye.

  Thena gasped and jumped back, breaking her contact with the newspaper and thereby breaking the vision.

  She tentatively reached forwards again and turned the page, holding the edge of it between her finger and thumb, just so she could see what was on the other side; what had caused it.

  It was the Obituaries column.

  Kenneth White. Aged 14. God has called him to Heaven. Passed in his sleep from causes unknown.

  Thena frowned at the words, then ran over to find Dorian, taking the newspaper with her. “I saw something,” she said excitedly. “I had a vision. You have to touch it with me, see if you get it too.”

  “Something to do with the dig?”

  “No, no, this is something else. It’s Harvey Jenkins.”

  “Harvey Jenkins?” He raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

  “This…” She opened up the page and showed him the obituary. “I’m pretty sure it was that one. My finger was on it when I turned the page and it just hit me.”

  “OK…let’s try.”

  The visions were normally stronger when they experienced them together; when they touched the same object or item at the same time, whilst touching one another, and that afternoon was no exception.

  They held hands and, with their other free hands, placed them on top of the obituary. It came over them instantly.

  A busy school dinner hall. The young boy that Thena saw dead in her previous vision is alive at the moment, sat with his friends. As someone walks past, he trips them up on purpose and they all laugh.

  Young Harvey Jenkins sneaks up behind them when their backs are turned, laughing at the other boy. He reaches over and slips something into the kid’s food. He eats it.

  The vision jumps…

  The boy is sick, in the sick bay at the school, lying in bed, tossing and turning, asleep but obviously in pain and uncomfortable, gripping at his stomach.

  Harvey Jenkins is watching him from the door. He glances back over his shoulder, then sneaks in. He grabs a pillow, and forces it down over the boy’s head, holds it. The boy reacts, fights back, but Harvey is too strong. He holds it in place until the boy is dead.

  Another jump…

  Harvey with his dad, in his dad’s office; his head hung low as he quietly explains what has happened.

  His father sighs and places a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, my boy,” he says. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll take care of it.”

  At the hospital where the dead boy is being held, Harvey Jenkins Snr can be seen handing some money to one of the doctors.

  Dorian and Thena removed their hands from the newspaper and looked at one another in shock. “Harvey killed someone…when he was a kid,” Thena whispered.

  “Looks like he poisoned him, then finished him off with the pillow,” nodded Dorian. “Then his dad covered it up for him.”

  “Paid off the doctors to say they didn’t know how he died, or that he’d just passed away in his sleep.”

  “From causes unknown.” Dorian tapped the obituary with the edge of his thumb.

  “I mean, he was obviously a bully but still…”

  “It was a pretty premeditated murder by the looks of things.”

  “Yeah.” Thena shivered slightly. “He obviously had the capacity in him all along, you know. The ability to kill.”

  “Psychopathic tendencies,” Dorian shrugged. “Some people just have them, I guess. And Montgomery Shackleton probably honed them, encouraged them.”

  “Or maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to blackmail Harvey into being the assassin for him, even if he didn’t want to.”

  “Because he knew about what had happened when Harvey was a kid,” Dorian clicked his fingers and pointed at Thena. “That’s it. That makes more sense. That works.”

  “Harvey wouldn’t have been able to say no. Not unless he wanted the truth to come out after all those years.”

  “And ruin his career.”

  “He had to do it,” Thena nodded.

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah.”

  There was a moment of silence between them whilst they took all that in, then Thena spoke again excitedly. “So um…what did you find out? Anything? It’s been almost two hours.”

  “Yeah, something interesting, come over here.” He led her back to the computer and pulled over another chair, the two of them sitting down and looking at the screen together. “I’ve got a list here, of everyone who was in the original Howard Carter party. Presumably, our man is in here somewhere. We just have to narrow it down.”

  “Alright, this is good. Let’s uh…let’s split the list in half,” Thena suggested. “And research the names one by one, try and find out some more about them.”

  Dorian nodded in agreement, and they divided the names into two sections, both of them taking a computer next to one another and researching silently for another couple of hours, occasionally scribbling down notes about some of the names on the list and the information they uncovered about them.

  They were mainly looking for people who had died, seeing as they knew this man had been a victim of Harvey Jenkins Snr and his search for the missing artefact piece. Surprisingly, there were quite a few members of the party who had died over the years since the expedition, some of them under extremely strange or ‘dodgy’ circumstances, which was presumably where the Curse of Tutankhamen conspiracy first originated.

  It didn’t take them too long to find what they were looking for – a name, and a little bit of information about how he had died.

  “I think this might be it,” Dorian whispered, nudging her in the thigh.

  She shuffled her chair a little closer and peered over his shoulder.

  Charles Smythe.

  Stabbed to death in his apartment.

  Perpetrators never apprehended.

  Signs of a break in but nothing missing from his possessions.

  All of the details matched with the vision they had shared.

  “It’s him,” Thena whispered. “It has to be him.”

  “Certainly looks like it. It fits.”

  “It’s got to be him. He’s the only one we’ve found who fits. Charles Smythe. Let’s see if he’s got any surviving relatives. We must be able to find something else out about him.”

  “Yeah, we should be able to, but not right now, Thena.” Dorian was glancing at his watch. “The library’s closing in ten minutes, we’re about to get k
icked out. And we need to go and prepare for tonight.”

  “Oh wow, is it that late already?” It had certainly been one way to spend the time, and at least it hadn’t been entirely wasted. It had helped to take her mind off the situation with Deme too, focusing her energies on something productive that might help them in the future; help bring this whole thing permanently to a close and put a stop to Montgomery Shackleton once and for all.

  They closed down the computers and returned the newspaper to where Thena had found it then, with the notes printed out from what they had uncovered, they returned back to Thena’s flat, grabbing themselves a pizza on the way at Dorian’s insistence. Thena still wasn’t hungry, and the food seemed to clog up her stomach at the thought of what was to come later that night.

  *****

  There was a part of Thena that was still resolute and determined to keep the necklace out of the hands of Montgomery Shackleton. He was a bad man, an evil man; she knew that much, and she knew that the artefact would not be safe with him. Her and Dorian hadn’t exactly discussed any particular plan, because they didn’t know how things were going to play out once they got to the location. It was more of a ‘play it by ear’ situation.

  They arrived early; five minutes before midnight, and found the bench mentioned in the text – the second bench on the left.

  They sat down side by side and waited, holding tightly onto each other’s hands. No words passed between them. Thena was far too nervous to speak, and Dorian was patient, being silently strong for her without expecting her to say anything.

  The whole place was quiet; eerily so, with no one else around at all. A few cars in the distance indicated that there was life out there, somewhere in the city, but other than that, they were alone. Nobody came to the park at this time of night; except the occasional drunk or group of teenagers at weekends, but on this occasion, there was no one.

  A few seconds after midnight, and right on time, there was a crunch of footsteps to the right hand side, further into the park, the dense part where a thicket of trees lay blocking the view of the small lake that sat in the centre; a pleasant area to come and spend time on a warm summer’s day.

  Out of the shadows stepped three men and one woman – Deme. She was being held by two muscular thugs in suits, one on either side of her, gripping firmly at her upper arms. Shackleton was just behind them, his tall frame towering over all of them and a small smirk on his face as he observed that Thena and Dorian had kept the arrangement.

  “Well,” he spoke at last, walking slowly round and standing in front of Deme, blocking Thena’s view of her sister. “I kept my promise, now you keep yours. The artefact, please. Kindly hand it over and we’ll hear no more about any of this.” He offered out his hand, palm facing upwards.

  Thena rose from her seat on the bench, followed by Dorian, and the two of them walked to meet Shackleton face to face.

  Thena could feel her heartbeat raging in her ears, the nervousness in her stomach making her sick as it flipped over; adrenalin wrenching at her chest.

  “N-no,” she mumbled, not sounding as determined and strong as she had initially hoped. She cleared her throat and said it louder, clearer. “No.”

  “What do you mean no?” Shackleton raised an eyebrow, then gave a soft laugh. “I’m afraid you don’t really have much of a choice here.”

  “You can’t have the artefact, Mr Shackleton. It doesn’t belong to you, and I don’t think you’ll use it for good.”

  “It will belong to me, Miss Keene, otherwise your sister will die. If you know anything about me at all, and I feel that you do, then you will know that I am entirely serious.” He withdrew a knife from his inside pocket and flicked open the blade, reaching out and pressing it against the soft, pale skin of Deme’s neck, stepping back so that Thena could see what he was doing.

  “Thena…” Deme gasped; the first time she had spoken and very obviously scared as the cool blade of the knife was slid up across her neck.

  Shackleton pressed down deeper and soon, a thin line of blood was trickling from a small incision he had made, and Deme winced in pain, her eyes wide and terrified.

  “Alright, stop! Stop!” Thena begged, rushing forwards. “We’ll give you the artefact. Dorian…hand it over.”

  Dorian sighed and bent his head forwards, removing it from around his neck and holding it out for the sinister government man. Shackleton snatched it from the clutches of his fingers then simultaneously released Deme, shoving her forwards into Thena’s welcoming arms.

  She wrapped them around her protectively and dragged her away. Her sister’s legs were weak, her hands trembling.

  “It’s OK, it’s OK, I’ve got you,” she assured her gently, hurriedly leading her over to the bench and sitting her down, while Dorian stood where she had left him and glared at Shackleton.

  “A wise move,” said Shackleton calmly, observing the three of them, his muscle men on either side. He clicked his fingers and they turned to go. “Now all I have to do is get my hands on the third piece,” they heard him mutter as they turned, walking away and disappearing off into the darkness of the thicket where they had originally emerged, leaving Thena, Deme and Dorian to reflect upon what had just happened.

  Once Shackleton was gone and no longer a perceived threat, Dorian rushed over to the bench and wrapped his long arm around both of their shoulders. “Are you alright?”

  Deme was, understandably, incredibly shaken up by her ordeal, and could really only nod in response, unable to formulate words just yet.

  They waited until they thought she was fit enough to walk, then slowly rose to their feet and made their way out of the park, getting a taxi back to Thena’s flat.

  “You’re staying here for the night,” she insisted once they were home. “Where we can keep an eye on you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Deme mumbled. “I’d better get back to the other half, he’ll be panicking.”

  “No,” said Thena firmly. “We’ll call him to let him know you’re alright.” She picked up the phone. “Dorian, can you fix us all some drinks. Alcoholic ones.”

  “Certainly,” Dorian nodded, dashing off into the kitchen.

  Half an hour later, all four of them, including Deme’s husband, were sat round in the living room enjoying a much needed drink, and Thena and Dorian were explaining everything, starting with the visions they’d experienced at the Museum and ending with the discovery that Shackleton was involved in a much deeper conspiracy.

  “It’s over now though,” Deme mumbled defeatedly. “He has the necklace. There’s nothing you can do to stop him.”

  “No,” said Thena firmly. “You heard what we told you. It’s all true. This can’t be the end. We can’t give up now.”

  “But what are you supposed to do? You’ve seen what he’s like,” Deme protested. “He’s dangerous.”

  “That may be but…it’s even more dangerous for him to have that kind of power. He has to be stopped, Deme. I’m not expecting you to get involved and I don’t even want you to after what happened but – “

  “Get out, Thena!” Deme urged. “Otherwise he’ll end up hurting you.”

  “We can’t! This is important! Too important.”

  The two sisters continued to bicker, their other halves watching on silently and not getting involved in the debate. Of course, in the end, Thena won. She was stubborn to the very last, and determined too; nobody could ever tell her what to do.

  ***

  The very next day, the two of them were back on the road and back on the trail, unable to give up, especially in the light of what had happened. They no longer had the necklace, and they weren’t necessarily expecting to get it back, but they had to make sure Shackleton didn’t get his hands on that final third piece, and they had a new lead to pursue after their researches the previous day.

  Dorian had done a bit more research on Charles Smythe, and after spending a good couple of hours on the internet late into the night, he had managed to track down the wo
rk address and phone number of one of his relatives, his grandson. It was a two hour’s drive away, but it was their only shot.

  “We’re sort of friends of your grandfather,” Dorian attempted to explain briefly over the phone and arrange some kind of interview as they drove over there.

  “Sort of friends?” Billy Smythe didn’t exactly sound very impressed. “What does that mean?”

  “It won’t take very much of your time,” continued Dorian, ignoring the question. “But we just want to ask you a few questions about him, if we may.”

  There was a pause on the end of the line. “When?”

  “Well, some time today. But…whenever is most convenient for you.”

  After another long pause, Mr Smythe tentatively agreed to meet them after he had finished work, and gave them another address for them to go to.

  The remainder of the journey was quiet, with both of them lost in thought and slightly morose, although Dorian made an effort to cheer Thena up, singing along to various songs on the radio in a purposefully cheesy and over the top style to try and make her laugh. It worked, a bit, and she appreciated him for it none the less.

  They were slightly early to arrive at Billy Smythe’s home, so they spent a couple of hours in the city centre and got themselves something to eat before turning up at the agreed time and ringing his doorbell.

  “Have you got any kind of ID?” Billy asked suspiciously, glancing them both up and down as he opened the door. “Are you with the police or something? What is this?”

  Although ID wouldn’t exactly help, they showed him some anyway.

  “We’re not the police,” Dorian assured him calmly. “But we do have something very interesting to tell you with regards to your grandfather. Were you aware of the circumstances of his death?”

  “Yeah, he was murdered,” said Billy as he allowed them in and showed them through to the living room. “I never met him though. Just heard about it from my dad.”