Talisman Ring of Amenhotep

By Zev de Valera

“You take it!” the old man pleaded, using his free hand to press a small leather pouch into Julian’s palm. “You must take it!”
“I can’t” Julian said, trying unsuccessfully to remove the dry brown fingers from his own sweaty hand. “Sokran, but no thanks.”
“But you must,” insisted the vendor with a pathetic neediness in his voice ... Is gift. Is great gift!”
Thus Julian Wingate came into possession of an ancient artifact that would change the course of his life: The Talisman Ring of Amenhotep.
As Julian, his lover Dinesh and Dinesh's daughter, Rachna, seek to unravel the mysteries of the Talisman Ring, they must keep one step ahead of The Directrix - a mercurial industrialist who claims that the ring is rightfully hers - and her wily associates Vivian Loving and Hiroshi Sato.
Joining forces with a centenarian archeologist with secrets of his own, Julian and his companions will travel from New York to Cairo and beyond to discover the truth of Talisman Ring.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zev de Valera
• Release date: Mar 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005204860

Book preview

TALISMAN RING OF AMENHOTEP

Zev de Valera

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Acknowledgement

Talisman Ring of Amenhotep

Origins

Destiny

Afterword

About the Author

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2022 by Zev de Valera

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

Published by Zev de Valera

Cover Art, Editing and Formatting by Kris Jacen

Second Edition Issued 2022

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher

Talisman Ring of Amenhotep

Move on.

Great advice, and much easier said than done. Yet, now, nearly a year since that last ill-fated trip to Egypt, Julian Wingate found that he’d begun to settle into the groove of a new life. There were still reminders of the past, of course. Julian now held one such reminder in the palm of his hand. He contemplated the object with forced detachment, wondering at its past and the role it might play in his own future. A talisman, Theo had called it. But hardly a lucky charm, mused Julian as he turned the ring this way and that. He held the ring to the light and recalled the heat and dust of Cairo. In his mind, Julian relived a singular day in that restless capital. A carefree excursion into the tortuous streets of the market that led him to the strange little green-eyed man… and to the talisman ring.

I think I’ll go shopping while you’re at the conference, Julian had said to Theo over strong black Egyptian coffee on the morning following their arrival. Julian savored the hint of cardamom in the brew as he swirled the sludge-like dregs around the bottom of his demitasse. I need to pick up a few things for Shereen, Dinesh and Kim. Maybe I’ll find something in the Khan. Julian referred to the neighborhood of Khan -al-Khalili, the heart of the old city of Cairo, choc-a-bloc with colorful stalls and equally colorful characters selling everything from glow-in-the-dark Cleopatra lighters to black market antiquities.

Theo had looked up from the speech he was to present that afternoon on the link he believed existed between an ancient Egyptian named Amenhotep and the Anunnaki; a race of alien astronauts. The twitching of his fingers betrayed his contained excitement and nervousness. It had taken him a moment to actually register what Julian was saying.

Just be careful, Theo warned. No neighborhood is what it used to be since the revolution. And don’t get carried away. Most of the stuff they sell we can get cheaper at the flea market in Chelsea.

Julian pulled a sour face at this. It was true, to a point, but Julian had a nose for unique bric-a-brac and there were plenty of fabulous goodies to be found in the Khan if you had the patience and did not mind drinking unending cups of tea or muddy coffee while the stall proprietors extolled the qualities of their wares.

Umm, was Julian’s noncommittal response, born of years of living with Theo. Using his own shorthand, Theo countered Julian’s ‘umm’ with a sharply raised eyebrow. Julian smiled, Theo grinned and both broke into good-natured laughter.

Wandering through the medieval alleys, which were almost as familiar to him as the streets of New York, Julian had managed to acquire some unique gifts for his friends and colleagues at his veterinary practice. Vendors who knew him by name beckoned Julian to sit and share a drink or a drag from a hookah, and the afternoon slipped by pleasantly in spite of the heat and the crowds. Just when he had decided that it was time to return to his hotel for a much needed shower, Julian caught sight of a stall that appeared to be new, or at least re-occupied since his last visit.

Multi-colored draperies made up the store front. Red, orange, blue and green silks billowed in the hot breeze, the gold embroidery flickering like stars in the bright sun of the afternoon. The heady, rich spicy scent of an unusual incense drew Julian into the shop. Disappointment greeted him, however, as Julian took in the run-of-the-mill tourist goods which filled nearly every inch of the space. Ready to turn on his heel, Julian was halted by the sudden emergence of a gnome-like man from behind a wall of fabric.

His wrinkled skin was the color of a Brazil nut and his green eyes regarded his sole client with what Julian felt was a feverish intensity. The man’s one-piece garment was pristinely white, but it was the threadbare soft white of repeated washings rather than the crisp white of new and expensive linen. Overall, there was about the man a sense of genteel poverty and privation which caused Julian’s heart to catch in his chest. Cups of tea or not, Julian realized that he could not allow himself to depart without purchasing a trinket or a length of cheap cloth. The old man seemed to embody the wide-spread poverty of his nation with a dignity that both impressed and saddened Julian.

You come inside. He bowed slightly, and pulled aside the drapes through which he had emerged. More inside, sir.

Accustomed as he was to this ritual, there was something about this little old man in his galabeya and faded tarbouche which made Julian hesitate. The stillness of the shop, the lack of customers, the odd look in the man’s eyes, his wheedling tone; all conspired to put Julian ill-at-ease. He backed away, refusing the invitation as politely as possible in Arabic, unwilling to give offence. The vendor put his hands together in supplication, his eyes moistening.

Please, he repeated. I have something you like maybe… come.

Julian had a sudden, wistful recollection of another such situation. In that case, the shop owner had been ruggedly handsome and indeed had had several inches of something Julian had liked quite a bit. Smiling at the memory, Julian shrugged off his misgivings. What harm could it do to humor the old man? As long as he kept his gnarled hands to himself. Julian bowed acceptance, and followed the shuffling white clad figure into the back room. No sooner was he within the shadowy chamber, filled almost overwhelmingly with the smoke of incense, than Julian’s arm was gripped by the surprisingly strong claws of the old shopkeeper.

You take it! the old man pleaded, using his free hand to press a small leather pouch into Julian’s palm. You must take it!

Julian stared at the man through the haze of smoke, fighting back the urge to cough. Annoyance and indignation fought with a certain amount of fear within Julian. The old man was mad.

I can’t Julian said, trying unsuccessfully to remove the dry brown fingers from his own sweaty hand. "Sokran, but no thanks."

But you must, insisted the vendor with a pathetic neediness in his voice. He looked to be on the verge of tears as his eyes begged Julian and his vice-like grip intensified. Julian had no desire to hurt the old man or cause a fracas that would rouse the neighboring shop owners. There was only one way out of the situation.

Alright. How much? Julian demanded, not even bothering to ask what the pouch contained.

No. Is gift. Is great gift!

The old man’s hands fell away and Julian almost laughed at this ridiculous pronouncement as he gazed down at the worn leather pouch, oddly heavy in his palm. Yet the intensity of the vendor’s manner, the strange gleam in those green watery eyes gave Julian pause. Unnerved, he fumbled for a wad of cash as he stashed the pouch in his shopping bag.

No, no, no, muttered the little old man, advancing on Julian and fairly pushing him out into the main room of the shop. Is gift.

Julian shook his head, clearing it of incense and exasperation.

Just take it, he said and slapped down the stack of pound notes next to the antiquated cash register. Julian turned to leave, but, regretting his rudeness, glanced back to call a polite farewell.

The old man was gone.

§ § §

Not until later, once he’d showered and changed clothes, did Julian allow curiosity to recall him to the leather pouch. He retrieved it from his shopping bag and pulled open the knotted string closure. At first sight, Julian whistled at what appeared to be a great bargain: a hefty gold signet ring with a cartouche executed in odd symbols which approximated Egyptian hieroglyphics. Of course, the symbols were likely the work of an amateur, and the gold was probably plate, but Julian had appreciated the way the craftsman had managed to make the ring look old. To the untrained eye, it was a damned good fake. However, realizing that he had carelessly forked over nearly two-hundred dollars to the weird old man, Julian had felt his heart sink. What a sucker you are, thought Julian. Theo will never let you live this one down.

So it came to pass that Julian packed away his Cracker Jack prize and avoided mentioning it to Theo until their return to New York several weeks later; only doing so at Theo’s prompting.

I can’t believe you didn’t buy anything for yourself, Theo had said as he’d helped Julian wrap the presents for Shereen, Kimberly and Dinesh. It’s so unlike you. He’d laughed and shook his head in disbelief. It was true. Julian usually had to purchase an additional suitcase for return trips.

Actually, Julian had replied, I did buy something. I felt like a chump afterwards, so I was putting off showing it to you. He’d then produced the ring and handed it to Theo with a sheepish look upon his face. Julian had watched with a pained expression as Theo sat at his desk and examined the ring through the lens of his jeweler’s loupe.

Jesus Christ! Theo had cursed softly as he set the ring down and brushed his curly, grey-streaked black hair behind his ears.

I know, I know. I will not tell you how much I paid for it, Julian had said as he’d watched Theo remove his glasses and saw the stony look on his face, It would only add insult to injury. So is it gold plated, at least?

Electrum, had been Theo’s quiet response. He’d picked up his loupe for the second time with a trembling hand and examined the ring again under stronger light. This is no fake, Julian. The symbols... this is a hybrid language. The same language that was found on the Ostraca at Heliopolis. It’s a mixture of early Egyptian and what we now believe to be the language of the Anunnaki.

Holy shit!

Indeed. Of course it’ll need to be analyzed and dated. And there lies the rub. Theo had sighed heavily and cradled the ring in his hand. Julian watched Theo’s eyes narrow as a troubled look distorted his usually smooth tranquil features. His dark brown eyes appeared to deepen to glistening obsidian as his thoughts turned within. Julian recognized this troubled look. It did not bode well.

I don’t understand, Julian had said, standing behind Theo, rubbing his lover’s broad shoulders. You’ve just made an amazing discovery. It backs up your theory. What’s the problem?

Julian, I can’t go running off to the Met saying ‘Lookie what I found!’ This is contraband. Do you have a receipt? Julian had shaken his head slowly, light dawning. Do you think anyone will believe that we just happened to pick this up in the souk? Granted, stranger things have happened... but not to a well-known Egyptologist who was conveniently in Cairo for a conference about artifacts relating to the Anunnaki. This smells bad, Julian. Really bad. I don’t believe it was a coincidence that you found this ring. Theo had paused, looking out into empty space, his mind elsewhere. Julian had recalled the wild, desperate look in the old vendor’s eyes. Is gift. Is great gift, he had said. Julian had felt a prickly sensation pass over his skin with the remembrance.

After all these years, Theo had murmured softy, picking up the ring and rubbing it, almost caressing it with his broad thumb. I can’t believe it.

What are you talking about, Theo? What are you going to do?

For now, nothing. I need time to think.

§ § §

Time, unfortunately, was a commodity in short supply for Theo Barojas. He died three days later, the victim of a cerebral aneurism, and the mystery surrounding the electrum ring and its provenance remained unsolved.

Julian had packed the ring away in a blue jewelry box and there it had remained. Until now.

Perhaps Theo was wrong, thought Julian, as he rolled the ring in his palm. Anyway, the ring held a new significance for him now. Julian saw it as a symbol of the end of his life with Theo. Julian picked it up and slipped it onto the middle finger of his right hand. It really was beautiful; chunky and masculine. Julian rarely wore jewelry, but he’d loved this ring at first sight. Why keep it locked away? It can be a symbol of a new beginning as well as an end.

Suddenly, the clang of his cell phone brought Julian out of his reverie, and he nearly jumped at the sound. He scrambled to find the device before it went to voicemail, finally locating it under the bed. How’d it get there?

Hello, said Julian, breathing somewhat heavily.

Did I interrupt something? Dinesh’s naturally deep voice had taken on a Barry White basso. Julian could picture him smiling and lifting his thick black eyebrows. I understand perfectly, Dinesh continued in his normal voice. I had to take care of business once already. It’s the only way I can keep the boner down. The lab coat is a godsend. He lowered his voice to a whisper and added, I had a great time last night. But this holding back is driving me crazy. You can’t keep edging me away forever, you know.

Julian blushed, feeling foolish, hot and happy.

Sorry, Julian answered lamely. I mean... What do I mean? Julian wondered. Why was he still putting off Dinesh’s advances? He wanted him more than he’d wanted anyone in a very long time. Yet there was still a part of him that feared sexual intimacy. Feared that he might disappointment Dinesh. That he might be embarrassingly awkward after such a long period of abstinence. And a long, monogamous relationship before that. He could express none of this to Dinesh. Not now, at least. Not on the phone.

What’s wrong, Julian? You okay?

Nothing. Um... you want to meet later on? God, I sound like a moon-struck adolescent, Julian thought. He’d never been good with telephone conversations, particularly those of a romantic nature.

Sure. Around eight? Think of someplace.

Okay.

Great.

Um...Dinesh?

Yeah?

Julian swallowed and took a deep breath, twisting the ring around his finger. Was this the right time to voice his feelings? He and Dinesh had known one another for many years, and had been business partners for the last twelve, but the new direction their relationship had taken recently put Julian off balance. If he uttered those three magic words, he could have no excuse for keeping Dinesh out of his bed any longer.

Call me later, Julian said, coping out.

Okay. Ciao.

Ciao.

§ § §

The decision of what to do with the remainder of his day was made simple for Julian by a quick inspection of the New York Times. He generally discarded all but the Magazine, Book Review and the Arts section and it was in this last section that Julian’s attention was caught by a full page advertisement for the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s temporary exhibition The Anunnaki: History Rewritten. The posthumous validation of Theo Barojas’ theories, the culmination of years of work. Years Theo had spent with Julian at his side.

I’ve put off seeing it long enough. Julian abandoned the newspaper and proceeded to shower, shave and dress for an afternoon of erudition and a nice overpriced lunch in the Patrons Lounge.

An hour later, Julian found himself in the crush of humanity that was the Met on a Saturday. He stood in the main entry hall wondering whether he ought to go directly to the exhibit or just wander about for a while, when his attention was caught by a swift movement out of the corner of his eye.

Julian turned to see a middle-age couple standing at the information counter bickering vehemently. The woman was facing Julian, half blocked by the bulk of her male partner, and Julian noted the small fanny pack that she wore over her fleece jacket. The zip of the pack was undone and gaped black and empty. Close to the woman’s left, a nondescript, fair-haired, bespectacled youth stood apparently engrossed in the museum map. Julian was certain that he’d just seen the kid swipe a wad of bills from the woman while her attention was concentrated on her argument.

Don’t just stand there like a bump on a log, Julian told himself. Do something!

What Julian did was sidle up to the youth and clamp him on the shoulder in a vice-like hold; the strength of which took Julian by as much surprise as it did the kid who yelped and squeaked out a pained expletive. Julian felt his hand vibrate under the weight of the electrum ring on his hand, and a strange heat seemed to flow from the artifact into his body.

Yo, man! Get your hand off me. You some kinda peodo or something? He made as if to struggle out of Julian’s grip, but found that he was immobile. His eyes widened at the impossibility of some skinny nerd having the power to hold him in place with one hand.

Security! Julian called out, causing a stir among the patrons at the information desk that quickly rippled throughout the room as the guard approached. I believe this young man is in possession of some currency that belongs to this woman here, Julian explained to the guard, indicating the track-suited, grey-haired lady to the right of the kid. The woman finally took notice of her open fanny pack and the missing money.

I ain’t got nuthin’, said the kid, apparently determined to brazen out the situation.

You mean ‘I don’t have anything’, corrected Julian. But I disagree. I saw you swipe it. It’s in the right front pocket of your jeans. The security guard turned to question the woman.

How much are you missing, ma’am? he asked politely of the woman, who was now scowling at the kid, having shifted the brunt of her anger from her male companion to the young thief.

Eighty dollars, she replied swiftly.

By this time another guard had appeared, and a crowd had begun to form around the group.

Time to make your exit, thought Julian. You’ve done your good deed. Well, almost.

Julian increased the pressure on the kid’s shoulder ever-so-slightly, uncertain of the extent of his new-found strength.

Fuck! wailed the young perp. Okay, okay! I took the old bitch’s life savings, alright? Just get your fucking hand off me, man.

Julian removed his hand, and the kid shuddered as if he’d been released from some kind of invisible bondage. He reached a shaking hand into his pocket and forked over the haphazardly folded bills to the furious but speechless woman. Julian was annoyed, but hardly surprised, to watch her snatch the money from the kid and walk away with her companion without a word of thanks to either himself or the security guards. The crowd dispersed as the guards led the young man away, the show over and rather disappointing. Julian moved with them, feeling decidedly peculiar.

What the hell just happened? Julian wondered, as he passed the tomb of Perneb and entered the Egyptian gallery. He’d seen that kid pilfer the cash, but it seemed more like a retrograde premonition, if there was such a thing, than a real-time observation. Julian shook his head as if to clear it. And what about the strength in my grip? He realized, belatedly, that he could easily have crushed the boy’s bones. No. You’re imagining things. Nothing weird happened. You just caught a little shit trying to lift some cash from an easy mark, nothing more.

Julian determined to put the strange encounter behind him as he flashed his Patron Circle membership card and received his complimentary audio guide to the Anunnaki exhibit. It was simply herd mentality that prompted this, since Julian preferred to read the editorial blurbs accompanying the installation rather than listen to an overly-dramatic actor voice them. As Julian passed through the exhibit, he felt a sense of pride in his late lover’s accomplishments rise in his breast. And he was pleased to find that no sadness lurked there, only joy.

A slightly proprietary smiled played upon Julian’s lips as he passed among the artifacts on display. Well done, Theo.

Halfway through the hall, Julian suddenly found himself transfixed by one particular display. Here, as in several other glass enclosures, there were mixed actual artifacts and photographic representations of others which had not been released from Egyptian custody for inclusion in the world tour of the exhibit. Julian leaned into the glass, his slightly myopic vision demanding close inspection, and read the words accompanying the photograph of a singular ring: The Talisman Ring of Amenhotep.

‘...According to the Greek scholar Manetho, the great sage Amenhotep believed that this ring bestowed upon the wearer the ability to summon arcane and powerful magic passed on from the Great Ones, the Anunnaki, which could render the wearer superior in strength, perspicacity and valor.’

Julian gazed upon the photograph with profound disbelief. Before him was a clear representation of the self-same ring that adorned his right hand.

Holy shit, Julian said to himself.

At least he thought he’d said it to himself, until a snort of laughter from behind his right shoulder made him think otherwise. Julian looked up at the reflective glass and beheld a fellow museum goer standing close behind him. Suddenly self-conscious of the presence of the electrum ring on his hand, Julian lowered his palm from where it rested on the glass with a swift guilty gesture, shoving the offending hand into his pants pocket. Julian worried the ring with his thumb until it slipped from his finger and plopped to the bottom of his pocket.

Sorry, said the young man behind Julian. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I shouldn’t have been reading over your shoulder. Pretty cool story. The man smiled; a lopsided smile which did not quite make it past his compressed lips. Julian took him in: Asian, mid-twenties, gorgeous face and a killer body.

"It is interesting," replied Julian noncommittally. Was it his imagination, or did his new acquaintance’s gaze linger just too long on the pocket of his cords where the bulk of the ring bulged? Add pronounced paranoia to the effects of Amenhotep’s ring, he thought wryly. I don’t know much about it myself, though, Julian added aloud.

Join the club, the handsome stranger replied. Personally, I find most of this stuff a total snooze. But the arcane magic angle will make a great story. He smiled again and put out his hand to Julian. "Hiroshi Sato. Out There magazine." Sato’s smile was undoubtedly affected and professional, yet engaging nonetheless. Julian had heard of Out There, of course. It was the pseudo-science world’s answer to the National Enquirer. Most scientists considered it a yellow rag, but Theo had been a subscriber.

Julian, said Julian, meeting the strong grip of the journalist. Julian wondered what had taken Out There so long to jump on this exhibit. It had been open for almost a month.

Sato must have read the question in Julian’s eyes. We did a preliminary cover story on the world tour of the artifacts and the Anunnaki angle, but that was before the Met opening. It got a lot of attention… a lot of reader feedback. My editor’s been on my ass for the last couple of weeks. He wants a sensational follow-up. Julian nodded, trying not to dwell on the interesting visual of the editor on Sato’s tight little ass. I think this talisman ring is the ticket. I’m seeing this Amenhotep dude as the Egyptian Green Lantern. Sato grinned, and Julian smiled in spite of an underlying sense of outrage on Theo’s behalf. After all, the whole idea of a ring that bestowed super powers upon its wearer was ridiculous. Wasn’t it?

Hey, continued Sato, glancing at his watch, How about we grab some lunch later?

And presumably we will eat it as well, thought Julian in response to Sato’s turn of phrase; one which Julian found supremely irritating. ‘Grab some lunch’ was right up there on the stupid expression scale, in Julian’s book, just below ‘I’ll do the…’ Julian found the thought of restaurant patrons ‘doing’ their food somewhat revolting.

What the hell. When was the last time you grabbed anything with a twenty-something hottie? And Julian had not failed to notice the make of Sato’s watch: Cartier- very expensive. He was doing pretty well for a cub reporter. He could afford the Patrons Lounge.

Luncheon started out pleasantly. Julian allowed himself to feel flattered by the attentions of a younger and decidedly attractive man. He’s almost young enough to be my son, thought Julian abstractedly as Hiroshi Sato prattled on about his life and work. Julian, on the other hand, was reticent about revealing any of his own life. He’d already lied about his knowledge of Egyptology. Why was he suddenly so cagey? Was it a natural reaction to being in the company of a reporter?

Julian nearly lied again when Sato asked him, So, what do you do?

Julian hesitated, sipping his sauvignon blanc as a cover. You could tell him anything, Julian thought. This is just a casual lunch with a stranger in a museum. It might be fun to pretend to be someone else.

I’m a veterinarian, said Julian, opting for honesty. He’d never been a very good liar. Whatever interest he had read on Sato’s face, whether personal or professional, vanished. He could almost hear the young man’s inner voice saying ‘boring!’

Oh, said Hiroshi Sato, raising his eyebrows in an attempt to appear impressed. That’s… nice."

Julian laughed.

Don’t worry, Julian said, "If I get any tips on chupacabras loose in Manhattan, you’ll be the first to know."

I’m sorry, Sato said softly. Was I that obvious? I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that your interest in the Anunnaki exhibit made me think you might be a scientist or an historian or something. You know.

Veterinary medicine is a science, you twit, Julian thought. Sato seemed genuinely abashed, though, so Julian decided to let it go.

Well, Julian said, trying to imbue the word with as much finality as possible. Thank you for the lunch invite. He folded his napkin neatly and finished the last of his wine. I wish you luck with your story, Mr. Sato. Sorry I couldn’t be of more use to you.

Hey, Julian, said Sato, "I didn’t mean it like that. Have another glass of wine and