Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

specious field of study at best.”
    Elizabeth nursed her drink as Simon recounted his summers with his grandfather. She didn’t dare interrupt with any questions, afraid he’d stop sharing. The most personal thing he’d ever said before was that, in his opinion, Thousand Island dressing was an abomination. She sat quietly, with rapt attention as the unfathomable Professor Cross, revealed fathom after fathom.
    The old man had told him stories of his adventures with everything from the anthropomorphs of ancient Greece to the zombies of eighteenth century France.
    “And, like any young boy would be,” Simon continued. ”I was enthralled. His ‘brunch with the death eaters of Peru’ was a personal favorite.”
    Simon looked almost ashamed. He seemed to retreat inside himself, pulled under by the riptide of a painful memory. Slowly, he ran a long finger against the smooth edge of the mahogany box. “I was never allowed to touch this when I was a boy.”
    Elizabeth’s curiosity, as it was wont to do, got the better of her. “But you’re not a boy anymore.”
    “No,” Simon said, his voice stronger and his eyes clearer. He took a small key from the table and opened the box.
    There were dozens of small items resting on a red velvet covering. Jewelry, charms, and coins. Simon picked up a small pouch by its leather strap.
    ”A gris-gris,” Elizabeth said, barely able to contain her excitement.
    ”Typical of turn of the century voodoo practitioners, if I’m not mistaken,” Simon said, handing the charm to her.
    Elizabeth turned the bag over in her hand. For something supposedly a hundred years old, it was barely worn. She tentatively brought the pouch to her nose, sniffed and pulled back in surprise. “I can still smell the spices. There’s no way they should still be this fragrant after so many years. It must be a replica.”
    Simon picked up another item from the box, a small silver coin no larger than a dime. He held it to the light. “This is odd.”
    Elizabeth pulled her attention away from the gris-gris. “What is?”
    Simon gave her the coin. “What’s wrong with this?”
    “Well, it’s Greek. A griffin on one side and the head of a bull on the other. It looks authentic enough, but—” Her eyes rounded as the realization sunk in. “No signs of wear at all. It looks newly minted.”
    Simon reached for the next anomalous item. His eyes locked upon a beautiful, gold pocket watch. “I remember this. He always carried the watch with him, but I never once saw him open it.”
    Simon’s hand trembled as he took the watch out of the box. “I remember some men coming by the house asking about it not long after his death. I never did find out who they were.”
    He looked across at Elizabeth, his eyes clouded with worry and a tinge of fear, but he quickly averted his gaze and looked back down at the watch.
    Elizabeth set down the coin and moved to stand next to Simon. The watch case was etched with an intricate replica of the Mercator globe. He turned the timepiece over and summoned the courage to open it. He flexed his fingers and carefully undid the small clasp.
    The interior face was ringed by two thin bands, each marked with N, S, E and W. The face itself was a complex configuration of dials. Some dials were numbered with the standard one through twelve, while others were in increments of ten to one hundred. Near the stem was a cutout inset where the phases of the moon were displayed. The illustrated moon was full and there was a small black disk slowly moving across its face.
    Simon’s finger brushed against the crown. The stem clicked and extended. Elizabeth wasn’t sure, but she thought the hand on one of the smaller dials had changed position. Very carefully, Simon pushed the stem back into place.
    “It’s beautiful,” Elizabeth said, peering over his shoulder.
    Simon nodded, but he was clearly lost in the watch.
    Wanting to leave him to his private memories, Elizabeth peered into the box. “May I?”
    Simon glanced up from the watch. “Certainly.”
    Elizabeth picked up a small, Egyptian scarab ring. The scarab itself seemed genuine enough, although there was a crack down the beetle’s back, but the band and the setting were far too modern, probably from this century. She was about to comment on the irregularity when she noticed something odd about the gold watch in Simon’s hand.
    She frowned and looked at it more closely, then closed the small chest and studied the lid. The