Chapter Three

Mr Montford had cleared his desk of all the papers and other clutter by the time they got back. The top was now covered by a white sheet and illuminated by a strong lamp. Without specialist equipment it was the best he could do and, thankfully, his past tutors had taught him how to improvise when the need arose.

A half empty water bottle sat nearby by. He had been losing so much fluid by sweating it was well needed.

"Ah, good timing!" He beamed as the pair entered "Ash, you can hold the cloth steady and Isaac, you fetch the statue. I can take the scraping and send it off post haste, then we will have some answers, I hope! Until then it can be kept safe it

storage, I won't display it until we have more information, misleading the public leads to the wrong sort of publicity."

Ash moved over the smooth out the creases, his hands shaking his excitement and nerves as Isaac went to take the figure from the box.

As he leaned over, he felt a warmth at his neck and his heart trembled. A feeling of nausea washed over him as his picked the statue from the bed of shavings. His palms were damp and his throat tight as he turned to carry it over. 

His eyes took in the figure that seemed to warm in his hands as if it were made of flesh and blood and his heart lurched, his head fogging for a moment with blurred imagery of worlds long gone. He tensed, trying to stop his hands shaking as he slowed his step, feeling the nervous sweat burning more.

As he made his way across the room, he did the exact thing he had not long joked about his employer doing. His foot snagging a pile of books left on the floor, and before he could right himself, he was tumbling over, everything moving in painfully slow motion. Dark ochre eyes watched in horror as the statue flew from his hand halfway across the room. Smashing into two pieces by his desk.

A priceless new discovery was now in pieces on the floor. Isaac stuttered for a moment, staring in disbelief.

Ash's mouth dropped open, his shoulders slumping. All joking aside this particular piece and any of such age could not be mended.

"You just broke..."

He didn't finish. Feeling his eyes widening as dark fluid began to seep from the sharp pieces. 

"What's...going on?" His voice was barely a whisper as he watched transfixed as the crimson liquid flowed, a dark mist following close behind and seemingly without end.

All sense urged him to flee but his feet felt frozen to the spot in fearful awe. Looking to Isaac he was in the same predicament, his hands shaking and face pale.

The black mist was thick, clouding his vision and felt as if it clouded his mind also.

'Even a man who is pure of heart and says prayers by night will find himself condemned to the grave whether or not the time is right. That time is nigh...'

The voice echoed about them, bouncing from wall the wall and sending waves of freezing terror throughout body and soul.

Isaac felt his legs almost buckle as the mist slowly cleared revealing a figure in its place.

The man, if he could be called that, was the image of the statue that lay in pieces on the floor. A muscular, chiselled body and face concealed by the mask of a canine. His arms were folded as he regarded those before him but lengthy claws protruded from where nails should be.

"Bow down mortals!" The creature commanded in a strong and forceful tone, his eyes cold and calculating "and perhaps you will keep your bodies intact!"

Outside there was a loud clap of thunder, hard enough to make the entire building shake. A heavy rain began to fall down with a force that no one had seen before and a force that could cause damage and injury when it struck.

It was no normal rain. It couldn't be, Isaac had never known rain to be red.