"Mentoh" - my longest story (and post number 100)

Chapter 1 - The Watcher

As he walked into the room Evan knew someone was watching him, he knew he wasn’t alone. He could feel their fierce, ever watchful eyes watching over him, just as they could feel his restless presence. Suddenly a spine tingling shiver ran down his back, a shiver that nearly made him turn back and leave, a shiver that made him want to pretend he’d never agreed to do this. But he knew he couldn't do that, he'd come too far and worked too hard.

He peered into the ominous darkness of the bedroom, trying to determine where his Watcher was hiding. He decided to take a risk and turn on his torch. He had been in a fair share of fights before and was still pretty fit, so he turned the torch on and braced himself, but no one lunged out at him from the shadows. He was thankful for that.

Evan realised that the room was much larger than he had originally thought, and it was barely furnished. It had an eerie feeling about it, with the off white walls, shadowy corners covered in cobwebs, and dust everywhere he shone his torch, it was not unlike the rest of the house in appearance, but was somehow different to it in some other mysterious way.

He took a few steps forward into the darkness and thought to himself, "Who else knows about the Mentoh anyway? No one could live here." He prayed that were true and the man Brant had told him about was just a myth. He took a few more cautious steps forward to look for places to make a quick exit. He found only a window and when he tried to open it, it was stuck. "Damn!" he said aloud and immediately regretted it. He listened for a sound, but there wasn’t one to be heard. With his heart beating quickly he turned away from the window and something brushed against the side of his face, "Jesus!" he cursed, and hurriedly shone his torch towards it. It was just an attic cord. He'd look up there later.

He shone his torch towards the window again and something in the corner of the room caught his eye. In the corner of the room there was an old dressing table, but it wasn’t the dressing table he was interested in, it was the statue sitting on top of it. It looked unusual and seemed out of place in a room like this. The statue was of an elephant standing up on its hind legs with a strange hat on its head. It was made of bronze and was probably the only thing in the room not covered in dust. Was this what he was looking for? Brant hadn't been clear about what the Mentoh looked like. All he had said was, "When you pick it up, you'll know if it’s the Mentoh you’re holding," and then walked off leaving Evan standing where he was, confused. One thing Brant had been clear about was how well rewarded Evan would be if he could bring it back.

Curious, he walked over to the dressing table and steadied himself against it; he was breathing heavily, tired from his task. He wiped some sweat off his forehead then reached forward and clasped the statue with his right hand. “Wow!” All of a sudden he felt a magnificent power rushing into him and steadily growing inside of him. He'd never experienced anything so extraordinary in his life. It felt so good that he nearly fell over, overcome by dizziness. He was brought back from his trance by a loud crash, and immediately he regained his senses. He'd knocked a small paperweight off the dressing table. What was it Brant had said about something that looked like a paperweight? He kicked it under the dressing table. Evan had found what he was sent to search for and now all he had to do was bring it back to Brant, so he shoved the statue into his backpack and turned in the direction of the door. He smiled and thought of his wife. She was the only reason he'd done this. They needed the money desperately, and with their baby only a few weeks away...

He pushed those thoughts back to where they came from and triumphantly walked over to the door, his concentration was slipping. When he was halfway to the door his torch went off, leaving him in total darkness. "Damn batteries," he said in frustration, he became scared once more, the darkness was overwhelming.

CRASH! Suddenly there was another crash, but this one was different because he heard feet landing heavily behind him. He turned around but he couldn’t see anything, he was just feeling around in the dark; he might as well have been blind. He tried running but he bumped into something. Evan was as scared as a tiny mouse running away from a hungry cat. A huge arm grabbed him and before he knew it there was a knife pressed against his neck. He realised this must have been his Watcher, and he must have come from the attic. How had he been so careless?

"Give me the statue," his captor whispered hastily in his ear.

Evan started thrashing around; "No I need it!" he was desperate. Brant had warned him about this Watcher, but he hadn’t taken him seriously and now look where he was, in the last few moments of his life.

"Give it to me!" whoever his Watcher was, he was impatient.

"My wife…" he said desperately. Those two words were his last; the knife slit his neck. Evan felt more than blood slowly trickling out of him; he felt his life trickling out entwined with it.

"Sorry," his killer whispered just before Evan died, and there was sympathy in his voice.

Now that the Mentoh was safe he could rest. He'd been up for days because of this man, watching him walk past each day, until finally he came in tonight. He’d watched him all through the house, thinking that if he didn't find the Mentoh he wouldn't have to kill him. But he had had to. Anyone who touched the Mentoh gained special powers that lived on through their children if they died. "He better not have any kids," he said quietly to himself. He didn't like killing people but it was his job to protect the Mentoh, he was the Protector. Not that he chose to be.