The Chimera's Curse Read online

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

  Text copyright © 2007 by Julia Golding Illustrations copyright © 2007 by David Wyatt

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Amazon Publishing Attn: Amazon Children’s Publishing PO Box 400818 Las Vegas, NV 89149 www.amazon.com/amazonchildrenspublishing

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Golding, Julia. The chimera’s curse / by Julia Golding ; [illustrations by David Wyatt].— 1st Marshall Cavendish ed. p. cm.—(Companions quartet ; bk. 4) Summary: Connie and Col band together to save the world for all creatures, including the mythical ones of which few humans are aware, from the shape-shifter Kullervo’s army and, along the way, Connie finds herself transformed in an amazing way. ISBN 978-0-7614-5440-3 [1. Animals, Mythical—Fiction. 2. Human-animal communication—Fiction. 3. Secret societies—Fiction. 4. Supernatural—Fiction. 5.Friendship—Fiction.] I. Wyatt, David, ill. II. Title. PZ7.G56758Chi 2008 [Fic]—dc22 2007029776

  Book design by Vera Soki

  First Marshall Cavendish edition, 2008 Originally published in the UK by Oxford University Press, 2007

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For Lucy, Edward, and Toby

  With special thanks to Dr. Nigel Pearson for telling me about cobra bites

  Also by Julia Golding in The Companions Quartet

  Book One: Secret of the Sirens

  Book Two: The Gorgon’s Gaze

  Book Three: Mines of the Minotaur

  Chimera:

  (from classical mythology) A fabled fire-breathing monster, with a lion’s head, a goat’s body, and a serpent’s tail (or according to others, with the heads of a lion, a goat, and a serpent), killed by Bellerophon.

  Modern use: an unreal creature of the imagination, a mere wild fancy.

  (from The Oxford English Dictionary, by permission of Oxford University Press)

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE Hunt

  CHAPTER TWO Fire Imps

  CHAPTER THREE Devil’s Tooth

  CHAPTER FOUR Bite, Burn, or Venom?

  CHAPTER FIVE Unicorn

  CHAPTER SIX Playing with Fire

  CHAPTER SEVEN Guy de Chauliac

  CHAPTER EIGHT Alone

  CHAPTER NINE Testing Times

  CHAPTER TEN Candles

  CHAPTER ELEVEN Portcullis

  CHAPTER TWELVE Kelpies

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN Trap

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN Challenge

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN Voice from the Past

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN Human Companion

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Return to the Elements

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN The Company of the Universals

  1

  Hunt

  Come to me, Universal. You know you are mine. Connie Lionheart stirred restlessly in her sleep. A hot wind whispered in the curtains, carrying the scent of the parched land. The breeze bore the sound of waves folding onto the beach. It was a sultry night, and the sheet clung uncomfortably to her body.

  Come to the mark. Come to me. You know you must.

  Connie surfaced from sleep, struggling like a swimmer caught in weeds, thrashing to reach air. When she woke, she found the bedclothes twisted around her. She threw them off and sat up to gulp some water from the glass on her bedside table, her hand shaking slightly. The voice had crept into her dreams again: the voice of Kullervo, the shape-shifter, her enemy—and her companion creature. He said the same thing each time, repeating the message again and again so that she could hear its echo during the daylight hours as well as in the stillness of the night. She knew where he wanted her to go: he wanted her to meet him at the mark he had made deep in her mind, the breach in the wall between her and his dark presence. But she would not give in to him.

  Sentinel! Connie called out in thought. Help me! He’s here again.

  Sentinel the minotaur, the creature appointed by the Society for the Protection of Mythical Creatures to guard the universal, sent his shadow-presence instantly to her side. He was hidden in a cave in the cliffs not far away, keeping watch, but he did not need to be with her in body when he could come to her through the bond between them. His presence burst into her mind, stamping out any residue of the dark creature that had visited her dreams. With bull head dipping from side to side, he gored and pierced the shadows, reducing the shape-shifter’s presence to tatters and finally to nothing but a faint whisper of mocking laughter. And then even that echo was snuffed out by the minotaur’s bellow of anger. Satisfied all was now clear, shadow-Sentinel bowed to the universal, his hand clasped to his heart and his curved bull’s horns lowered.

  He has gone, he growled. You may sleep in peace.

  Too shaken to lie down immediately, Connie remained sitting and hugged her knees, her fear creeping back now that she was alone again. It had been much easier to repel Kullervo before Argand, her golden dragon companion, grew too big to fit through her bedroom window. Each night they had curled up together and she had shared the dragonet’s dreams, leaving no room for Kullervo to creep into her mind. But now Argand slept on the moors with the rest of her family and Connie was on her own.

  She lifted her shaggy mane of black hair off her neck in a vain attempt to cool herself. Connie knew she was living on borrowed time: Kullervo would seek her out again. These nighttime visitations were just his way of teasing her; his real attack would come in some way she did not expect, and he would try to trick her as he had already done three times in as many years. It was difficult to remain constantly alert. After all, she had a life to lead in Hescombe: she had to go to school, see her friends, have fun like any other ordinary teenager.

  Connie shuddered. But, of course, she wasn’t ordinary. As the only universal companion in existence, the only person who could bond with all mythical creatures, her life was never going to be conventional or safe. Kullervo would always hunt her because he needed her powers to achieve the destruction of humanity. The prospect paralyzed her with fear. Connie rubbed her forearms, trying to drive away the tremors that set in when she thought of the threat hanging over her. Sometimes, she wished she could forget what she knew. She clung on to the times when she could pretend to be normal, when she could relax and forget the burden and blessing of her gift. Like tomorrow, for example: tomorrow she was going for a picnic with her great-uncle; her brother, Simon; and her friends Jane and Anneena—none of them knew anything about mythical creatures so there was not a whiff of an encounter planned. She would seem to the world like an ordinary girl on her summer vacation, her extraordinary secret well hidden.

  Holding on to this comforting image, Connie turned over and eventually drifted off to sleep.

  At the Mastersons’ farm, Shirley’s party was in full swing. Col was sitting on the front doorstep, can of Coke in hand, watching the dancers. The birthday girl’s silky blonde hair swirled as she danced, and she was laughing loudly among the crowds of young people. Col felt a twinge of envy at Shirley’s ability to fit in so effortlessly with the non-Society friends she’d invited; he had to acknowledge that, recently, being a member of the Society had gotten in the way of how he would like normal people to see him. He feared that these days at his school no one would say he was the least bit cool, not when his best friends, Connie and Rat, stood out for being so strange.

  Col crushed his empty can. He wished it didn’t matter to him but it did. Worse, he had no idea wh
at to do about it. Only a few years ago he had been so confident in class, easy in his skin; now he spent all his time worrying about how others saw him. He wouldn’t dream of dropping his friends, but neither Rat nor Connie showed any sign of change, so the problem wasn’t going to be solved that way. It just didn’t feel right to spend most of his time embarrassed by their behavior.

  Col put his head in his hands and groaned. He was an idiot. He didn’t deserve them. They were both extremely gifted and Connie was truly unique. Perhaps he was the problem?

  The song ended, and some of the dancers drifted off the floor. With a jolt of surprise, Col noticed that Shirley was headed in his direction with a group of her school friends in tow. Long limbed, tanned, pretty, they were an intimidating sight. He suddenly felt very nervous: a pack of girls bearing down on him tended to have that effect. Assuming nonchalance he didn’t feel, he grabbed a fresh can from an ice-filled bucket and pulled the tab, letting it fizz onto the step.

  “And this is Col,” Shirley said, sweeping her arm toward him. She quickly ran through the names of her friends. Pinned by their gaze, he felt as if they were silently grading him on a scale of ten.

  “Hi.” He managed a general greeting, giving himself zero for originality.

  But it seemed to do the trick. On that signal, the girls clustered around him, giving him their full and very flattering attention. Slowly, he began to relax, thinking he was doing okay as they quizzed him about his school and his taste in music. That was until they started on his friendships.

  “Shirley said you were friends with that girl Connie Lionheart,” one dark-haired girl said sweetly.

  Col swung around to her. “Yeah. Do you know her then?”

  “I’ve heard a lot about her.” The girl took a sip of her drink and exchanged a smile with Shirley. “Didn’t you both get stuck up a tree?”

  “Er, yeah.” Col took a nervous gulp from his own can.

  “Is she really your girlfriend?” The girl gave him an amused look, eyebrow arched in disbelief.

  Col felt the blood rush to his cheeks. “Of course not. Who gave you that idea?” It had to be Shirley. He liked Connie; they were closer than he could explain, thanks to all they had been through together, but girlfriend…!

  “We didn’t think so,” a second girl butted in. Clearly his love life had been much discussed even before they approached him. “Everyone says she’s so…so odd.”

  Col knew he should speak up in defense of Connie. She was much more than the label of “odd” they had given her, but what could he say? He was acutely aware that Shirley’s crowd would think badly of him if he said anything. He shouldn’t care about their opinion, but he did.

  “We’re good friends,” he said lamely, letting the comment go, “just good friends.”

  Satisfied, Shirley indicated to her group that it was time to move on. “Aren’t you going to dance, Col?” she asked as they began to wander away.

  “No,” he said bluntly, hating her for showing up his lack of loyalty to Connie, and cursing himself for succumbing to the pressure.

  She gave him a triumphant smile. “Fine. See you.”

  The companion to weather giants returned to the dance floor and soon had her hands draped around the neck of a dark-eyed boy that Col recognized as Jessica Moss’s selkie companion, a changeling creature that could transform into a seal. Jessica must have brought him, knowing that he could mingle inconspicuously with the other young people. Thinking about Jessica—freckle-faced, with a mass of reddish-brown curls—Col spotted her sitting on her own in the yard on the hood of one of the cars. Jessica looked about as miserable as Col felt as she watched Shirley and her companion dancing. Getting up from his post by the front door, Col walked over, a fresh can of Coke in hand.

  “Want something to drink, Jess?” he asked.

  Jessica looked up at him with a grimace. “Thanks, Col.” Taking the can, her eyes snapped back to the dance floor. “Look at her. She’s been longing to get her claws into Arran for ages and now she’s succeeded.”

  Col followed Jessica’s gaze and saw that Shirley now had her head bent against the selkie’s neck.

  “Forget it.” Col slid onto the hood beside her. “He’ll soon figure out she’s not worth it.”

  “I’m not jealous,” Jessica said quickly, though from the flash in her eyes Col doubted this was the case. “But he’s so green, so soft-hearted.”

  Col kept his smile to himself. “Don’t worry. He won’t abandon his companion. It just doesn’t work like that.”

  Jessica sighed. “I s’pose not. It’s not very likely that he’ll find a future with a weather giant companion, is it?”

  “No chance. Too much rough water.”

  Jessica relaxed, sitting back so that she leaned against Col. “Thanks. So, how are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Trying to put in the flying hours for my Grade Four exam.”

  “I know what you mean.” Jessica yawned. “I was up at the crackle of dawn for my swimming training.” She gazed at the rest of the crowd, her brow furrowed. “How come only you and I get invited to this party out of all of us in the Society?”

  Col scanned the groups of dancers under the flashing party lights, the knots of people by the drinks’ table; he didn’t know many of them well, but he recognized the local in-crowd when he saw it. “We’re not the only ones. I was with the dragon twins earlier, but I think they left to go flying.”

  “Still, what about Connie and Rat?”

  Col gave a hollow laugh. “Don’t you know Shirley well enough, Jess, to know that she wouldn’t invite them? Not Rat’s kind of thing anyway.”

  “S’pose not. But what about Connie?”

  “Shirley didn’t ask her. I don’t know if it’s because she’s insanely jealous of our universal or because Connie’s not cool enough for her friends from Chartmouth.” Col fell guiltily silent, remembering how he had just inadequately defended her only a few moments before.

  “Oh.” Jessica wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Well, I like Connie. Does that make me uncool?”

  “I s’pect so—in Shirley’s eyes at any rate.” Col noticed that Shirley now appeared to be kissing Arran’s neck.

  “Huh! Excuse me if I don’t make her opinion the guide to what I like and don’t like!” Jessica’s eyes sparkled dangerously as she saw what was going on.

  The song ended, and at last the dancers broke apart. Arran looked in their direction and noticed Col with his arm around Jessica. Immediately, the selkie abandoned Shirley and headed for them with a determined look on his face.

  “Hello, Arran,” Col said levelly as the selkie came to stand in front of them. “Enjoying the party?”

  “Hello, Col,” said the selkie, his voice a snarl. Arran turned to his companion. “I’ve had enough, Jess. Can we go now?”

  Jessica sat up abruptly from leaning against Col and accepted Arran’s hand to slide from the car.

  “Tired of your dance partner already?” she asked, swatting his arm. The selkie shuffled his feet awkwardly, looking down. If he had been in his seal shape, his whiskers would have drooped in shame. “See you, Col,” Jessica said brightly, blowing him a kiss.

  “Bye,” Col said. “See? Nothing to worry about,” he muttered as Jessica and Arran walked off hand in hand.

  Getting up late the following morning, Col decided he’d hack across the moors to see Rat. He still felt annoyed with himself for how he’d behaved at Shirley’s party. Being a member of the Society meant he spent much of his time hanging out with people who were frankly all a bit eccentric. This had never bothered him much before, but last night had brought home to him that he wanted to be…well…cool again.

  Am I being a jerk? he wondered, looking at himself in the mirror.

  Probably, he admitted with a shamefaced grin. That’s what Rat would say.

  Rat’s reaction he could handle, but why did he get tied up in knots any time someone mentioned Connie? He felt he should defend her, yet didn’t; he wa
nted to be with her, but then felt embarrassed when she started doing things like talking to seagulls in public. He was in awe of her gift. She couldn’t help it, but she always made him feel as if he was standing in her shadow. These days everyone saw the universal first and had no time for an insignificant pegasus companion. And why would they notice him? He’d done nothing worth mentioning.

  Fetching his chestnut horse, Mags, from the stable, Col turned him toward the beach, planning a shortcut along the shore, hoping the ride would restore his good humor. On this route, the only hazard they met were encampments of tourists marking out their territories with striped screens, sun-tents, deckchairs, buckets and spades.

  “How much for a pony ride?” called a cheeky-faced boy of about seven or eight, popping out from behind a rock and running beside Col’s stirrup for a few paces.

  “Get lost!” Col grinned. But softening, he added, “If you’re still here when I come back, I’ll give you a ride for nothing.”

  “Done!” shouted the boy and zoomed off down the beach, arms outspread like an airplane, to splash into the scintillating water.

  Col spurred Mags on. He was doing what he did best: riding. Surely nothing could go wrong with such glorious sunshine and not a cloud on the horizon?

  Connie lay on the picnic rug, feeling full and deliciously lazy after an ample lunch. The picnickers had not gone far from her great-uncle’s cottage, just up to the edge of the moor, to a field where the Mastersons’ flocks grazed the sun-bleached grass. Uncle Hugh snored gently in his folding chair, newspaper dangling precariously off his knees, sun hat slanting over his eyes. Jane and Anneena were talking in quiet voices not far away. Simon, her younger brother, was picking apart a strand of dry grass, and now started throwing bits onto his sister.

  “Stop it, Si!” she said wearily, waving the nuisance away like a fly. “Why don’t you annoy someone else for a change?”

  Simon continued to dribble bits of grass onto her, his short black hair bobbing around at the periphery of her vision as he stretched over.