The Chimera's Curse Read online

  As soon as the door in her mind opened, she regretted her decision. The attack in the physical world was terrifying enough, but now she was swept up into a vortex of stormy emotions. The three different natures of the chimera—lion, goat, and serpent—were in a constant battle with one another. But this was not like another conjoined creature she had encountered, not like the minotaur’s formalized dance of man and bull: this was a chaotic frenzy of teeth, fang, and hoof. The ascendancy shifted second by second, giving the creature no stable identity. Connie cried out with pain as first she was filled with the fire of the lion, her appetite for blood voracious, tantalized by the delectable flesh of the goat that was forever out of reach. Next, she was squeezed into the writhing form of the snake, hungering to sink its fangs into the haunches of its own lion and goatskin, yet knowing that if it did so it would end its own life. Finally, she stretched into the agile form of the mountain goat, bounding in breathless haste from rock to rock, always desiring to flee the enemies that surrounded it front and rear, but unable ever to leave them behind. The creature was damaged, crazily divided against itself. Its only moments of calm came when all parts were joined in the hunt of another, a common focus for their hatred.

  Connie heard its thoughts in her head. Each transition coming with a pain so exquisite she felt she was being torn apart.

  How shall we kill the universal? asked the serpent, its tongue flickering between its teeth. Bite, burn, or venom?

  The lion head yawned, fire glowing at the back of its cavernous throat.

  Let’s stamp on her, then fly! cried the goat hysterically.

  The other two ignored this voice. Each will have his turn, said the lion magisterially.

  Me first! hissed the snake. It’s my turn.

  The lion growled.

  You had your chance but you failed to burn her alive! the serpent argued. You’ll still have your turn. But it’s no sport for me biting after you’ve had your way.

  Please! begged Connie, screaming to get her voice heard in this debate, but the three-natured creature kept slipping away from her, not interested in hearing any last-minute pleas from their quarry.

  Snake, then lion, conceded the lion.

  Then me! Hooves after! bleated the goat.

  Agreed, said the lion, though with no more concern for the goat’s wishes than it would have for the vultures that cleaned up after its kills.

  The last thing Connie saw was the snake’s head lashing down like a whip-stroke. Its bite felt as if hot needles had been driven into her neck. She grew rigid, her eyes misting over. With vague, dreamy relief, she knew that she was unlikely to be conscious when the next stage of the attack began. All went dark.

  Col knew there was something seriously wrong as soon as he arrived at the deserted camp. He could hear screams and cries from in the trees. He plunged forward, pushing his way through the branches in the direction of the loudest cries. After running for a few agonizing minutes, he could see a flashlight beaming wildly ahead as someone sprinted at full speed toward the uproar.

  “Connie!” he shouted. “Wait for me!”

  But the flashlight-carrier did not pause. With a sickening jolt, Col realized the screams had stopped. Finding this more unnerving than anything he had heard so far, he put on an extra burst of speed, arriving at Simon’s shoulder as they both sprang out of the trees into a clearing.

  The chimera was standing over Connie, saliva dripping from its jaws as it licked its lips, preparing to bite. She lay stretched out on the bed of pine needles—still, white-faced, and death-like—the only sign of a wound coming from the blood seeping from her side. Their entrance distracted the creature: it looked up, momentarily dazzled by the light that Simon had the sense to shine full into its face. Then, on the other side of the clearing, a huge, white, rough-pelted wolf leapt from the trees. A small figure slid from its back as the frost wolf collided with the chimera, knocking it away from Connie. Simon and Col had to dive to one side as the two beasts rolled over in a furious knot of teeth and claws, kicking up twigs and cones in their frenzied struggle, snapping saplings off at the roots. The three boys dashed to Connie to drag her clear of the fight before the creatures rolled back and squashed her. Col tried to lift her from the ground, but she hung limp in his arms.

  “She’s not dead, is she?” Simon sobbed, paying no heed to the roars and growls as Icefen and the chimera crashed, clawed, and bit each other.

  Col did not know what to answer. “Let’s get her out of here,” he said, half dragging her away.

  There came the pounding of hooves behind them, and Sentinel galloped onto the battlefield. Without a word, he scooped Connie from Col’s arms and bounded away from the fighters.

  “Follow me!” he called to the boys.

  They had a hard job keeping up with the minotaur, even though he was the one carrying the burden. Col helped Simon along, realizing that the boy was close to collapse. After a nightmarish time of stumbling behind the fleet-footed creature, they reached the edge of the trees. The minotaur paused, snuffing the air. Connie dangled in his arms like a broken puppet. Sentinel laid her gently on the floor.

  “Other humans approach. I leave the universal in your care. Fetch healers!” He plunged into the trees, heading back to where Icefen was still battling the chimera. He had no sooner disappeared than Jane and Anneena came running up, their flashlights darting over the leaf litter until they lit on Connie. Anneena let out a piercing scream.

  “Shut up and do something!” shouted Col. He was dialing for an ambulance on his cell phone.

  Jane bent over Connie, feeling for any sign of life.

  “She’s bleeding from her side. She’s quite cold, but I can definitely feel a pulse,” Jane said in a steady voice as she slipped off her sweater to cover her friend.

  The competent touch of Jane’s hand on her forehead roused Connie from her dark dreams. Her eyes flickered open, but her vision was blurred. Two Cols and two Janes swam in and out of focus.

  “Col?” she murmured.

  Col quickly knelt at her side. “Yes?” he said urgently.

  “Fetch Windfoal. Poison.” Her eyes closed again, and she sank back into unconsciousness.

  Col swallowed, feeling as though he had an apple-sized lump in his throat. Connie wanted the healing powers of the unicorn: but that was impossible. Windfoal must be far away at the moment. They would have to make do with non-mythical sources of help for the present.

  “We’ve got to carry her down to the road,” Col said, getting a grip on himself now that he had worked out what he must do first. “Rat, help me with her head. Jane, Anneena: you take her legs.”

  The awkward human stretcher bumped its way as quickly as it could down the field, passing under the slowly revolving blades of the wind turbines. Behind them, a loud roar from the plantation signaled that the battle of beasts had reached its climax. Col glanced nervously over at Rat.

  “Icefen won,” Rat muttered back, his face taut with tension.

  Jane and Anneena had also heard the commotion. “It’s the beast that got her, isn’t it?” said Anneena, close to hysterical tears. “It’s all my fault. She told us not to go in!”

  Col felt too angry with her to try to comfort her. Yes, it was her fault, he thought savagely.

  “No, it’s my fault.” Simon sobbed. “I didn’t understand. I thought I could speak to it. I never want to see it again. It’s evil—wicked.”

  Col hoped that the girls would put these disjointed sentences down to the ramblings of distress, but clearly there was a problem for the Society here in the shape of Simon Lionheart.

  They reached the road. At Jane’s prompting, Simon ran on ahead to rouse his great-uncle. He had not been gone long when the blue lights of an ambulance appeared at the head of the little valley. Jane waved her flashlight to show the driver where they were waiting, and the white van came to a stop, headlights flooding the patch of road where Connie was lying. Uncle Hugh came panting up in his tartan dressing-gown and sli
ppers, at the same moment as the paramedic jumped out of the vehicle. The Ratcliffs emerged from their house, anxious to find out what all the fuss was about.

  “What happened?” Hugh gasped, seizing his niece’s cold hand.

  “Stand back, sir,” said the paramedic as he checked the pulse on her neck. Connie winced and moaned with pain, her eyes still shut. She raised her hand, trying to push the medic away from her throat, but he caught her wrist gently and laid her arm back by her side. Spotting the blood seeping through her clothing, he straightened up and turned to Hugh. “We’re taking her to the hospital. I want someone who can tell me what happened to ride along with me.”

  “I’ll come,” said Col quickly.

  The paramedic’s colleague appeared with a stretcher from the back of the ambulance. Together they lifted Connie on and wheeled her into the clinical white light of the treatment area. Col got in after them. The last image he saw as the doors closed was Hugh comforting a sobbing Simon.

  “I’m coming in the car!” Hugh called after him. “Tell Connie I’m coming!”

  Tell Connie? Just at the moment, Col could tell her nothing: she was beyond his reach. He tried to stifle the terrifying thought that she might never return. He sat silently to one side watching the paramedic make his friend comfortable. The medic took out a pair of scissors and began to cut away the torn clothing so he could tend to the wound in her side. Col flinched as he saw the four scratches scored into her skin.

  The paramedic whistled through his teeth. “What on Earth did this?”

  “Something big—a wild cat,” Col answered hoarsely.

  “It must be a hell of a monster to do this much damage,” the man said. He bent closer. “She’s lucky: it doesn’t look as if it went very deep. The jacket saved her, I’d say.”

  Lucky? thought Col desolately. He wouldn’t have called her that.

  5

  Unicorn

  It was now three days since Connie had been admitted to Chartmouth Hospital and the doctors were worried. At first, her injuries had not seemed life-threatening. Whatever it was that had attacked her in the wood—the theories in the local press ran from rabid fox, to stray dog, to escaped wild cat—had left deep scoring in her side, but this had been successfully treated with stitches and was healing well. The burns on the back of her hands had been dressed, though quite where she got them remained a mystery. The problem was that she was still delirious, suffering from weakness of the limbs and neck, a strange lack of taste in her mouth, and she was having trouble breathing. She surfaced from her drowsy state only for brief spells. The doctors decided she must have picked up a blood infection from the scratches, but so far they had failed to isolate it in the samples they had taken. One keen-eyed intern from Nepal suggested that she showed the same characteristics as someone suffering from a venomous cobra bite, but when the consultant heard this theory he told the trainee bluntly to stop dreaming and keep his mind on his job. Cobras in England? Utter nonsense!

  Conventional medicine having failed, the Society decided it was time to take matters into their own hands and send for Windfoal as Connie had requested. The unicorn was now waiting outside the hospital, which was why Mack, Col, and Rat were walking down the long shining corridor armed only with a bunch of flowers and innocent smiles. Ignoring the nursing staff, Mack strode into the youth ward and scooped Connie off her bed before her roommates could protest. Connie groaned as he swung her up, just managing to hang on to consciousness.

  “Just a quick trip to the parking lot, and we’ll bring her back unharmed, I promise,” Col assured the girls as he backed out of the ward on his father’s heels.

  “It’s her horse, you see,” added Rat for good measure. “She’ll never get better until she’s satisfied it’s okay, so we’ve brought it here.”

  “Right, quick as we can!” said Mack once they were out in the main corridor. They made a dash for the elevator. “Come on, come on!” He thumped the controls as it seemed to take ages to arrive. Mercifully it was empty when the doors opened. They entered, feeling relieved to have gotten this far without being stopped.

  “Did you have to tell them about the horse?” Col asked Rat with exasperation, thinking that his friend was getting carried away.

  “’Course. We’re parked right outside. I’ll bet you any money they’ll all be looking out of the window to see what we’re doing.”

  It was a good point. As a cover story, it had its merits. Maybe Rat wasn’t as crazy as he looked, conceded Col.

  They reached the ground floor. Connie cradled in his arms, Mack marched determinedly through the crowds, out through the sliding doors, and into the parking lot. Stationed in the “20 minutes only” slot by the entrance was the horsebox with Kira Okona, Windfoal’s companion, leaning against it, checking her watch anxiously. Seeing them emerge from the hospital entrance, she opened the rear doors so Mack could carry Connie directly inside. Laying the universal gently on the hay, Mack stepped outside to leave her in Windfoal’s care.

  Five minutes later, Connie leaned against the unicorn, resting after Windfoal had purged her blood of the elusive venom of the chimera. Her head was now clear, the unicorn’s healing touch having burnt away the poison that had been gnawing at the bond between her and this world.

  “You came just in time,” Connie whispered. “I couldn’t have held out much longer.”

  Windfoal whickered her agreement, nuzzling her young friend affectionately. Her horn gleamed with a soft golden light in the darkness of the van, casting everything in a warm glow. Even Windfoal’s normally silver-white coat seemed tinged with honeyed gold.

  “I’d better go. I think everyone’s in trouble because of me,” Connie said regretfully.

  Windfoal pushed her toward the door with her velvety nose. Come and see me soon, Universal, she said through their bond, so we will heal those scars as well.

  Connie nodded and slid the door open, reluctant to leave the peaceful haven of the horsebox. Col, Mack, and Rat were standing in a worried huddle, watching a posse of people headed in their direction. Kira started the engine. Three nurses, backed up by two uniformed security guards and a doctor, approached at a run. Col cheered up when he saw that Connie was on her feet.

  “Let me handle this, okay?” she said to them. “You’d better go.”

  She walked over to meet her reception committee, reassured to hear the doors of the van slam behind her. The priority was to get Windfoal away before too many questions were asked.

  “Connie!” exclaimed the staff nurse from her ward, “what on Earth are you doing? You’re not well enough to be outside in nothing but a nightgown! And no slippers!”

  The van engine rumbled to life. The grit of the parking lot surface crackled as Kira pulled out of the spot.

  “I’m fine. All I needed was a breath of fresh air,” said Connie.

  The doctor, a young woman with short bleached hair and owlish glasses, came forward and took Connie’s arm. “I must say you do look much better,” she said, leading her back toward the hospital. “I thought you were getting nowhere fast this morning when I checked you over, but now…Well, let’s take you inside and see what’s what.”

  After a thorough examination, the doctor pronounced Connie remarkably improved.

  “I don’t know what miracle you found, Connie, but I wouldn’t mind some of it,” the doctor said with a smile as she noted the healthy, almost golden, glow of Connie’s skin. “Just the stitches to take out tomorrow and then you can go home.”

  Connie was relieved to hear that she was to be discharged so quickly. Now that she was returned to full consciousness, her memories of the terrifying night in the plantation had come flooding back. Uppermost in her mind was Simon: How was he? What was the Society to do about the disastrous revelation of his gift? And what about the chimera? Had Icefen mortally injured it or was it still out there, waiting for her?

  That afternoon, she had two sets of visitors. First, a stricken Anneena and more composed Jane arrive
d bearing a bunch of roses. Anneena gave a muffled squeal of delight when she saw Connie sitting up, leafing through a magazine the girl in the bed opposite had lent her.

  “Connie! I’m so, so sorry! But you’re better! You look better than better: you look great.”

  “Yes,” said Jane with a thoughtful expression, head cocked to one side, “you do look well. What’ve they done to you?”

  Connie smiled.

  Anneena leaned forward and took her friend’s bandaged hand. “I’m really, really sorry, you know that, don’t you?” Putting her other hand on her heart, she added, “And I promise I won’t go looking for that beast again.”

  “I know,” said Connie, returning her friend’s pressure on her fingers with difficulty through the bandages. “Let’s just hope it’s the last we’ve seen of the…of it.”

  Anneena sat back, satisfied and appearing more her old self. “Oh, it’s still out there, unfortunately. There was no sign of it when they combed the plantation; lots of blood,” Anneena looked down as all of them were thinking that some of the blood must have been Connie’s, “but nothing else. We don’t know what drove it off, and the ground was too dry for it to leave any tracks, but my dad says it’ll have gone onto the moor to hide so it can lick its wounds.” She paused, her eyes sliding up to Connie’s face. “He’s banned me from going up there again. I’m to stay in Hescombe until the creature’s been caught and destroyed.”

  “Me, too,” said Jane. “My parents are worried it may’ve got a taste for humans. What do you think your aunt will tell you?”

  Connie shrugged. Her case was a bit more complicated. She had not yet considered what the fallout would be for her freedom to roam.

  At that moment, her aunt and Dr. Brock appeared in the doorway: Evelyn willowy and energetic, any hint of her previous queasiness now gone; Dr. Brock at her shoulder, his lined face radiating pleasure at seeing Connie sitting up.