The Chimera's Curse

  “Do you have to do that to Connie, Simon?” came Anneena’s voice from the other side of the picnic rug. Anneena was sitting up, fanning herself with her straw hat.

  “Brothers can be such a pain,” said Jane grumpily. She had an older brother and was used to such tormenting.

  “Look, why don’t we go for a walk?” suggested Anneena. “We could find some shade in the trees over there.”

  “A walk?” Connie groaned. “In this heat?”

  “Yes. You shouldn’t lie out in the sun: you’ll burn.”

  “Okay. Let’s go,” Connie said, sitting up, feeling momentarily dizzy as the world righted itself.

  “I’m not coming. It’ll be boring,” said Simon sullenly.

  “Fine,” cut in Anneena. “You stay here and clean up then.”

  Simon got to his feet. “I’m coming,” he said quickly.

  The four of them headed toward the pine plantation, eager to reach the shade once they started walking in the glaring heat. As they entered under the boughs, the contrast with the bright day could not have been greater; brown shadows clung to the tree trunks, obscuring the depths of the wood from view. A thick layer of pine needles muffled their footfalls, releasing the heady scent of resin as they were stirred. The air was stuffy, like a room that had been shut up for many years. Connie felt a prickle down her spine and shivered.

  “I’m not sure it’s any cooler in here,” said Jane doubtfully. “Shall we go back?”

  Anneena and Connie were ready to agree but Simon was standing very still, staring fascinated into the trees.

  “No, I want to go further in,” he said firmly. His thick black eyebrows, which almost met in the middle, were set in a determined frown.

  “Come on, Simon, let’s get out into the fresh air again.” Connie pulled on his sleeve, but he shook her off. Her skin was prickling, her body tense, on the verge of making a run for it. Anything to get out of this creepy wood.

  “No,” he said angrily. “You dragged me in here. It’s not fair to make me go just because you’ve changed your mind.”

  “He has a point,” said Jane. She brushed her fair hair off her face where it was sticking to her skin.

  Connie now noticed that her brother was gazing into the shadows, a rapt expression on his face. She paused for a moment, focusing her thoughts on the creatures around her. Then she caught it, too. There was something slinking through those trees—a creature whose presence she had never felt before—something dangerous.

  “I think we’d better go back,” she said quietly, laying a hand on Simon’s arm to convey to him that she understood.

  He shook her off roughly. “I’m going further in.”

  “But it’s not safe,” Connie said in a low voice, hoping Anneena and Jane wouldn’t hear. She didn’t want them to question her.

  “Not safe! It’s not the Amazon jungle, you know. What do you think will get me in Hescombe—a particularly hacked-off squirrel? What’ll it do: throw pine cones at me or something?” Simon said in frustration.

  Connie could have pointed out that dragons, stone sprites, minotaurs, and frost wolves were not unknown on the moors—to the Society members, at least. But Simon was not a member of the Society and showed no interest in undergoing an assessment, though Connie had reason before today to suspect that he had a gift.

  “I know,” she said, struggling to be reasonable as her instinct grew that they must retreat and quickly. “But please trust me for once. It really isn’t safe for anyone to go in there, not until we know what it is.” She held his gaze, trying to convey that she, too, sensed the creature in the shadows ahead.

  “Know what what is?” asked Anneena, intrigued by this exchange, looking eagerly from one to the other. “Did you see something?”

  Connie shook her head. “No, I think Simon and I might’ve heard something moving about.”

  She was saved further explanation by an ear-splitting whinny and a shout, followed by a thump, not far away to their right. Now they could all hear something large crashing through the trees, and Connie caught the glimpse of a long black tail disappearing into the undergrowth. Without hesitation, they all ran in the direction of the cry.

  Simon was first to reach the scene. He found Col sitting on the ground, holding his head and groaning.

  “Are you all right?” Connie pushed past her brother. “What happened?”

  “Mags threw me,” Col gasped, an astounding statement from him as his riding skills were famous.

  Connie gave a whistle, and the chestnut horse galloped back into the clearing, eyes wide with fear. Mags nestled against her for comfort, skin quivering.

  “How come you fell?” Simon asked. “You never fall.”

  “I dunno.” Col shook his head to clear it of the ringing in his ears. “We were riding along, minding our own business when we—” He stopped, suddenly remembering what he had seen. “Connie, there’s something loose on the moor. A big cat maybe. I saw its eyes in the bushes over there.” He gestured toward a thick tangle of fallen trees and new saplings. “It leapt out, Mags reared, and I fell.”

  “A big cat?” Anneena offered her hand to pull Col up from the ground. “Are you sure?”

  Col gave Connie an awkward look. Society members were sworn to keep mythical creatures secret, and if this was one of them then he’d just made a monumental blunder. Anneena would never give up on such a tempting mystery. “I’m not sure. Maybe it was just a deer or something.”

  “It wasn’t a deer,” Simon stated. “I know it wasn’t. Let’s go look for it.”

  Connie frowned at her brother. This was getting out of hand and she still felt they were in desperate danger. “You can’t go. You’re forgetting that Col’s hurt. Aren’t you, Col?” she said, giving him a heavy hint.

  On cue, Col clutched his ankle. “Yeah. I think I’ve sprained it.”

  “Let’s go back to the cottage and get you some ice. Simon, you’d better take one side, I’ll take the other.” Forcing her brother to assume his part as one of Col’s human crutches, Connie led the retreat, leaving two amber eyes watching her from the shadows.

  2

  Fire Imps

  Ice pack in place, Col sat on a sun chair in the back garden of Rat’s house, surrounded by the defunct engines sacrificed to Mr. Ratcliff’s hobby of car mechanics. Mr. Ratcliff himself was asleep in the hammock slung where the drying line normally hung. Mrs. Ratcliff was clattering in the kitchen, singing tunelessly, making what she called “hedgerow jam” and what her son and husband called “Mam’s Poisoned Spread.”

  “It’d be okay if she just stuck to blackberries and things.” Rat groaned. “But she will branch out—chuck in a bit of anything that catches her eye.”

  “Like what?” asked Connie, plucking the petals off a daisy. “He loves me, he loves me not,” she counted absentmindedly.

  “I dunno—like nettles and cow parsley—anything really.”

  Connie threw the daisy aside and made a mental note to dispose quietly of the jar Mrs. Ratcliff had given her great-uncle for Christmas.

  For Rat’s benefit, Anneena had just finished running through what had happened in the plantation and was now speculating about the strange creature.

  “It’s not the first time, of course,” said Anneena, fanning herself with her sun hat. “There’ve been reports of a beast on the moors for ages.”

  “Oh?” said Connie guardedly. She had certainly never sensed the presence of this particular creature before and was still wondering what it was. It seemed so strange, so contradictory—dark and prowling like a big cat, snakelike in the way it slithered through the undergrowth, but also nimble, certainly fast enough to make a rapid escape.

  “Yes. I saw a story last month from over Okehampton way about a flock of sheep being raided. Paw-prints everywhere, according to the farmer.”

  “I don’t think that was the same beast,” said Rat with a grin. He stretched out his thin, wiry body on the scrubby lawn dotted with bright yellow dandel
ions. His sharp profile twitched with suppressed laughter.

  “Oh?” asked Anneena. “Why not?”

  Rat opened his mouth but was lost for words.

  Col knew why: it must have been the frost wolf, Icefen, in one of his wilder moods. Col wouldn’t have been surprised if Rat had encouraged him. Come to think of it, Rat might even have been riding him at the time.

  “It’s a long way from here, isn’t it?” Col supplied for his friend who was notoriously bad at lying. Rat twisted over onto his belly and gave Col a grateful grin.

  “But how many wild animals do you think there can be, Col?” asked Anneena dismissively.

  Far more than you know, Col thought, but he shrugged for Anneena’s sake.

  “Isn’t it more likely that it’s the same creature?” Anneena persisted. “You can get all the way from here to Okehampton on open moor. It’s unlikely to be spotted. Not unless someone’s looking for it.”

  Connie turned quickly to Anneena, hearing a familiar determined note in her friend’s voice. Jane had picked up the same signal.

  “Looking for it?” Jane asked slowly.

  “Yes. Aren’t you even the least bit interested to find out what’s going on out there?” Anneena waved her slim hand vaguely in the direction of the moor. “If a big cat’s escaped from a zoo, it’s got to be caught before it does any more harm.”

  “Yes, but—” Connie began.

  “And we know this area better than anybody. We could track it down.” Anneena had a glint in her eyes. They all knew that she liked nothing better than to have a project.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” said Connie firmly. “It’s too risky. You can’t go tracking unknown wild animals, Anneena. You wouldn’t stand a chance if you met it.”

  “I don’t want to meet it. I just want to gather as much information as I can about it. Once we’ve got a good idea of where it hunts, we can pass on the information to the proper authorities.”

  “We?” asked Jane in a wary tone of voice.

  Anneena looked around the unenthusiastic faces of her friends. “Well, I hoped it would be ‘we.’ That creature is probably suffering out there—terrified and hungry. Can’t be much fun surviving in this drought, can it?” She turned her large brown eyes to appeal to Connie. “And if you met it, it’d probably just roll over and let you tickle its tummy.”

  “Ha!” Connie gave a skeptical laugh. She knew too much about hostile creatures to expect such a warm welcome.

  “You didn’t see it, Anneena,” Col warned. “It’s no kitten.”

  “Oh, come on, you guys! What else have you got to do with your summer?”

  “I’ll help you, Anneena,” said Rat, to Col and Connie’s surprise.

  “Are you sure?” asked Connie.

  “Yeah. I’ve got a good idea about the beast’s habits already.” He winked at Connie. “I know enough to keep Anneena occupied.”

  “Rat!” Connie protested.

  But Anneena cut in quickly, thinking that Connie was trying to undermine her idea. “Thanks, Rat. I really appreciate your support.” She glared around at the others, saving her hardest stare for Connie.

  “Okay, okay,” said Jane, surrendering to the inevitable. “I’ll help.”

  Anneena looked pointedly at Connie and Col.

  Connie sighed. “I will, too. But you must trust me if I say it’s too dangerous; you must promise to leave the moor immediately.”

  “Don’t take any notice of her,” chipped in Simon, who had been sitting forgotten, listening in on the conversation. “She’s just being a nag as usual. I’ll help.”

  Connie frowned at Simon, but he was studiously avoiding her eye. Sibling relations were definitely at an all-time low.

  “Thanks, Simon,” said Anneena, somewhat surprised by this offer. Simon was normally found inside destroying aliens on his computer, not volunteering for a challenge outdoors.

  Col spoke last. “I’m with Connie on this. I’ll only help if we follow her lead. We all know she’s the one who understands animals.”

  Simon snorted. Col glared at him, making Simon swallow his comment.

  “Okay,” said Anneena, happy to have gotten her way. “We’ll start by looking up recent news reports of attacks and see if we can establish a pattern.” She looked around the circle. “Any volunteers to come with me to the library in Chartmouth?”

  “Libraries: not my thing, Anneena,” said Rat quickly.

  Anneena must have agreed with him for she was now looking expectantly at Jane and Connie.

  “Okay. I can come on Monday morning,” admitted Connie.

  “I’ll come, too,” volunteered Jane.

  Connie and Jane shared a private, exasperated look. They both loved Anneena dearly, but sometimes being her friend could be exhausting.

  Astride Mags once more, Col trotted behind Connie as she pedaled her bike down the lanes bright with nodding summer flowers and grasses. Since Col’s father had married Connie’s aunt last year, Col had been spending more time ’round at Shaker Row and it was becoming a second home to him. He had decided to go back with Connie to ask his father about the creature on the moors: as a member of the Society, Mack might have some ideas.

  Col would also have liked to ask Connie for her opinion, but she did not seem disposed to talk at the moment. Instead, he watched in silence as butterflies fluttered in a circle over the universal’s head, drifting in and out of formation like tiny ballroom dancers. Jane and Anneena were just in front, riding their bikes side by side, talking animatedly about the moorland beast.

  Col turned his thoughts back to the scene in the plantation and shuddered. He hadn’t caught a proper look at the animal, but he remembered the wave of malevolence that accompanied its pounce. It had felt so powerful; he would put money on it being some kind of mythical creature. But which one? The Society had good relations with most of the beasts and beings on Dartmoor, except mischievous creatures like the kelpies, horse-shaped sprites who liked to confuse walkers and lead them into bogs. But that kind of harm was mostly a wicked trick, rarely fatal; the creature in the plantation had been different. It had wanted blood.

  Connie’s thoughts were preoccupied not by the creature but by her brother’s behavior in its presence. She was relieved to leave Simon behind at her great-uncle’s cottage on the headland, where he was staying for the summer. They were definitely not getting on as well as they used to. But she was going to have to confront him about his gift, talk to him about the Society at the very least, before he did something rash.

  “So, what do you think?” Col asked her as soon as they waved farewell to Anneena and Jane on the outskirts of Hescombe.

  “He’s not himself,” she said.

  “What?” Col had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Simon: he definitely sensed the creature before I did, up in the plantation just now.”

  “Oh,” said Col. This put a new spin on the whole adventure. “D’you think?”

  “What else can it be?”

  “Do you think he’s another universal?”

  Connie frowned, digging back in her memory to recall the other times she’d been with her brother in the presence of animals. He had a special bond with her aunt’s cat; he’d shown that long ago.

  “I don’t know. None of the mythical creatures have ever mentioned it to me and, in my own case, I know they sensed it without my having to ask them.”

  “So what about entering him for an assessment?”

  Connie shook her head. “He’s not interested. Both Evelyn and I have asked him before, but he’s taken it into his head that the Society is my thing, so he hates it. And Mr. Coddrington is still in place as the assessor for our region; I really couldn’t face explaining the difficulty to the Society.” Though losing his post as Trustee and being almost universally disliked for his attempt to oust Connie from the Society, Mr. Coddrington had clung on to his official role as an assessor at its London headquarters. Nothing had ever been proven again
st him, so they couldn’t fire him.

  “Dr. Brock then?” suggested Col.

  “Yes, that’s an idea. Or Horace Little. He’s a friend of Uncle Hugh’s, so Simon might listen to him.”

  They stopped outside the gate to Number Five.

  “Do you want to come in?” Connie asked hesitantly, looking at Col with her mismatched eyes—so like his—one green, one brown. She was aware that there was a certain tension between them ever since she’d kissed him on the cheek a few months ago. Col no longer seemed easy in her presence. She now regretted doing it.

  “Dunno,” said Col, glancing at his watch, even though he would like to have stayed. “I’m not sure I have time. I did want a word—with Dad, that is…”

  The decision was taken out of their hands by Mack Clamworthy. He had been on the watch for their return and spotted them hovering by the gate. He came striding down the path: a handsome man in good shape, with spiky black hair, square jaw, and twinkling brown eyes. It was his Harley-Davidson by the gate that Connie had just propped her bike against. She picked up the bicycle quickly, knowing how protective he was of his beloved motorcycle, though for once he seemed completely oblivious of his prized possession, not giving it a second glance.

  “Col, Connie, just the people I want!” He threw open the gate and gave his son a bear hug, from which Col struggled to extricate himself. “Come in, come in.” He made no attempt to hide that he was in an extremely good mood.

  Col and Connie exchanged puzzled looks, but there seemed nothing to do but follow him inside. They trailed behind him down the garden path and around to the back door. The kitchen windows were wide open, the mobile of scavenged feathers and glass tinkling melodiously over the sink. The dishes in the sink were piled high. Clearly no one had done any housework since breakfast, which was not unusual in this household.

  Mack strode into the hall and bellowed up the stairs. “Evie, Connie and Col are back. Are you coming down?” He turned to grin at them. “She’s just having a rest. The heat got to her.” Rubbing his hands gleefully together, Mack paced across the stone floor, but said nothing more, waiting for his wife to arrive.