Chapter 9 #2
Two massive chimeras, identical in their impossible composition.
Each has the powerful body of a lion melded seamlessly with serpentine scales along their spines.
Goat-like hindquarters support their weight while wickedly curved ram's horns spiral from their foreheads.
Their tails end not in tufts of fur but in serpent heads that weave and hiss with independent awareness.
Most disturbing of all are their eyes—three eyes in a row, glowing with different colors but moving in perfect synchronization.
The larger chimera snarls at the door, lips curling back to reveal rows of glistening teeth—and there they are.
Two sets of double canines, precisely a half-inch apart, exactly matching the wounds from my father's autopsy photos.
My stomach lurches. The monster from my nightmares stands mere feet away, and I'll either kill it tonight or die trying.
They're focused entirely on a heavy metal door set into the wall. One braces its massive shoulder against the barrier while the other claws at the seams with lion paws that morph into talon-tipped fingers, their coordinated efforts making the reinforced steel groan.
The chimeras are so intent on their prey they haven't noticed us yet.
I gesture for Ghost and Sherlock to spread out, getting clear firing positions.
Three heartbeats get into position, then I give the signal.
"Now!"
Ghost and Sherlock fire simultaneously, but the chimera both move, deflecting the bullets with their armored scales. Both scream, a strange mix of a lion’s roar, a goat's bleat, and a serpent's hiss. They whirl to face us, their multiple eyes blazing anger.
They move with shocking coordination, instantly adopting attack formation. The larger one charges straight at Ghost, covering the distance with unnatural speed. The second creature circles, cutting Sherlock off from both of us.
"Flank right!" I shout, but it's too late.
The chimera crashes into Ghost, sending him tumbling across the debris-strewn floor.
His rifle skitters away, disappearing under the shattered remains of a bookcase.
The beast looms over him, curved horns lowered for a killing strike while its serpent tail arches over its back, fangs dripping with venom.
The second chimera is on him in an instant.
Ghost is unarmed. Sherlock is pinned down. Both chimeras are positioned to kill my team.
I could use my magick. I can maybe save them both. But using my magick will also draw from their life force as well as the chimeras at this proximity, potentially harming them all.
I have to risk it—just enough to save them. I can’t let them die. I won’t.
I release the tiniest fraction of my power, just enough to enhance my natural speed without visible effect.
The world slows slightly as I close the distance to Ghost, katanas arcing through the air.
The blade connects with the chimera's flank, drawing silvery blood where lion's fur meets goat's hide.
It whirls. Multiple eyes fix on me with ancient intelligence. It's not just a predator—it recognizes me as a threat, not just another human.
I spin away from its counter-attack. My second blade slices across its shoulder, not deep enough to disable but enough to distract it from Ghost.
"Get up!" I shout to him as I engage the chimera. "Get to Sherlock!"
Ghost scrambles to his feet, diving for his fallen weapon as the creature focuses on me. Its movements are precise, controlled—not the blind fury of a wounded animal but the calculated aggression of a tactical opponent.
It feints left, then strikes right, nearly catching me with a sweeping paw that easily could’ve have taken my head. Its serpent tail strikes independently, forcing me to dodge in two directions at once. Then turns back to Ghost again.
A quick glance across the room reveals Sherlock’s pinned against the wall, massive horns mere inches from his chest. He's barely holding the beast back with a broken chair. One more lunge and Sherlock is dead—no time for careful planning.
"Ghost!" I shout. "Down!"
He drops flat as I throw one katana with perfect precision. It embeds in the creature's side, not a killing blow but enough to make it roar in pain. The howl makes the one pinning Sherlock also turn on me.
Both chimeras are now zeroed in on me instead of my team.
For a moment, we're locked in standoff—me with my remaining blade, the chimeras bleeding but far from defeated. Then the larger one makes a series of sounds—a complex communication that blends animal vocalizations in impossible ways—that the smaller one responds to.
They're communicating. Talking.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
The larger chimera backs toward the panic room door, resuming its assault on the reinforced barrier.
They’re going after the agent again instead of us.
What kind of animal does that? The metal groans, a visible dent forming where it rams its shoulder against the frame.
The smaller one keeps us at bay, circling defensively between us and its companion.
Ghost has retrieved his rifle, taking aim at the chimera attacking the door and firing. But again, the bullet just grazes the hide, barely doing any damage.
“This is not working," Ghost shouts.
The panic room door buckles further, the metal frame beginning to separate from the wall. A few more hits and it will give way completely.
"Cover me!" I dash forward, ducking under the smaller chimera's defensive swipe.
I reach the larger beast just as it draws back for another assault on the door. My blade slices into its haunch, drawing another spray of silvery blood. It roars, all three sets of eyes swiveling independently before fixing on me. I barely avoid it’s deadly horns and the snapping serpent tail.
We dance across the shattered bedroom, blade against claw and fang, speed against raw power. But it's not enough. The chimera anticipates my movements, matching my speed with uncanny precision.
Its paw catches me across the chest, sending me crashing into what remains of a dresser. Pain flares along my ribs—not broken, but definitely bruised. I roll aside just as those horns punch through the wood where I'd been a heartbeat before.
Ghost fires again. The shot grazes the chimera's shoulder. It turns toward him with a snarl, giving me the opening I need. I lunge forward, driving my remaining katana deep into its side.
The chimera shrieks—a sound that shatters what's left of the windows—and tears away, pulling my blade with it. Now unarmed, I back toward my team as both creatures regroup.
The smaller one darts toward the broken window, the larger following with my katana still embedded in its flesh. Before we can stop them, they leap through the shattered glass into a small courtyard behind the building.
"Don't let them escape!" I rush forward, Sherlock and Ghost right behind me, but there’s no way to stop them.
We reach the window in time to see them leap across the courtyard toward a large ornamental pond nestled among overgrown plants. The chimeras dive into the water, one after the other, barely causing a ripple on the surface.
I grab the katana that fell out of the larger one’s flank and jump through the window after the beasts.
We reach the fountain moments later, but the creatures are gone. Just the endless flow of recycled water over weathered stone.
"Fuck!" I slam my fist against the rock border. They were right here—the monsters that killed my father, that slaughtered two GUIDE teams—and I lost them.
Ghost examines the water, gun ready. "Where did they go?"
Sherlock crouches, running his fingers along the fountain's edge where drops of that silvery blood gleam like mercury. "Could it be a portal?"
"If it was a portal, it's not now." I point to the stones lining the bottom.
"Agent Mathieson." Hayes' voice cuts through my comms. "Status report. Where are the creatures?"
I take a breath, watching the remaining silvery drops of blood dissolve into the fountain water, leaving no trace behind. "Targets evaded capture, sir. Two chimeras, one smaller, one larger, coordinating tactically. They were attempting to breach Rossi's panic room when we interrupted."
"Chimeras?" The edge in his voice sharpens. "No one has ever seen a chimera live before."
"True," I reply. "We have now. We can also confirm that they are bullet proof. They utilized a fountain as some form of transportation device. Requesting a forensic team at our location."
"Negative. Clear the area immediately. Italian authorities have been alerted to the disturbance. Extraction team is en route to your alpha rendezvous position." His frustration is palpable even through the comm link. "Is Rossi secure?"
"Unknown. We still need to get him out of his panic room."
"Get him and get out."
The connection cuts. Ghost glances at me, then Sherlock, who's still studying the fountain with unnerving intensity.
"That monster had you dead to rights." Sherlock says, not looking up from his examination. "How the hell did you move that fast?"
I keep my expression neutral, my heartbeat carefully steady. "Good timing."
"Hmm." The sound is noncommittal, but I know better. He's adding it to his list.
The weight of failure crushes against my chest. I've spent half my life hunting these creatures, and they slipped through my fingers like water and my teammate is still stacking points against me every chance he gets.
"We should check on Rossi," Ghost interrupts, one hand pressed to his ribs where the chimera struck him. "Then get to the extraction point."
Back inside, the panic room door has held—barely.
The reinforced steel is warped and dented, the frame half-torn from the wall, but it remained intact.
The rest of the room boasts nothing more than splintered furniture.
My father's study looked like this—ransacked, violated, stained with his blood.
But unlike Rossi, Dad had no panic room to retreat to, no reinforced door between him and those double fangs.
When we identify ourselves, Rossi unlocks it from inside, his face ashen but clearly relieved.
"Knew they'd come eventually when I heard about the others," he says, voice steady despite everything. "I’ve contained a lot of shit over the years, but those were something else entirely."
“No fucking shit. Bullets bounced off their hides like beanbags,” Sherlock growls out.
"We need to move," I say, scanning the destruction one last time and committing every detail to memory. The chimeras will surface again, and when they do, I'll be ready. "Extraction team is waiting."
We head outside and climb into the unmarked van just outside the apartment.
For the first time in hours I take a full breath, adrenaline ebbing to leave behind the dull ache of bruised ribs and the sharper pain of failure.
The chimeras, the same creatures that killed my father, had been within my grasp, and I'd lost them.
As the extraction team navigates through Rome's streets toward our safe house, I check my phone. No messages from Sanderson about my mother, which should be reassuring. No news is good news, right?
But the security footage from Missouri plays on repeat in my mind. The massive wolf. The partially devoured bear. The torn-out throat that looked eerily similar to these chimeras' work. Two deadly creatures on opposite sides of the ocean, both connected to me somehow. That can't be a coincidence.
"Anything on Team Echo's progress with the Missouri creature?" I ask Sherlock, keeping my voice casual despite the knot tightening in my chest.
He scrolls through his tablet. "Last update shows they're still tracking it. No containment yet."
I turn to stare out the window, hiding my expression from his too-observant eyes. First, I'll finish this mission and get the chimeras. Then I'm getting home to make sure my mother is safe from whatever's lurking in those Missouri woods and God help Team Echo if they've screwed this up.