The Beast of Exmoor Read online

Over."

  She slowly reached down beside herself, pulled off the cover, and picked up the rifle as she carefully rose to one knee. Raising it to her shoulder and steadying it on the thigh of the supporting leg, she sighted the Beast through the telescopic site as she thumbed off the safety. It didn't have the magnification of the spotting scope, but at that distance she didn't need it.

  "I'll wait for it to come out into the open, to get a clear shot, unless it decides to move off. Over."

  "Understood. Over."

  It emerged from the shrubs into the meadow in front of the rock outcrop in a full crouch. The ewe saw it and started bleating as it tried to run away. It paused; she centered the crosshairs between its eyes. It stood stock still, staring at the helpless farm animal as if readying itself for a charge, and she gradually put pressure on the trigger to fire.

  Then it stood up to its full height and looked around. Puzzled, she glanced up from the scope as she eased off the trigger. "What the..." It almost looked like it was searching for something.

  "Madam?"

  "Stand by." The Beast sauntered further into view, paused and gazed about, then started prowling again. Did it suspect a trap? she wondered. It came within a fathom of the frantic sheep. It stared straight at it for a moment, then ignored it as it walked past towards the outcrop.

  "Bloody hell. It's not interested in the bait."

  "Maybe it has already eaten?"

  "Perhaps, but I assume not. It's definitely hunting something, just not the ewe. It's coming towards me."

  "Shoot it, Differel, before it gets too close."

  She looked through the sight again, her finger on the trigger, but the cat didn't come straight for her, and it ranged about in a leisurely fashion.

  She raised her head. "I don't believe it's hunting me either. I don't think it even knows I'm here."

  "Don't take any chances. Protect yourself."

  He was right, of course, and yet... "No, something's wrong. I think we've made a mistake."

  "How so?"

  Before she had a chance to respond she heard a hiss behind her, like a muted calliope whistle. She pivoted, rising to a squat, and threw off the blanket and netting. Further up the outcrop, no more than fifteen feet away, sat a monstrosity. Looking like a furless cat, it had dull brick-red skin covered in dark reddish-brown squamous patches, with six legs and two tails that lashed back and forth like cracking whips. It possessed a single yellow eye just above the bridge of its snout, its upper and lower teeth were fused into bony plates that resembled chisels, and its ears were thin and sharply pointed. In lieu of whiskers, fan-shaped structures sprouted from its upper lip, its cheeks, and its eyebrows.

  Oh, bugger! "We have made a mistake. I'm staring down a Cat From Mars."

  "St. George defend us!"

  "I certainly hope so, because these four-sixty rounds won't do a bloody bit of good unless I hit it in the eye or the open mouth. I knew I should've brought one of Vlad's anti-material pistols!" Their 20mm shells could blow a hole in the Martian Cat big enough to drive a lorry through.

  "Tell Mr. Holt to get out here with an L82 ASAP. I'll try to--"

  It leapt at her. She swung the rifle up and fired before it slammed into her. It threw her onto her back; the spotting scope went flying and she cracked her head on the limestone rock. She saw stars, heard Aelfraed calling her name, and then oblivion sucked her down.

  "Madam!" Aelfraed shouted into the microphone. "Sir Differel! Differel!" Only silence came out of the speakers.

  "Shouting won't do any good!" he heard Mrs. Widget say behind him.

  He closed his eyes and forced himself to be calm. "I am well aware of that, Dear Sister."

  "Don't 'dear sister' me, Brother Mine. We can't waste any time, we need to get going."

  He turned and flashed a knowing smile with a raised eyebrow as she fished a Parker Hale PDW submachine gun out of the weapons trunk. "'We', Madam?"

  She inserted a 180-round drum magazine into the weapon. "It will take too long to collect the other snipers or recall our people engaged in the search." She cocked the gun and eyed him over her granny glasses. "Differel may not have much time. We're the only ones who can reach her quickly."

  He nodded. "Mr. Holt."

  Differel's Master-at-Arms came in from one of the public house's backrooms, carrying a large rifle case. For a moment, he reminded him of an American Roaring Twenties gangster.

  "I'm on it," he said as he placed the case on a table. Maggie King accompanied him. Differel had hired her six months ago, ostensibly to be her lady's maid, but in fact she was in the process of training her to be her double. She did bear a remarkable resemble to their mistress, almost mirror-perfect, but her hair was brassy blonde and her eyes sky-blue, and she had a more pronounced bosom.

  Not that he paid attention to those sorts of things.

  "I'd like to come, too," she announced. Holt appeared to ignore her, but Mrs. Widget gave her a concerned stare.

  "My Dear," he replied, "we appreciate your loyalty, but you haven't completed your training yet, and there will be considerable danger."

  She gave him a determined look. Her strong-willed personality was another way in which she exactly mimicked Differel. "She saved my life, Aelfraed. If there's anything I can do to help, I have to try."

  "We could use her help," Holt remarked.

  He smiled. "Of course, we completely understand. Would you give her a hand, Helena?"

  Mrs. Widget removed a British Army L92A1 submachine gun and handed to her along with a 100-round Beta C-Mag drum magazine.

  Meanwhile, Holt removed a British Army L82A1 anti-material sniper rifle from the case. At nearly five long and weighing over thirty pounds, with a recoil like the kick from an angry mule, he was probably the only Order operative who could handle that monster, aside from the late Vlad. It was based on the American Barrett M82, which had been designed for use against unarmoured or lightly armoured vehicles, crew-served weapons, ammunition dumps, and fuel depots, though the Order found it worked well against monsters that could shrug off less powerful guns. He selected a clip of Raufoss Mk 211 rounds and inserted it into the breech before slinging it over his shoulder. He also packed four more magazines into his coat pockets. The Raufoss .50 caliber ammunition was as powerful as a 20mm cannon shell. They were themselves a form of miniature shell, containing high explosives, an incendiary mix, and an armour-piercing tungsten penetrator. Short of an anti-tank rocket, the rifle with those bullets was probably the only hand-held weapon that could destroy a Cat From Mars.

  "Mr. Cummings," Holt called as he removed a transponder and slipped it into his pants pocket. A corporal carrying a British Army L85A2 assault rifle came out of the backroom.

  Holt handed him a GPS-equipped tracking device. "Round up the other snipers and proceed to Sir Differel's location. From there you should be able to track us."

  "Yes, Sergeant." He hurried out of the pub as Mrs. Widget and Miss King put on their parkas.

  All three of them looked at Aelfraed. "We're ready to go when you are," Holt said.

  He smiled and nodded. Regular soldiers might disparage them as mere household staff, but he would test their metal against seasoned, battle-hardened troops any day.

  "Go on ahead; I'll just get my coat."

  Differel awoke slowly and groaned; she had a splitting headache from hitting her skull, but it faded as she became more lucid. She tried to move but couldn't. She realized she stood upright, but not under her own power. It felt more like she hung suspended, being as she seemed to be leaning forward.

  She opened her eyes. At first she couldn't see anything and thought the blow had blinded her. Then she perceived a faint glow from webbing hanging off the walls. As her sight adjusted to the low light she looked around. The stone walls were rough-hewn, like the inside of a cave. The she realized the passage appeared too straight; it also had a roughly square cross section and a flattened smooth floor.

  A tunnel perhaps, or a mine shaft.


  Seeing the series of wooden cross-braces retreating into the distance seemed to confirm the latter hypothesis. She remembered from her research that Exmoor had been a center for copper and iron mining going all the way back to the Neolithic.

  It felt like her arms were raised over her head and spread apart. Looking up and to either side she saw she hung from a cross-brace. Thin ropes had been tied to her wrists and looped around her arms and the top of the brace through gaps between the wooden beam and the ceiling. The rope looked like it was made from the same material as the webbing, except it appeared to be a single braided cord. She pulled on it, but while her body swayed in the harness, the line didn't stretch. She fingered it with one hand; it felt like steel wire. Looking down, she saw her feet had been tied to the bases of the two upright support beams.

  Have I become part of its larder?

  Then she saw it. "Oh, bollocks."

  On the ground three feet in front of her stood a mass eighteen inches high that resembled an insect egg case. Except it held only one individual, a miniature version of the Martian cat the size of a house feline.

  I'm to be its first meal when it hatches.

  She had no idea how soon that would be, but she didn't intend to wait around to find out.

  She summoned Caliburn, but as the great sword materialized the long blade impacted the ceiling and fell out of her hand. When she wielded it, it felt as light as a fencing sabre, but its length made it cumbersome; if stood on its tip, the pommel came up to just under her chin. She