Shadow
Beast
Beast
Series Book 1
by
Luke Phillips
Genre:
Thriller
We
just lost our place at the top of the food chain. Man is just
meat.
"This
was on par with Jurassic Park." Courtney L.
"This
story has heart and soul in the midst of its rampaging terror."
Bevi Debb
"His
hero has the potential to be one of the most loved adventure icons,
in the mould of Indiana Jones." A.K.S Ford
It
is only when the bones of its prey are discovered in a remote
Scottish glen that the majesty and power of one of nature’s most
successful predators is truly revealed. As it strikes silently from
the shadows and on nights shrouded in darkness, a small village falls
under siege to a remarkable creature. For thousands of years mankind
has had the upper hand but now – suddenly, violently, bloodily –
the balance of power has shifted.
When
an isolated wildlife research centre launches an investigation, it is
soon discovered that something out of place has made the Highlands
its home and set its sights on the quiet village of Cannich. It will
hunt, it will kill and it won’t let anything get in its way. Thomas
Walker, a renowned wildlife specialist and former big game hunter,
finds himself confronted with his past and an animal the likes of
which he had never wanted to face again. As its devastating rampage
goes unchecked and threatens his home, the woman he loves and his
very way of life, an older and much more human adversary seeks him
out. How long will any of them survive the presence of the beast in
their shadow?
There
are nearly 2,000 reported sightings of what have become known as
mystery big cats across the UK every year. Some, such as the beasts
of Bodmin and Dartmoor have become infamous. Their origin and
identity remain unknown. Shadow Beast, the new chiller from Luke
Phillips, offers a terrifying and deadly explanation.
The
Daughters of the Darkness
Beast
Series Book 2
"We
often look to escape the everyday by seeking out the dark places,
where something monstrous waits in the void. Luke Phillips takes you
there, where man is still well and truly on the menu."
SHANNON
LEGRO - INTO THE FRAY RADIO
1898,
East Africa. The Tsavo man-eaters kill 130 people over the course of
nine months. The unusually large, pale-coloured, and maneless male
lions mark history in what became known as their reign of
terror.
Now,
history is repeating itself. A new pride of killers has arrived in
Tsavo, staking out their own bloody legacy. One that includes the
murdered wife of conservationist and former hunter Thomas
Walker.
Torn
between the newfound happiness he has discovered in the Highlands of
Scotland with his new fiancée, and his loyalty to the man whose
brother has been taken by the man-eaters, Thomas must face his past
and creatures feared as myth by his friend and the people of
Kenya.
Arriving
in Africa, Thomas finds the situation worsening as a local arms
dealer and war lord declares the ‘critters of the bush’ are under
his command to drive those not loyal to him from the land. With all
not as it seems, the odds are stacked against Thomas and the small
band of friends trying to restore balance to the region and its
wildlife.
Shadow Beast Excerpts (book 2 excerpts below as well)
Chapter One
The creature stopped in the last reach of the shadows of the tall pines and dropped to the ground. It watched the group of stags charge from the tree line a hundred yards down, driven in a state of panic and changing direction instinctively as they went. Their feet pounded the earth and sent trickles of stone and mud sliding down the steep slope as they moved across it. It felt the vibrations under its feet and sensed the urgency with which they moved. The deer kicked their feet high to avoid the strewn boulders and scrub of the mountainside. It watched as their eyes darted back to the darkness beneath the trees to search for their pursuer. Their nostrils frothed in exhaustion, but as they stopped to snatch a few life-giving breaths, the leader of the group let out a strained bellow as he expelled the air from his lungs and continued on. The creature licked its nose as the wind brought the sticky sweet must of the animals towards it. A wave of static energy rippled along its back and across its shoulders like wind on water. It had flanked them without being seen and now lay motionless, its black hide blending into the darkness behind the thick gorse bank where it had slunk down onto the earth. Dawn was approaching and the night was retreating to the west.
It watched still, taking deep slow breaths that inflated its lungs to full capacity, the oxygen rich mountain air the fuel for the coming charge. Its paws rested on soft, dew drenched earth and budding heather that would silence the heaviest of footfalls. It waited, panting soundlessly as its silver whiskers warned it of micro-changes to the direction of the wind and air pressure, as the distance between it and its prey narrowed. It allowed a twitch of frustration to flick through its tail as the deer changed course again and headed down the hill, instead of towards it and the tree line. It rose slightly and continued its journey along the knotted and twisted branches of the thickly entwined gorse. Not in flower yet, the bank provided a dark and dense veil of branches to hide behind. Its movement was snakelike, its head naturally rising and falling as it followed the cover and the deer, its pelvic and shoulder muscles pumping together as it accelerated and slowed to match the pace of its prey. At the end of the gorse bank it came to the welcome shadow of trees again and disappeared within their darkness. Here it moved more cautiously, walking on stones and roots or flicking away the dry branches that lay in its path. Then it paused.
The sweaty, ripening must of the deer was intoxicating now and it knew they were close, even though it could not yet see them. Ahead of the creature was a small earthy bank that marked the boundary of the wood it had entered. This led to a sparse, grassy knoll that bordered a long, straight river of stone along the valley. It knew that rather than cross the stone river, the deer were more likely to hesitate and turn back to the trees with the coming dawn. It crept towards an opening on the bank between an oak and a pine, their intertwined boughs locked in a centuries-old battle for the light that formed a natural arch. The bank was steep and the creature paused, calculating its approach. It slunk down onto its belly and used the exposed roots of the oak as a stairway up the bank. It hunkered down, coiling its hindquarters beneath it and stretching its neck and head forward. Its whiskers bristled as they sensed the changes in air pressure and the breeze moved round the animal coming towards it. From the shadows it watched as the stag approached closer and it once again licked its nose and muzzle in anticipation. It repositioned itself slightly forward for better purchase and inhaled one last time. Silence fell upon the wood. The stag was stung by the sudden quiet and snapped to attention as it peered towards the darkness. The creature saw its moment and burst from the shadows, barrelling forwards in a furious and fluid sprint that silently engulfed the ground between it and the leader of the herd. In its final bound, it launched into a headlong leap, claws outstretched for a murderous embrace as it let out the thunderous roar that had built in its chest.
Chapter Seven
Catherine was embarrassed and looked away. She was torn between prying further and dropping the subject altogether. Thomas looked directly into her eyes and smiled, as if reading her thoughts.
“It’s alright,” he said. “We never really talked about this, did we?”
Catherine shook her head, not really knowing what to say.
“There’s not much to add to be honest,” he continued. “We were investigating a strange pride of lions in Kenya. Tsavo has a historical connection with man-eaters and even the word Tsavo translates as ‘the place of slaughter’, referring to a battle between the Maasai and Akamba tribes. Both think the place is cursed. Amanda and I had hunted man-eaters all over the world, and it was only a matter of time before somebody suggested we go to Tsavo. It was more than that though. We wanted it. This wasn’t just a single lion. It was a whole pride. Now I look back, I don’t know what we were trying to prove.”
Thomas paused again. He seemed far away, and Catherine noticed the corner of his mouth twitch.
“Anyway,” he continued, snapping back to Catherine, “we weren’t exactly met with a fanfare. The locals thought the lions were controlled by a local witch doctor and that our presence might anger him. Things went downhill from there. The lions attacked seemingly at random, and always at a village we were on the way to or had just come from. One day, I suggested we make camp in the bush rather than at a village. With the camera crew and our own people, it wasn’t a small affair, and it seemed no less safe than anywhere else. I pretty much passed out straight away. When I woke, it was still dark and Amanda was gone. The door to the tent was open. I thought she’d gone for water or to the toilet, otherwise the door would have been closed, so I went back to sleep. I was woken at dawn by the lions roaring in the distance and found the crew in a state of panic. I followed her footprints in the dust until we found what was left of her. She’d left the tent and walked away from camp. She’d been running, but there was no lion spoor near camp. The lion’s trail came from beyond camp and fell in behind her. I don’t know what happened next. I know I started to run in the direction of the roaring. I remember the wait-a-bit thorns tearing my arms and legs. Then everything went black. Next thing I knew, I woke up in a Nairobi hospital. I never went back.”
Chapter Twelve
The creature was startled by the sound and movement that suddenly erupted around it. It roared in angry warning as the young animals bolted back towards the older females and the stone dwelling behind them. It pounced instinctively towards the movement in front of it, cuffing the small thing with a swipe of its paw.
Louise watched in horror as something from a nightmare played out before her. She watched as the gruesome, rippling shape sent little Aaron Meeks flying across the playground. He landed in a heap and did not move once he had crumpled to the floor. Before she had time to think, she found herself running, screaming as she streaked towards the boy. Crying out in terror as tears formed in her eyes, she gasped for air and checked Aaron for signs of life. He was still breathing but looked incredibly pale. She turned his head carefully and as she went to pick him up, felt the blood under his clothes. She glanced towards the open doors of the hall, but instinct spun her back round. She stopped dead as she came face to face with something monstrous, and stared into the green flashing eyes of the creature as it stepped towards her, its face distorting into an angry snarl.
Louise and the creature stared at each other. She felt rooted to the spot, as if she couldn’t move. Instinct tried to pull her away from the hypnotic gaze of the monster. Somewhere in her subconscious, genetic memory of something sinister stirred. It triggered her body, resuscitating movement to her limbs as she took a step backwards and glanced again at the doors behind. Mrs. Henderson ushered in the last of the children, sobbing as they went. She looked desperately towards Louise, but she too was frozen in fear. Louise looked back to the creature. It snarled. The implied menace was clear and guttural this time. It had not come across an open challenge to a meal before, and the snarl was meant as a warning. Louise instinctively knew this, and could see the creature’s intent in its eyes. It wasn’t going to let them leave the playground alive.
Chapter Nineteen
Stubbs took another long draw on his pipe. “In a way lass, aye. I got a glimpse from behind. Do you know the big badger sett not far from the loch? The entrances are all among the roots of the oak trees there?”
Thomas nodded.
“I was there close to dusk. It’s about the time the big boar comes out and I was resting up against some roots myself on the ridge above.”
Thomas smiled, suspecting Stubbs was doing anything but resting at dusk. He also knew the boughs above would have been filled with plump estate pheasants. If you stayed quiet and still, and used something noiseless like a slingshot, you could fill a bag with birds without them even being disturbed.
Stubbs grinned, acknowledging Thomas’s knowing look. “As it got dark, I noticed the slightest movement. It was the beastie’s tail. The body was so large I thought it was a bear. Then I saw what it was after. Old Brock was just nosing his way out of the entrance of the sett. Quick as a flash, this thing hooked him out of the hole with a paw and caught him in its jaws. Never seen anything like it lad, I can tell ye.”
Stubbs sighed. A hush fell over the table as Alastair brought over the three plates of food, including a suspiciously fresh-looking piece of pink salmon for Stubbs. The old poacher winked at Thomas as he stabbed it gently with his fork and shovelled a quick few mouthfuls before he continued his story.
“I found badger bones all over the woods for the next few days. They forage during the day now, but there’s only a few left. Glen’s been cleared of wild cats too. I don’t go to the lower ground too much these days. I’ve found kills from squirrels to stags, it’s not so picky yer know?”
“We know,” Thomas sighed.
Stubbs continued to eat. “Whatever this beastie is, every animal in the glen knows it’s here. The deer are moving differently. The hares and birds don’t sleep long now. It’s done me a tasty favour to be honest, everything’s moving to higher ground and too ragged to worry about little old me.” Stubbs glanced to the windows. “If you’re desperate to get close to it lad, it’ll snow the next couple of nights. That black hide might stand out a wee bit, and tracks are easier to follow aye?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The creature stopped and glanced behind it, again scenting the air and listening to the baying dogs as they began to close in. It stepped off the trail and began to loop back, stealthily moving through the dense gorse, box, and hawthorn bushes that kept it hidden. Each calculated step brought it back onto an intercept course with its pursuers. It found a hollow a few yards from where it planned to meet the path again and hunkered down into it. It hunched its shoulders ready for the spring and became still amongst the brush, as the mist swirling around it steadily thickened.
The large black and tan coonhound galloped along the fresh trail it was now on, baying eagerly as the lurid scent filled its sensitive nostrils. It didn’t feel the impact of the unseen force that lifted it into the air, and barely had time to let out a yelp of pain as slicing teeth severed its spine and cut through its torso. The dog hung limp between the creature’s jaws. It enjoyed the taste of the flesh but let the canine fall to the floor in a bloody ruin. It trotted along the trail at a faster pace this time, skilfully gauging the approach of the second dog before it disappeared into the thick gorse and brush for a second time.
Lobo trotted along the trail. No longer able to hear Boomer ahead, the big dog immediately became more cautious and let out a low, warning growl. At Boomer’s sudden silence the men had started calling to the dogs more earnestly, but they were too far behind now for their commands to be heard clearly. The bloodhound in Lobo made him follow any trail to the end determinedly, and the mastiff in him made that unfortunate for anything he found there. The brindle coloured dog came to a halt over the mangled remains of Boomer and let out a menacing growl. Lobo nosed the dead dog and barked a warning to the big cane corso that was approaching him from behind. Arturo came up alongside Lobo and nosed Boomer’s body. Working as one, both dogs wheeled around to face the gorse, entering the brush to flush out the animal whose spore lay so thickly upon the trail.
The Daughters of the Darkness Excerpts
Prologue
Amanda Walker woke with a start, sitting up in her sleeping bag and instinctively reaching for the old Marine Corps fighting knife she kept under her pillow. For a few seconds, she sat completely still, trying to work out what had woken her. Her first thought was that a snake had decided to curl up in or near the sleeping bag. It wouldn’t be the first time. When she couldn’t detect any movement, she relaxed a little and began to listen.
The door of the canvas tent was still tied shut. There was a soft breeze and she could hear the song of crickets carried on it. Then she heard something else. Soft murmurs, coming from outside. She looked over at her husband, Thomas. Even in his sleep he looked exhausted. She turned up the collar of his shirt to cover the insect bites on his neck. He had fallen asleep in his clothes almost as soon as he had returned from the day’s tracking. His fitful slumber and the sheen of sweat on his skin told her he was fighting another bout of Rift Valley fever. She smiled to herself and affectionately ran her fingers through his hair. She would let him sleep, but she couldn’t ignore the sounds. They had heard the man-eaters calling close to the camp during the day.
Just like her husband, she had gone to bed in her clothes, and she tucked the knife into the back of her shorts as she pulled the mosquito net up and made her way to the door-flap of the tent. She undid the top tie whilst yawning silently and peered out. The camp’s outbuildings were across the way, but no lights were on in the windows. Nothing seemed to be stirring. Then she heard the murmur again. Standing on the veranda of one of the buildings was a little boy. His skin was incredibly dark, showing up the blue and mauve tones of the night sky above. He was completely naked and held his hand over his mouth as he sobbed, staring into the darkness in wide-eyed terror.
As Amanda undid the rest of the flap ties, the boy noticed her immediately. As she watched him streak out of the camp, she immediately realised he wasn’t one of the children who lived with the crew and staff. He moved with absolute silence, his feet hardly touching the ground as he ran. The moon was full and bathed the scorched ground in an eerie light. Amanda couldn’t help the pang of panic she felt and took a few steps in the direction the boy was headed, intent on following. She hesitated. Thomas would be angry if he knew she had left the tent during the night. All the better reason to let him sleep, she decided.
She began to follow the little boy. The red dust stuck to her bare feet and the ground was still warm from the baking heat of the day. She crossed the road that led into the camp and paused for a moment as she looked out over the long grass. Thomas really would be angry at the thought of her going any further without a gun or an escort. But she could see the path the boy had taken and now she was growing concerned. She had already imagined the possibility the boy was from a local village, where maybe the man-eaters had attacked. What if he came for help? Amanda thought. She pushed on into the long grass.
She moved carefully and quietly, moving the brush aside and listening intently with every step. She could barely see over the top, so instead she crouched and followed the path the boy had made, peering ahead.
“Kito,” she whispered softly, “kito?”
The Swahili word was often used affectionately by mothers to children. The literal translation meant ‘precious one’. Amanda had considered the boy was so young that he may never have met a white person, and her appearance could have startled him. If he heard her speaking softly and in Swahili, he might stop running.
The moon was directly above her, making her long blonde hair look silver in the strange light. Somehow it made her feel alone and exposed, and she shivered with the cold she suddenly felt. Instinct overrode her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she reached the abrupt end of the trail. The boy had seemingly disappeared into thin air. The tall grass ahead of her swayed silently in the wind, moving back and forth as if caught in the breath of some invisible giant beast. She crouched, spinning on her heels to face the direction she had come from. She began to tremble as she closed her eyes and listened, as the crickets stopped singing one by one until there was silence.
For a moment, she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. She gritted her teeth and blinked, peering out into the grass around her. At first, she didn’t see anything. Then a pair of amber eyes flashed in the darkness, then another. More eyes, like burning coals in the shadows, appeared over to her left. Even in her fear, she was amazed at the pride’s ability to work together in silence and in the dark. She could feel them closing in on her. She estimated them to be no more than twenty yards away, and they were obviously hunting. She was in no doubt what, or rather who, the prey was.
Chapter Three
The staircase was strewn with scarlet and pink dried rose petals. She followed them up, giggling slightly at the extravagant gesture. Thomas seemed to have no ability to gauge his romantic offerings, making them all or nothing, with a preference for the all. She stepped along the hall to the bathroom, following the path of petals as she went. She swung the door open and beamed.
More petals laced the clay coloured tiles. At the centre of the room, the grey and pink hued stone bath was filled, and as she stepped closer she caught the fragrance of the jasmine, ylang-ylang and clary sage scented foam. Sitting beside the bath was an ice bucket containing a bottle of rose Veuve Clicquot. A crystal glass champagne flute sat on the rim of the bath with a singular, sliced strawberry delicately perched over its outer edge. He had turned the lights low and pulled the blind to the only window, making the red-walled room feel even warmer. Several lit candles sat on the floor to add to the cosiness. She tested the water with her fingers, as she walked past the bath to the dressing table and large framed mirror sitting against the far wall. She slipped off her running gear and left it in a messy pile underneath the table, grinning that it would slightly ruffle Thomas’s desire for neatness when he saw it. Then she paused, running the forefinger and thumb of her right hand over the band of white gold on her ring finger, its channel set with brilliant round diamonds surrounding the six-pronged centrepiece, a 2.3 carat stone. She had hit Thomas hard enough to leave a bruise on his chest after looking it up on the Tiffany website to see how much it had cost. She eased the ring off and left it on the top of the table.
As she turned, she met Thomas’s gaze from the open doorway.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but in my defence, if you haven’t learnt that I don’t always think things through by now, it’s probably too late.”
“It’s okay,” she smirked. “I mean, it’s not, but we’ll talk about it later. I would just have preferred if I had been the first person you spoke to about it rather than Keelson.”
“Who?” Thomas quipped, staring at her soft naked skin.
“That,” she purred, “was the right thing to say.”
She stepped over to him, taking his hands in hers and placing them on her waist. They pulled her tight to him. They kissed softly and slowly as she began to strip away his clothes until they were both naked, tentatively touching each other with a nervous eagerness. She led him over to the bath and they stepped in together. She sat down in the warm, milky water with her back to him. She felt his legs sidle past her and he began to bathe her, his hands cupping the silky liquid and letting it fall over her neck and shoulders. A stream cascaded between her breasts, and suddenly his hands were there too, rubbing and stroking to her delight. She leaned back, nestling her lips into his neck to nuzzle softly. She arched her back, lifting herself and squeezing his legs back between her own. They made love slowly and tenderly at first, but giving way to their passion as it broached. They giggled together as each impassioned lunge sent a wave of water over the top of the bath. They held each other for some time afterwards before she stood up, looking down at him coyly.
“I’m still going to need that shower,” she whispered.
Chapter Seven
“Where is it?” Thomas cried out to Keelson.
“Back in the brush, behind the car,” she yelled back. “It’s big.”
“They’re never small,” Thomas replied, but under his breath.
“What?” Catherine asked.
With a belching roar, the thickly knotted elephant grass to their right exploded in a blur of movement. A glancing blow was delivered to the rear end of the crippled Land Cruiser as the enormous animal turned and ran alongside the vehicle. Thomas marvelled at its size. Startled by the glare of the Big Cat’s spotlights, the bull hippopotamus trundled to a stop. Its broad muzzle and over developed jowl quivered as testosterone pumped through its veins. It half opened its mouth, a sign of uncertainty. This new intruder had caught it off guard. Thomas watched closely. If it opened its mouth fully towards them, it would be a sign of submission. Keelson was right though, it was big. Standing over five and a half feet at the shoulder and weighing what Thomas estimated to be 4,000 lbs, it was old too. He knew that male hippos never stopped growing, only reaching that kind of size after a long and successful life of dominating their patch of river. It was unusual for a male to be so territorial on land and at night, but perhaps his size gave him confidence. As if sensing Thomas’s line of thought, the big bull shot forward like a juggernaut, its head down and tilted towards the car. Thomas lifted his rifle and fired a shot into the air, which had the desired effect of deflecting its charge back into the long grass.
“A fine way to be welcomed,” mused Kelly as she began to climb down from the roof.
Before Thomas could warn her, the hippo appeared out of the gloom like a freight train emerging from a tunnel, thundering head on towards the Land Cruiser. Thomas raised his rifle again, but didn’t have time to put a bead on the bull before it smashed into the vehicle’s side. He watched in despair as Keelson lost her grip and was thrown several feet into the elephant grass. As she scrabbled to her feet, the hippo dashed left again with a shake of its head. As it passed, it hooked the bull bars of the crippled Toyota with its lower right tusk and ripped them away from the car with ease. Thomas heard it grating along the ground as the hippo plunged back into the grass.
“Behind us,” Catherine yelled as it appeared again, crossing the track before entering the thick scrub on the other side.
“It’s coming for you Kelly,” Thomas warned, raising his rifle.
He tried to follow the path of the bull, closing his eyes for a moment to allow his hearing to tune in to its grunts and the smashing of the brush as it bulldozed through. He raised the gun, only to pause as another sound distracted him. It was the scream of a high revving car engine making its way down the track at speed. As Thomas opened his eyes, he saw it had caught the attention of the bull as well. It swerved away from Keelson and into the path of the oncoming vehicle, its bright lights now visible through the swathes of elephant grass it was ploughing through. The driver was clearly coming straight for them, possibly after hearing the shot he’d fired, Thomas considered.
The bull was in full charge, and opened its mouth in a giant four-foot gape that revealed the pair of two-foot long, tusk-like canines in its lower jaw, as well as the enlarged, knife sized incisors above and below. The car kept coming though, altering its course to meet the hippo head on. Just at the last moment, the driver hit the brakes, slowing down but still sliding towards the bull over the long grass with the momentum. The hippo bellowed before it smashed into the front of the car, its teeth locking over the top and bottom of the impressive bull bars at the front of the vehicle. Now bathed in the dazzling light from the other car’s array, Thomas only saw a silhouette as it popped up over the roof line of the jeep, but he caught the glint of the heavy rifle the stranger carried. The hunter stood over the hippo, separated by only a few feet of twisting and grinding metal as the bull thrashed and bucked in a test of strength. A moment later, a flash and a roar erupted from the end of the barrel and the bull slumped to the floor. There was a sudden silence.
“And may the good Lord take a liking to you too,” said a voice with an Irish accent out of the dark.
Chapter Sixteen
Dali watched in growing boredom. He lifted the binoculars he’d brought with him and lingered as he savoured the view of the curve in Tiffany’s buttocks they afforded him. He dropped the field glasses into his lap and glanced at the rifle leaning up against the blind in front of him. It had only been 45 minutes so far. He couldn’t help letting his mind wander, imagining what the little cheerleader might let him get away with if he plied her with enough alcohol back at the hotel bar. Surely her own boredom would play a part. After all, what else is there to do he thought.
Suddenly, in his peripheral vision to his left, he thought he glimpsed something white creeping past the blind. As he turned his head, he was smashed to the ground and the breath was knocked from his body. He squirmed as he fought for a lungful of air, but he never took it. There was a clamping pressure at the back of his neck and then the world melted into blackness. As his consciousness slipped away, he thought he felt a pin prick in his legs, but then both it, and he, was gone.
Tiffany lay in her blind, her senses suddenly screaming and on alert. She couldn’t believe that Dali had been so stupid to make a noise. It had sounded like he had dropped something, or worse had tripped. But all had gone quiet again in an instant. It was then she realised that she was trembling. Something wasn’t right.
The pain in her left leg was so sudden and severe that her whole body convulsed with the agony. She screamed as she was dragged from the blind, scrabbling for the dropped rifle moments too late. She felt herself hauled upwards by whatever had her ankle, as she clawed at the ground to no avail. Her body was lifted into the air, as the loose covering of leaves and sticks were thrashed away. Suddenly the pain stopped, as the clamping pressure on her leg was released. She was shaking violently now, and she felt the panic in her chest rising as a low, guttural growl emanated from close behind her. She spun onto her back and froze in fright. A pale, long, fierce and feline face looked back at her with strange bluish eyes. She shuddered as it exhaled a wet hot breath, so close that she felt it on her skin.
Chapter Eighteen
Kanu Sultan stood in the impressive stone gateway of the former wildlife conservancy and listened to the sounds of the night as they echoed across the marshland. The faint angry roars faded slowly, only to be answered by silence. It was the voice of the queen, the strange one. She was smarter and larger than the others, that they knew. But nobody had ever seen her and lived to tell the details. It served his needs well as its part in the myths surrounding his powers and his domain over the animals, but clearly Thomas Walker was proving a thorn in her side as well as his. When the crickets and reed frogs began their chorus again and the sounds of the African night replaced the silence, he looked back towards the quiet waterway.
The Galana River led all the way to the east coast resort of Malindi, known as the ‘little Italy of Africa’. But it was in the Gongoni township, on the opposite bank, that his kind of business was done. It was a hive for Al-Shabaab recruiters, who preyed on the unrest of the poverty-stricken locals, forced to give up their children to a vile sex trade and live in a hub for drug trafficking, all fuelled by the mafia-backed resort across the water. Adding to the powder keg was the Mombasa Republican Council, a political separatist group who also manipulated the strained tensions of the township to their advantage. Both groups needed arming and supplying. The government had no sway there and even less presence. It was the perfect destination for his business and a source of constant demand he was only too happy to supply. Adopting both Al-Shabaab and MRC tactics to intimidate and influence the impoverished farmers and villagers of Tsavo had in turn helped him secure his own seclusion from the authorities. But now Thomas Walker was bringing unwanted attention to the region. He lingered no longer and turned his back on the wilderness of the Galana marshes.
He strolled purposefully through the compound, back towards the lodge that now served as both his personal quarters and the base of his operations. His sharp eyes swept over the space until they came to rest on Musa, who was huddled up against the far wall. Kanu came to a halt a few feet from him, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed the boy.
“Come with me Musa,” he commanded simply, striding towards the lodge again. He didn’t need to look back to know the boy would be following obediently.
Kanu passed the two guards at the entrance to the lodge and strolled through the lobby towards an open room to the left. Musa hesitated at the large double doors that marked the entrance, having never been inside before. Kanu beckoned him in with a look of impatience.
“Musa, a belief that your life has purpose and power is often the key to survival. Do you believe that?”
The boy neither nodded nor answered, his eyes wide in fear.
“There are always sacrifices you will be asked to make. Whether you are willing or not, that’s what will decide your fate,” Kanu continued. “When I was a boy, not much older than you are now, I was already on the streets of Mombasa. My father was a humble man who worked as a porter in a hotel. One day a drug lord came to our house, demanding money for protection. You know what happened then?”
Musa nodded. He knew the story well.
“He drove a machete through my father’s chest, in front of my mother and older brother. But that was just the beginning of my nightmare. He then gave my brother and I a choice. Only one of us could live, and only then to prove our loyalty. Having spent years teaching me to fight, my brother hesitated. I did not. I took the machete and killed him. I knew I would become a soldier for the man who murdered my father, and that my mother would be forced to become either a prostitute or a drug mule. I chose life for us instead of death, it was that simple.”
Musa nodded again, still fearful and unsure why Kanu was telling him a story they all knew.
“I was willing to kill my own brother to save myself and my mother. I am now giving you a similar choice. But it is not your family, but an outsider I ask you to kill. I am giving you the opportunity to finish the task I gave you seven years ago. So Musa, what will you choose, life or death?”
Musa said nothing, but turned his gaze towards the wall of glass tanks that lined the far side of the room. His eyes fell to his feet.
“A good choice,” Kanu huffed. “We will use the critters of the bush to purge the white hunter from our lands. Tomorrow night, you will kill Thomas Walker...with a little help from my friends.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The distance she had travelled was beginning to wear her down. She loped along, her breath releasing in grunting gasps with each heavy impact of her paws. The big dog was easy to follow and wasn’t far ahead now. It left a visible trail where its cumbersome girth ploughed through the brush, and its stink and slobber tainted the air. She could afford to rest for a moment. She stopped, padding into the long grass and lying down. She lifted her nose high into the air, comforted by the familiar smells of the marshland that came to her on the breeze. She filled her lungs with deep draws of air through her nostrils, closing her eyes as she allowed her taut muscles to relax and refuel. She lay there in the gathering darkness still and alert, aware of her surroundings but confident in them too. As a hyena greeted the fall of night with a ripple of laughter, she stood and made her way further into the marsh. She slipped down a bank to a stream that was lined with tall reeds, offering her seclusion as she drank. Satiated, she crossed the water with an effortless bound, and headed for a tower of rock, in the centre of the meadow on the other side of the stream. She rippled over the crumbling sandstone slabs, the cracks and crevices of which housed the searching roots of acacia bushes clinging to the outcrop. They offered her cover until she edged out onto the ledge, which allowed her to overlook the marsh more fully. She stood tall, carefully changing her footing until the wind was behind her. She allowed her lungs to fill again and then lifted her head, roaring with a savagery that punctured the night. Deep within the kopje, amongst dry and dusty root systems and the dark walls of rock, a hyrax family trembled in the echo. Out on the marsh, a group of whistling ducks took to panicked flight and a pair of waterbuck raced and jumped for the darkness of the trees. The roar carried far, igniting a primal fear in every animal that heard it. It told them to run and hide. Death was afoot.
Black Beast Books – Virtual Tour
Guest Posts
Can you, for those who don’t know already, tell something about yourself and how you became an author
I live in the county of Kent, which is the South East corner of England and I have always had a fascination with wildlife. As a kid, I would be the veritable Gerald Durrell, often bringing home the things I found, much to the annoyance of my family, and especially my sisters. I actually wanted to be a vet, and ended up studying zoology at university. But, from an early age, my teachers had encouraged me to write – advice which I ignored. However, over the years, creative writing has crept into virtually every job I’ve ever held, to the point that I finally embraced it – better late than never. And now, wildlife – both real and mythical, now features heavily in my writing. So, I definitely think it was meant to be and I took the path I was always meant to!
What are you passionate about?
I’m really passionate about wildlife conservation and protecting our natural world. Many real-world issues, such as ecoterrorism and the illegal wildlife trade feature in my books, and I also try to make regular contributions to animal charities off of my sales.
What do you do to unwind and relax?
I have a veritable need to be in nature. Hiking is a real escape for me. I have a connection to mountains and the ocean that is always pulling at me. I live in a lovely rural area where I can disappear up onto the local hills quite quickly and easily. Identifying birds, insects, and other wildlife whilst heading into the woods is a favourite pastime. I also love to wild swim.
The draw of a good book or five is hard for me to resist. I’ve very happy engrossed in a novel, but also read some incredible books in the name of research. And I enjoy cooking, as well as being a bit of a film fanatic!
Do you have a favourite movie?
Raiders of the Lost Ark is the standout for me. I can’t remember exactly how young I was, but it was young, when my mum came up to my bedroom and told me to come downstairs with her, and to bring my duvet. I dutifully obeyed, and watched Raiders of the Lost Ark for the very first time. I was transfixed. I think it is absolute classic story telling at its very best. And to this day, I always celebrate my birthday by watching Raiders of the Lost Ark.
Pale Rider is a close second, and another that I always tend to watch on my birthday!
Which of your novels can you imagine being made into a movie?
I think the second book, The Daughters of the Darkness, definitely has a blockbuster sort of feel about it. It has the exotic location of Africa, a great villain, a sidekick, and spectacular scenery, action sequences, and wildlife. I’ve always imagined Henry Cavill as potentially playing my main protagonist, Thomas Walker; Rebecca Ferguson as Catherine Walker, and Chris Hemsworth as Jericho O’Connell. They’ve all played complex characters with damaged pasts, and they would of course be on any author’s wish-list! I would love to see my work make it to the big screen. I’ve had lots of reviews from readers saying what great movies make, so hope spring’s eternal.
Interestingly enough though, with the first book, Shadow Beast, I always imagined this making a great autumnal TV mini-series. It has a noire feel, and the setting of the Scottish Highlands makes it perfect for snuggling up on the sofa to watch, within the safety and comfort of your own home. I remember when I was writing it, I cast it in my mind. Thomas was played by Hugh Dancy – who was playing Will Graham in Hannibal at the time, and I thought the aloofness, intelligence and baggage that character had lent itself to Thomas, as well as Dancy’s rugged, athletic look. Catherine I cast as Kara Tointon, who I’d seen in a number of theatre productions – Gaslight in particular, and in a little-known horror film, Last Passenger. She portrays strong, independent characters brilliantly and was a perfect fit for Catherine. For Fairbanks, my human villain, I have always wanted Tom Wilkinson – partly because he was excellent in The Ghost and the Darkness, which depicts some of the historical accounts of what my books are based on.
What literary pilgrimages have you gone on?
In 2016, I visited Paris for the first time. I stayed in Montmartre, which has always been popular with artists and writers – and especially the Lost Generation; Hemingway, Fitzgerald and of course Gertrude Stein, who christened the band of disillusioned, American writers who set up in Paris after the Great War, and ushered in a new era of freedom of expression.
I read Hemingway’s ‘A Moveable Feast’ which depicts his time in Paris with a mouth-watering focus on its culinary delights. I also visited the cafés, bars and restaurants they favoured, as well as the places they went to for solace – walks along the Seine and little cobbled backstreets. And, of course, no writer’s trip to Paris is complete without a visit to Shakespeare & Co, the famous bookstore, where I spent far too much money on special editions, exploring the maze of floors and shelves, and then dipping into them over coffee in their conveniently adjoining café!
As a writer, what would you choose as your mascot/avatar/spirit animal?
I guess if I don’t say a large black cat, people are going to think of me as a traitor! I certainly have an absolute fascination with big cats. I am in awe of their power and ability – the fact that they are unapologetically predatory in nature.
But, if we’re talking a daimon, in a ‘His Dark Materials’ kind of way, it would probably have to be an otter; they’re playful, inquisitive, intelligent, and have the most joyful personalities. My absolute favourite animals, and less likely to drag you off into the forest and eat you compared to a big black cat.
What inspired you to write this book?
I think like a lot of writers, it was simply a case of not being able to find the story I wanted to read. My head was full of these creatures, and every now and then a story pops up in the press about something being sighted, or a terrifying encounter that can’t be explained. So, one day, I just started writing. And now I hope I never stop.
What can we expect from you in the future?
I think one of the joys of being a self-published author is that I’m not bound by a specific genre or certain characters. In my head, and actually now mapped out on paper, I have a book universe. I’m currently working on book three in the series, and I introduce a new character who will be getting her own book, which I’m also working on. That will take me into real monster territory.
But, there’s also a science fiction story I really want to tell. And a children’s faerie story. I even have a crime thriller that I can’t seem to leave alone. Apart from book three in the Black Beast series, you can expect at least one more outing from Thomas and Catherine Walker after that, but from there, it gets interesting. The one thing I’m sure on is, the books will all exist in the same universe. My protagonist in the science fiction story will have gone to university with my protagonist from the Beast series. I am introducing elements of myths and the faerie realm into book three of the Beast series, which will set the foundation for the children’s story. There are some really exciting stories I’m hoping to tell over the next few years.
Luke
Phillips has always had an interest in natural history. Its hard to
say when that interest began to include the myths and monsters that
haunt our folklore, but it may well have been as a young boy,
standing on the shores of Loch Ness.
From
trekking through California looking for Bigfoot to camping out in the
Highlands on the trail of real-life reported big cats, his
imagination has always been captivated by the darker side of our
unnatural history.
Despite
studying zoology at university, Luke has strayed from the mainstream
into the eerie world of cryptids and monsters. And the truth may well
be stranger and far scarier than fiction!
His
first book, Shadow Beast, was launched in 2015 and his second, The
Daughters of the Darkness, was released in 2017.
He
is based in Kent in the UK.
$25 Amazon
#SeriesTour with Guest Post & #Giveaway
#beastseries #thriller #horror #suspense #lukephillips #kindleunlimited
Comments
Post a Comment