Lawrence sighed. “He searched for the Vessel of the Anunnaki.”
“Now imagine I understand none of what you just said. Tell me again, but with footnotes. Are you saying Reginald wanted to become immortal?”
“Once he knew it was possible, of course. The vessel was said to convert any food placed within it into immortal fare. If you ate from the vessel you would never age. But with all such things there was a price to be paid. As you ate so did the Anunnaki, the Old Ones.”
“What are they? Gods?”
Lawrence shook his head. “Before them. These are cosmic entities that were banished to some dark space by the gods. Most old religions have them. The defeat of the titans by Zeus and his kin, the casting down into Hell of Lucifer by your Almighty. But to eat from the vessel, so you needed to feed the Anunnaki something in return.”
“Souls?”
“Reginald crossed a line. He had begun worshipping them already and there had been strange deaths in Mosul, the region he was excavating. The local police didn’t understand any of it but the details were clear enough to me. Ritual sacrifice. The work of demons.”
“Did you just say demons? I assume you don’t mean metaphorically?”
Lawrence grimaced. “A breed of lower being called the asakku. Vindictive, cruel creatures with barely any real intelligence, just evil cunning. But they created a lot of havoc, and bloodshed. Reginald was already gaining power from the Anunnaki, and these demons were gifts, proof of their favour. But in return his very soul was being corrupted, twisted into something utterly monstrous, utterly inhuman. While his mortal form was just a plain man, if you could see beyond that you saw he was growing more reptilian, more like the Anunnaki. The vessel was too dangerous, the price too high. The Anunnaki’s hunger too powerful to be controlled by a mere offering from a vessel, no matter what its size. These beings live in a cold, empty realm of entropy. The Anunnaki were cast out many eons ago, but they have not forgotten us. They live in a negative universe, having consumed it like... a snake eating its own tail. They would consume our universe if given a chance. That is a risk we could never take. My... masters ordered me to banish Reginald before he could do any harm. He took it badly.”
“Meaning?”
“He lingered in the Middle East for a few years longer, digging, searching, but without our support. If he came to close to discovering anything of use, of danger, I moved swiftly to stop him. Accidents at the digs. Locals refusing to work for him, items disappearing in the dead of night. Including a few of his own assistants. He was an occultist of some renown by then and had gained a few followers himself, he’d started training his own son, Edward, in the occult arts. I think he eventually realised the futility of his position, so took the theatrical way out. Snake bite. Ironic, don’t you think? Or poetic, depending which way you look at it.”
“You sure? You saw his body? He wouldn’t be the first to fake his own death.”
Lawrence shot her a withering look. “Do you not think that crossed my mind? I saw his body, I had it cremated and his ashes scattered over the banks of the Tigris. If he could come back from that, then he deserved being a member of the Ouroboros Society.”
This was getting her nowhere. Lawrence wasn’t lying, he looked relieved to have told her all this. Just dead ends.
There wasn’t much else she could take from here. It freaked her out and that wasn’t something she was used to. Billi had been fighting the Bataille Tenebreuse, the Dark Conflict, for the last three years, night after bloody night. Fallen angels, pagan goddesses, vampires and werewolves and even a zombie horde or two. There’d been close calls and times she’d been afraid, more than she liked to admit to herself. But this was different. The Templars fought the Unholy, creatures cast beyond the divine light, but if what Lawrence said was true then these Anunnaki were a threat of an entirely different magnitude.
But she knew that Ivan was missing, and the ghost of Simon had warned his daughter from beyond the grave. Someone was coming for Erin and for something she had and, despite what Lawrence had told her, the Ouroboros Society was mixed up in all this.
Wait a minute...
Lawrence sat on the bed, squinting in the light. So withered and so pathetic. He’d paid a heavy price for a few more centuries to be no more than what he’d always been, a smuggler. But he didn’t know Simon had kept things for himself. It was something Lawrence had just said.
Reggie had trained his own son in the occult arts. Had he told Edward about the vessel? Had he instilled the same desire to find it and claim immortality for himself? A desire that had ended with him drowning, but then he had Simon to follow in his footsteps.
Simon would have known all about his father’s, and grandfather’s, research. The family had a passion for Mesopotamia, or Iraq as it was now known. Simon had been an expert in its language, history and legends. So what had he found at the museum that he had kept for himself, far too valuable to be passed onto Lawrence? What else could it be? It was the perfect poetic revenge against the Ouroboros Society.
Simon had found the Vessel of the Anunnaki, and he’d given it to his daughter.
Erin, whether she knew it or not, held the secret of immortality.
CHAPTER 16
This was about saving Ivan, nothing else.
If Erin had the vessel she wasn’t going to just hand it over, her dad had died trying to keep it secret. Billi needed to earn her trust, or trick her into telling her. That meant lying, faking a friendship and using someone who didn’t deserve any of it. But how else would she find Ivan? By telling the truth?
Hey, Erin. I belong to secret order of knights who have been fighting a war against the supernatural monsters that prey on humanity for the last eight hundred years or so. That scar you noticed on my neck? The angel of death gave me that when he tried to wipe out all of London’s first-born children a few years back. Oh, and Ivan, my boyfriend, heads up the Russian equivalent, the Bogatyrs. I met him when we were after Baba Yaga, the witch goddess.
Yeah, she could imagine how Erin would respond to that. She’d call the police and issue a restraining order against her.
Sometimes you’ve just got to lie for the greater good.
Dulwich Park wasn’t busy this time of the morning. The cold, fresh air heralded the onset of winter, as did the piles of golden leaves gathered at the junctions of the paths that criss-crossed the park. Despite the urban sprawl London was dotted with hundreds of parks. This area south of the river had three all within a kilometre of each other, and a small wood. A jogger passed her by, briefly glancing at her as she parked up the Norton motorbike as he huffed his way along the path. A golden-haired collie bounced through the bushes, chasing after a well-chewed tennis ball.
Billi unbuckled her saddlebag and slung it over her shoulder. The park was bigger than most. There were ponds, a small boating lake, bowling green and playgrounds and even a sandy track for horse riding but as she scanned ahead, Billi spotted a basketball court through the trees, a hundred metres over to the left. She jogged over. She stacked her jacket and helmet against the fence and she took out her gear: a heavy leather skipping rope and a pair of pads. She looked around again. Would Erin stick to the schedule? She hoped so but she was here now, so she got to work.
After a few false starts she set up a steady rhythm with the rope. It hissed as it cut the air, the rapid ‘ticking’ of it nipping the tarmac, over and over. Just like Percy had taught her. He’d loved boxing and been a devotee of the rope. Bors scoffed, skipping was for kids. But Bors couldn’t last long in the ring. If he didn’t overwhelm his opponent with the first assault, he dipped quickly. The rope built stamina and kept you light on your feet.
Then a few minutes later Erin arrived. “Billi?”
She’d been running, her face was flushed and her hair damp with sweat. But she grinned as she rested her hands on her knees. “Why didn’t you call?”
I have no female friends. None at all.
&nb
sp; Wasn’t that weird? Almost unique? She’d never really had anyone to hang out with, not since she’d settled into her life as a Templar. It’s not like she could arrange sleepovers with her needing to sew up wounds in the kitchen and swords lying around in the hallway. She’d tried to go on a few dates, early on. But they’d been total failures and word got around quick. Billi was strange. Difficult. And then there was the old scandal, how her dad had been accused of murdering her mum. Who wanted to get involved with someone like that?
Templars to the left of me, Templars to the right. Me stuck in the middle.
“Consider me well and truly, and happily, surprised.” She looked over at the pads. “They look well-used.”
Billi picked one up and flicked it in the air. “I wanted to catch up. Apologize for leaving in such a hurry. Nice party, by the way.”
“No, it wasn’t. You hated every minute of it.”
“Not every minute,” Billi admitted. “Anyway, here I am. How do you want to start?”
“Whatever you want.”
They took over the centre of the basketball court. Billi started slow, offering targets which Erin attacked with a mix up, turning kicks, axe kicks, hooks, jabs and spins, simple one-eighties to full-hearted three-sixties, launching herself high and twisting in an eye-blink. She gave it her all, with perfect landings each and every time.
They didn’t talk, they worked and worked hard. Back and forth, feet skating over the tarmac, barely pausing between blows, the morning air echoing with the sharp thwacks of leather upon leather.
She’s better than me.
Billi had to be honest, arrogant fighters fell harder than the rest. Erin’s technique was flawless and her commitment a hundred percent. Just slightly taller than Billi she made the maximum use of her long legs and dancer’s flexibility — she had clearly done some ballet before turning to martial arts — squeezing an extra few centimetres of reach with a subtle tilt of the hips and the upper torso.
“I’m hogging all the fun,” said Erin. “Let’s see what you can do.”
Billi tossed the pads over.
Billi’s technique was stripped down bare. Nothing fancy. Timing, accuracy, power. Hit what you’re aiming at and hit hard. Billi fumbled over the high kicks, swapping to punches and hand strikes where her feet couldn’t reach. She darted in closer, brought in her attacks a little faster, a little sharper with flurries of three and four punches, jabs as well as big hooks powered from the shoulders and a solid, twist of the core.
The session ended sooner than she’d have liked, even though they’d been at it an hour. Erin handed the pads back. “You fight mean and nasty.”
Billi grinned. “Thanks.”
“You got any plans?”
Yeah. To get an ancient artefact off you that I could use to save my boyfriend.
“Nothing much.”
“We could get cleaned up and then maybe some brunch?”
She was so trusting. More than that, Erin wanted friends. Why? Because her trio wasn’t enough. Erin was a warrior from a long, long line of warriors. Fighting was in her blood, she and Billi had that in common. It wasn’t something she could share with her three witches, was it?
“That would be great,” said Billi.
They collected their bags and were chatting, just like girlfriends did, as they made their way out of the courtyard, passed a couple of guys with their bags filled with their training gear. Billi slipped through but Erin just barged between them as they refused to give her space.
“Watch it, you stupid cow,” snapped the first fella.
“A gentleman would have stepped aside for a lady,” said Erin.
He smirked. “Lady? I just see two slags.” That done he laughed with his mate and they went in, dropping their bags down against the fence.
Billi took Erin’s arm. “Come on. What about that brunch?”
“You willing to let that go?” Erin asked.
“That? Yeah. Arseholes are gonna be arseholes.”
Erin smiled, but that smile did not go to the eyes. They were icy and hard. “I’ll just have a word, then we’re off.”
Uh oh. That sounded ominous. “Erin, it’s not worth it.”
“Here, hold my bag.”
Damn it. Billi dropped them both but Erin was already ahead, those long legs covered the width of the courtyard in moments.
The guy was squatting over his bag when he realised Erin was standing over him. His mate had the skipping rope out and was already doing his drill.
“What do you want?” snarled the guy.
No warning. From smiling to savage in an eye-blink. Erin slammed the flat of her foot into the side of his head, driving it into the fence. He clawed at it, trying to pull himself up but his legs wobbled and Erin grabbed him by the hair, and rammed her knee into, and through, his jaw.
The second guy tossed his rope away. “You psycho bitch! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He surged forward, to find Billi blocking him.
“Leave it,” Billi warned.
“Did you see what she just did?”
She certainly had. “Yeah. That was brutal. Want her to do it to you too?”
Erin jogged over, all smiles. She hooked her arm through Billi’s. “Shall we be off?”
The second guy blustered. But that’s all he did. He stepped aside. He waited till they were back out of the courtyard before he rushed to his semi-conscious mate lying on the tarmac.
“Next time you plan something like that, do warn me,” said Billi.
“Where would be the fun in that?” Erin looked back at the two men. “No manners any more.”
Who are you, Erin FitzRoy? Who are you really?
“That was some switch flip, Erin. Are you okay?”
“Perfectly fine.”
She was. After something like that you’d expect to be excited, heart rate up, flushed, breathing a little harder. Adrenaline would be surging through and yet Erin was calm and steady, as if nothing had happened. Arthur would be proud. “There’s more to you than meets the eye.”
Erin drew Billi closer, close enough to whisper in her ear. “I was thinking just the same about you.”
***
Wow. Now this was a shower. Maybe it was because the plumbing at the Temple was almost two hundred years old but back home the water dribbled and spat like a faulty hose, but this? The jets hit her from three directions, left, right and above. The shower was more like a chamber, sleek black marble, frosted glass and gold fittings. She’d never felt so... purged.
“Billi? I’ve got a change of clothes for you. We’re about the same, aren’t we?”
Billi peered through the steamed-up glass. “Erin?”
“This will suit you. Might as well make the most of what’s left of the summer, eh?”
The towel was in the room. Now what?
Girl up, Billi. You’ve got nothing to hide.
Yeah? How about those scars down my arm? The bite marks on my shoulder? The puncture wound by the ribs? Elaine really botched up the stitching on that one. And aren’t there claw marks down my back? And I haven’t shaved my legs since... bloody hell, since January. And her armpits were early Madonna. She quickly searched the shower for a razor. No luck.
She heard Erin rocking back on the chair. She wasn’t going anywhere.
It’s only a seduction if you both play along.
Or was she totally mis-reading it? Maybe this is what girlfriends did. She wished she’d had some to learn the rules. Clothes sharing was a thing.
She stuck her head over the glass.
Erin wasn’t paying any attention. She had her feet up on the bed while she rocked on the back legs of the chair, texting. But the bed was where the towel was, and the dress she’d put out for her.
“Erin?” Billi gestured to the bed. “Could you pass me the towel?”
Erin looked up, bemused. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. The towel, please?�
�
Erin swung herself off the chair and picked up the towel. “I didn’t think you were that shy.”
She took it off her. “I don’t want to shock you.”
Erin laughed. “Do you want me to wait outside?”
Billi wiped herself down quickly and wrapped herself up. “It’s your house.”
Thank God she’d brought clean underwear. She dressed quickly but hesitated over the dress. She wasn’t used to fine things, even with Ivan. He’d taken her clothes shopping at the beginning and that had been a disaster. He’d never seen the owner of the Chanel store cry so much and they’d come close to being banned from Dior. The dress laid out for her was pearly-white silk, spaghetti strapped and as light as a breeze. It came down mid-thigh and Billi fought the urge to pull it down further. But the hairs on her leg weren’t too bad, from a distance. She reached for her DMs.
“You in a rush?” asked Erin.
“I have ugly toes.”
“We could paint them. Do girly things for the afternoon. You know.”
“Not really.” Billi gazed at her stubby bare toes and gave them a wiggle. Years of kicking the heavy bag had done them no favours. “I don’t think a coat of varnish is gonna save them.”
“You’re quite serious, aren’t you?” said Erin.
“So I’ve been told.”
Erin slipped her arm over her shoulder. “Let me fix that.”
“Good luck. Plenty have tried, but brooding is what I do best.”
They went downstairs into the kitchen. The French doors opened out to a wooden deck that overlooked the garden itself, which had to be at least a thirty metres long with old oak trees at the far end. Hidden within the leafy branches rested a tree-house and a pair of swings suspended under the boughs.
What she would have given to have a garden like this. Or a garden at all. Temple had green spaces, her dad and the Templars tended them as their day jobs, but they weren’t places for children. They were where the sombre lawyers and judges of the courts would retreat to for their lunches and quiet chats and the last thing they wanted were kids screaming through the rose bushes. Erin handed her a bowl of nachos. “Eat outside?”
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