The Templar's Curse

by Sarwat Chadda

  Billi grinned. “The swings?”

  Erin shrugged. “You’re a strange, strange girl.”

  “Heard that before,” said Billi.

  There was something luxurious about walking on cool grass barefoot. Billi scrunched her toes, digging them into the ground, savouring the way her feet tingled.

  They sat on the swings under the shade of the huge oak tree. Billi dragged her feet through the grass as they rocked back and forth. The dappled light cast a mosaic of shadows over them both. Erin picked at the nachos from her bowl. “So what’s next for you, Billi SanGreal?”

  “Ivan.”

  “Ah. Of course. But you don’t seem too happy about it.”

  Billi shook her head. “I’d rather talk about it when it’s done.”

  Erin didn’t reply. Instead she was looking at Billi intently. Looking at her scars.

  She should have put her own clothes back on.

  Erin reached across and ran her fingertips across the faded marks on Billi’s forearm. “Poor Billi. Who did this to you?”

  She was so used to seeing them she hardly thought about them now. And the other knights had far, far worse. But in the normal world, where the violence was limited to mean tweets and anonymous comments online, she was a throwback to an older age. She remembered all the trouble she’d had at school.

  “Training,” said Billi. “That’s all.”

  “You can tell me, Billi. I know about your dad. I had to ask. The SanGreal surname isn’t easy to forget.”

  Billi shook her head. “It’s not like that.”

  She didn’t believe her but wasn’t going to push it. Instead Erin leaned back until she was almost flat upon the swing. “We’re not that different, not really. How we deal with the pain inside. Sometimes it’s the only time I feel... anything.”

  “I’m sorry about your dad, and your mom. It must have been hard. Sorry, of course it was. I don’t know what else to say,” said Billi. “I was just brought up to deal with it and move on. Pain passes.”

  “Does it? Maybe some. That black eye of yours has almost faded.” Erin chewed her lip. “The others don’t get it. Or they don’t want to. I’m their ‘poor little rich girl’ cliché.”

  “No one’s a cliché.” Billi stopped rocking. Erin’s face was twisted in torment. She was aching to tell her, to share but Billi wasn’t sure she wanted to hear. She hardly knew Erin. But there was something she felt about Erin, a warrior spirit. And didn’t warriors share their stories? For better or for worse.

  “You know my dad killed himself? Of course you did. It’s what everyone knows. If they haven’t heard before they meet me, someone tells them pretty soon after. Dad was a good man, or at least he tried to be. I think that’s why he did it. Before he did something he would regret.” She looked hard at Billi, daring her to guess.

  The ghost had pretty much told her. “He’d had a hard war, Erin. Some men don’t get over that.”

  “Did Arthur? He was a commando, wasn’t he?”

  “Dad had plenty of trouble. He found a purpose. That’s what saved him. And my mum. She helped him regain his humanity. She healed him, for a while, anyway.”

  “Mine couldn’t save my dad. She was terrified of him. But he was so good, Billi. He was the best dad anyone ever had. I used to spend whole days with him in his study. He was mad for archaeology.”

  This is it. She’s just gonna tell you straight out.

  “What sort?”

  “Mesopotamian. It runs in the family. My great-grandfather was a famous archaeologist, back in the 1920s. That necklace I wore at the party? The ouroboros?”

  “Vaguely. It was nice.”

  “He found that. Half of the treasures in The British Museum were found by him. His wife handed them over when he passed away.”

  “And your dad did some digging too?”

  Erin nodded, quite unaware that these treasures were stolen. But why ruin her memory of her dad? “No big caches of gold and jewels, sadly. Lots of tablets though. The ancient Mesopotamians wrote everything on clay so much of it is still around, broken up of course. You’re lucky if you ever find a whole one. Dad would be in his study trying to piece them together. He let me help. I took the rubbings. Filled a whole book with them. Just laid them over with tissue paper and got to work with a crayon. It was like magic, watching the cuneiform appear on the paper as I rubbed away.”

  “Just tablets? What about other items? What about weapons, armour? Even pots and jars? Plenty of cool stuff out in the desert.”

  She shook her head. “If he did I never saw them. They were the best times. That make sense?”

  “You were lucky. Plenty of kids would love to have days like those.”

  Erin nodded thoughtfully. “But then there were times he was a totally different person, some stranger, and when he looked at me, it wasn’t right. What was going on in his mind, Billi? Mum got worried and sent me to boarding school. She... didn’t want him near me.” Her face fell and she fought back tears. “I wonder if that was what made him do it.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for him.” God, what a cliché. She didn’t know how to handle these truths. “Our dads were brought up to be hard, to show no feelings, to hide their pain, ignore it. That’s the path to self-destruction, Erin. Don’t go down it yourself. You have to remind yourself that to feel is the first step to heal. And to share with someone who would understand.”

  “Would you? Understand, I mean?”

  “I can try, Erin, that’s all I can do.” Billi took her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.”

  Erin watched her silently. She was measuring her, she was desperate to let herself go, but afraid Billi wouldn’t catch her and she’d plummet into the darkness.

  Then Erin took a deep breath. “It’s not just my father. There are times when—”

  “There they are! Ah, isn’t it sweet?” Brigid shouted from the deck as she fanned herself with her big summer hat. “Billi and Erin kissing under a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

  Erin pulled her hand away and sprang up. She wiped her face, transforming the tears into a cheery smile. “You’re early. Where are the others?”

  Brigid gestured over her shoulder. “Ardhan’s sorting out the salad. Phoebe’s getting ice for the drinks. Come inside before you get burned.”

  Erin clapped her hands and sprinted back up the garden to the deck, and slung her arms around Brigid, leaving Billi to look stupid upon the swing with an empty bowl and nacho crumbs over her lap.

  Just clay tablets. That’s all. No jars or vessels of any sort.

  A dead end. How was she going to save Ivan? Erin had been her only lead. Billi brushed herself down as she stood up. “I’d better get going.” She’d parked her motorbike beside Erin’s adoptive father’s big Mercedes.

  Brigid gazed over at her. “That’s a shame. Your shift at McDonald’s about to start?”

  Erin scowled. “Brigid, stop being a bitch.”

  But she couldn’t. As Billi came up on the deck Brigid threw one more barb. “I thought you’d given that dress to charity, Erin. Still, Billi will appreciate having something fashionable.”

  Phoebe joined them, which was lucky for Brigid. She had a tray with three glasses. She looked at Billi, surprised. “Oh. I didn’t know you were here. I haven’t made a drink for you.”

  What was really going on? Was this just them afraid of their clique being intruded upon, or was it something more? Were they trying to protect Erin, in their own ‘Mean Girls’ kind of way? Whatever the reason, it was clear she was not wanted.

  Erin though felt differently. “Stay, Billi.”

  Billi shook her head. “I’ve got to get back. I just need to change into my biker gear. I’ll leave the dress in the —”

  “No. It’s yours. You look beautiful.”

  Brigid had the good sense to keep her mouth shut. Erin kissed Billi on both cheeks. “Call me, any time.”

&nb
sp; Billi nodded and turned into the kitchen. She paused to smile at Ardhan as they mixed up the salad. But that meant she was still within earshot of the deck, and the conversation.

  “I don’t like her, Erin. She’s not one of us,” said Brigid. “She’s not your friend.”

  “You don’t know her, Brigid. Give Billi a chance.”

  A chance. That’s all I’ve ever asked for.

  Billi picked up a tomato and knife. “You know something, perhaps I will stay.”

  Erin winked. “Sit next to me.”

  ***

  Was this what life could be like, when you weren’t spending your nights hunting, your days patching up wounds? Just sitting around with food and drink and laughing about who said what to whom and how relationships blossomed and died at Erin’s party? Names flew back and forth, accusations, threats and promises. Grand ambitions were swiftly built and demolished even quicker. Ardhan was off to St Martin’s and was destined to be the next Vivienne Westwood. Brigid had assignments lined up in Japan, her look was always ‘in’. Phoebe was quiet, the peace maker, ever watchful. She tracked the ebb and flow of the personalities and made sure the insults stayed just on the right side of playful.

  And Erin ruled over them all. She laughed and encouraged and pouted and grinned. She touched hands, poured drinks, threw food and rocked back on her chair when she laughed, and she laughed loudly. She tottered more than once but she wouldn’t settle down, she loved all this.

  Was this what it was like to have friends?

  There was an intensity, but it wasn’t the desperate all or nothing Billi felt with the Templars. With the Templars the stakes were always sky-high, never knowing if you’d be there tomorrow. It had been like that for so long now she’d just settled to living on her nerves, always on the edge.

  Sunlight streamed through the open doors and Erin rubbed her bare arms in the cool breeze, and planting her feet smack down on the table as she complained about the paint job Ardhan had done on her toenails.

  For a long time Billi forgot why she was here.

  Is this how Erin held back the darkness? By squeezing every gram of joy from every moment? There was a mania to her happiness, as if she was afraid of where she might find herself if it stopped.

  Evening came on before she knew it. A whole day had passed, just like that. Billi felt guilty. She’d stopped worrying. There was plenty to worry about, all the time. Ivan was gone. Her dad was out in Ireland, leaving Gwaine in charge. Idres still didn’t know how to swing a sword. There were monsters in the alleyways and dark doorways and under kids’ beds. You had to be on your guard, all the time.

  They fell into their chores without discussion. Brigid and Phoebe headed off to the local shops to resupply, Erin went into the garden to dance in the setting sun. Billi joined Ardhan with the washing up.

  Ardhan handed her the dish cloth. They gazed out the window facing the garden. “You put her in a good mood.”

  Billi nodded. “There’s something about her, isn’t there?”

  “More than you know,” said Ardhan.

  “How long have you known her?”

  “For as long as I can remember. Life would have turned out very different if she hadn’t been there.” Ardhan glanced at Billi. “You’re a strange one, you know that?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Erin collects misfits. No, that’s not fair. She attracts them. We go to her because she takes us as we are, not as we pretend to be. Are you what you say you are, Billi? Or are you like them? Just pretending?”

  “I’m not your enemy, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “You don’t know what it was like, being me,” said Ardhan. “I didn’t either. I was one thing, but I knew I should be something else. And kids pick up on weakness, don’t they? I had it for years, pretending to be the right type of boy, trying to do those ‘manly’ things, whatever they are. Getting bullied, beaten up for just wanting to be different. They want you on your knees. That’s what they want. They despise you and they don’t even know why. But Erin taught me never to stay down. No one messes with Erin FitzRoy.”

  “I can see that.”

  “She was my guardian angel back at primary school. I remember her dragging this kid, Julian, a boy who had to be twice her size and a good two or three years older, by his hair to force him to say sorry to me. He was bawling and screaming and he’d pissed his shorts, but the teachers pretended not to see. Erin was righteous. You don’t get much of that nowadays.” Ardhan laughed. “I ended up snogging Julian a few years later. Neither of us had any idea what we were doing but it felt right, y’know?”

  “Erin’s a knight in shining armour. Helping the weak and the defenceless.” Billi understood that type of personality better than most.

  “More than that. She makes you feel powerful. Like you can do anything because she’s got your back. The same for Brigid, the same for Phoebe. We’d do anything for Erin.”

  “Brigid doesn’t look like she needs any ego-boosting from the likes of Erin. The world must be falling at her feet.”

  “Then you don’t know how Brigid spent years fighting bulimia. I know it sounds like First World Problems but she was surviving on a slice of toast a day and vomiting up school dinners in the girls’ loo. Erin went from holding back her hair as she leant over the loo to having her get therapy and a life. The trouble with Brigid is she’s gone from victim to bully. She so despises what she was, that she was weak, she can’t stand to see weakness in others. But she’ll come round.”

  “Because of Erin, eh?”

  Ardhan nodded. “Erin’s fought our battles herself. That’s why she knows what it’s like. That’s why we’re so protective of her. You’re bad news, Billi. I can see it, so can the others. You don’t mean to be, but the two of you, someone’s going to end up in a bad place.”

  “I’d never hurt Erin.”

  “Then leave her, Billi. You’re stirring up old ghosts. Things that happened to her when she was little. Things to do with her dad. All those fancy fighting moves, those kicks and cartwheels she does, they won’t help her in the places her monsters dwell.” Ardhan tapped his forehead. “Deep in here. She’s taking pills to sleep, I mean horse-tranquilisers that knock her out for the whole night, and she’s started back on the trazodone. She used to take it when she had her bad, bad days. When she used to hear the voices.”

  “Voices? What do you mean?”

  “I think it happened after her father died. Things were bad at home already but his death, no kid gets over a parent dying. I don’t think there’s a greater pain in the world. My mum and dad, they don’t get me, but they try.”

  “That’s love,” said Billi. “What else is a parent to do?”

  “Yeah. As you get older you realise they’re making it up as they go along, just like everyone else. But Erin, she was eight when he killed himself. Her mum totally lost it. Smashed up all his things. I was there with Erin, watching. She was crying so hard, begging her mum to stop.”

  “Smashed up what?” Billi asked.

  Ardhan waved his hand. “Just a whole bunch of old clay tablets. Things he’d picked up during the war. I didn’t really get it back then. It was only later did I find out those tablets were, like, thousands of years old. They should have been put in museums. Erin never really forgave her mum for that. Maybe that’s another thing she feels guilty about. Her mum died a few years afterwards.”

  “Poor Erin. No kid should have to deal with all that.”

  Ardhan continued. “Erin went away for about a year. No one knew where. Turns out she was taken to a hospital. She doesn’t talk about it, not even with me. But you pick up clues, don’t you? She’s still haunted. There are times, even now, when I don’t think I know her at all. ”

  “If that’s true then I’m here to help her,” said Billi.

  “Why you? Why not us? We’re her friends.”

  “Because you’ve not been to those dark places
like Erin, nor me. Places you don’t want to go.”

  Ardhan nodded slowly. “You hear about these things. Erin once told me it wasn’t her dad she was afraid of, but another man. Someone her dad had warned her about. Someone who’d done bad things to him, and wanted to do bad things to her.”

  It was all falling into place. Simon’s ghost had warned them. If there was no clue leading to the Vessel of the Anunnaki, then there might be a clue here leading to the person who was after Erin, and who’d kidnapped Ivan. “That man have a name? Please, Ardhan. I need to know.”

  “Yes. Reginald.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Could it be Reggie? Lawrence had sworn he was dead, very dead. But could both of them be right? Ardhan and Lawrence?

  Had Reggie FitzRoy found a way to come back from death, or was he like his grandson, Simon, some sort of undead, now haunting Erin? That would be more than enough to break the sanity of anyone, especially a young girl who’d just lost her dad.

  Billi had ridden back home straight after cleaning up. She’d waved goodbye from the kitchen while Erin swayed dreamily in the light of the setting sun, lost in her own world. Billi had changed back into her own gear, but had stuffed the dress in her saddlebag. Maybe she might have reason to wear it again, and her own wardrobe seriously lacked such finery.

  Could Reggie still be here? Lawrence had told her that he’d been given command over demons. Could they have taken Ivan? She knew she was clutching at straws. She wasn’t a detective. She was a fighter. Put an enemy in front of her and she’d take care of the rest. But she was lost exploring shadows. She needed help.

  The light in the kitchen was on. Billi had not left it on when she’d gone out this morning. The potted plants either side of the door were missing and there was scattered mud from the door to the kitchen. The kettle was on.

  Someone had broken in and was making themselves quite at home. If it turned out to be a little blonde girl eating her porridge she was going to get a slap.

  The Templar sword stood by the door and Billi quietly drew it from its scabbard. The intruder didn’t care that Billi knew he was there, and Billi wasn’t going to creep around her own apartment. “You’ll find the coffee in the cupboard above the fridge.”