Billy Christmas

by Mark A. Pritchard

  * * *

  The next time Billy could make anything out, he knew he wasn’t looking through his own eyes, but those of the knight stumbling through the alley. He was locked into the images, sounds and thoughts of his enemy. The knight picked a couple of pieces of moss and pressed one with his thumb against a corner in the alley. At once he was at the kitchen door to the Christmas house. Anger flew through Billy; this man had been in his home!

  Waving the locks open, the Grey Knight pushed open the kitchen door. He paused and tasted the air, raising his hands slightly to feel subtle vibrations and see who was home. His left hand twitched and his little finger extended out, pointing at the cupboard to his left. His eyes shifted upwards and the box on top of the cupboard started to rattle and shake, but just as it tipped to tumble over the edge, the Grey Knight caught it. The lid of the box opened as if by itself, and three crystal glasses slid out suspended in midair. The glasses turned, splitting the low lights from the ceiling into coloured shards across the walls. The knight tasted the wretched sentiment that surrounded the glasses and clenched his jaw against the nausea it caused him. Whilst remaining in control of the glasses with his left hand, he brought the thumb and forefinger of his right together. As though drawing a bow across a violin, the knight drew his hand across his chest and raised the vibration of the crystal glasses. Further fractures appeared in the colours cast on the wall as the glasses began to splinter before a cloud of shattered crystal formed in front of the knight.

  The knight climbed the staircase, three stairs at a time, and followed the sound of the sleeping adult woman. The stench of the deerhound grew stronger here; clearly the filthy, broken woman had allowed the beast to sleep in her quarters. It amazed him that someone with such poor breeding had sired such a potent foe. He could hear the spiders scurry away as he waved the door open. They could sense his nature and knew it was time to be anywhere else. The carpet at the foot of the bed had been the dog’s cot. Just as the stiff hairs from the hound started to rear up at the knight, white flame marked their passing. The heady smell of burnt hair mixed with a deeper tone from the woman. He could actually smell the grief seeping up through her pallid skin. He moved closer, tempted suddenly to taste the woman, to draw the exact note of her sorrow. She stirred, arching her back awkwardly, her eyelids fluttering.

  “Tom…” said Penny Christmas to a ghost in her dream. “Tom?”

  Not Tom, thought the knight, leaning over her, not even close, and turned back out of the bedroom. This was risky. If he was caught at this now, it would throw off his master’s plans, and there were other tasks to attend to in Marlow tonight. From the doorway, he waved the thin duvet back over the woman and, as an afterthought, fluffed her pillows. Then he turned into the hallway and froze.

  Someone was opening the kitchen door. The smell hit him at once; it was the boy himself. He heard boots crush crystal and smelt the boy’s gasp; tasted his dismay. The woman was awake, throwing off his tucked duvet and stumbling to the door. He waved open the door to his left and entered the boy’s room.

  “Billy? Is that you?”

  The knight listened to the woman descend the staircase but was no longer paying attention to her. Before him on the foot of the boy’s bed lay a blanket he knew covered items of great power. He waved the blanket up into the air where it hung like a sun canopy, took three steps forward and looked on the bed with widening eyes. Here was the very knuckleduster…and the axe and key. He felt a compulsion to take them. Why, he could disrupt the prophecies by simply stealing them here and now. Surely the master had thought that the boy would keep them somewhere safe, perhaps hidden by the Tree in some obscure dream. Surely he should take the tools now, and the master would be free of the risk. Voices were being raised in the kitchen.

  The knight drew on his courage and reached for the items.

  —WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING IN THAT BUILDING!

  His voice slammed into the depths of his brain like a hammer.

  —GET OUT!

  And now there were footsteps heading up the stairs. The boy was coming. In a trice, the knight waved the blanket down over the items, leapt across the bed, waving open the window at the same time. He dived through it. As he did, he heard the door flung open; it had been that close. Plummeting towards the ground, he plucked a piece of moss from his breast pocket and pushed it out in front of his left thumb. The moss and thumb touched down and the ground swallowed the falling knight, leaving only the barest indentation, a few ashes and a thumbprint in the snow.

  * * *

  Billy blinked and moaned as the Grey Knight pulled his head away.

  “You see, we all have our masters, Billy Christmas.”

  Being locked into someone else’s thinking was bad enough, but to feel their loathing of people and things he found dear made him nauseous. “Yours doesn’t seem to like you much,” he managed to reply.

  Mike Hayter hadn’t finished with him yet. “One down, one to go. Do you want to know how our stone friend got the scent of your girlfriend, Billy?”

  Billy hung limply in the cassock. The disorientation was extreme. He’d spoken to Senga, hadn’t he? There was going to be an opportunity to get Katherine back, wasn’t there? The knight approached, singing again, and Billy drew in breath as once more their heads entwined.

  * * *

  Back in the alley, the knight looked about for more moss, and found a wall with a thick covering. One moment he was running at a brick wall, the next the ashes of a piece of moss clung to the cement between two bricks before succumbing to gravity and the pavement below.

  It took two full steps for the knight to control the inertia that he had carried from the alley. He had landed perfectly in the girl’s bedroom, which was a terrific advantage. He had left this so late, and with the cursed Teàrlag approaching, it would be hard to judge how much time he had to do this.

  Unlike Billy’s mother, this young woman possessed none of the magnetic sorrow that he craved. This one’s skin reeked of everything you’d expect from her breeding: measured courage, judgement and—most unpleasant of all—a great capacity for love. He felt repulsed. Still, he had a job to do here, a seemingly innocuous but vital component to the master’s plan. Best not to question the orders. He bent over the girl. It was strange that the bed had moved with her; perhaps it spoke of her potential? Without touching it, he lifted a lock of Katherine’s dusty brown hair; holding it midair above his left hand, he drew back across with his right, severing. The lock hung a moment in the air before the knight waved it into a pocket in his sleeve, taking great care not to touch or contaminate it. He looked back at Katherine, and wide-eyed, she screamed.

  “Billy!”

  Shocked and completely off guard, the knight bounced back off the bed, cursing. He could tell that she was already sinking back into the dead sleep, but the damage had been done. With sudden certainty of the Tree’s presence, the knight spun, rolling neatly underneath the bed.

  The door opened slowly. Green light swept over the room, and he could see the fibres of the carpet lift, being drawn by static electricity. The knight readied himself for battle, staying silent, leaving it to Teàrlag to decide the moment he would launch out at the girl. He could feel the wisps of her energy tickle the edges of the bed, and forced himself to wait. This would be brief and bloody.

  He heard a note of change in the girl’s breathing, felt the energy pouring from the Tree, smelled the blood beating deeper within her heart; she was close to waking up.

  “Katherine? That’s it, dear, just sit up. No, not too fast…”

  The steady voice of the Tree refreshed the bile in the knight. Such sanctimonious, odious intent.

  “Are you Billy’s Tree? He told me in my sleep…” her voice was weak, and she coughed after speaking.

  “I am my own Tree, thank you. But yes, I am with Billy. Just sit there a moment, will you? Stop trying to stand. You’ve been sleeping too long for that.”

  The knight flattened himself against the floor
as Katherine sat over him on the mattress.

  “Take these,” said Teàrlag.

  “Tiny skates?”

  “They are for Billy. You are to take him skating in the park.”

  “Have you really seen him? He has bigger feet than my dad…”

  “He’ll know what to do. Does this bag hold your skates?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Put this duffel coat on. I’m not supposed to, but I think I’ll spare us the walk down the hill.”

  From under the bed, the knight felt the large French door open out onto the veranda. At the same moment, the knight heard needles fall from the Tree onto Katherine.

  “What are you doing?”

  “It’s to help you fly, little one, no don’t get up. I shall lift you.”

  The indentation in the bed lifted and now the knight began to panic. He could see the stump of Teàrlag’s trunk floating inches above the carpet. He rolled out of the other side of the bed and froze as the Tree floated out of the room, cradling the girl. The French doors shut, and an ugly grin spread over the face of the Grey Knight. The fool Tree had not spotted him.

  Suddenly three needles fresh from the Tree sprang from the duvet and whipped deep into his face. Two on his left cheek and one high in his forehead. They each pumped green light into his face, and the knight struggled to contain a deep howl of pain. Grinding his teeth and breathing out spit onto the duvet, the knight pulled out the needles one by one. He watched them writhe against his fingers for a moment before consigning them to white flame.

  It became clear he hadn’t contained his cry well enough; from below, someone was already running up the stairs. He scowled and waved open the French doors and was out of them with the moss on his thumb well before the girl’s family arrived. Below the veranda, a thumbprint and slight ashes were the only imperfections in the empty snow-covered gardens.

  * * *

  The knight cried out as he pulled his head away from Billy’s, who was shocked to be using his own eyes once more. Mike Hayter rocked back onto his knees as if briefly in pain. Shaking it off, he got to his feet. “How ironic that the evening I lose the father, I gain the son. I suspect he’ll think his escape somewhat less lucky now.”

  Billy snarled and fought against the cassock.

  The Grey Knight reached down and drew a large circle, about eight feet across, in the ice with his finger. A bright light raced around the ring, and Mike quickly stepped outside the circle. Within the line the ice floor began to fizz, then bubble, then boil before finally going still. Steam now rose from the pool of water in the vestry. Billy realised as it settled that he could make out the inverted interior of some building below. He could clearly see the night sky through the upturned space, with moonlight against the stone walls.

  “You know, if you had only pieced things together a little quicker you might have prevented what is about to happen to your friend.” The Grey Knight shrugged off the overcoat he’d been wearing, revealing a grey waistcoat over a white shirt. “Such a shame.”

  “Just don’t hurt her. Please!” Billy fought the cassock in vain.

  “Well, we already have Billy, thanks to you. It is down to you that I was able to find her at all. You helped track and then trap her. Who do you think clipped her with the car? Who arranged for the actual impact to arrive later and send her to sleep? After months and months of searching, it was all possible thanks to you.”

  Again, Billy cried out, and the cassock hauled him closer.

  “You should struggle less. The more you move, the tighter that will get, and it won’t stop tightening just because you need to breathe.” Mike’s smile faltered. “It’s not my choice, Billy.”

  He turned and faced the edge of the pool. Time appeared to slow, as he stepped forward a few inches above the water, then slowly sank under, turning around so his eyes met Billy’s just before they rolled beneath the surface.

  Billy bellowed in pure frustration and then stopped as he felt the cassock snake ever tighter about him. He calmed his breathing. Hadn’t Senga said he would be freed?

  A new sound found his ears. The ticking of the vestry clock. Slow, steady and unrelenting. Tick, tock, back and forth, the losses mounting, and time roaring past and him bound against this stupid wall, without the first clue what to do if he were free, and still time poured past him. In his mind’s eye, the candle’s flame flickered dangerously low, losing touch with his father. And now Katherine’s fingers were losing their grip on the ice with the dead weight of the Gargoyle dragging her low. Despite the obvious danger, Billy howled out in despair, almost welcoming the constriction with which the cassock replied.

  “Now then young ’un! Whatever sort of noise is that to be making?”

  The unmistakable bark of Saul joined the voice, and Billy already knew it was Agnes standing at the tatters of the door. At once Saul bounded in, and started sniffing and growling at the pool’s edge before looking up at Billy and barking. He ran up to the cassock and began biting the edge of the garment. Instantly it recoiled, almost hissing, forcing the air out of Billy’s lungs.

  “Saul, no! No you mustn’t!” yelled Agnes. The dog sat back and gave a low howl.

  Billy was in trouble. With each small breath, the cassock tightened against him, acting exactly as the Grey Knight had threatened it would. He already knew he couldn’t speak, but flashed Agnes a look of fear that he hoped looked as authentic as it felt.

  Agnes appeared to pause and take a breath. “Don’t you worry, youngster. I can help you, I believe.” She delved into some cloth compartment within her many layers and drew out the Christmas pie. Saul whined, wrinkling his huge nose. It was clear he could smell more than just the surface aroma.

  Billy’s breathing grew shallow, and the room greyed a little before his eyes. He wasn’t sure what he would or could have said when he saw Agnes begin to break open the pie, but he knew from the tears forming in her eyes that she was parting with her precious gift. She shot Billy a small smile, began to rub the open chunk of pie into the cloth of the cassock. The reaction was instantaneous. Billy felt his ribs gathered and pressed together harder than ever. Agnes moved quickly, rubbing more pie into the cassock over his shoulders. A pungent smell hit his nose, like the foul ash from the attack on Teàrlag. The cassock began to feel thinner and weaker. Smoke slowly rose from the possessed cloth, and Agnes moved faster. Finally, the last of the pie was gone, and quite naked, Billy slumped forwards through the tattered threads into Agnes’s strong arms. He drew in air just as weakly as they had when he breached the surface of the water in the tank some days before.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “You’re most welcome.”

  * * *

  Some minutes later, Billy was dressed in spare vestry clothes and they sat on the couch observing the world through the pool. Agnes was making no sound, but tears rolled down her cheeks and she made no attempt to hide them. Billy reached over with both hands and partly on instinct and partly for warmth lifted her heavy arm over his neck and placed his head against the folds of her clothes.

  “That was your only way out, wasn’t it?”

  Agnes shrugged a little. “Nothing lasts forever, Billy. Not stars, not stone and certainly not people. Even well-preserved ones like me will pass in time. I just hadn’t wanted to see any more of my own go before me.”

  “Thank you for saving me,” said Billy, feeling warmth through the weaves. “I can’t remember anyone doing that for me.”

  Agnes smiled. “It was a good swap, young ’un. An easy swap at that.”

  “I need to get going, don’t I?”

  The old woman drew in a deep breath. “You don’t need to go anywhere, son. Your father is safe and you’ve done enough.”

  “But Senga said…”

  “Everyone has an angle in this, including me. I have as many reasons as any for sending you in. But you have to decide for yourself. Your dad will be coming home now.”

  Billy already knew he wouldn’t be
able to look at him if bringing him home had losing Katherine as a price. “I won’t leave her there.”

  “I didn’t imagine you would. But Billy, the Gargoyle, the knight and anyone, anything, you meet there,” she said, pointing down through the water to the inverted world, “they ain’t playing at this, son. They have an ambition and you will threaten it. Make no mistake, they will kill you if they can. You need to understand that before you go. You want your father to come back and have you missing?”

  Billy lifted his head from her shoulder and stood up. “I don’t believe he would want me to leave anyone behind. It’s not who we are.”

  Agnes blinked back more tears. “I’m sorry I can’t go with you, Billy, but you won’t be going alone.” She picked herself up from the couch and held out her hand. In it was Saul’s blue lead. The deerhound padded across the room and dropped his head, allowing Billy to fasten the tie to his collar. Agnes slipped two fingers into her mouth and gave a low whistle. A whispering sound approached from the door to the vestry. Leafy extremities wrapped themselves around the door frame to be followed by a single beady berry, looking inquisitively into the room. The mistletoe caught sight of Billy and scarpered across the floor, running up his leg, then back and finally settled, nestling against his neck, making him smile.

  “And then there were three,” said Agnes. “Billy, you’re about to go somewhere so different, I can’t begin to describe it. When you’ve worked it out, which you will, please try to remember who you’re going there for. Don’t be distracted by what is about to happen.”

  Quite mesmerised by her voice, Billy hadn’t realised that he, Saul and the mistletoe on his shoulder had also been drifting out over the pool. He looked down at his feet before looking back at Agnes and noticing that her eyes were now quite black.

  “She’s my great-granddaughter, Billy.”

  For once, Billy felt calm and threw a smile back at Agnes. “I will bring her back.”