Devil’s Kiss

by Sarwat Chadda

‘All right, Billi. That’s all right.’ She could hear him talking to someone, who? Gwaine? ‘How? What happened?’

  ‘We’re at the reliquary. Dad’s killed the Watcher.’ She forced herself not to look over at the headless body in the corner.

  ‘There’s a body there? Listen, Billi. You’ve got to move Arthur.’

  Move him? She couldn’t. What if he started bleeding again?

  ‘Percy, he has to stay here. I can’t.’

  There was a long pause on the other side. ‘Billi, you’ve got to understand. Your dad’s just murdered someone. That’s how the police will see it. You’ve got to get him out. It’ll be prison otherwise.’

  Jesus, this is insane. But Percy was right. She looked at her dad. ‘OK, Percy. But be quick. Be quick.’

  ‘I’ll be there in five.’ The line went dead.

  16

  Somehow, between them, they got Arthur outside. They laid him down just in front of the shop door and soon Billi heard the unmistakeable roar of Percy’s motorbike and, true to his word, he was there in five. The wheels screamed to a halt, he tossed his helmet on to the ground and ran to their side. Only then did Billi let her dad’s weight fall and with Percy eased him to the ground. They folded Percy’s biker’s jacket under Arthur’s head, and finally shifted him in to the recovery position.

  ‘Hang in there, Art,’ Percy said as he took his pulse. He put his hand on Billi’s own. ‘Now listen, we’ve got to get our story straight. Nothing complex. What have you got?’

  Kay pointed at the broken door. ‘We’ll say we were walking with Arthur when he saw someone trying to break into the shop. He crossed over the road, there was a fight and he fell.’ Kay looked over at Billi. ‘We were too far to have a good look at the attacker. Average height, average build. Just average.’

  Percy nodded. ‘That’ll do. Got it, Billi?’ She couldn’t believe it; they were making up stories while her dad was dying.

  ‘Got it,’ she said, her throat dry.

  The ambulance sirens and lights brought people out on to the street. They loitered outside their porches and doorways, coats slung over their pyjamas and nighties, watching the paramedics bundle out of the ambulance and around Arthur. Percy pulled Billi back to let them work, and then the police arrived. The next few minutes were a blur of questions, flashing lights and conflicting emotion. Her dad had been stabbed. She fed the police the story: the mugger, a scuffle and then him collapsing. No, she couldn’t really remember what the mugger was wearing, or what he looked like, or which way he fled. The police constable soon got weary and took down her details; they’d be in touch.

  Billi joined her dad in the ambulance, holding his hand while the paramedic hooked him up to the portable monitors. Percy hugged her. Kay stood some metres away.

  ‘I’ll be right behind you,’ said Percy.

  ‘What about Mike?’

  ‘I’ll take care of it. The others are on their way.’ He squeezed her one last time. ‘You just look after your dad.’

  By morning they’d moved Arthur out of the operating theatre into a hospital bed. Billi stared at him; he looked so old. The dawn sun was weak, giving him a corpse-like pallor. He seemed so small and pathetic in the hospital bed. Ugly yellow tubes dribbled out of his mouth and nostrils. His eyelids were half closed, those bright blue eyes, usually so full of power and life, just dull and empty glass.

  Had she brought this upon him? If she hadn’t been so consumed by hating him maybe she would have realized Mike was the Dark Angel. And now her dad was lying here.

  This is all my fault.

  Billi forced herself to look at him. His breath was a thin wheezing, followed by a brittle sucking; the sound tortured her ears as much as his pale face did her eyes. She hated hospitals. The tepid odour of pre-warmed food, the rattle of the steel-framed beds. She looked at her dad’s white hands, how thin the skin seemed now, and how blue his veins. She reached out and took them, frightened by their coldness. They were limp and damp. She squeezed as hard as she could, begging for some reaction. Just the smallest twitch, the slightest sign.

  Please, just one sign. Just one.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Kay entered.

  ‘You OK?’ he asked. He held out his hand, stuck between touching her and embracing her. His eyes were narrowed, not like he was trying to read her mind, but like he was concerned, normal. Billi stared at his hand until he lowered it. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You really didn’t know?’ she asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘About Michael being the Watcher?’

  Kay shook his head. ‘No. How could you think that? I would never have let him near you, Billi.’

  ‘So you weren’t even strong enough to see who he really was. Read his aura or something?’

  ‘You can’t read them just like that. And it’s not totally accurate.’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘Anyway, I don’t go spying on everyone I meet.’

  ‘No, just me,’ Billi snapped.

  That wasn’t fair. She knew it wasn’t. But Billi had to blame someone. She wanted to believe it wasn’t her fault, but, try as she might, she knew this mess was hers alone.

  Kay stepped closer. ‘Billi, don’t torture yourself over this.’ He’d heard her thoughts. ‘No one could have known -’

  ‘That I would lead a Dark Angel straight to the Mirror?’ That’s what she’d done, wasn’t it? No matter how she tried to justify it to herself, she’d led him there. And Kay had saved her. Some Templar she was turning out to be. The longer she stayed the more harm she might do. She didn’t want that sort of burden.

  ‘Where’s Percy?’ she asked.

  ‘Downstairs with Gwaine and the others. They’re waiting for you.’

  ‘They’re all here? Why?’ She caught Kay’s guilty look, just before he turned away to look out of the bedroom window, and understood. ‘Jesus, they can’t wait, can they?’

  They were there because Arthur was dying. They were there to select his replacement. The knights couldn’t allow the Order to be leaderless, could they? Well, sod them. Let Gwaine become Templar Master. The Order had brought her nothing but misery. First her mum, now her dad. She looked at him, sallow and so old suddenly. Nothing was worth this sort of sacrifice.

  A vain hope sparked in her. Maybe if – no, not if, but when – when Arthur recovered Gwaine would have proved to be an excellent Master, and Arthur wouldn’t be needed. Maybe if the burden of the Templars was lifted Arthur might become like a normal dad. He might put her first, instead of the Order. He might even love her. It was a cowardly thought, but she’d always imagined her dad as being invulnerable. Seeing him like this she was gripped with fear. Billi had thought she hated him, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. He was all she had.

  ‘He’s a tough nut, Billi. He’ll make it.’ Kay put his hand on her shoulder. ‘You’ll make it.’

  She poured herself a glass of water. ‘How did the clean-up go?’

  ‘Best you speak to Gwaine about that.’

  Billi stood. Kay’s tone set off alarm bells. ‘What’s going on, Kay?’

  Kay grimaced, but checked the door was closed, then whispered. ‘Billi, something went wrong. There was nothing in the basement. Michael’s vanished.’

  So much for all the pomp and grandeur of establishing a new Templar Master. Once the inner conclave of senior knights would have met at Temple Church, held prayers and all-night vigils before choosing who would lead them. Now they were going to vote on it in the hospital canteen.

  Gwaine sat at the head of the white Formica table. He looked calm, but nothing could hide the eagerness in his eyes. With Arthur near death, he would replace him, and his dream would be fulfilled.

  All because of her.

  Percy stood up and hugged her.

  ‘How’s the old man?’

  Billi didn’t know what to say. Dying? She buried her head in Percy’s chest. Then he offered her a seat at the table. There was a cup of tea waiting.

  Bors l
ooked up briefly from his bacon sarnie, then carried on tearing it apart with his teeth, chomping loudly. Berrant lowered his glasses and smiled at Billi. Father Balin carried on clicking his way through his rosary. Gareth and Pelleas were there too. Kay sat down beside her.

  ‘Now we’re all here, I think we should get down to business,’ said Gwaine. ‘First, the debrief. Kay’s filled me in and I’ve reached a conclusion.’ He spread out his hands. ‘It’s clear that Michael was destroyed. The body’s disappearance isn’t unusual. As an Ethereal being, he simply evaporated back into it.’

  ‘But what about Arthur’s sword? That’s gone too,’ said Kay. Gwaine shrugged.

  ‘Contaminated by Ethereal blood, that’s probably disintegrated too. Simple.’

  ‘It seems too simple…’ said Balin. He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. What did Elaine say about all this?’

  Gwaine scowled. ‘We can’t find Elaine. Or the Cursed Mirror.’ He looked around the table. ‘But we can’t solve that tonight. We’ve other business to discuss.’

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ snapped Percy. ‘First we should pray for Arthur’s speedy and complete recovery, don’t you think?’

  Gwaine glowered at him, then cleared his throat. ‘Of course. Father, if you’d be so kind?’

  They bowed their heads and Billi prayed. She prayed her dad would live. And that this would never happen again. It had been too close. And, next time, she could get someone killed. Billi reached a conclusion: there had to be no ‘next time’.

  Gwaine lifted his head after a minute. ‘To business.’ He looked around the table. ‘With Arthur out, I formally request command of the Poor Fellow Soldiers of Jesus Christ and the Temple of Solomon.’

  ‘Temporarily,’ said Gareth. He was right; Arthur was still alive so Gwaine could only be acting Master. Gwaine grimaced and looked around the table.

  ‘I know we all love Arthur, but we must accept his methods are high risk. Look what happened tonight. I’ve… plans regarding the Order. We need to rebuild our strength. Recruit new members.’

  ‘Like who?’ Percy’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘The Red Knights.’

  The others gasped. Billi couldn’t believe it. The Red Knights were a bunch of religious thugs, the worst sort of fanatics. Little better than a street gang that went around beating up immigrants and firebombing newsagents. Was he serious?

  ‘There’s no way Arthur would allow that,’ said Balin. ‘That’s a battle that’s long finished.’

  Berrant nodded in agreement. ‘The Bataille Ténébreuse is not against fellow men, only the Unholy.’

  Gwaine raised his hands. ‘I know they’re somewhat overzealous, but they could be guided. Trained and tempered.’ He looked over at Percy. ‘They’re no worse than Arthur was when I recruited him.’

  ‘Arthur did not go around burning down mosques,’ Percy replied.

  Gwaine glanced at the others, looking for support. Instead all he got was cool looks. ‘OK, we can discuss the Red Knights another day. But the question remains. Will you declare me Master?’

  Balin sighed, but bowed his head. Bors nodded eagerly, the juices of fat dripping off his chin. Gareth and the others agreed. So did Kay, even though he knew Gwaine would make life hard. He was a Templar and there were the Rules, the ancient laws laid down when the Order had been founded. Percy just shrugged and they looked at Billi.

  ‘Just one thing,’ she said.

  ‘This isn’t a deal to be negotiated, squire. It’s yes or no,’ said Gwaine. His voice was low, but couldn’t hide the anger bubbling beneath. The vote had to be unanimous.

  Billi took a deep breath. She’d risked not just herself, but Kay and her dad too. Sooner or later, it would happen again and she didn’t want anyone’s blood on her hands.

  ‘You have my vote, Gwaine. But only on one condition.’ Billi closed her eyes and lowered her head. ‘I want to leave the Order.’

  Percy leaned over. ‘Billi…’

  ‘No, Percy. It’s for the best.’ She didn’t want to open her eyes. If she did she might change her mind. The table fell silent. Eventually she looked up and met Gwaine’s gaze. He smirked: victory was his.

  ‘Granted.’

  17

  So Billi was out. Just like that. Dazed, she left the hospital. The doctor had suggested she get some rest. She could visit again after school. She barely noticed the crowded hospital reception, or the rows of sick children lined up in the corridors in wheelchairs, waiting for ambulances to move them to other hospitals because there were no beds left in this one. Billi glimpsed the tired, frightened faces of the parents, but she was too empty to feel anything for them. Dimly, she wondered if this was Michael’s doing, but he was dead now. It was over.

  The house was cold and silent when she entered. Billi dropped her coat on the floor and went straight up into the kitchen, functioning on automatic. She switched on the kettle and tossed two slices of bread into the toaster. She looked around the sparse, ugly room. This is where they’d decided her fate five years ago: that she should be a Templar.

  Balin by the sink, Gwaine on the stool opposite, Percy by the cupboard and her dad on this seat. The severed arm in the bin bag had lain right here. Billi stroked its stained surface with her palm. There were old, dark patches, well soaked into the wood. Blood? She wouldn’t be at all surprised.

  The front door opened and Billi’s heart jumped. Dad? For a mad moment she thought it was him, somehow recovered and home, and she was up out of her chair and ran to the kitchen door.

  ‘Billi?’ shouted Percy. He stamped his feet on the mat. ‘Where are you, sweetheart?’

  ‘Up here.’ She bent over the banister. Maybe he had some news. ‘Anything? How’s Dad?’

  ‘He’s resting.’ The steps creaked as Percy came up. ‘Don’t you worry about him.’

  Billi turned back towards the bubbling kettle. She took out two mugs, and the teabags. A lump of sugar for her, a squirt of honey for him. She smelt the milk before pouring it in.

  The floorboards creaked as Percy paused at the doorway. She knew what he was waiting for. But she’d quit and wasn’t going back. She plonked the mug down at the far end of the table, took hers back to the other end, and sat.

  ‘And how are you?’ he asked. He lowered himself on the stool; he looked ridiculous. His knees knocked the underside of the table.

  ‘I know what you think. But it’s better this way, Percy. I can’t do it.’ She looked up at him. ‘I led him there. Because of me Dad was almost killed.’

  ‘Arthur would have faced him eventually, Billi. This is not just your doing. The war against the Unholy takes its toll.’

  Like she didn’t know. Her mum, her dad, almost. The Knights Templar were just one bad day from extinction. But that was not her problem any more.

  Percy drained his mug. ‘I’ve asked Gwaine to keep watches on Art. It does seem that Michael’s dead, but something doesn’t feel right. It’s better to be safe than sorry.’

  ‘Think someone might try something?’ Arthur had a lot of enemies. A Hell of a lot.

  ‘That’s why I want him guarded.’ He looked around the kitchen. ‘I’ll base myself here.’ He grinned at her. ‘Play babysitter for a while. I’ll bring my stuff over tonight. It’ll be just like old times, won’t it?’

  Billi nodded. She didn’t want to be here alone. Percy would look after her; he always had. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. ‘You get some sleep.’

  Billi watched the people from the study window that evening. The Inner Temple was busy. She’d never seen so many out here, especially this time of night. Kay peered out over her shoulder, his hair gently brushing her cheek.

  ‘Balin will be pleased,’ he said. ‘Don’t think the church’s been so busy.’

  He was right; they were all headed to Temple Church. Or St Bride’s. Or St Paul ’s. Maybe off to Regent’s Park mosque. The stream was steady, dozens of people all making their way through the darkened street. Lots with kids. />
  ‘The faithful,’ said Kay.

  ‘The fearful.’ replied Billi. The newspapers were full of stories about mysterious sicknesses. Was it some new superbug? Or some new food scare? No one knew. Every kid with even the smallest cough or temperature was being rushed to hospital. They’d only touched the tip of the iceberg. Michael had managed to infect a dozen places while they’d been watching China Wharf, and not just hospitals. Billi felt sick at the thought that he’d probably been doing it just before he met her in the cafe – before he’d tempted her up on to the tower.

  She looked down at the people on the streets and wondered how much worse it would have been if he’d got his hands on the Mirror. But this hysteria wouldn’t last. Now that Michael was gone the kids he’d infected would recover. The panic would pass and the churches would be empty again.

  ‘Billi…’

  ‘Forget it, Kay. I’ve had this talk with Percy already.’ She turned from the window. ‘I’ve quit.’

  ‘But why? We beat Michael. We saved all the firstborn. You did good.’

  ‘Did I?’ Then why did she feel that dreadful hollowness inside? It didn’t seem like a victory. It had been the same after the Ordeal. ‘Dad said we must make hard choices. I did and almost got him killed. I can’t make those sorts of decisions.’

  ‘So you leave them to be made by people like Gwaine?’ There was a bitter edge in the way he said the name.

  ‘He making life difficult already?’

  Kay sighed wearily. ‘He doesn’t trust me. Thinks my time in Jerusalem may have tainted me.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I didn’t train with Christians alone, did I?’ Kay shrugged. ‘He’s a bit old-school on the religious front.’

  Billi watched Kay as he sat on the window sill, fingers hooked round his knee. The moonlight on his already white face made him glow. His hair hung like strands of silver thread, framing his deep-blue eyes.

  The study was in the eaves, low-ceilinged with small windows in the pitch of the roof. Densely stacked shelves filled every wall, and barely a sheet of wallpaper wasn’t covered either by books or old maps and paintings. The carpet was faded red, and a large, black-oak desk dominated the room, its upper surface covered in pale green leather. A bronze stand sat in the middle, a plain block with a shallow groove for a pen and two half-filled ink bottles, one black, one red. Her dad’s laptop sat to the left, its screen glowing a soft blue, adding its light to that of the hazy wall lamps. Thick drapes hung alongside the windows, and deep shadows lurked in their folds.