Billi screamed and threw her arms over her head as glass exploded over her. The car juddered and she felt something splash her face. She kept her eyes shut while the last few shards fell free, and the car stopped as the pressure slipped off the accelerator.
Slowly she opened her eyes.
Percival sat beside her, hands loose either side. His fingers trembled for a moment, then stopped. His eyes stared empty and wide ahead, and his mouth hung slack. Minute cubes of broken glass lay sprinkled like diamonds over him, some caught in his hair, a few embedded in his skin. Billi gazed down and her breath died.
A sword jutted out of his chest.
The Templar Sword. His jacket was awash with his blood. It covered the dashboard and it covered her; she could feel it trickle down her face. The sword had been driven straight through him into the car seat, pinning him. A single, powerful thrust and he’d died instantly.
Nothing flash. An easy kill.
The person on the bonnet hopped off. He walked round to the passenger door, opened it and peered in. He smiled at her and Billi’s heart froze. He slid his dark locks away from his face with his long, slim fingers and tilted his head lower, so their faces were close. Close enough for his breath to chill her, close enough for a kiss. Then those lips curved in cruel amusement.
‘Did you miss me terribly?’ said Michael.
19
A young woman, hair pale gold, with small delicate hands, grabbed Billi by the throat and wrenched her out of the car. She wasn’t even as tall as Billi’s shoulder, but she carried her as if she was a doll and dumped her on the black tarmac.
‘Gently, Eliza,’ said Michael. ‘Billi’s had a hard day.’ The woman grinned at him. Michael smiled back. ‘But I guarantee it’s about to get so much worse.’
Billi lay in a puddle, staring up at Percy.
He can’t be dead. Can’t be.
She waited, urged with all her heart, for his eyes to blink. But no, they gazed far into eternity. Some invisible force squeezed her chest, crushing her lungs until she couldn’t breathe.
Percy. She’d never really been alone – she’d always had Percy. When her dad would vanish for days upon end she’d had Percy. He’d babysat her, he’d cooked, he’d remembered all her birthdays. Billi sank forward until her forehead touched the wet ground.
‘What is it they say about Templars?’ Michael crouched down, pulling her hair sharply so they were eye to eye. ‘You shall keep the company of martyrs.’ He stood up, dragging her alongside. Arthur and Kay were likewise dropped into the circle of surrounding ghuls.
They stood silently, watching their victims, craving to kill. The Hungry Dead, it suited them so perfectly. Including Michael, there were about eight of them; Billi’s eyes were too filled with tears to be sure. Michael walked into the centre of the circle and tore off his coat. His T-shirt was gone and his bare upper torso glistened in the light drizzle as the black web of tattoos twisted and stretched, spikes and thorns growing over his heart. Down his back were two vertical scars, red, swollen and poorly healed.
How? She’d seen his head cut off. Cut off! Michael caught her staring. He stretched his neck so she could have a better look.
‘Can’t even see the join, can you?’ He laughed. ‘Honestly, did you really believe I could be killed by a mortal weapon?’
Billi got to her feet, fighting the fear threatening to drown her. Mike looked at her, amused. Then she slapped him. It wasn’t the strongest blow she could muster, but the most contemptuous. She felt sick, not just for Percy, but with herself. They’d reached this point because of her attraction to Michael. What had she seen in him? Ever? Every molecule in her body recoiled in disgust. He put his hand against his blushing cheek, and slapped her back so hard the blow knocked her down.
‘Never touch me again, mortal.’ He spat out the last word with venom. He strolled over to the car and reached for the Templar Sword. He gazed at Billi as he jerked the blade out of Percy’s body. Billi knew she shouldn’t succumb, she shouldn’t show any weakness to the enemy, but she couldn’t help it. Tears trickled down her face. Percy’s upper body leaned slowly forward, and his face rested on the dashboard. He looked terrible and pitiful with his huge soft brown eyes. She couldn’t bear to look any more.
Arthur lay on his back. He’d lost his slippers and he looked like some doddering old fool, lying there in his dressing gown and pyjamas, wheezing. His top was only partially buttoned and she could see his chest, white and lined with old scars, the ribs pressed hard against his skin. Billi helped him up. She couldn’t believe how thin he was. She’d always thought him so much bigger.
‘Get away!’ Kay was up, brandishing his silver crucifix. He stood in front of Billi and Arthur, vial of holy water in one hand, cross thrust out before him.
Michael circled slowly. Then laughed.
He turned to the ghuls and they laughed too, though Billi saw their hesitation. Only Michael’s presence gave them the courage to face the cross.
Michael shook his head and held out his palm. ‘Kay, give me that.’ He was laughing so hard he was crying. ‘I’ve stood at the right hand of God. I am an angel. An archangel. Do you honestly think that little trinket will protect you?’ He snatched it from Kay’s hand and tossed it away. ‘God gave me a duty. Should man stray, I was to chastise him.’
‘It’s murder,’ said Billi, painfully aware of Percy’s blood splashed over her.
Michael lifted his hands skywards. ‘It’s righteous punishment.’
Arthur laughed. It was a rattling croak pulled out of his chest and it collapsed into a coughing fit. ‘You abandoned Heaven. Cut off your wings.’ He pointed at his own back. ‘That’s why those scars have never healed. You’re a fool, Michael, an arrogant fool. Man hasn’t fallen, it’s you. Do you honestly think God will ever take you back?’
Michael leapt the short distance and grabbed Arthur’s throat, dragging him to his feet. His face transformed, momentarily, into a snarling beast, lips peeled back, his eyes wild and face contorted with rage.
‘It is not I that has fallen, but you!’ He tossed Arthur back to the ground. ‘Once I have the Mirror, and the power of all my brothers and sisters, I will sacrifice every firstborn and God will know how much I love Him.’ Michael gazed upwards into the obscuring mist. ‘I will send Him a million souls to sing His glory.’
Arthur shook his head. ‘You kill and call it prayer. A sacrifice is done out of love. Everything you do is fuelled by hate.’
Michael’s jaw tensed, and for a second Billi thought he was going to strike her dad’s head off, but instead the Dark Angel approached her.
‘You dare criticize me?’ He pressed the flat of the red blade against Billi’s cheek, smearing it with Percy’s blood. ‘I could threaten you, Arthur. Torture you to reveal where the Mirror is, but somehow I think you’d welcome that.’ He nodded at one of the others. ‘You don’t value your life at all.’
Suddenly two of the ghuls grabbed Billi. One across her chest, the other her left arm. Their hold was stone-solid, locking her rigid. She tried to resist, but centimetre by centimetre her arm was pulled out straight in front of her. Mike rested the sword on it, just above the wrist. He looked over his shoulder at Arthur.
‘But what about Billi? Would you sacrifice her?’ He looked towards Billi, eyes shining with savage lust. ‘Sacrifice your beloved child?’
He raised the sword.
Billi tried to pull her arm back, but she couldn’t break the grip. She looked from the blade to her arm, then back to the blade. It would slice through her muscle, through her bone, like a razor though tissue paper. She of all people knew how deadly it was: she’d spent hundreds of hours sharpening it.
‘Well, Arthur?’
Billi tensed. She fought to control her breathing and bound her left hand into a fist. Sweat soaked her back and her arm trembled wildly. Michael had killed her mother and now he was going to kill her.
A Templar does not tremble.
But she couldn’t
stop herself. She wasn’t a Templar. She was frightened and weak. She couldn’t be ruthless the way she should be. Not the way her dad wanted her to be. She bit her lip and looked at her father and in that terrible moment she knew. He gazed back, blank and cold. It was a simple choice. Save Billi or the lives of a million innocent children. Arthur turned away from her. He wasn’t going to save her. Kay groaned in despair, but he couldn’t help: he was flat on the ground with one of the ghuls pressing his foot down on his head.
Michael sighed in mock sadness.
‘See, Billi? Didn’t I tell you? He cares nothing for you. You’re right to hate him.’ He sighed again. ‘Last chance, Arthur. The location of the Mirror or your daughter loses her arm.’
The only noise was Billi’s desperate panting. Michael looked at her.
‘So be it.’
Oh God.
The blade stung her wrist and Billi screamed. She tore her arm free and collapsed, cradling it in her lap. She stared and saw -
Her wrist. It bore only the slightest cut. Fear gripped her, but she forced her trembling fingers to bend. They did. She opened and closed them. She was OK. Her dad had called Michael’s bluff. Tears ran down her face. Thank God. Michael had been bluffing.
Michael laughed and strolled over to Arthur. ‘That’s what I love about you, Arthur: you’re an ice-hearted bastard. You remind me of me.’ He handed the sword over to one of the ghuls – a big, blond guy – beside him. ‘Take this, Ryan.’ He flexed his fingers. ‘There’s one guaranteed way to find out the truth.’
The ghuls ignored Billi; their attention was focused on Arthur and their leader. Michael put his hands on Arthur’s shoulders and forced him to his knees. He ran his hands over Arthur’s head, drawing them together so he cupped his face. Arthur snarled, but couldn’t break free of the angel’s grip.
‘Open your mind to me.’ His fingers caressed Arthur’s cheeks. ‘You’ll fight; I wouldn’t expect anything less. Now, to tell you the truth, I’m not as subtle as your Oracle. I can’t dip softly in and out.’ His nails dug into Arthur’s flesh and drew tiny beads of blood. ‘I will ravage your mind. Tear it to shreds. When I’m done I’ll know where the Mirror is and you’ll be a drooling vegetable.’ He looked over at Billi. ‘It might even improve your relationship with your daughter. God knows it couldn’t get any worse.’
They stared at each other: Michael’s fiery eyes glowing with fever; Arthur’s chilly and pale. A feeble groan slipped out of Arthur, then he locked himself rigid. The change was immediate as his eyelids half sank, and his blue orbs radiated intense concentration. Sweat bubbled across his forehead and his breathing slowed as he fell into a trance.
Michael pressed his fingers deeper into Arthur’s face. ‘Open to me,’ he whispered.
Even Billi, with no measurable psychic power, felt the tremor of energy ripple from the two of them, angel and Templar Master, locked in motionless battle. Waves of quivering emotion washed over her, over them all, as the two minds fought for dominance. Arthur’s breath hissed through his clenched teeth.
The psychic explosion ripped through her like a super-nova. Billi cried as the raw shockwave tore through her mind. Her senses screamed as they burned out and what was left was crystal clear and terrible.
The desert wind at night is cold, but he savours the sharp, prickling sensation of it on his flesh. He stretches out his long, powerful arms, gazing at his moon shadow upon the sand. Though he has no pride, he knows he is beautiful.
What it is to have mortal form! Mankind is truly blessed with such gifts.
He waits on the hilltop above the city. A man wrapped against the bitter night makes his way slowly up the goat track towards him.
The prophet. Moses.
Below them the city lies asleep. A few torches blaze along the palace battlements, and among the patrols of soldiers making their way through the narrow streets between the mud-brick huts and houses. The city has been disturbed by omens and supernatural signs.
But they think the worst is over. They are wrong.
The prophet stops some yards away. He’s dressed in simple, heavy cotton and carries a tall stick, the branch of a cedar. Once he would have worn the softest white linen and carried a golden sceptre. Like his brother. The pharaoh.
‘Is it done?’ asks the prophet. ‘Are they… dead?’
Michael gazes at his companion. It is a foolish thing to ask and almost worth his silence. But he sees the man tremble, though he fights it. He should be afraid, the archangel thinks. Moses is merely a man while he is… Michael.
‘Yes. They are dead. The firstborn of every Egyptian family.’
‘And what of my people?’
‘They did as they were bidden and marked their doors with blood.’ Michael motioned across the sky. ‘And I did pass over.’
The prophet covers his face. Perhaps the deed, now done, weighs more heavily on his soul than he had expected.
‘And now?’ he asks.
Michael crosses his arms and sees lights appear in windows and doorways beneath them. ‘And now they know to fear the Lord God of Israel.’
The Angel of Death smiles.
And, far below, the screaming starts.
The screaming got louder, and Billi shifted her head towards its source. Dazed by the psychic assault, she was on her knees, her head pounding with the worst migraine she’d ever had. It felt as though someone was hammering nails into her eyes, each blow driving a brutal shaft of agony through her skull. And the screaming…
Two fierce white glowing eyes stared at her out of the mists, some demon awoken by Michael’s awful memory, roaring at her. The others gazed about, bewildered and confused by the onslaught. The eyes grew larger and brighter and the screams rose to ear-splitting levels.
A van burst out of the fog, its headlights on full beam, blinding her. The horn was being held down as it accelerated into the crowd.
Billi leapt to her feet. She had to get her dad.
‘Kay!’ she shouted, barely heard over the van horn. She shot a look at him as he broke free from the stunned captors, the van heading straight at him. Billi kicked Michael square in the chest. Michael stumbled back a metre and that was enough. The van smashed into him and jerked up once, twice, as it drove over him.
Billi grabbed her dad. The Templars! It had to be them! They had come to the rescue. The driver pulled a savagely sharp handbrake turn. Any second now the doors would fly open and the other knights would storm out.
The door crashed open and a crazed figure waved frantically from the driver’s seat, her iron-grey hair loose and wild like some ragged old lion’s mane.
‘C’mon!’ cried Elaine. The wheels steamed, and burnt rubber saturated the air as she revved the van, ready to flee the instant she released the brake. Kay took hold of Arthur’s other arm and between them they got him to the vehicle. Billi slid the side doors open and threw him in.
‘Billi!’
She turned and ducked instinctively at Kay’s warning. The Templar Sword hissed over her head, tearing the side of the van. The blond guy raised the weapon up, but before Billi could respond Kay charged. He knocked the ghul over and brought two big kicks into his ribs. The Templar Sword clattered away. Kay went for it, but Billi grabbed his collar.
‘Leave it!’ she cried, pulling him back. The other ghuls were almost upon them. But where was Michael? She glanced over to where he’d been hit.
He was slowly lifting himself off the tarmac; she could see his chest was obscenely crushed and white bone jutted out of his black, blood-soaked flesh. His face was one big bruise and his head deformed. It seemed impossible.
He can’t be stopped.
She jumped into the van and Kay slammed the door shut. The van shook as Elaine burst off. One ghul leapt at the windscreen but a sharp turn of the steering wheel threw him back off. Visibility was practically nothing, but that didn’t stop Elaine. Foot hard down on the accelerator, they roared away from the bloody scene.
20
They
made their way north. Once out of immediate danger Elaine slowed down and the fog gave way to light drizzle. Billi clambered into the passenger seat. Elaine’s eyes were red with tears as she weaved the old van through the streets. Billi glanced at the signs.
‘Stoke Newington?’ she asked.
‘Safe house. No one knows about it but me.’ Elaine shook her head. ‘I ran over him. And he got up. Bloody hell.’
‘Where are the others?’ Something like this needed the other knights. She couldn’t believe they’d not turned up. Where were they? Especially now Percy was dead.
The thought made her shiver. ‘Elaine, you know that Percy’s…’
‘Yes, I saw.’ Elaine sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve. ‘How’s your dad?’
How was he? Billi closed her eyes in despair. She’d almost died back there, and he hadn’t done anything to save her. Anything! Mike was right – he didn’t love her at all. She’d risked losing her life to save him, but had lost Percy instead. Was that a fair exchange? No matter what she did or where she went she could never escape. And it was her dad’s fault. She looked over; he had to know how she felt.
He sat in the corner, a blanket over his shoulders. His head was sunk in his hands, and Billi noticed how small he looked. Her dad was old. Old and worn. His hands were square and powerful, but the skin thinner, the veins more prominent. His shoulders weren’t so broad, not as broad as she’d always thought they were.
He looked… defeated.
He raised his head and wiped his hand over his face. He gazed despairingly out of the rear window. He didn’t focus on anything; he was lost. He took a deep sigh and Billi watched the way his chest rose and fell. His body seemed to shrivel as the air went out, as if he was empty. He turned and their eyes met.
Billi almost lowered her eyes, almost tried to pretend she hadn’t seen him. Hadn’t seen him weak. But she didn’t. This was a part of Arthur she didn’t know existed. The human part. Then as she gazed at him the mask fell back. His face hardened, the small glimmer of frailty vanished and an impervious steel face replaced the human one. Father and daughter looked at each other for a moment longer. Then Arthur’s gaze shifted to Kay.
Devil’s Kiss Page 13