Devil’s Kiss

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Devil’s Kiss Page 19

by Sarwat Chadda


  Michael stood in a blackened crater of molten tarmac. And the others gathered around him.

  They appeared as hazy shadows, trembling against the fiery light, slowly taking form and substance. Each one screamed as he tore his way through the final barrier between realms and returned, at last, to this one. Billi watched them stumble, naked and exhausted, and collapse on the ground, black vapours rising off their still forming bodies. Dozens and dozens took the same journey and the street was littered with white, tattooed bodies. Michael walked to one and helped lift him up. They stared at each other, their golden eyes filled with Ethereal power. Michael embraced him.

  ‘Araqiel,’ he said.

  The others stood. The shadows about their bodies rippled and wrapped their bodies with dark cloth. Against this their white faces shone with angelic light. Dark angels indeed.

  The Cursed Mirror. Michael had dropped it. Billi crawled towards it. With it there may still be a chance. She stretched out her hand.

  Michael picked it up. He looked down at her and cupped the disc in his hands. It melted like butter though his fingers and long strands of glowing molten copper dripped on to the floor, hissing and solidifying into a formless blob.

  He then bent down and lifted her face gently. Those eyes that she’d once thought so beautiful and brilliant were now the eyes of a pitiless hunter. They reflected no warmth, no compassion. He lowered his lips and kissed her. Billi flinched, but his fingers clenched her jaw, holding her fast. It felt like she was pressed against a boiling kettle. She wanted to scream, but his lips held hers shut. Then Michael dropped her.

  The other Watchers gathered around him.

  ‘Come, we have God’s work to do,’ he said. They turned away and vanished into the darkness.

  Billi got up, took a few steps, then tumbled as her head spun and the ground swayed. She turned towards the sky, desperate for some cool rain on her face, but she was burning. She felt as though the raindrops were boiling off her skin the moment they landed. She couldn’t breathe. The air thickened around her. Her ears filled with an endless high-pitched buzzing and the ground gave way. Hands grabbed her as she fell and her dad was shouting at her, his eyes wide with terror, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. Steel nails raked her belly and she doubled over, vomit gorging her throat, spilling out of her mouth. Elaine rushed to help and her hands passed over Billi’s eyes, just briefly.

  She saw them, the cloud of black crystalline necro-flies, descending on her. She screamed as they infested her face, crawling over her mouth and her eyes, their drone echoing deep in her skull. She thrashed wildly, trying to fight them off, but they swarmed thicker and thicker around her until she was covered in them and her eyes filled with darkness.

  The plague was unleashed.

  30

  I’m dead.

  Kay’s dead.

  We’re all dead.

  She floated in the air, warm and weightless. She felt safe and secure, something she hadn’t felt in years. If this was death it wasn’t so bad.

  But as Billi senses returned so did the pain. Each breath was like dragging broken glass down her throat, and white-hot needles dug into every joint.

  Wasn’t all that meant to end when you died?

  ‘Billi?’

  Her dad was close, looking down at her. He was carrying her in his arms. He hadn’t done that since… when? Ages and ages. He wiped her face with his sleeve.

  ‘Don’t cry. We’re almost home.’

  Home? Where was that?

  She looked up into the dark sky and floating above him were two knights, riding a single horse. The Knights Templar.

  My God, the Templars have a Heaven all to themselves.

  Just great.

  She’d thought once she was dead she’d have a break from all that. But as her eyes focused the two knights became a small, black iron statue, atop a plain white stone column.

  Home. What other home did they have?

  Temple Church.

  Elaine threw her coat on the pedestal at the foot of the Templar column and Arthur laid Billi on to it. Drizzle tickled her face, its coolness dampening the red fever boiling her skin.

  From here crusades had been declared. From here the greatest military order of medieval times had made holy war. Nobles, princes and even kings had come here on bended knee and trembled under the gauntlets of the Knights Templar.

  Now it was a fire-blackened shell. The windows all shattered and the doors boarded up with plywood. The rain merely smeared great streaks of soot down its white walls. Distant flashes of lightning lit the thick black clouds that loomed over London. The air trembled with thunder.

  But there was another sound, almost drowned under the violent sky. Billi lifted herself on to her side, straining to separate the sounds.

  Church bells. The city echoed with them. The noise rose as more and more bells joined the summoning. The black clouds seemed to shake with anger and thundered back. For a brief moment Billi hoped. She hoped that something would happen, anything.

  Summoning the faithful. The fearful.

  The rain beat down hard, wind screamed across the courtyard and Billi could hear the bells no longer. She sank back on to the hard, cold stone. What good would it do them? Michael had won. And tomorrow all the firstborn would be dead.

  Kay was dead. She would be dead.

  Arthur sat down beside her and stroked her hair. He leaned against the column and smiled weakly. There was a gentleness there that she hadn’t seen in years. He looked so different.

  ‘Art,’ said Elaine, pointing into the darkness ahead.

  They came. Black silhouettes moving cautiously through the wall of rain. Arthur stood up and pulled out the breadknife.

  The Watchers. They’d come to finish the job. A half dozen or so, but that would be more than enough. They moved with warrior confidence, not rushing, but approaching with a deadly sureness.

  Arthur stepped forward.

  ‘Close your eyes, Billi,’ said Elaine. She bunched up her bony fists, determined to fight till the last. Billi wanted to laugh; she wanted to cry. Elaine hadn’t been a Templar in life, but she was going to die one.

  No. She would not go eyes closed and on her back. Billi forced herself up. Her muscles spasmed, but she gritted her teeth and forced them under her control. If this was the end she’d fight. The black shapes came closer.

  ‘Art?’

  She peered into the darkness. Hold on…

  ‘Gwaine?’ said Arthur.

  He stepped out into the weak pool of street light. Gwaine’s face had aged, his cheeks sunken and deeper grooved than before. But his eyes shone wetly. He stopped an arm’s length from her dad. Billi watched as the others appeared. The air about them went still and she held her breath.

  ‘Arthur.’ He took Arthur’s right hand in his and went to his knee. ‘My Master.’

  They’d come. They’d all come. Bors, Gareth, old Father Balin and the others. Pelleas hugged Billi, squeezing her until she couldn’t breathe. Even Elaine got kisses from Bors, and Billi watched her blushing and laughing in relief.

  They’d come. They were few but, to Billi, she realized at last they were everything.

  It was inevitable. She’d tried and fought against it. She’d quit and almost abandoned them, but this was her life, her destiny. Kay was gone and this was all the family she had now.

  The Knights Templar.

  31

  ‘But I’m coming with you,’ said Billi. She sat on a stool with a dense brown woollen shawl over her shoulders, feeling a hundred years old. The pain had turned down from un bearable agony to merely unbearable. Maybe here, deep in the Temple catacombs, the bones of the ancient Templars were better wards than all the magic Elaine could manage.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ answered Arthur. He raised his arms up as Elaine checked his bandages. He looked ghost-pale and gaunt, but he was Master and would lead the Templars. He beckoned Pelleas over, who had a heavy steel mail hauberk slung over his shoulder. Art
hur wrapped a padded silk tunic round his chest, knotting short red bows under his left side.

  ‘Gwaine will take Bors and lead the feint. I’ll take the others and spearhead.’ Pelleas lifted the hauberk over Arthur’s head like a jumper. Leather cords ran down from the nape to the mid-shoulder blades. Pelleas knotted them while Arthur loosened the neck-opening.

  Gwaine. She couldn’t believe it.

  ‘You’ll give that to Gwaine?’

  ‘He’s Seneschal. Why shouldn’t I?’

  Billi leaned closer and whispered. ‘Dad, after what he did? He betrayed you.’

  Arthur’s eyes met Pelleas’s as he bound his Master’s waist with a broad leather sword belt. ‘The Seneschal has my full trust.’ But the words didn’t reflect the icy, sullen stare that crossed the armoury to where Gwaine sat, fixing the bindings to his battle axe. It wasn’t over between him and Gwaine, but it would wait.

  Arthur rolled his shoulders and settled into his armour. ‘How do I look?’

  The thousands of polished mail links glittered in the low light. It was short, ending just below the hips, infantry style. The cuffs and neck opening were lined with leather and Arthur wore a pair of black combat trousers and shin-high stout hiking boots. He took a heavy sword with a plain cross-guard and iron walnut pommel. The meaty blade wasn’t long and it looked more like a machete than the elegant blade of a knight, but Billi knew it wouldn’t blunt easily, could deliver awful wounds and was her dad through and through. Sharp and brutal. He slipped it into a scabbard on his left hip. On the right was a pair of narrow-bladed fifteenth century Milanese stiletto knives.

  ‘Dressed to kill,’ Billi croaked.

  Billi glanced around the armoury. Elaine wandered around the dimly lit catacomb, mouth open. She stared at the collections of bones in the alcoves, the weapons and armour. She tested the weight of a sword, and her face swelled red with the effort.

  All Templars could fight with any style of weapon, but each had a favourite. Gwaine with his axe, a modified fireman’s tool, steel-hafted and just as useful for smashing as chopping. Gareth strummed the tight bowstring of his composite bow like a lyre, then ran his palm softly over the black eagle fletching of his arrows. Bors: a pair of short swords strapped across his back. Father Balin sat under a table lamp, carefully scrubbing off any dust or grit from the flanges of his mace with a toothbrush. Finally Pelleas, the classic duellist: rapier and main gauche. He stood in the centre of the armoury floor, eyes closed, slowly reaching down to his toes, stretching his back. His thin black leather gloves were tucked into his belt.

  The Templars were ready for battle.

  ‘What about me?’ Billi said. It was a thought spoken out loud. She hadn’t meant anyone to hear it, but Arthur had. He put his weapon down and walked over. He sighed and crouched down next to her. ‘Listen, Billi. You’re to stay here, with Elaine.’

  ‘You’re taking Father Balin and not me? He can barely lift that mace.’

  Arthur looked over at the old priest. She knew she was right; he was knocking on seventy, and he hadn’t been much of a warrior to begin with. She could see her dad didn’t like it either.

  ‘Balin’s made his choice.’

  ‘But how are you going to beat the Watchers?’

  ‘They’ve just arrived, so won’t be at full strength. We’ll strike hard and fast. Maximum damage in minimum time.’

  ‘What about Michael?’

  Arthur’s hand tightened round his sword hilt. ‘I’ve beaten him once already.’

  ‘But, Dad, that was then. Now he’s drawn down all his angelic powers. He can’t be beaten.’

  Arthur turned to her and hissed through gritted teeth. ‘So we don’t even try?’ He leaned on the table, his head bowed. ‘What else can we do but fight?’

  ‘Even when it’s hopeless?’

  ‘Especially when it’s hopeless.’

  ‘Why, Dad?’

  Then he smiled. The sudden warmth took Billi by surprise. ‘Deus vult.’ He took hold of her hand. His palm was coarse and hard from years of handling heavy weapons; thick callouses lined his thumb and fingers. Billi had a few like that too. ‘Billi, I’ve ruined enough of both our lives believing in Kay’s prediction. All those years I’ve not been able to tell you how I felt, just to make you strong. You can’t imagine the fear I’ve lived with.’ He kissed her forehead. His lips rested against it and Billi felt tears drop, slowly trickle, down off his cheeks and on to hers. ‘You’re my life, Billi. I can’t live without you.’

  He stood back and looked at her. Not like a Master would his knight, but as a father would his daughter. Arthur’s eyes gleamed.

  ‘Billi, I’m so proud of you. I always have been.’

  Gwaine stood discreetly nearby, Arthur’s leather jacket over his arm. ‘We’re ready, Art.’

  Arthur wiped his eyes. He took the jacket from Gwaine and pulled it on. Billi stood up as the other knights gathered by the door.

  ‘Where to, sir?’ asked Bors.

  Arthur looked towards Billi, his eyebrows raised.

  Where else would he be? Michael had as good as told her.

  I will watch the world reborn. From up on high.

  ‘ Elysium Heights.’

  Elaine brought Billi a bowl of soup. Steam rose out of the tin pot and she sprinkled some coriander over it before handing it to her.

  ‘I’m sorry about Kay,’ said the old woman, taking the seat beside Billi. She put her bony fingers on Billi’s hand and she felt the old woman’s sadness as they trembled with suppressed emotion. Elaine had loved Kay too.

  Billi closed her eyes. The hot soup was making them water and she didn’t want Elaine to think she was crying.

  Kay.

  He’d only just come back and now he was gone. There was a black hole deep in her and Billi stood at the edge of it. She was frightened to look down in case it took her forever, but that hole was made the moment Kay had left. She loved him. She’d spent a year alone and now that would be forever. She looked up at Elaine who just nodded.

  ‘He was a valiant knight,’ she said.

  They found some camp beds and old blankets so Billi and Elaine set them up in the corner of the armoury. Elaine shifted uneasily under her covers.

  ‘Don’t like sleeping with the dead,’ she said, jutting her chin out at the pile of bones sitting nearby.

  ‘I doubt even your snoring will wake them.’

  Billi wrapped the blankets around her and closed her eyes. It wasn’t long, but Elaine’s snorting snore soon filled the darkness. It rebounded off the close walls until it seemed to be coming from all directions. Despite her exhaustion, Billi couldn’t sleep. Sharp knives prodded between her bones and one moment her body shivered, and the next it was dripping with sweat. No matter how much she drank, she was constantly thirsty. And the buzzing…

  The noise of the flies echoed in the dark chamber. She couldn’t see them any more, but she cringed at the idea that they were crawling over her. Billi lifted her blanket over her, pulling it tight. Maybe they couldn’t get her down here. She turned this way and that, until eventually she sank into sleep.

  Kay.

  Images rolled in her dreams, the flames bursting from the apartment, Michael crushed under the sofa and Kay. The way he’d smiled at the world.

  Kay.

  She missed him. Missed him more than she’d thought she would. That hole grew inside her.

  I’m here, Billi.

  They’d kissed. She’d never kissed anyone before.

  Come outside. I’m waiting.

  Her fingers tingled as she remembered running them through his hair, silver in the moonlight.

  Please, Billi. I’m waiting.

  Billi blinked her eyes open. It had sounded as though he was right beside her, whispering to her. Just a dream. She rolled over.

  Not a dream, Billi.

  ‘Kay?’

  Yes, Billi. It’s me. Come outside.

  It sounded like Kay. She shook her head. It couldn’t be. Deli
rious. That’s what it was, she was delirious. The tenth plague was affecting her mind.

  How stupid are you? Just look outside!

  Now that sounded like Kay.

  Billi stumbled barefoot up the stairs and paused. Beyond the boundary of the armoury what little protection she had would be gone. Even now she could feel the pain pulsing stronger and the red-hot claws scraping at her insides. She glanced around the courtyard, afraid she’d imagined it and he wasn’t there and it was all a dream and he wasn’t ever coming back.

  Then she saw him, standing under the cloisters. He leaned against a column, arms crossed, without a care in the world. Ignoring the creeping illness that began to pollute her veins Billi stepped out into the rain. It flew down in dense sheets and the cold winds stunned her face, but she didn’t care. She shuffled forward, though it felt as though she was dragging her bare feet over broken glass. Even in the weak lamplight his skin shone brilliant white, his hair like spun platinum. The blueness of his eyes made her heart leap.

  Kay.

  32

  Billi dragged herself under the cover of the cloisters and leaned against a column, trembling. She wiped away burning tears and stared at Kay, afraid to come too close in case this was a dream and he disappeared.

  ‘How?’ She came closer, but Kay took a short step away.

  ‘I was… saved.’

  The fire. The building had collapsed.

  ‘The fire brigade saved you?’ She reached out her hand. Her fingers shook, but she wanted to touch him, to see if he was real.

  ‘No, not them.’ He came suddenly forward and held Billi’s arms and looked at her. ‘I came back for you, Billi. I couldn’t leave you.’

  He was real.

  Billi launched herself at him. She wouldn’t let him leave her – not this time.

  ‘I thought I’d lost you, Kay.’ She was cold and shivering and Kay squeezed her. ‘Where have you been?’ But she didn’t care; he was here now.

 

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