He looked more frightened than ever. “You know how to climb? Dumb question. Of course you do. You want to go up that way, don’t you? Is this an ego thing?”
“Didn’t you come to our climbing week at the Lake District? The Eskdale crags were waaay worse than this.”
Faustus went from frightened to sour. “I’d quit by then. And I haven’t brought any rope or a grappling hook or whatever you guys use nowadays.”
“This isn’t a game of Dungeons and Dragons, Faustus.”
He laughed joylessly. “Sure it is. You’re the high level knight and I’m the very low level wizard who’s wishing he’d never left the tavern.” He gestured back to the village. “I say we try the path up.”
“You got a cloak of invisibility? There are lights and cameras. We have one advantage and you know it. Reggie and his little band think I’ve drowned. They’ll be off guard and that’ll give us our chance to get Ivan and disrupt... this ritual.” She shook her head. “Frankly this sounds more like a game of Dungeons and Dragons the more I talk about it.” She adjusted the Templar sword across her back. “Right down to the accessories.”
She didn’t want to admit it but the climb looked... tricky. It would have been a challenge in the day, but at night, in the rain? They’d be crawling up slick granite blind. But Ivan was up there and it was this or nothing.
Oh, and there was a cosmic apocalypse to halt. So there was that too.
“Just follow me,” she said as she kicked the damp sand off her boots and flexed her fingers. The wind off the North Sea already carried the promise of winter and they had a hundred metres to climb. “Let’s get started. Now watch me. You’ll be surprised how strongly you can hang on when your life depends upon it.”
“Do not remind me.”
Billi pointed up a stone nub half-way up. “We’ll aim for that. Catch our breath for a minute, then go up the last pitch.”
They climbed over the rocks further out over the water. The wind was picking up and throwing sheets of spray over them. The cliff face had been battered hard by the elements so gave her the roughest surface to grip onto, though the most exposed. Faustus cursed as he stumbled along behind her. Eventually she found a good route up, as far as she could tell. Plenty of handholds, ledges and cracks. Just overrunning with water so it looked like they were climbing up a waterfall. She balanced her right foot upon a narrow ridge of granite and dug her fingers into cracks. She pushed off —
And slipped.
She glanced back at Faustus and smiled. He looked horrified. “Best get that out of the system, eh?”
“You are insane.”
She had a pithy reply, but held it between her lips. Up close the climb looked a lot worse than it had from the beach. The granite wasn’t porous, all that sea spray and rain formed a thin film over it, you couldn’t rely on friction and when it came to climbing you relied on friction a lot. Like all the time. This was going to be a very different climb with a lot fewer options than usual. She had no idea what lay over the next ledge, the route to the top was all guess work and, what she hadn’t admitted to Faustus, she’d never climbed without a rope. Nor had she actually led. That had been Arthur or Bors. She’d always promised herself she’d lead the next one but each time they’d come up to one of the crags she’d stared at it, eyes wide and palms sweating. She tightened the strap across her chest, making sure the sword was fixed firmly in place. The last thing she wanted was it slipping off her shoulder half-way up a slab.
She put her foot back on the ridge and gently hauled herself up. She jammed her left toe into a slot in the stone, wedging it in with her body weight, and reached up another dozen centimetres. Slow and steady and double-triple checking each hold. The wind and rain lashed her back and she blinked the water away from her eyes. “There. Two metres done already. Same again another ten times again and it’s over.”
“Hooray,” muttered Faustus.
She inched her way upward, blindly feeling for each hold, whether a lip or crack or groove just deep enough for a few fingers or toes. The water ran down her sleeves and was filling her boots so each step squelched. The leather scabbard chafed her shoulder blades. And people did this for fun? After this she’d never leave home without a ladder. Billi tried to remember what her dad had taught her. To be honest, all she really remembered about that week in the Lake District were the Kendal mint cakes after the climbs. Every trip ended with a tea shop. It had been a holiday, just some fun away from London and the trials of combat and monster-hunting. True, they’d had one night dealing with a wight, one of the ancient restless undead, that had recently fed upon some hill walkers in a remote mountain hut, and she suspected her dad had arranged the entire trip around that mission. Still, no holiday was complete without some hint of mortal peril.
They were already fifteen metres up. The sound of the waves against the rock was fainter now, the sea a distant roar. The wind nipped at her ears and her fingers were getting numb. Faustus huffed and cursed beneath her. They just needed to keep going.
Then she saw it. The overhang. “Shit.”
How could she have missed it? Billi looked over her shoulder. Was there another way around if they backtracked? No. Not unless they went all the way back and started again.
Okay, they were doing this whether they liked it or not. “There’s a ledge coming up. We’ll stop and rest there. You’re doing great.”
“Stop reassuring me. What’s wrong?”
“This next bit’s a little tricky.” She looked back and offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “But you’ll be fine.”
Faustus glowered. At least he wasn’t afraid anymore. “Your face says otherwise.”
“The rock leans out. It looks worse than it is.” Who was she trying to fool? She’d never done anything like this before. “Take your time and keep your body close to the wall.”
“Just get a move on, SanGreal.”
He was using surnames. He was truly pissed off.
Okay…
Billi shook her hands, getting the blood flowing back down her fingers to push the chill out. There was a crack that ran all along the rock face, wide enough for a good grip. The footholds were something else. She was wearing chunky DMs, they were not made for this. There were minute indents, barely enough for a toe, but that’s all she had.
Her forearms ached as she shuffled along, her face pressed against the cold wet stone. Her breath came pumped out in engine-like huffs and she was acutely aware of the long drop below her. But there’d be no neat dive into the sea if she lost her grip. The only things waiting below were jagged rocks. She carried on sliding, feeling her fingers along the crack. The ledge was somewhere above her…
She risked getting one hand out and reaching up. There was a moment she trembled in a moment of uncertainty, not sure her grip would be enough, but then she felt the flat platform of the ledge and hooked her fingers over it. The other hand shot up beside it and Billi hung there, gathering her strength. Her biceps quivered and her shoulders ached but she just needed her chin up to the ledge, but that meant dangling free over the rocks. If she didn’t have the strength to lift she wouldn’t be able to get back on the face.
Faustus gasped as she swung out. Her arms screamed as she lifted. Everything felt twice as heavy. The sword, her soaking body, her water-filled boots.
Why had she even tried? Why did she push herself? As if she was always seeing if she would break. Now? She’d be a smear, soon washed away into the sea.
Then what? Forgotten? Cried over by… who?
Dad? How long would his tears fall? Then what? He’d throw himself into her work until it broke him too. What about Ivan? No tears from him because he’d be dead. And Faustus? Leave him here until his own grip failed and down he went? She’d pushed herself too hard and dragged him alongside. His death was on her. Just like the others.
Not good enough.
Come on. Just get your chin up.
Do it!
/> Billi hissed through her clenched teeth. Centimetre by centimetre, that was all that mattered. There was a minute ridge, not even half a centimetre high, running along the flat ledge and she hooked her fingers over it. The hiss became a groan as her biceps burned.
There was a moment when she knew she was high enough and was all but resting her chin on the ledge and that moment gave her the surge she needed. She slid her arms further and then dragged herself up until she was resting face first in a puddle. It felt fantastic.
“Billi?”
She ached. She didn’t want to deal with anything but lying here. It was safe and she didn’t have to fight. The cold rain didn’t bother her.
“Billi!”
What did he want? Couldn’t she just have one minute?
“Billi!”
Wait a minute…
She opened her eyes and saw Faustus’s fingertips slipping off the ledge…
Billi spun around on her belly and grabbed Faustus’s sleeve just as he lost hold. His weight almost dragged her over but Billi lay sprawled flat, using every ridge and indent to hook onto but she was sliding closer…
Her toe dug into a break in the rock. She wedged it in until her boot was stuck but she was jerked forward as she took Faustus’s entire weight on one hand. Relying on her toes to anchor herself, Billi slung her other hand over and locked it around his wrist.
How could he be this heavy? Her arms were being pulled from their sockets. He needed to do something because her hold wasn’t going to last more than a few more seconds. “Climb up, Faustus!”
He must have heard the near-panic in her voice because a second later his free hand was back up on the ledge, his fingers pushing into the stone. Billi pressed her forehead into the rock and concentrated on nothing but her hold on Faustus’s arm.
He swung side to side, and Billi almost let go. Then Faustus got his free hand up on the ledge and then, miraculously, swung his leg up, hooking his foot onto the surface and Billi grabbed his leg. They huffed and wheezed but a moment later Faustus rolled up and collapsed beside her.
“What… took… you?” Billi asked between gasps.
“I was admiring the view.”
It was a poor joke but that’s what they needed right now. It was easy to be crushed by the weight of their responsibility so they needed to laugh, even if it was more a sob. One moment of levity against the encroaching darkness. You needed to look into the void sometimes, and laugh.
Faustus was still holding her hand and they lay as close as lovers, their faces turned to each other, noses almost touching.
A wicked smile crossed Faustus’s lips. “This is cosy.”
“No, it ain’t. Get up.”
That smile wasn’t going anywhere. “No snuggles?”
“You’re feeling hysterical, Faustus. A near-death experience has you desperate for some life-affirming contact. It happens. You know what’s best for that?”
Wow, he was looking thrilled. “You think there’s room? I’m happy to give —”
“Buy yourself a dog.” And with that Billi sat herself up, reluctantly, but they still had places to go. Like another thirty metres up.
She tried not to dwell too much on what still lay ahead. Reggie FitzRoy was running the show now and he was on a deadline. The guy had been a ruthless bastard in life and he wasn’t going to have mellowed after spending a few generations in Hell. He wanted to be back into the real, mortal world and would sacrifice, literally, anyone and anything to stay here, permanently, in the body of Ivan Tsarevich Romanov.
And Ivan? What would happen to his soul? Nothing good.
Faustus was up and leaning against the cliff face, trying not to look down. He was breathing slowly, deeply, getting a hold on his fear. He met her gaze. “Why aren’t you scared?”
“I’m terrified. But the longer we wait, the worse it’ll get.” Billi searched out the first handholds. “We’re almost there. Just stick with the plan and we’ll be having tea and cakes tomorrow morning. Job done.”
“You promise?” Faustus couldn’t quite hide the little-boy tremble in his question. He wasn’t like the others she’d worked with. He would never have made it as a Templar and, once, that would have been enough for her to dismiss him. But he didn’t need to be here. She wasn’t so naïve not to realise he was here for her. He wanted to keep her safe. The very least she could do was return the favour.
“Yeah. I do. We’re gonna get through this Faustus. Whatever it takes. Alright?”
He nodded and she started climbing.
She almost cheered when she saw it, a cleft in the cliff face. It was further around over the water, you couldn’t see it from the land, but it looked like it went all the way up. She shuffled sideways, scanning ahead. Just some seagull nests in the way but then the climb would ease up.
The cleft was a huge vertical crack that had split the cliff from top all the way down to the tumultuous sea frothing below. It also kept them out of the wind. Faustus sighed as he joined her on a ledge. “It’s practically a ladder.”
He was right. Broken ledges, boulders and slivers of granite filled the crack and all those jagged edges meant handholds and foot-rests.
Then Faustus nudged her, and she followed his gaze to a rock some five metres above.
A limp, pale foot hung over the edge. The toenails were painted purple.
“You wait here,” said Billi.
“No.” Faustus was already climbing.
Brigid’s body lay smashed upon the granite. There was little left of her face, that was now just a bloody pulp, skull splinters tangled her bloody hair. She wore a velvet dress and it had been embroidered with cuneiform and ancient Sumerian pictograms. Her hands were tied behind her back.
“Shit,” said Faustus.
“Yeah.” It was hard to tell, her limbs were a mass of blue and purple bruises from the fall, but she looked like she’d been painted. Billi could imagine her, all excited at taking part in this game, playing witches, not realising what she was being used for. “An offering.”
Faustus nodded. “Erin is doing this old school.”
“It’s not Erin. Reggie’s running the show tonight. We’re here to save her as well as Ivan. That’s the deal, Faustus. That’s why I brought you along.”
Faustus gazed down at the broken body. “It’s funny how your opinion changes when a person dies. Brigid was a nasty bitch and now all I want to do is cry for her. She didn’t ask for this.”
“Who would?” Billi touched his hand. “You okay?”
“No. She’s still screaming. She’s… never mind.”
Billi hated herself, but she had to ask. “Can she help us?”
“You’re joking. She was tied up and thrown off a cliff by her best mates and you want to ask her how her day went?”
“It’s messed up, I know it is, but we’re clutching at straws.” Billi gazed up the remainder of the climb. “We need to know what we’re up against. Can you try?”
“I don’t know. She could take me down with her. She needs to pass on, Billi, not be dragged back here. I could end up trapping her here and then what have you got? Her ghost haunting these cliff-tops, forever replaying those last few moments of horror. She doesn’t deserve it.”
“I hear all that, but we need an edge, and Brigid can give us that. It’s got to be worth the risk.”
“My risk. Not yours.” Then he sighed and pulled off his jacket and sat down cross-legged beside the corpse. He rolled up his left sleeve and drew his fingers around the bands tattooed to his arm, whispering his ritual as his eyes lost their focus.
Brigid’s hand twitched.
CHAPTER 27
Brigid struggled against her bindings and Billi, not knowing what else to do, whipped out her knife and sliced the straps open.
Okay, this wasn’t what she’d expected.
The spirit was still in the body. It hadn’t fled at the moment of death. Billi looked up at the rocks above,
and saw the bloody marks on the various corners and jagged faces. She knew exactly what had happened to Brigid. She’d been thrown and hit various ledges on the way down, breaking her bones but reducing the speed of her descent, but the last few metres had been freefall, and onto her face. Nevertheless Billi reckoned Brigid hadn’t died instantly. No one fall had been far enough to be fatal. So she must have lain here, counting out her last seconds, maybe even minutes, broken and betrayed and utterly alone. She must have known there was no hope.
Faustus was oblivious to the horror happening in front of him. Brigid’s back had broken, yet by some awful, unearthly will she tried to get herself back up. Her dress was bloody and torn, bones jutted from her white, bloodless skin and her limbs were askew, her left arm dangled by some sinew and skin.
Billi resisted the urge to draw her sword, but backed away, not that there was anywhere to go. Brigid glared at her, and mashed her shattered jaw, her tongue flapping as she tried to speak. She stepped closer.
Faustus raised his hand. “No.”
Brigid stopped and turned to him. His eyes were open and he was fully aware. He met her gaze and returned it, though he stiffened momentarily, but lifted his right hand in the shape of the Abhaya Mudra, the sign of fearlessness. “Three questions, as is the old pact between the two worlds.”
His voice came up from some abysmal place, carrying with it a force that made Billi’s blood run cold. Billi had fought fallen angels and faced the Devil himself, but Faustus talked with the surety of a man who knows deep and terrible things. What price had he paid to learn them?
“How far is Reggie along in his ritual?”
Brigid groaned and the bones scraped against each other as she tried to straighten her neck. Her words came out as a wordless gargle.
“What did she say?” Billi asked.
Faustus shot her an irritated look, annoyed at her interruption, but then he glanced up towards the night sky. “He’s waiting for the constellation of Erishkegal to reach its right place. She’s the goddess of the underworld and there are seven gates between here and there. Brigid was the key to the fourth gate. It all depends on how quickly Reggie opens the remaining three.”
The Templar's Curse Page 19
