Devil’s Kiss

by Sarwat Chadda

  ‘Like some stalker.’

  Kay laughed and the bench creaked as he sat beside her. He’d lowered his hands and Billi could see the dark purple swelling around his left eye. It was going to be a big, fat, ugly bruise.

  Really big.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said.

  Kay sat very close beside her, but for some reason she didn’t feel like moving away. She looked at him sideways. He was actually quite good looking, in that malnourished indie pop-star kind of way. Kay watched the magpies flutter from the bare branches to search among the damp soil. Those bright eyes took in everything; he seemed to be amazed by it all. There was that secret smile again, that one of seeing things Billi wished she could see, just once.

  ‘Looks like it’s clearing,’ said Kay. The mist had evaporated, leaving only wispy tendrils stubbornly clinging to the ground and the morning sun was bright in the sharp blue sky.

  ‘Why do you think my dad’s like that?’ She couldn’t bring herself to ask what she really wanted.

  Why doesn’t he love me?

  ‘You’re wrong about your father.’

  ‘You know that? For certain?’

  Kay held up his hand, blotting the sun from his face. ‘Have you ever stared straight into the sun, Billi?’

  ‘Yes. So?’

  ‘It hurts. Sometimes brightness can be painful. Sometimes we need to live in the shadow, to protect ourselves.’

  Billi frowned. ‘And what’s that, in English?’

  He moved closer. His voice was quiet and Billi could feel his breath move in and out, gently caressing her cheek. His hand touched the side of hers and she sat very still. She waited, heart pounding, part of her telling herself this was just Kay, the boy she’d grown up with.

  But it wasn’t. This Kay was very different. She turned her head slightly so his breath was on her lips. She lowered her eyes, looking at the curve of his throat down into his T-shirt and the way his chest moved as he breathed.

  Kay stood up.

  Billi sat there, stunned, as he broke away. What had just happened?

  He pushed his hand through his hair and, not knowing which way to look, he stared down at his feet.

  ‘Just that you’re wrong about your father.’

  No one commented on Kay’s black eye when they came back. Arthur and Elaine were still at the table, but the breakfast had been cleared away. Instead there was a plain pristine white linen cloth over the table. On it sat a large round biscuit tin and a leather-bound book, small, wrinkled, old.

  ‘There’s a packet of peas in the freezer,’ said Elaine. It took a second for Billi to realize she was talking about Kay’s eye. Kay found it himself and pressed the saggy bag against his bruised face.

  Billi moved to the other side of the table, putting as much distance between her and Kay as possible. They hadn’t said a word to each other on the way back from the park.

  The biscuit tin had a coppery tinge, and the lid was engraved with a profile of Queen Victoria and Albert. But Billi didn’t think there were digestives within. The book she didn’t recognize.

  ‘A diary?’ The bindings were similar to the others she’d seen in the Templar library, though this one was far older. It bore small bronze clasps, and the title was in gold leaf. Billi leaned over to read it. But as her eyes passed over the minute, faded letters a cold, creeping dread crawled into her.

  ‘The Goetia,’ she said. She looked up at her dad. ‘It’s not possible.’

  The Lesser Key of Solomon. King Solomon’s occult writings on how to summon and bind Ethereals: devils, malakhim and Watchers. She didn’t know the book still existed. It was a book of the necromancy: the darkest maleficia.

  ‘Where’d you get it?’

  ‘Off some fool who thought he could summon the Devil,’ said Arthur.

  ‘You’re joking, of course.’

  Arthur looked at her. It wasn’t his joking face.

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘Something bad,’ said her dad in the tone that meant this conversation was now over.

  He pulled off the lid of the tin. Inside, covered in bubble-wrap, was the Cursed Mirror. Its surface seemed to ripple like oily water.

  This was what it was all about, this small copper disc. How much pain, torment and slaughter was bound in its surface? Billi thought about the trapped Watchers, about the Nights of Iron, and about Percy, sitting there with his lifeblood dribbling down his chest. How many had already died because of it? And how many were still to die?

  ‘This is the only way,’ said Arthur. ‘We can’t kill Michael. But we can bind him. Trap him in Limbo forever.’

  ‘You can’t. Even Solomon never managed that. Michael’s an archangel.’

  ‘Solomon faced Michael at the height of his powers. He’s not the archangel he used to be.’

  Billi shook her head. ‘Still, there’s no one powerful enough to try.’

  Arthur’s stood up. ‘Yes, there is,’ he said, and slid the small, deadly book across the white tablecloth.

  To Kay.

  23

  Elaine summoned up a programme on her laptop. Billi stood behind her while Arthur and Kay sat either side and watched a star chart appear on the screen. Elaine put on her spectacles and began clicking through the time icon in the corner.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ asked Billi.

  ‘We need to optimize Kay’s chance of success, so this -’ she tapped the screen – ‘is a programme mapping the movement of the planets over the year, for the northern hemisphere.’ She clicked open another folder and Billi saw a list of files, one for each of the Templars. Elaine double-clicked on Kay’s. A spreadsheet appeared, annotated in Hindi.

  ‘And these?’

  ‘Vedic astrological charts based on the date and place of birth.’ Elaine highlighted a row of numbers. ‘A Brahman mate of mine calculated one for each of you.’

  ‘What religion don’t you dabble in?’ asked Arthur. ‘ Lot made do with just Christianity.’

  ‘Which was why, as you know, he was crap and always needed my help,’ said Elaine. She went back to the map of the heavens, opened up a scroll and pasted the numbers into it. She hit return and leaned back. ‘Give it a minute.’ She waved at the kitchenette. ‘Someone put the kettle on.’

  Kay got up and Billi took his chair. ‘Why are you doing this?’ Elaine wasn’t a Templar, yet here she was in charge of its most precious treasure. She wasn’t even the right religion, and yet they were depending on her to beat their greatest enemy. They always depended on her.

  Elaine tapped out a fresh cigarette. She offered one to Arthur, but he declined.

  ‘Oh, that’s easy: somebody has to.’ Elaine smiled to herself. ‘You knights are obsessed with dogma, doing things one way and one way only. If it’s not in the Templar Rules you’re not interested. That’s why you end up in such deep trouble. Your approach is blinkered.’ She pointed at Arthur. ‘Art on the other hand just wants to win, don’t you? So, you hire the best – me.’

  ‘But you’re not an Oracle.’

  ‘Thank God. I sleep badly enough without being disturbed by mad dreams. I’ve a tiny bit of psychic ability -’ she turned her head towards Kay – ‘but not like Golden Boy there. Enough to know what’s right and what works. The rest is just keeping an open mind.’

  It was just like Billi’s combat training. Arthur and the others hadn’t taught her karate, judo, kung fu or anything that could be labelled. She’d been taught how to punch hard, kick harder, grapple, lock and hundreds of moves taken from all styles, all disciplines.

  ‘That’s why we sent Kay east.’ Elaine sighed. ‘Once he’s trained he’ll take over.’

  ‘So you’re training your replacement,’ said Billi.

  Elaine glanced at Arthur. ‘Aren’t we all?’

  Arthur put his hand on Elaine’s shoulder. Billi watched the two of them. There was a lot of unknown history between those two and she knew she’d never get to the bottom of it. Despite the casual way Elaine had put it
leaving a Jew in charge of the reliquary would have created a major scandal within the Order. Even as Master, Arthur must have fought hard for the others to agree. Her dad cleared his throat as Kay came over with the teas.

  ‘We need to make contact with the other knights,’ he said. ‘If Kay succeeds… There are ghuls still doing Michael’s bidding. We’ll need to strike them the moment Michael’s been bound into the Mirror.’

  ‘How?’ asked Billi.

  ‘When I know who’s survived I’ll be able to tell you.’ Arthur pointed out of the window. ‘ Trafalgar Square is the rendezvous point.’

  It made sense. Lots of people, lots of ways in, lots of ways out. Michael would need hundreds to cover all the possible escape routes.

  Arthur continued. ‘We agreed that any surviving parties would meet at six p.m., rush hour. I want you to touch base with the others and tell them what we’re planning and gather what news they might have. Report back to me and I’ll formulate a strategy.’

  ‘Gwaine’s in charge now, Dad.’

  ‘No, he’s not.’ Arthur scowled and turned to Kay. Despite his frailty Billi saw the fire in his eyes. This was Arthur doing what Arthur did best. ‘You’ll need to step warily.’

  Kay touched his temple gently, but Billi caught the nervous excitement in his voice. ‘I’ve marked his aura now. I’ll spot him before he spots me.’

  ‘Good man.’

  ‘I’m coming,’ said Billi.

  Arthur’s eyes narrowed. ‘This is Templar business; it’s not your problem now.’

  ‘I’m not doing it for the Templars.’

  ‘Surely not for me?’

  ‘You’re right. Surely not.’

  For herself. For revenge. For how Michael had used her. And maybe… maybe for Kay. He’d need her if things turned violent. Which, given the situation, was exceedingly likely.

  The laptop chimed.

  ‘What have you got?’ Kay asked. He looked both eager and apprehensive. This would be his Ordeal. A test an Oracle was never normally given. Billi could see Kay wanted this too much and it made her nervous.

  They all stared at the map. Lines were drawn from star to star marking out astrological patterns, but to Billi it just looked like random shapes. Elaine took a deep breath and highlighted a series of points. These nodes lit up red, and a date appeared at the bottom of the screen.

  ‘Seven days,’ said Elaine. She put her hand on Kay’s. ‘We bind Michael in seven days.’

  ***

  A dull, low grey sky hung over a packed Trafalgar Square. Billi was glad to be off the bus. She’d been feeling sick all the way, trapped under some bloke’s stinking armpit for the entire journey in the crowded, juddering vehicle. Drizzle spat on her cheeks and she pulled up her hood, then walked through a band of tourists, Kay right behind her, weaving through their backpacks and avoiding their cameras.

  ‘Sense anything?’

  Kay shook his head. ‘All clear.’

  In the centre rose Nelson’s Column, fifty metres high and guarded by four immense bronze lions. In each corner of the square was a pedestal. Three bore statues of the great and good, but one was empty. She kept to the north pedestrianized road in front of the National Portrait Gallery, a huge neo-classical building that ran the length of the square. Street entertainers directed small crowds to watch their performances: some guy was dressed as Charlie Chaplin, playing out a routine almost a hundred years old. A couple of rollerbladers weaving in and out and between a row of upturned cups. A Roman soldier painted silver standing statue-still with a bucket at his feet and children making faces at him. Billi watched them laughing as their parents tried to get them in order and into the gallery.

  There were children everywhere. She watched a small boy in blue chase a cloud of pigeons off the ground. The air filled with flapping grey and black feathers, but the birds were too canny and experienced to collide with anyone. The flock took off, circled widely, then landed not a dozen metres away. The boy set off after them again.

  She watched the happy crowds and shivered. It was cold up here, alone.

  No, not alone any more. Kay stood silently beside her.

  ‘It’ll be OK,’ he said. She wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself.

  ‘Kay, the eternal optimist.’ Billi laughed.

  ‘True, very true.’ He gestured at the people below them. ‘If you could only see, just for a minute. Really see. Then you’d never give up.’

  She watched him. Kay’s face held a gentle calmness, a certainty of purpose. He never doubted. It wasn’t the vicious fanaticism of her dad’s, just an unshakeable faith in what he did.

  ‘Do you think you can do it? The binding, I mean.’

  ‘I have to try.’

  ‘Kay, if you’re not ready then you’ve got to tell him. If it’s too dangerous you’ve got to say. Getting killed isn’t heroic.’

  ‘Billi, aren’t you afraid? When you go out on a Hot Meet? During the Ordeal?’

  What sort of stupid question was that? She’d spent half her life scared out of her wits.

  Kay frowned, then turned to look at her. ‘Do you know how I feel, when I see you go out?’ He lowered his head. ‘Unworthy.’

  ‘So, it’s just about heroics?’

  ‘Some things are worth fighting for.’

  ‘What things?’

  Kay pulled off his cap and twisted it. ‘That dream of yours.’

  ‘But I didn’t tell you – oh.’

  ‘All those bodies in the streets, all that grief.’ He took hold of her hand. She tried to ignore how good it felt. ‘Can you imagine what it’ll be like here? How many dead? If we don’t stop Michael who will?’

  ‘You’re willing to risk dying to stop him?’

  ‘Could you live with yourself if you didn’t?’

  A couple walked past. They held hands and the young man had a balloon, though he was in his twenties.

  ‘What do you see, Billi?’ He reached over, and touched her arm lightly. ‘He’s just proposed to her. You can see it by the light. He’s thrilled, but scared. They’ll love, they’ll live and they’ll die. Like all things.’ He seemed lost in thought. ‘But isn’t that enough? Isn’t that worth dying for?’

  ‘Don’t talk like that.’

  ‘Billi, you need to be -’

  Billi kissed him. She didn’t want to hear any more.

  She did it without thinking, because if she had her courage might have failed. She darted forward and pressed her lips to his. He was warm, and that heat flooded through her, a tingling sensation that sank into her bones. Her fingers tightened on the balcony edge so Kay was trapped between her and the low wall, their bodies squashed together. He cupped his hands around her face and Billi felt his eyelashes flutter against hers. Then, with a slight sigh, he drew away. Away, but not far. Not far at all.

  His gem-like eyes were huge, clear and flawless. Billi could see her own dark orbs floating in them. Kay’s palms were hot against her cheeks. She gently leaned back and touched her tongue over her lips. Kay tasted nice.

  ‘Not interrupting anything, am I?’

  They broke apart and Billi saw Bors standing in front of them, hot dog in his hand.

  Doesn’t he ever stop scoffing?

  Bors leered and ran his tongue over his ketchup-smeared mouth. ‘Because if I am I could come back later.’

  ‘We’d finished,’ said Kay, acting unfazed and leaving all the blushing to Billi. ‘You the only one?’

  Bors shook his head. ‘Master Gwaine and Gareth are with me.’

  ‘Seneschal Gwaine, you mean,’ said Billi.

  Bors pushed the last of his snack into his mouth. He talked as he chewed, spitting gobs of pink meat and onion over the floor.

  ‘Was it Arthur who gave the thirteen-ten? Needed his bed pan changed, did he?’

  ‘You shut your mouth.’

  ‘Try it, little girl.’

  Billi stepped forward, but Kay raised his hand.

  ‘This is pointless. Arthur’
s in charge and it’s as simple as that. Gwaine will toe the line if he knows what’s good for him.’

  Bors wiped his mouth with his jacket sleeve. ‘Think I’m scared of Arthur?’

  ‘Of course you are,’ said Gareth, emerging from the crowd. ‘The Devil himself is scared of Art.’ He signalled to Pelleas, who stood leaning against the wall, on guard.

  They’d made it, thank God. There were smiles and hugs all round. Even Bors, despite himself, looked relieved.

  Kay explained Arthur’s plan and they all listened silently. Billi stood beside him, amazed at how confident and sure of himself he was. He told them about the binding and she could tell they were impressed.

  ‘Why not now? Why in seven days?’ asked Bors.

  ‘The alignment of planets. Technical stuff,’ said Billi. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  Kay interrupted before Bors could reply. ‘We need to optimize my chances of success.’

  Pelleas and Gareth looked at each other. Billi noticed Gareth shake his head.

  ‘What? What’s wrong?’ asked Billi. ‘Hold on, isn’t Berrant meant to be in your lance? Where is he?’

  Pelleas looked at her, stuck in indecision. Then he frowned. ‘Berrant’s dead, Billi.’

  She stared at him. The words took a long time to register. ‘Dead?’

  Pelleas nodded, his eyes downcast. ‘Michael found our safe house.’

  ‘But how?’ asked Kay. Bors butted in.

  ‘The wards on our safe houses aren’t strong enough. We might as well have a neon sign on our roof saying “TEMPLARS HERE”.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s because of the wards? Maybe one of his ghuls spotted you?’ asked Kay.

  ‘Your wards didn’t stop him in the reliquary, did they? What makes you think they’ll stop him now?’ said Bors. He spat some gristle at Kay’s feet. ‘You may want to take your own sweet time performing your mumbo-jumbo, but Michael’s picking us off. In a week there won’t be any of us left.’

  Bors was right, though Billi hated to admit it. She looked at Kay, knowing the question only he could answer.

  Kay’s face was grim. The survival of the Knights Templar depended on him.