‘Then we can’t afford to wait seven days to do the binding, can we?’ He turned to Billi. ‘We’ll do it tonight.’
24
‘No, I forbid it,’ said Arthur. The moment they’d returned, Kay had explained the danger they were all exposed to. Arthur was completely unmoved.
‘But, Dad, Berrant’s dead. The others -’
‘Knew the risks when they joined. We all do.’ He looked at Kay, Elaine and finally at Billi. ‘You thought about what might happen if we rush this and get it wrong? What might happen to Kay?’
‘I’m willing to take the risk,’ said Kay.
‘Are you?’ Arthur’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you willing to take responsibility for all the dead firstborn if you foul it up?’ He shook his head. ‘No, we wait.’
Billi peered out of the window. Fat dark clouds hung over the city, swollen with rain. The window hadn’t been cleaned in God knows how long. There were black smears where the raindrops had left their sooty tracks.
‘Then that’s it. The Knights Templar will be wiped out,’ she said.
‘Better we lose a handful of men than all the firstborn children of Britain.’
Elaine tossed a newspaper across the table. ‘But they’re dying already. Michael’s been busy while we’ve been sitting here on our arses.’
The headline was bold white on a black page.
WHAT KILLED THEM?
There was row upon row of photos. Some taken from holiday snaps, others were school pictures, kids in their uniforms self-consciously grinning at the camera. Billi scanned the article and stopped at a name she knew.
‘Rebecca Williamson.’ She barely recognized her in the photo. The face looking up at her was a cheery blonde girl with plump cheeks and dimples. Nothing like the skeletal child she’d spoken to in the hospital.
‘He’s killed them all.’ There must be fifty or more of them. Now the news was out, panic would follow. Already schools were shutting down. Soon the hospitals would overflow with worried parents bringing in their kids. And no one could stop it except them.
‘That’s what he wants, don’t you see?’ Arthur took the paper from her. ‘He’ll force us to confront him, to play our hand too early, just because of these deaths.’
‘Jesus Christ, Dad, we have to do something.’ Billi stood up in front of him. ‘You think after Michael’s killed the others that he won’t come after us? We can’t hide here forever.’
Elaine gently pulled Kay round to face her. ‘Can you do it?’ she asked.
‘I have to.’
Billi saw Kay swallow hard.
Arthur sat down and turned his ring round his finger. The other three stood around him, waiting. Eventually, with a sigh, he nodded.
‘Fine. Tonight.’
The only illumination in the loft was a single, bare light bulb, suspended from a low rafter crossing the underside of the roof. The air smelt of dust and fresh paint. Billi crawled in behind her father, and tucked herself in an alcove beside him.
The loft had been swept clean and the dormer windows painted in. Elaine and Kay were on their hands and knees putting the finishing touches on a two-metre-diameter circle, the Binding Seal. Within it was the six-pointed star with the Cursed Mirror lying, polished and gleaming, on a black velvet pillow in its centre. Despite the cold Kay was bare-chested and sweating. Across his forehead, around his neck, arms and chest, were small silver talismans, maqlu, tied in place with thin leather straps. He copied cuneiform wards off the Goetia beside him, a pot of white paint in his right hand, a delicate narrow pointed brush in his left. He looked up at her briefly, winked.
He looks shattered. He was constantly wiping sweat off his forehead, and balanced his left hand on his right wrist to hold it steady. The concentration was intense.
It had to be. A mistake now would be worse than fatal.
He blew on the finished calligraphy, then inspected the scroll, checking line by line for any mistakes. Elaine, bent double beneath the low ceiling, peered over his shoulder. Satisfied, she tapped him on the shoulder and nodded.
The ladder clanged noisily into place and Arthur pulled up the hatch, sealing them in the loft. Elaine joined them at the side, just outside the Seal. All three knelt there, watching Kay.
But was he ready? She’d read enough about necromancy to know what might happen if things went badly wrong. The theory was dangerously simple. Kay would open a portal into the Ethereal Realm, trying to locate the path to Limbo. If he got it wrong he might choose the way towards one of the other aspects of the Ether: Heaven or Hell. Once the portal was fully open, he would seek Michael out, possible now that he had marked him psychically, then draw the Dark Angel through it, and shut the door. But in the dim loft space with the dense shadows around them she was scared for Kay. What if it did go wrong? He’d cast himself out into the ether, among the countless things that dwelled there, many of them hateful of mankind. They could tear his soul to shreds. She looked across at Kay, her heart in her throat. She couldn’t lose him too. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe they should wait another seven days. Maybe…
Kay glanced up. He smiled at her and, exhausted as he was, there was that lightness in his face, in his smile, that seemed to brighten the room and push the shadows away. He turned to Elaine.
‘I’m ready,’ he said.
With Elaine’s help he tightened the straps and lashes, adjusting the plate on his forehead. Three of these small silver talismans hung round his neck. He unhooked one and clenched the metal between his teeth. His breath hissed fiercely through his nostrils.
Then he sat in the lotus position, the Mirror on his lap. The bulb, directly overhead, threw weird shadows and reflections against the sloping inner walls of the loft. Kay tilted his head back, eyes unfocused, and let his breath drop to the slightest breeze.
This was it.
The bulb hummed and dimmed away to nothing, sinking the loft into utter blackness. Billi felt her dad shift and goosebumps rose along her skin as though someone had stroked her with ice.
Kay moaned.
And the Mirror began to glow. First it was just a dim, pulsing hue of orange, red, gold, fading and rising over long intervals. It was barely bright enough to light Kay, its eerie sheen rippled over his gloss-white torso. His muscles stood rigid and the veins trembled. His teeth bit hard into the silver and his lips were drawn back into a silent, feral snarl. His breathing was coming in and out in sharp, desperate pants.
A chill breeze rose from nowhere and frost crept along the ground. The floorboards turned white as icy ribbons formed on their surface. In the increasing brightness Billi watched her breath form white clouds.
Intense light poured out of the Mirror. The blaze was steady and multi-hued. The patterns thrown against Kay’s flesh showed shapes moving against the light source and Billi almost jerked forward. Kay’s chest rose and dropped like a marathon runner’s, and the sweat glistening on his body had turned to minute ice droplets, clinging to his skin.
Voices whispered in the air, a distant babble of tongues that swam and flickered in Billi’s ears, incoherent, but urgent and urging.
Kay’s body jerked like it had been hit with electricity and the talisman spat out of his mouth.
Tendrils of black smoke seeped out of the Mirror, creeping cautiously along his quivering muscles, wrapping themselves about his arms and neck, probing at his eyes, his ears, his mouth…
Kay screamed and in that moment the smoke was sucked into him. His eyes stared out in horror and their blueness faded as the dark filled his body. He shook as the smokey, thick mists funnelled into his mouth, choking him.
‘You can do it, boy,’ whispered Arthur. He gripped Billi’s wrist, guessing, rightly, she wanted to jump in and help Kay.
Elaine began reciting in Hebrew, ‘Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad…’
Kay’s body pulsed and gross swellings bubbled and rippled under his white skin. Shapes, things, seemed to swim along his veins and black tears dribbled from his ebony eyes.
The ro
of tiles creaked and cracked, tiny ceramic slivers sheared off in the intense cold. The wooden joists were brittle with icicles and the floorboards moaned as they twisted under the terrible chill.
‘No,’ murmured Arthur. He looked around at the growing ice. Billi’s chest shook. What did he mean? Something was wrong. This wasn’t the multitude of colours she’d seen when Kay had inadvertently opened the portal to Limbo, and this certainly didn’t feel like a path into Heaven…
Oh no. They were trying to come through.
From Hell.
Kay’s eyes rolled sightlessly – they were black marbles – and oily tears streaked his face. A face, twisted and grinning, pushed against his chest from the inside, then sank away, leaving red welts where its teeth had pressed against his flesh. Large tumours rose over his body and Kay arched his back, unable to scream. He was battling spirits of the ether and losing. Any second now they would tear his soul apart.
Billi leapt across the Seal. It was like she’d jumped naked into the freezer; the coldness seized her lungs and made her gasp. The black smoke, now a solid, tentacled mass, sensed her presence and twisted towards her. Billi pushed her silver crucifix into her mouth and bit hard, then grabbed Kay. She tried to lift him, but invisible forces held him down. The tentacles began to crawl up her legs, and she felt their freezing touch sink through her skin into her bones.
Oh God, I can’t -
Arthur grabbed the Mirror and tossed it out of the Seal. The voices screamed, but only for an instant.
Billi collapsed in the dark. She felt Kay’s body go limp beneath her. He was ice cold. She wrapped her arms round him, pressing her body against his back, shivering but gripping him tightly.
C’mon.
Kay coughed and jerked. He let out a long, aching groan. Billi felt his hands squeeze hers.
‘Billi,’ he whispered. His voice was dry and cracked.
There was a gentle humming in the air. The bulb came back to life.
Arthur knelt beside her. His face was white with fear.
Elaine turned Kay over and stared into his eyes. She touched the silver plaque against his forehead. Then she rocked back on to her haunches and let out a long sigh of relief.
‘Well, bollocks to that idea,’ she said.
25
‘Put him in my bed,’ said Elaine. Kay hung slumped between Billi and Arthur. He was heavier than he looked and Billi grunted as she finally dropped him on to the mattress. Arthur was sweating heavily, and favoured his left side.
‘How are those stitches holding up?’ asked Elaine. Arthur waved her off, but it was clear he was in pain. So she checked Kay again instead, inspecting his eyes, his mouth and ears. She’d removed most of the talismans off his body, and arranged them round the bed instead.
‘Is he OK?’ asked Billi. ‘He’s not, y’know, possessed or anything?’
‘If you’re wondering if his head’s going to rotate all round his neck…’ Elaine stepped away from the bed. ‘No, he’s not. Some rest and he’ll be fine. Have bad dreams, though, I wouldn’t wonder.’
They retreated into the lounge. Billi collapsed on to the sofa, sick and exhausted. Kay’d failed. She’d been so sure he’d do it. They all had been. But it had been too soon – it was the wrong time to have done it. She knew he’d feel that he’d failed the Order when he woke – she knew how that guilt felt. But it wasn’t Kay’s guilt to bear alone. They’d all blown it – big-time. And would he be strong enough to try again, in seven days’ time? She didn’t know. That’s assuming they had seven days.
What were they going to do? Spend the rest of their lives running? Hiding in different holes every night? Always looking over their shoulders for the Angel of Death? They only had their lives. Michael had all of eternity.
‘That’s it, then,’ said Arthur. ‘My own stupid fault.’
‘It’s not, Dad. You were right; we were wrong. We forced you into it.’
He laughed, not for long because he went pale and bent over, cramped. He hissed through gritted teeth as he straightened.
‘Forced me, did you? I just… hoped.’ He almost laughed again and Billi watched his face brighten. Arthur finding something funny – now that was a first. ‘Foolish. To have hope.’
Elaine put her hand on Arthur’s arm. Billi caught her look, one of deep concern.
At least it can’t get any worse, thought Billi.
Elaine pointed at Arthur’s chest. ‘Don’t be shy. Let’s have a look, then.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he said. He grinned, but it wasn’t pleasant. ‘Had worse.’
Elaine wasn’t having any of it. She got him to take off the dressing gown and lift off his sweatshirt.
Blood caked his stomach. The bandages were brown with encrusted blood and fresh scarlet wept through them, thin trails dribbling along his abdomen.
‘You stupid, stupid idiot,’ Elaine said. She jerked her thumb towards the cupboard. ‘Billi, get my kit. It’s at the bottom.’
The first-aid kit was military issue: full of bandages, morphine and needles. Elaine began cutting off the useless old bandages.
Billi winced as Elaine tore off the dressing.
Arthur scowled at her as she then popped the plastic sheath off the syringe needle. ‘No drugs.’
‘Martyr till the last,’ replied Elaine. ‘Shut up and lie down.’
Arthur ignored her and lifted himself up on to his elbows and summoned Billi nearer. ‘The others will be waiting. They’ve got to know the Binding’s failed. Don’t want them going off half-cocked thinking we’ve taken care of Michael.’
‘Leave her be, Art. The girl’s done enough.’
That’s right, I have. What right did he have ordering her about? Not her problem. Hadn’t she made that clear? She tried to get Kay to quit, and look what had happened to him. Billi checked the bedroom door. Maybe after this Kay would see sense and realize the Templars were just bad news all round.
But was there any ‘after’? Michael was slaying throughout the city. Arthur looked up at her, face feverish. He demanded her obedience and she wouldn’t give it. She wasn’t a Templar any more. He couldn’t order her around. But…
If this wasn’t her problem whose was it? She’d do it for herself, not them.
‘Waiting where, Dad?’
‘Southwark. At the cathedral.’ His voice urgent. ‘They’ll be there for matins.’
Then the needle went into his leg and he sank back into the sofa. Elaine spared a moment’s glance at Billi. She wanted to say something, Billi was sure of it. Instead Elaine bit her lip and set to work.
Five in the morning. It was five in the morning and matins was in an hour. The world was asleep, and here she was, again. Billi stared empty-eyed at the fog outside the window, willing herself to get up, get her coat on and get out.
She found an old racing bike in the back of the garage. The rust on the chain wasn’t too bad, and she dug up some spare batteries for the lights out of a toolbox on the shelf. Billi zipped up her jacket and pulled the hood down so only her eyes peered out.
The icy fog broke over her in ghostly waves and the night was silent but for the creaking pedals. Billi fell into a semi-conscious, mechanical daze, just letting her legs turn the wheels, focusing on the spot of hazy lamplight ahead of her. The black tarmac ran under her wheels as she made her way into the City of London.
Killing Time, that’s what the other Templars called the misty gap between the night and dawn. How many times had she lain half sleep in bed, listening for the front door to open and the clatter of her dad’s weapons on the kitchen table? Then the prayers and the muttered discussions of killing and murder?
The chain rattled off the gears and shook Billi out of her dreamy memories. It dangled loose on the ground. She stopped by the roadside and inspected her bike.
Bugger, bugger, bugger.
It had broken. No way to fix it. She looked around. Fleet Street. Southwark was still a couple of miles on.
She’d dump the broken bike and
get the night bus. Billi patted her pocket, relieved she’d remembered her purse. She really couldn’t be bothered -
Laughter drifted out of the darkness and Billi’s blood froze. It was harsh, cruel and laced with malice. It echoed between the walls and through the grey mist.
‘Welcome home, Templar.’ The voice, a woman’s, seemed to come from behind Billi’s shoulder. She spun round. There was nothing. Another laugh, just as vicious.
They glided out of the darkness, first indistinct, hazy shaped, then forming the shape of two women – the shadow-wreathed sisters she’d first seen in the hospital. They stood just within the glow of the orange street light, each moving with a predator’s patience, eyes glowing with eagerness. The one that had broken herself at the bottom of the stairwell walked clickety-click with her imperfectly healed body, her left leg and part of her hip at right angles, her face still swollen and black. The mist hung in white tendrils around her long, slim limbs: a ghostly embrace.
Instinct took over, instinct and fear. Billi ran through the side alleys off Fleet Street, her feet guiding her south without any thought, running along bare, slippery cobblestones that echoed hard with her fleeting steps. The terror overcame any pain she felt.
She looked round, just for a moment.
Nothing.
Where are they?
She turned into Pump Court and there they were. The blank glass windows looked down at her like faceless spectators, and she saw the sisters part, one move behind to stop her backtracking, the other ahead of her.
Perfect hunters, forcing the prey to them.
Billi dodged left, then immediately spun right. She dived past the ghul, and felt hard, sharp nails slash through her sleeve, but she was too hot and too frightened to feel the bloody cuts. She ran through the cloisters with its low ceiling and white-painted rows of columns. She had only one driving thought.
Sanctuary.
She saw it, suddenly looming over her. Despite the fog, despite the darkness, the pale stone building with its tall, lofty, stained-glass windows and massive black doors seemed to hold the fog and darkness at bay. Temple Church. No Hungry Dead could profane a house of God. If she could reach it she would be safe.
Devil’s Kiss Page 16
