Devil’s Kiss

4

That evening Billi marched up the steps to Father Balin’s house. So Kay was back. So she wouldn’t have to sit by herself in class any more. Big deal. She’d managed the last twelve months just fine without him.

To think they’d found Kay through social services. She remembered him arriving, just before her training had begun. A stick insect of a boy, all nerves and jumping at shadows, nightmares every night and talking to things that weren’t there, or at least things normal people couldn’t see. And the fits that he could never remember, spouting out all sorts of gibberish in God knows what languages. He’d freaked her out big-time telling her about the ghosts he’d spoken to. In her bedroom. No wonder he’d been palmed off from one foster home to another. But that wasn’t unusual. Powerful psychics always had disturbed childhoods – visions, poltergeist activity, strange apparitions – it would spook most families. Unless taught how to harness their powers they’d eventually be driven mad. How many potential Oracles had the Templars lost over the years? How many had ended their days screaming in asylums, the voices in their heads drowning out their own thoughts?

Father Balin lived in Chaplain’s House, an elegant Georgian building with whitewashed walls, guarded by a tall black railing fence, immediately adjacent to Temple Church. Billi walked along the garden path, between two lines of rose bushes and knocked on the black-painted door. The smell of garlic and roasting peppers breezed over her the moment it opened. Father Balin smiled as he saw her.

‘Italian tonight?’ asked Billi. ‘What’s the special occasion?’ Like she didn’t know. She’d survived her Ordeal and just got a box of chocolates. Kay’d come back from a year’s holiday and they were throwing a party.

‘Miss SanGreal. I’d been wondering when you’d turn up.’ The old man stepped aside. ‘Kay’s here.’

‘I know.’

Balin perched his glasses on his high bald head. He was the Templars’ public face. As priest of the Temple Church he performed all the normal services and mundane operations. His official title was the Right and Reverend Master of the Temple, but to the knights he was their chaplain, in charge of religious duties.

‘Thought you’d be more pleased than that, Bilqis.’ Only Balin used her proper Islamic name.

The noise of rattling pans, plates and cutlery came out from the kitchen. Percy came into the hallway carrying a bowl of steaming spaghetti. He winked at her before ducking his head under the chandelier and entering the dining room to the sound of chatter and further rattling. Billi followed him in.

Moonlight shone in through the windows facing the garden, but the knights were too busy consuming the hot food to admire the colourful collage of plants, shrubs and flowers that were the priest’s masterwork. Billi squeezed on to a chair between Percy and Kay.

Along with Father Balin there were only four others present: Gwaine, Percy, Kay and her dad, all elbow to elbow round the small dining table. She knew the others were out in Dartmoor chasing a Loony: a werewolf. Ever since the Bodmin Accord, following Arthur’s defeat of the werewolf pack’s alpha male, lupine kills had been limited to sheep and the odd cow. But one had gone rogue, and started attacking backpackers and hikers. The Templars had gone out to hunt it down.

Her dad sat quietly, flicking through a pile of newspaper cuttings on his right, and occasionally glancing at his laptop on his left. Gwaine looked up, but didn’t acknowledge her; he merely swept his glance past her as though she didn’t exist. Gwaine, the Seneschal, the Templar second-in-command. He was a grizzled old warrior with cropped iron-grey hair, sparse beard and eyes settled deep within wrinkles. By all rights he should have been the Templar Master after Uriens had died, not her dad. Gwaine had recruited Arthur and couldn’t accept that his squire was now his Master. Billi knew the old man was waiting in the wings, waiting for his chance to take command of the Knights Templar. He just needed Arthur to die first.

Billi caught a look from Kay who rolled his eyes; there was no love lost between him and Gwaine either. Gwaine thought Oracles were only one step away from witches, and the Seneschal had Old Testament views on witches.

Thou shalt not suffer the witch to live.

‘Any news from Pelleas?’ asked Arthur, his eyes still on the screen. Percy sucked up a string of spaghetti before replying.

‘Just a whole lot of dead sheep so far. He and Bors are checking the farms, Berrant and Gareth are on the campsites. Reckon it’s a nomad, passing through, causing trouble.’

The Beast Within. Even a single werewolf was deadly; that’s why her dad had sent half the Order. Half! She glanced around the table. Excluding Balin, who wasn’t part of the fighting Order, that made nine, just nine of them against the Unholy, against all the supernatural evil lurking in the shadows. And once the Knights Templar had numbered in their thousands. All it would take is one bad day and that would be it. Wipeout. It had almost happened ten years ago, during the Nights of Iron.

When her mum had died.

Why couldn’t she remember her? She’d been five, so she should remember something. There were just vague images, distant feelings and an idea that she’d been happy, nothing solid. But Billi knew from the others that the Nights of Iron had been twelve days of horror. The Templars had been hunted down by ghuls, starting with the old Master, then the Oracle Lot, and so many more until only Arthur and a handful were left. Arthur’s leadership had taken him from lowly Sergeant to Templar Master, but at a terrible cost. A few ghuls that had survived Arthur’s purges had found his home and murdered his wife. Maybe it had been so terrible that she’d blanked it out.

‘What have you got, Art?’ asked Percy. Arthur handed over a couple of photos. Billi caught a glimpse as they crossed the table. Bite marks on a person’s neck.

‘Our Hospitaller brothers took this last night. A girl fainted outside the Auto de Fe nightclub last night. Thought it might interest us.’ Arthur and the older knights still referred to their contacts within the St John’s Ambulance service as Hospitallers, even though the Order was no longer active in warfare. But they were useful in gathering information on ‘unusual’ attacks or injuries. Like vampire bites.

A stake and bake, thought Billi. Just as long as she didn’t have to do it. The last thing she wanted was to waste a night hunting the Hungry Dead in some derelict graveyard. This was her last chance to get in her Maths, or else it was detention until Christmas.

Percy inspected the photos. ‘The girl alive?’

‘Yes, just.’ Arthur looked around the table. ‘Let’s nip this one in the bud.’

Percy passed the pictures over to Gwaine.

‘Any idea where he’d be laired, Art?’ Gwaine asked.

Arthur shook his head. ‘No. But I want you and Percival to find him. Tonight.’ Then he turned to Billi.

‘Now Kay’s back, we’ll begin your training in psychic defence.’ He looked over at Kay. ‘How’s tomorrow?’

‘Ideal, sir.’

‘Good. Eight o’clock at Finsbury Park. You know where to take her, Kay.’

Psychic defence? With Kay? Was he really that good now?

‘But, Dad, we agreed I’d have the next three nights down-time after the Ordeal. To catch up on my homework,’ Billi said. It’s not like she was wanting to have time off to enjoy herself. Oh no, having fun was not in the Templar Rules.

‘Not important. You train with Kay.’ Arthur collected the cuttings and slid them into his folder. ‘Any other business?’ Gwaine gave a curt twitch and Balin mouthed a silent ‘no’ but Percy stood up.

‘Just two things, Art.’ He raised his mug high. ‘First, welcome home, young Kay. Life’s been exceedingly boring without you. I’m looking forward to hearing all about Jerusalem.’ Billi didn’t miss the way the others looked at Kay. The wise and mighty Oracle. She was surprised they weren’t all on their knees in adoration. Pathetic. Then Percy grinned at Billi. ‘And I’d like to propose a toast to the newest member of the Order. Only fifteen and, if you’ll excuse the vernacular, totally bad-ass. Won’t be long before we’re calling you Master.’ There was a snort from Gwaine, but Percy ignored it. ‘To Bilqis SanGreal.’

Good old Percy. Always looking out for her. More than once she’d wished he was her dad, instead of just her godfather. The others rose, Gwaine last of all. Even Arthur lifted his tea cup, slightly.

‘To Billi!’

Then Arthur clicked the laptop firmly shut and placed his folder of cuttings on top of it.

‘Well, if that’s all, I’ll leave you to your duties.’ He tucked them both under his arm and walked out. Balin and Gwaine followed moments after, while Percy helped Billi and Kay stack up the plates. He scooped up a pile then paused. He lowered his head down from where it almost touched the ceiling to the two squires’ level.

‘Play nice, kids,’ he said. He eyeballed Billi for a long moment, then left.

Kay began lining up the blue china teacups on a tray. Billi didn’t help.

‘So you’re going to teach me some Jedi mind tricks?’ she asked.

‘You heard what your dad said. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy. I could help you with your homework afterwards, if you like.’

‘Actually, I don’t like.’ She wasn’t going to let him get away with it that easily.

She had missed him.