But sleep wouldn’t come. All she could think about was what Kay had done.
Who did he think he was? Obi-Wan Kenobi? True, he wasn’t the same scrawny geek he’d been before, but he was still Kay. And that meant weird. How could she have forgotten?
Billi fished out her iPod and plugged in her small white headphones. She dialled Nirvana up to the maximum and let the music drown out everything. A few minutes’ break from her Templar duties – and Kay – was all she wanted.
The tracks ticked over and she was relaxing into the steady rhythm of the carriage rocking back and forth when the sudden slamming of a door made her eyes flick open and her muscles tense.
They’d come through the interconnecting carriage door and made their way towards her. Three of them, swaggering like they owned the place. Two dropped down either side of her, the third opposite, his legs as wide apart as his grin. She slid her gaze up and down the carriage. It was empty but for them.
‘What you listening to?’ he asked as his fingers brushed the back of her hand. Billi flinched.
What was this? Bully Billi Day? Maybe if she acted dumb they’d leave. Three to one were bad odds, even for a Templar. She said nothing, just lowered her eyelids a fraction. The one on her left slid his arm over her shoulders.
‘C’mon, guys, it’s late. I just want to get home.’ She knew it was hopeless to appeal to their good sense; they didn’t look like they’d recognize good sense if it kicked them in the teeth.
‘Sure you do, just after you give us your ’Pod.’ The boy on the left grabbed for her music player.
Billi twisted her wrist and drove the heel of her right hand into his face, smashing his nose with a satisfying crunch. An instant later her foot snapped out into the stomach of the thug opposite. He gasped and curled up in agony. Billi spun sideways, but the third tackled her and they both crashed down, Billi winded by the impact as he landed on top of her. No time for finesse. She had zero room to manoeuvre so slashed at his face with her fingernails, her fingers hooked like talons. He fought to keep her from getting his eyes, punching her clumsily in the scuffle. Then he reached into his waistband and out came a knife.
Chill terror shot through her veins. The blade wasn’t long, but getting dead was suddenly on the agenda. She tried to grab his wrist, but got a cut across her hand instead. Distracted by the shining steel blade, she didn’t block the next punch; it caught her square on the cheek and suddenly Billi had lights exploding in front of her eyes. The knife came in and she couldn’t stop it. There was a scream.
But it wasn’t hers.
Billi blinked as she stared up directly into the overhead light – the thug was gone. The edge of a dark coat brushed her face as someone stepped over her.
‘He’s got a knife,’ she croaked, still dizzy from that last punch, and turned to see the thug drive the blade into the new combatant. The guy blocked the attack and took the wrist, twisting it sharply. The knife spun away. Then he kicked the attacker’s feet away and the thug smashed down on the floor.
The guy paused. Then he turned to Billi and held out his hand.
‘Let me help you up,’ he said.
‘I’m fine.’ She didn’t need his help. Not now anyway. The train was slowing and Billi gripped on to the side of the seat to steady herself.
‘I’ve never seen anyone move so fast,’ she said.
The guy shrugged. ‘Not too shabby yourself.’
The train came to a halt. Holborn.
‘I’ve got to go,’ Billi said. She stumbled a few steps towards the door, the ground swaying under her feet even though the train had stopped. She was more battered than she’d thought. A pair of hands took her by the arms.
‘I’ll just help you out, OK?’ he said.
Billi nodded reluctantly. She needed to get out.
He led her off on to the platform. The doors closed behind them and the train rattled away. Billi watched its lights disappear into the darkness. She turned and looked up at her rescuer.
He was tall with raptor’s eyes, slanted and amber almost, half hidden under unkempt black hair. A T-shirt was taut over his muscular torso and a tattoo of spiky vines climbed from his right hand to his throat. The thorn along his jaw stretched as he smiled. Billi didn’t think he looked much older than her.
‘Shall we call the police?’ he asked, breaking the silence.
She’d been staring. How embarrassing. She shook her head, trying to turn away from the boy’s gaze. ‘Not worth it.’
The last thing she, or the Templars, needed was the police sniffing around. ‘And anyway -’ she couldn’t help a wry smile at the memory of the thug’s face making contact with the floor – ‘I think you’ve shown them the error of their ways.’
‘Can’t take all the credit, Ms…?’
Billi held out her hand. ‘Billi SanGreal.’
He gazed at it for a moment, then reached out. Billi felt a shiver as they touched. Getting weirder, she thought. But not in a bad way.
His fingers wrapped round her hand.
‘Mike Harbinger.’
7
‘Y’know, I can walk home by myself. I’m not some damsel in distress,’ Billi said as she and Mike walked along the Strand. There was no one else out, just a rubbish truck collecting bin bags from outside the shops.
‘And I’m not a white knight,’ Mike replied. ‘But it’s en route for me too.’
Billi stopped at the gatehouse. In it was a black door that led to Middle Temple Lane, back home.
‘You live down in there? I thought that was just for lawyers and stuff.’
‘What makes you think my dad’s not a lawyer?’
Mike laughed. ‘No lawyer’s daughter fights like that.’ Billi pulled out the key.
‘He’s a porter. Part of the deal is that you get a place to live. So there’s always someone around if the lawyers run out of gin and stuff.’ She turned round and offered her hand. ‘Anyway, thanks.’
Mike didn’t take it. ‘Billi. Short for what?’
‘Bilqis. My mum was a Muslim.’
‘Was?’
‘She died when I was five.’ She shook her head, dismissing the memory before it took hold. ‘I don’t really remember her.’ She unlocked the door. ‘Listen, I really, really appreciate what you did. But I’m all right now. My house is just down there.’
Mike glanced at the door. ‘Then it’s goodbye.’ He smiled briefly. ‘See you around,’ and he turned and walked away.
Billi watched him, torn, not knowing what to do. The guy had just saved her life.
She never invited anyone home. Hadn’t for years. Too many secrets, too many little lies she’d have to make, the pretence of being ‘normal’. That’s how her dad had taught her. She was a Templar. Friendships were a dangerous luxury.
‘Wait!’ Billi ran after Mike, catching him at the corner before he’d be gone for good. ‘Wait.’
He stopped and Billi skidded to a halt in front of him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. Now what? Oh, say something, Billi. Don’t just stand there like a moron. ‘I’m sorry. It’s raining.’
‘That’s hardly your fault.’
‘What?’ Oh, that was a joke. Damn. Should have laughed. Billi took a deep breath. ‘Come in for a minute. I owe you a cuppa at the very least.’
There, not so hard after all. Mike’s golden eyes narrowed as his lips curled. Was he laughing at her?
Then he nodded. ‘Thanks. That would be nice.’
Billi led him down the dark, tunnel-like alleyway; it was always as though you left one world behind and entered another. They passed the courtyard beside Middle Temple Hall to her front door. Her heart raced as she unlocked the door. Inside it was dark and Arthur’s heavy jacket was missing: he was out. Billi sighed with relief.