Billi grabbed her dad. The Templars! It had to be them! They had come to the rescue. The driver pulled a savagely sharp handbrake turn. Any second now the doors would fly open and the other knights would storm out.
The door crashed open and a crazed figure waved frantically from the driver’s seat, her iron-grey hair loose and wild like some ragged old lion’s mane.
‘C’mon!’ cried Elaine. The wheels steamed, and burnt rubber saturated the air as she revved the van, ready to flee the instant she released the brake. Kay took hold of Arthur’s other arm and between them they got him to the vehicle. Billi slid the side doors open and threw him in.
‘Billi!’
She turned and ducked instinctively at Kay’s warning. The Templar Sword hissed over her head, tearing the side of the van. The blond guy raised the weapon up, but before Billi could respond Kay charged. He knocked the ghul over and brought two big kicks into his ribs. The Templar Sword clattered away. Kay went for it, but Billi grabbed his collar.
‘Leave it!’ she cried, pulling him back. The other ghuls were almost upon them. But where was Michael? She glanced over to where he’d been hit.
He was slowly lifting himself off the tarmac; she could see his chest was obscenely crushed and white bone jutted out of his black, blood-soaked flesh. His face was one big bruise and his head deformed. It seemed impossible.
He can’t be stopped.
She jumped into the van and Kay slammed the door shut. The van shook as Elaine burst off. One ghul leapt at the windscreen but a sharp turn of the steering wheel threw him back off. Visibility was practically nothing, but that didn’t stop Elaine. Foot hard down on the accelerator, they roared away from the bloody scene.
20
They made their way north. Once out of immediate danger Elaine slowed down and the fog gave way to light drizzle. Billi clambered into the passenger seat. Elaine’s eyes were red with tears as she weaved the old van through the streets. Billi glanced at the signs.
‘Stoke Newington?’ she asked.
‘Safe house. No one knows about it but me.’ Elaine shook her head. ‘I ran over him. And he got up. Bloody hell.’
‘Where are the others?’ Something like this needed the other knights. She couldn’t believe they’d not turned up. Where were they? Especially now Percy was dead.
The thought made her shiver. ‘Elaine, you know that Percy’s…’
‘Yes, I saw.’ Elaine sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve. ‘How’s your dad?’
How was he? Billi closed her eyes in despair. She’d almost died back there, and he hadn’t done anything to save her. Anything! Mike was right – he didn’t love her at all. She’d risked losing her life to save him, but had lost Percy instead. Was that a fair exchange? No matter what she did or where she went she could never escape. And it was her dad’s fault. She looked over; he had to know how she felt.
He sat in the corner, a blanket over his shoulders. His head was sunk in his hands, and Billi noticed how small he looked. Her dad was old. Old and worn. His hands were square and powerful, but the skin thinner, the veins more prominent. His shoulders weren’t so broad, not as broad as she’d always thought they were.
He looked… defeated.
He raised his head and wiped his hand over his face. He gazed despairingly out of the rear window. He didn’t focus on anything; he was lost. He took a deep sigh and Billi watched the way his chest rose and fell. His body seemed to shrivel as the air went out, as if he was empty. He turned and their eyes met.
Billi almost lowered her eyes, almost tried to pretend she hadn’t seen him. Hadn’t seen him weak. But she didn’t. This was a part of Arthur she didn’t know existed. The human part. Then as she gazed at him the mask fell back. His face hardened, the small glimmer of frailty vanished and an impervious steel face replaced the human one. Father and daughter looked at each other for a moment longer. Then Arthur’s gaze shifted to Kay.
‘Well?’ he asked.
Kay was texting. He nodded, then closed his mobile. ‘It’s done. I’ve sent the thirteen-ten code to everyone.’ He then threw the mobile out of the window.
Of course, thought Billi. Silent Running. Arthur had established this new Rule after the Nights of Iron. If ever the Templars were threatened again an alarm code would be sent out: 1310, symbolizing Friday the thirteenth of October, the day the Templars had been captured by the Inquisition. Every Templar was to immediately abandon his position and retreat to a safe house. Each safe house would comprise three knights, called a lance. Billi and Kay were meant to have gone with Percy to an apartment in the East End. From there safe communication would be re-established.
But not with mobiles. If any lance was compromised it had to be assumed the enemy might use their mobiles against them. The way Michael had when he’d texted Kay. Instead they’d meet at prearranged rendezvous points. Places open and very public. Almost impossible to be spied upon or trapped in.
Elaine brought them to a row of garages near Abney Park Cemetery. The huge graveyard was a Victorian necropolis, designed to absorb the sudden boom in London ’s population in the nineteenth century. Now it was derelict and overgrown due to decades of neglect. The rusty iron railings surrounding it were wrapped in ivy and beyond was a black labyrinth of broken gravestones, graffiti-covered mausoleums and a wild mass of out-of-control bushes, trees and long grass.
‘Home sweet home,’ said Elaine. ‘Do open up those doors, would you?’
The rear of the garage was cluttered with old furniture, overspill for Elaine’s pawn shop no doubt. The safe house was the floor upstairs, but they entered it through a side door beside the garage. As Billi helped Kay with her dad she noticed a small alcove in the right door post. It contained a black box. A mezuzah. Elaine touched the box and kissed her fingertips. She caught Billi looking at her. ‘Better safe than sorry,’ she said.
Billi inspected the box. She knew that inside was a scroll bearing a Jewish prayer, Sh’ma Yisroel. A ward against evil spirits. But would it protect them against Michael and his ghuls? Billi wondered.
A steep, narrow staircase rose from the front door to the floor above. The wall was lined with old photographs, but Billi concentrated on getting her dad up, not easy given the space, but they managed after almost ten minutes. Turning right, they entered a small sparsely furnished living room. Against the far wall was a kitchenette made of plain wooden cabinets, a stove and a small fridge, which hummed loudly.
‘Drop Art in the main bedroom,’ said Elaine, and pointed at a door in the corner. Billi nodded to Kay and they hauled Arthur the last few metres. The bedroom had a wardrobe, a desk and a futon bed with some grey army blankets.
‘Dad’ll feel right at home,’ she said as they lowered him down. He lay there, coughing.
‘Water,’ he said. Kay went out to get some. Billi lifted her dad’s legs into the bed and then looked around the room.
So this was Elaine’s little getaway. A Tibetan mandala hung over the bed and several North American spirit traps dangled from the ceiling. It looked like the bedroom of some hippy. She inspected the photographs and suddenly stopped.
It was her mum. She had her arm over Elaine’s shoulders and was leaned back, her belly huge and pregnant. Elaine grinned at the camera and her mum was caught mid-laugh.
‘Who took this?’ asked Billi.
The bedframe creaked as Arthur looked over. ‘I did,’ he sighed. ‘Ages ago.’
Billi stared at the photo. It made sense that they’d been friends. She’d thought about it since seeing the calligraphy back at Elaine’s Bazaar. They’d both been outsiders. Elaine looked centuries younger, her hair was black and the wrinkles shallow. Billi couldn’t stop looking at her mother. The laugh was big, but it didn’t spread to her eyes. They were clear and locked on the photographer: her dad. Jamila cradled her bulging belly and Billi’s mouth went dry. That was her in there, about to be born. What was her mum thinking? Could she have imagined the events that were to unfold – what would happen to her and her child? Those black eyes didn’t reveal anything, the eyes Billi had inherited.