Kay entered and Billi stiffened. Kay passed Arthur a tall glass of water and then he left. Arthur drained the glass in one, put it down and looked as though he was about to speak. But he didn’t, instead he sank into the pillows and closed his eyes.
What were they going to do? They had no idea where the other Templars were, or if they’d even survived. Michael might have already eliminated them.
It looked hopeless. Billi gazed at her father sleeping and wanted him to tell her the answers. But she wasn’t sure he’d even have them. She closed the door quietly as she went out.
Kay was slumped on the sofa. Billi couldn’t be sure, but he looked paler than normal. She kicked his heels and he shifted over.
‘Thanks for that,’ she said. ‘Taking out the ghul.’
‘Told you I could fight.’
‘Let’s not get too carried away. Knocking someone over does not make you Bruce Lee.’
Elaine came back from outside and tossed a stuffed bin bag in the centre of the room. ‘There are a few spare sleeping bags and sheets in there. Make yourselves comfortable.’
‘Where are we sleeping?’ asked Kay. Elaine pointed at the sofa, and then the floor.
‘Take your pick.’
The acrid sting of cigarette smoke woke her. Billi shuffled on to her side, careful not to fall off the sofa. It was lumpy and uneven, half the springs were missing and it sagged in the middle. Now that she was awake Billi felt the twinges and aches along her back. She rose slowly and stretched.
The curtains were thin cotton sheets, and glowed faintly from the moonlight. Kay lay sprawled on the floor, his pale foot sticking out from under the unzipped sleeping bag. His black T-shirt made the whiteness of his face all the more stark and icy.
He sleeps with his eyes open.
Just a sliver of blue peeked through Kay’s parted eyelids, sparkling. His chest rose and dipped, his breath a soft whisper.
Her dad’s door was ajar. She saw his silhouette beside the desk, and a red tip burning along his fingers.
He’s smoking. He’s just had a lung punctured and he’s having a fag.
She went to the door and pushed it open.
‘It’s not like you have a lung to spare,’ she said. ‘You should quit.’
Arthur raised the cigarette to his lips, stopped, then put it back in the ashtray. ‘Like you?’
If this was his attempt to make her feel guilty, after everything that had just happened, well he was going to be disappointed. Billi took the smouldering stub, and squashed it out.
‘So, why did you quit?’ he asked.
‘I’m not a Templar.’
‘You sure? Not doing too badly.’
Billi laughed. ‘Except for hurling my guts during the Ordeal. Except for bringing the Angel of Death to our home. Except for getting you almost killed. Except for -’ the image of Percy, his body beside her and his blood over her face, sprang up – ‘except for Percy.’
‘We all make mistakes.’
‘Yeah, but mine are fatal.’ Billi looked at her father’s gaunt face. ‘I can’t take it, Dad. I don’t want this life. This responsibility. My mistake got Percy killed.’ She sank her face into her hands. ‘He’s dead because of me.’
‘It’s not a duty you can just abandon. For better or for worse it’s the life you lead.’
‘No.’ She raised her head so they were eye to eye. ‘It’s the life you lead.’ She stood up. ‘I’m not going to become like you.’ As she said it, her breath caught in her throat. He didn’t feel anything, for anyone. She looked down at the minute cut on her wrist. He didn’t care about her, so why should she care about him?
‘One day you’ll understand, Billi. You’ll make hard choices and you’ll need this life to make them.’
‘No, I won’t.’ Billi went towards the door. She looked back at him, battered, scarred, his chest wrapped in fresh white bandages. Arthur should have died a hundred times over; maybe, deep down, that’s what he wanted. He wanted to destroy himself. She wasn’t going to let him destroy her.
‘Billi, I know you’re angry at me. I wish there was another way.’
Billi turned the handle. ‘It’s not anger I feel.’ She opened the door and her eyes fell again on the picture. ‘It’s pity.’
21
She is dreaming. She knows it but cannot do anything but be carried along by the ancient phantoms lingering just the other side of life. These streets she walks have long vanished under the sands, and the hot white sun, the Eye of Ra, has sunk and risen across the horizon countless times since. But the heat of it burns her face and the coarse grittiness under her bare soles feels real and immediate. She scrunches her toes in the bleached white sand and lets the particles tickle her feet.
They come out on to the streets bearing their terrible loads. The poor wear simple tunics of tan-coloured cotton while the rich and powerful are wrapped in sparkling white linen.
But whitest of all are the burial shrouds.
Somewhere in the palace the pharaoh lays out his dead firstborn child at the foot of Anubis. These gods, once so mighty, will fade like this city into legend as a new, greater and more terrible deity takes their place. But religion requires sacrifice, Billi knows this to be true, and somewhere deep inside she fears the price yet to be paid.
The dead line the streets. Rich and poor, slave and noble, made equal. The rows of white bundles seem to go on forever.
But one draws Billi closer. She drifts through the mourning Egyptians like a ghost, pulled towards this one single shrouded figure. Her hand acts of its own accord as it reaches out to touch the familiar face, covered by the thin cotton. Her fingers trace over the cheeks, cold despite the desert heat. Thumb and forefinger pinch the corner of the cloth and she pulls it back -
Kay held her tightly to him as she screamed. Billi’s skin dripped with sweat and her chest ran hard and rapid with fear. She grabbed hold of him and they hung on to each other as she fought down the nightmare.
A dream, just a dream. It’s just a dream.
Eyes squeezed shut she pressed her forehead against Kay’s chest as he knelt beside her on the sofa bed. She wasn’t an Oracle; her dreams didn’t mean anything. Anything. She tried to focus on the back of her eyelids, but couldn’t. Kay smelt. Not in a bad way, but it sparked off old memories, back when they were little, sneaking into bed together while the other Templars talked downstairs. It was the closest she’d felt to being part of a family. Touching him this close, she picked up the warm, slightly oily scent of his skin, not dry and cold as she’d imagined, but strangely earthy, moist. She felt how his chest slowly rose and settled back and realized he wasn’t quite as skinny as she’d always thought. He didn’t have the inhuman physique of Michael, the shape of a marble statue brought to life, but there was hidden strength under his skin, and maybe more than bone and sinew. His arms fitted around her and his hands were soft. Maybe she could rest here just for another minute.
Kay coughed and pulled back. ‘You OK?’ He was blushing. On someone that pale it looked pretty extreme.
Oh God, he was reading my mind. What had she been thinking? Billi nodded and looked around, anywhere but at him. Dawn light filtered in through the small windows filling the lounge with a soft golden glow. Billi slowly stretched from the toes, legs, torso, shoulders, arms and fingertips, reaching upwards as far as she could go, letting the kinks and knots in her muscles slip out. Kay sat there, watching.