Sarwat Chadda - Devil’s Kiss

They were there because Arthur was dying. They were there to select his replacement. The knights couldn’t allow the Order to be leaderless, could they? Well, sod them. Let Gwaine become Templar Master. The Order had brought her nothing but misery. First her mum, now her dad. She looked at him, sallow and so old suddenly. Nothing was worth this sort of sacrifice.

A vain hope sparked in her. Maybe if – no, not if, but when – when Arthur recovered Gwaine would have proved to be an excellent Master, and Arthur wouldn’t be needed. Maybe if the burden of the Templars was lifted Arthur might become like a normal dad. He might put her first, instead of the Order. He might even love her. It was a cowardly thought, but she’d always imagined her dad as being invulnerable. Seeing him like this she was gripped with fear. Billi had thought she hated him, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. He was all she had.

‘He’s a tough nut, Billi. He’ll make it.’ Kay put his hand on her shoulder. ‘You’ll make it.’

She poured herself a glass of water. ‘How did the clean-up go?’

‘Best you speak to Gwaine about that.’

Billi stood. Kay’s tone set off alarm bells. ‘What’s going on, Kay?’

Kay grimaced, but checked the door was closed, then whispered. ‘Billi, something went wrong. There was nothing in the basement. Michael’s vanished.’

So much for all the pomp and grandeur of establishing a new Templar Master. Once the inner conclave of senior knights would have met at Temple Church, held prayers and all-night vigils before choosing who would lead them. Now they were going to vote on it in the hospital canteen.

Gwaine sat at the head of the white Formica table. He looked calm, but nothing could hide the eagerness in his eyes. With Arthur near death, he would replace him, and his dream would be fulfilled.

All because of her.

Percy stood up and hugged her.

‘How’s the old man?’

Billi didn’t know what to say. Dying? She buried her head in Percy’s chest. Then he offered her a seat at the table. There was a cup of tea waiting.

Bors looked up briefly from his bacon sarnie, then carried on tearing it apart with his teeth, chomping loudly. Berrant lowered his glasses and smiled at Billi. Father Balin carried on clicking his way through his rosary. Gareth and Pelleas were there too. Kay sat down beside her.

‘Now we’re all here, I think we should get down to business,’ said Gwaine. ‘First, the debrief. Kay’s filled me in and I’ve reached a conclusion.’ He spread out his hands. ‘It’s clear that Michael was destroyed. The body’s disappearance isn’t unusual. As an Ethereal being, he simply evaporated back into it.’

‘But what about Arthur’s sword? That’s gone too,’ said Kay. Gwaine shrugged.

‘Contaminated by Ethereal blood, that’s probably disintegrated too. Simple.’

‘It seems too simple…’ said Balin. He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. What did Elaine say about all this?’

Gwaine scowled. ‘We can’t find Elaine. Or the Cursed Mirror.’ He looked around the table. ‘But we can’t solve that tonight. We’ve other business to discuss.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ snapped Percy. ‘First we should pray for Arthur’s speedy and complete recovery, don’t you think?’

Gwaine glowered at him, then cleared his throat. ‘Of course. Father, if you’d be so kind?’

They bowed their heads and Billi prayed. She prayed her dad would live. And that this would never happen again. It had been too close. And, next time, she could get someone killed. Billi reached a conclusion: there had to be no ‘next time’.

Gwaine lifted his head after a minute. ‘To business.’ He looked around the table. ‘With Arthur out, I formally request command of the Poor Fellow Soldiers of Jesus Christ and the Temple of Solomon.’

‘Temporarily,’ said Gareth. He was right; Arthur was still alive so Gwaine could only be acting Master. Gwaine grimaced and looked around the table.

‘I know we all love Arthur, but we must accept his methods are high risk. Look what happened tonight. I’ve… plans regarding the Order. We need to rebuild our strength. Recruit new members.’

‘Like who?’ Percy’s eyes narrowed.

‘The Red Knights.’

The others gasped. Billi couldn’t believe it. The Red Knights were a bunch of religious thugs, the worst sort of fanatics. Little better than a street gang that went around beating up immigrants and firebombing newsagents. Was he serious?

‘There’s no way Arthur would allow that,’ said Balin. ‘That’s a battle that’s long finished.’

Berrant nodded in agreement. ‘The Bataille Ténébreuse is not against fellow men, only the Unholy.’

Gwaine raised his hands. ‘I know they’re somewhat overzealous, but they could be guided. Trained and tempered.’ He looked over at Percy. ‘They’re no worse than Arthur was when I recruited him.’

‘Arthur did not go around burning down mosques,’ Percy replied.

Gwaine glanced at the others, looking for support. Instead all he got was cool looks. ‘OK, we can discuss the Red Knights another day. But the question remains. Will you declare me Master?’

Balin sighed, but bowed his head. Bors nodded eagerly, the juices of fat dripping off his chin. Gareth and the others agreed. So did Kay, even though he knew Gwaine would make life hard. He was a Templar and there were the Rules, the ancient laws laid down when the Order had been founded. Percy just shrugged and they looked at Billi.

‘Just one thing,’ she said.

‘This isn’t a deal to be negotiated, squire. It’s yes or no,’ said Gwaine. His voice was low, but couldn’t hide the anger bubbling beneath. The vote had to be unanimous.

Billi took a deep breath. She’d risked not just herself, but Kay and her dad too. Sooner or later, it would happen again and she didn’t want anyone’s blood on her hands.

‘You have my vote, Gwaine. But only on one condition.’ Billi closed her eyes and lowered her head. ‘I want to leave the Order.’

Percy leaned over. ‘Billi…’

‘No, Percy. It’s for the best.’ She didn’t want to open her eyes. If she did she might change her mind. The table fell silent. Eventually she looked up and met Gwaine’s gaze. He smirked: victory was his.

‘Granted.’

So Billi was out. Just like that. Dazed, she left the hospital. The doctor had suggested she get some rest. She could visit again after school. She barely noticed the crowded hospital reception, or the rows of sick children lined up in the corridors in wheelchairs, waiting for ambulances to move them to other hospitals because there were no beds left in this one. Billi glimpsed the tired, frightened faces of the parents, but she was too empty to feel anything for them. Dimly, she wondered if this was Michael’s doing, but he was dead now. It was over.

The house was cold and silent when she entered. Billi dropped her coat on the floor and went straight up into the kitchen, functioning on automatic. She switched on the kettle and tossed two slices of bread into the toaster. She looked around the sparse, ugly room. This is where they’d decided her fate five years ago: that she should be a Templar.

Balin by the sink, Gwaine on the stool opposite, Percy by the cupboard and her dad on this seat. The severed arm in the bin bag had lain right here. Billi stroked its stained surface with her palm. There were old, dark patches, well soaked into the wood. Blood? She wouldn’t be at all surprised.

The front door opened and Billi’s heart jumped. Dad? For a mad moment she thought it was him, somehow recovered and home, and she was up out of her chair and ran to the kitchen door.