The Templar's Curse Sarwat Chadda (top books of all time TXT) 📖

around each other for years, but Erin had changed in the last few weeks. Her boldness had excited her.

This was all a game, and that added to her anticipation. Now that bitch Billi SanGreal was out of the picture it would be back to how it had been, but better.

Only when they’d tied her hands had she stopped giggling. Suddenly it wasn’t funny. She demanded she be untied and that was when Erin had hit her. Not a slap, but a solid, hard fist in her guts that almost made her puke. She’d collapsed and lain there gasping, and confused. And frightened. She wanted to know what they were doing but no one spoke. There was some terrible agreement between Erin, Phoebe and Ardhan that she hadn’t been part of and now she was no longer part of their clique, but their victim. All the silly stories about the occult, the Old Ones and sacrifices had become brutally real.

Brigid lay on the cold stone, curled up, tears rolling down her face, begging her friends to stop their game. She didn’t like it anymore. But these were strangers. When Erin had touched her, the way she’d touched her, had been sickening. The knowingness in her gaze perverse. This wasn’t the Erin she thought she knew.

They dragged her by her hair and whenever she resisted the blows came. Not mean slaps but vicious punches delivered with enthusiasm and expertise. By the time they were outside Brigid hardly felt the cold rain nor the stones cutting her bare feet. But when she saw where she was being taken she fought. She’d never known she had such strength, so much passion and savagery. She screamed and bit deep, drawing blood from Phoebe’s hand. She even head-butted Erin when she got too close. The blow to her jaw meant nothing, her fury was too hot. But there were three of them and she was knocked over. Phoebe and Ardhan grabbed a leg each while Erin lifted her by her shoulders and they swung her back and forth at the cliff top’s edge. She screamed and screamed.

Yet as they released her and she tumbled down towards the sea, her last thought was how all this was Billi’s fault.

Then she’d struck the rocks.

Billi couldn’t get her hand to the sword. Strapped across her back and wedged between her and the rocks she struggled in the creature’s iron grip, her windpipe getting steadily squeezed. She grabbed the rocks either side and lifted her knees against her chest. She kicked out.

Brigid stumbled back, her grip broken. She flailed, hissing and clawing still. Brigid disappeared over the edge and her last look was of impotent fury, her broken lips mouthing a curse.

Faustus looked over the edge. He was praying. Billi joined him and looked below. But Brigid was gone.

The sea frothed and great white-mounted waves beat against the moonlit cliffs and washed over the rock teeth clustered at the bottom, as if some leviathan was rising out of the ancient waters to devour the land.

That was it. The sea had taken her already.

“She didn’t deserve that,” said Faustus.

He was sorry for Brigid. Of course he was. Billi wasn’t. She’d fought too many ghosts and spirits by now to want to remember what they had been: alive. Alive and with simple, obvious hopes and envies. She should feel sorry, but she couldn’t spare tears. If she started she would never stop.

Billi knelt beside Faustus, watching the tears run freely. He wasn’t made for this life, but had come, nevertheless. That made him braver than her. While he had courage she just had a brutal nature. That was the only way to survive. Wasn’t it? Billi gazed at her dagger, still clutched in her hand, the blade smeared with Brigid’s blood. She wiped it off on her trousers. There, all trace of Brigid was gone.

She looked up. Not far now and the climb looked easier, but that was a trap to get climbers cocky. Just concentrate on every hold until —

The tremor started from above. Small stones tumbled down, bouncing off one surface and then another, rattling against each other. Billi pressed herself against the rock face and pulled Faustus beside her. The slab they were standing on began to sway, and crack.

The whole boulder was breaking free. “Jump!” shouted Billi over the din of more breaking rock. She launched herself to another ledge, one that looked more solid, and sheltered.

“Billi!”

She spun just as the slab cracked. Faustus scrabbled for purchase but the rocks around him were shearing off in great sheets. He began sliding down.

“Faustus!” She couldn’t do anything but hold on. The din grew thunderous, but it was more that falling rock. The sound came from a deep void. It was an echo from somewhere dark and cold. Then, thankfully, the rumbling stopped. A few small pebbles pattered past her, but Billi turned around and gazed down the now shattered cliff. “Faustus? Are you there?”

No, no, no. That would be too cruel, for him to go so pointlessly. Come on, Faustus.

Then she saw him, a dozen metres below, crouched amongst the boulders. He shook off the shards of stones and wiped the blood off his brow. “Nothing serious.”

“Hang on. I’m coming down,” said Billi.

“Forget it. You’re on a timetable. I’ll catch up. Somehow.” He looked around, searching for a route up. “And do you hear them? Their cry?”

“I heard something.”

“The Anunnaki are at the door, Billi. Won’t be long till Reggie turns the key and opens it right up. You have to stop him. Any way you can.”

She knew what he meant. They were running out of time, and options. Maybe it was better without him. There were dirty deeds to be performed, dirty and brutal.

She got up. What else was there to do? She turned to face the rock and began climbing. She carried on, because that was who she was. Hand over hand. Crawling higher and higher, eyes on the prize, that final black silhouette and the sky