The Templar's Curse by Sarwat Chadda (classic books to read TXT) 📕

But she knew that Ivan was missing, and the ghost of Simon had warned his daughter from beyond the grave. Someone was coming for Erin and for something she had and, despite what Lawrence had told her, the Ouroboros Society was mixed up in all this.

Wait a minute...

Lawrence sat on the bed, squinting in the light. So withered and so pathetic. He’d paid a heavy price for a few more centuries to be no more than what he’d always been, a smuggler. But he didn’t know Simon had kept things for himself. It was something Lawrence had just said.

Reggie had trained his own son in the occult arts. Had he told Edward about the vessel? Had he instilled the same desire to find it and claim immortality for himself? A desire that had ended with him drowning, but then he had Simon to follow in his footsteps.

Simon would have known all about his father’s, and grandfather’s, research. The family had a passion for Mesopotamia, or Iraq as it was now known. Simon had been an expert in its language, history and legends. So what had he found at the museum that he had kept for himself, far too valuable to be passed onto Lawrence? What else could it be? It was the perfect poetic revenge against the Ouroboros Society.

Simon had found the Vessel of the Anunnaki, and he’d given it to his daughter.

Erin, whether she knew it or not, held the secret of immortality.

CHAPTER 16

This was about saving Ivan, nothing else.

If Erin had the vessel she wasn’t going to just hand it over, her dad had died trying to keep it secret. Billi needed to earn her trust, or trick her into telling her. That meant lying, faking a friendship and using someone who didn’t deserve any of it. But how else would she find Ivan? By telling the truth?

Hey, Erin. I belong to secret order of knights who have been fighting a war against the supernatural monsters that prey on humanity for the last eight hundred years or so. That scar you noticed on my neck? The angel of death gave me that when he tried to wipe out all of London’s first-born children a few years back. Oh, and Ivan, my boyfriend, heads up the Russian equivalent, the Bogatyrs. I met him when we were after Baba Yaga, the witch goddess.

Yeah, she could imagine how Erin would respond to that. She’d call the police and issue a restraining order against her.

Sometimes you’ve just got to lie for the greater good.

Dulwich Park wasn’t busy this time of the morning. The cold, fresh air heralded the onset of winter, as did the piles of golden leaves gathered at the junctions of the paths that criss-crossed the park. Despite the urban sprawl London was dotted with hundreds of parks. This area south of the river had three all within a kilometre of each other, and a small wood. A jogger passed her by, briefly glancing at her as she parked up the Norton motorbike as he huffed his way along the path. A golden-haired collie bounced through the bushes, chasing after a well-chewed tennis ball.

Billi unbuckled her saddlebag and slung it over her shoulder. The park was bigger than most. There were ponds, a small boating lake, bowling green and playgrounds and even a sandy track for horse riding but as she scanned ahead, Billi spotted a basketball court through the trees, a hundred metres over to the left. She jogged over. She stacked her jacket and helmet against the fence and she took out her gear: a heavy leather skipping rope and a pair of pads. She looked around again. Would Erin stick to the schedule? She hoped so but she was here now, so she got to work.

After a few false starts she set up a steady rhythm with the rope. It hissed as it cut the air, the rapid ‘ticking’ of it nipping the tarmac, over and over. Just like Percy had taught her. He’d loved boxing and been a devotee of the rope. Bors scoffed, skipping was for kids. But Bors couldn’t last long in the ring. If he didn’t overwhelm his opponent with the first assault, he dipped quickly. The rope built stamina and kept you light on your feet.

Then a few minutes later Erin arrived. “Billi?”

She’d been running, her face was flushed and her hair damp with sweat. But she grinned as she rested her hands on her knees. “Why didn’t you call?”

I have no female friends. None at all.

Wasn’t that weird? Almost unique? She’d never really had anyone to hang out with, not since she’d settled into her life as a Templar. It’s not like she could arrange sleepovers with her needing to sew up wounds in the kitchen and swords lying around in the hallway. She’d tried to go on a few dates, early on. But they’d been total failures and word got around quick. Billi was strange. Difficult. And then there was the old scandal, how her dad had been accused of murdering her mum. Who wanted to get involved with someone like that?

Templars to the left of me, Templars to the right. Me stuck in the middle.

“Consider me well and truly, and happily, surprised.” She looked over at the pads. “They look well-used.”

Billi picked one up and flicked it in the air. “I wanted to catch up. Apologize for leaving in such a hurry. Nice party, by the way.”

“No, it wasn’t. You hated every minute of it.”

“Not every minute,” Billi admitted. “Anyway, here I am. How do you want to start?”

“Whatever you want.”

They took over the centre of the basketball court. Billi started slow, offering targets which Erin attacked with a mix up, turning kicks, axe kicks, hooks, jabs and spins, simple one-eighties to full-hearted three-sixties, launching herself high and twisting in an eye-blink. She gave it her all, with perfect landings each and every time.

They didn’t talk, they worked and worked hard. Back and forth, feet skating over