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

Billi telling her what horrors, what dangers, lurked in the shadows? And yet...

She was lying to Erin. Erin thought she was her friend but she was her bait. Something to dangle out and hope something big and ugly would bite. If she was going to put Erin at risk then surely Erin deserved to know. But what if, once she knew the truth, Erin hated Billi? Wasn’t that likely?

So what do you want? Keep this fake friendship or risk telling her the truth and accepting the consequences? Yeah, you could lose her but there may be a chance Erin might join you. Does she deserve either? If you really cared you would leave her well out of it.

Except she couldn’t. But Billi just wasn’t sure why. She typed back to Erin.

See you in an hour. Where are you?

The reply came a few seconds later.

I’m visiting Dad.

CHAPTER 20

West Norwood cemetery was one of the ‘big seven’ necropoli, cities of the dead, that had been built during the Victorian era to manage the explosion in London’s population. It was only a few kilometres from Erin’s home, and it was where her dad was buried.

There was a war memorial at the entrance, and war graves dotted across the cemetery, mainly from the world wars. Billi had found out the FitzRoys had a family plot within the heart of the cemetery, so she adjusted her coat and wandered further in.

Looking for Erin.

The cemetery wasn’t busy this time in the evening. Paths wound through the fields of graves and tombs of the great and good and dearly departed and much loved and much missed. Some were old, forgotten and covered with weeds and broken apart by tree roots while others had flowers and gifts laid out. There were ones with teddy bears and balloons and very brief lives. Some she paused at, calculating how old they would be now if death hadn’t lifted them from their cribs.

An old woman in a big coat and headscarf filled a plastic bottle from the water tap and then shuffled over to work on a grave. She settled down on her knees and chatted to the grave as she tended the flowers and potted plants. A heavily pregnant woman sat on a bench, scrolling through her mobile as she rolled a pram back and forth. She glanced at Billi with a weary expression as if to warn her not to rush, once you had kids your life was over.

The cemetery was a labyrinth and much overgrown. Some of the paths had disappeared under weeds and brambles.

Workmen had started on cutting back the worst of the summer growth and had built up piles of dead wood and trimmings. It made her think of her dad and the other Templars. They worked as handymen and gardeners within Temple district and in the late autumn would build a huge pyre of branches, foliage and leaves that would be set ablaze on Guy Fawkes night. The apartment would smell of sawdust for weeks and she’d learnt how best to use an axe on some of the more stubborn trees.

Erin knelt by the gravestone, a bunch of flowers on her lap. She was talking. Whatever she was saying it was serious and troubling, and it seemed her dad was the only one she could share it with.

It felt wrong to be here, despite the invite she should have waited for Erin to come back home. Billi could tell herself it was for Erin’s own protection but was that true? Was she really here to guard her friend or was she dangling Erin like a worm on a hook, hoping for a bite? What sort of person was she? She wanted to be good, to be caring and to be the sort who comforted people, someone others looked to for help. That was the only way she could justify what she did. Dad had talked about his years as a soldier and how hard it was justifying the things he’d done for the sake of Queen and Country. That had led to his PTSD, and ultimately to him meeting her mum. The world turned in strange ways.

Someone was coming. A man.

Billi moved slowly behind one of the bigger tombs.

He dawdled, looking at one grave, then another, exploring the cemetery with a cup of coffee in his hand and a newspaper tucked under his arm. His hat hid his face and his suit was well-cut with a budding carnation in his lapel’s button-hole. Military cut? And those shoes were polished as brightly as a cadet on parade.

Reggie?

She believed what Ardhan had told her, that Erin was haunted by her great-grandfather. It was a solid corner of the jigsaw puzzle she and Faustus were trying to assemble. He wanted the Vessel of the Anunnaki but it was becoming clear that Simon had never found such an object and, even if Erin had somehow missed it, her mother had seen to it personally that all the artefacts had been destroyed.

But if Reggie was still alive, in some form or another, what did he want from Erin?

And what did he want from Ivan?

He was taking his time. Should she make her move now or wait? He approached Erin, seemingly unaware she was there. And Erin was equally oblivious of him.

Whatever he was up to, Billi would be ready.

Come on, try it. I dare you.

He stopped to inspect a grave a few yards left of Erin. She still hadn’t seen him. He looked around, and dropped his cup and newspaper in a bin, and brushed his hands.

Ready to make his move.

Billi tensed. She was fifteen metres away. A short sprint and she’d be on him, as hard as a thunderbolt. He wasn’t big and her mind swam with take-down strategies. Some were soft, disabling the target with minimum damage, but she preferred the hard options. If it was Reggie she wasn’t going to be gentle.

Then the man drew his flower from his buttonhole and placed it gently