Sarwat Chadda - Devils Kiss

PUFFIN BOOKS

Sarwat Chadda has travelled widely in the Far and Middle East, but theres no place like home, and home is London. Theres nothing he enjoys more than getting lost in its ancient paths and alleyways, and its on these streets that Billi SanGreal was born. Who needs fantasy worlds when youve a city like this? He shares this place with many other souls, but most of all he shares it with his wife and two daughters.

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Books by Sarwat Chadda

DEVILS KISS

Killing him should be easy; hes only six.

Then why the bilious, twisting feeling deep in her guts? Why the cold, clammy dampness down her back?

Hes only six.

Billi waded through the tall, spiny grass towards the back of the park. The autumnal night wind whispered to her, down here in The Pit.

What a name for a playground.

But no one played here, hadnt for years. The low fence around it had long since fallen, leaving rotten planks jutting out of the earth like crooked black teeth. The animal rockers watched her with blank, hollow eyes and their old springs creaked as they nodded their heads in greeting.

The boy sat on the swing, the middle one of three.

Only six.

Billi approached with a Maglite in her hand, its beam aided by the full moon and the red lights on the Crystal Palace radio aerial. It loomed over her like a giant black spike stabbing the sky.

The rusty chains groaned as he swayed back and forth, watching her.

Maybe its not him. Maybe hes just some normal kid.

Maybe I dont have to murder him.

He looked normal. Tatty Nike trainers, a pair of jeans with an elasticated waist, and a burgundy and blue striped Crystal Palace top.

A local boy.

Normal, except for the marks on his neck. His white throat was bound with dark purple bruises.

Billi drew a long, deep breath and crossed over the old fence boundary, her heart hammering hard against her ribs. The playground was gravel and scattered with litter: old cans, mouldy newspapers and brittle brown leaves that had blown down from the skeletal trees at the top of the hill. But the corruption was more than just gentle ageing. All the signs were here.

Of a Desolation: a place of evil. Innocent blood had been spilt, tainting the soil itself. Billi thought, if she dared to listen, she might still hear dying screams echoing in the wind, and the leaves rustling with a childs last breath. The earth seeped with a sweet, oily vapour. It tinged the air, but as Billi passed the threshold it doubled in thickness, until after a few steps her lungs felt they were drowning in it. The few flowers and weeds that had broken through were grey and malformed. Beetles, glossy black, scuttled their armoured bodies over the stones, and fat, white, luminescent worms writhed under her feet.

Hello, said the boy.

Hello, said Billi.

The boy looked at her. He was missing a lower front tooth, but otherwise his baby teeth formed a soft, easy smile.

Just like the photo.

I could still be wrong.

But with each step closer, she knew she wasnt. It was the bruises.

Billi stopped a few metres in front of him. The marks still held the impressions of fingers, even after all this time.

Have you come to play? he asked.

Look into his eyes. Thats what theyd told her. Wasnt it one of the first lessons shed learnt in the Order? The windows of the soul. Shed often stared at her own black orbs, wondering what really lay through them. Maybe only more darkness.

The boy got off the swing, and Billi stepped backwards; she couldnt help it.

He looked up at her, catching the moon full on his plump, gap-toothed face. His eyes shone like mirrors, like cats eyes. Billi stared into them, but there was nothing there, just an empty reflection.

Its him.

Im sorry, Alex. Ive come to take you back.

How do you know my name?

What didnt she know about him? Shed read the old newspapers, trawled through the library archives for a week. Even watched the faded 8mm home movie, a flickering yellow-tinged illusion of life on a white bedsheet.

Alexander Weeks. Six years old. No. 25 Bartholew Street.

Last seen in 1970.

But Ive only just got here. I want to see my mummy.

Only son of Jennifer and Paul Weeks. Billi remembered them sitting with her dad in the church, showing him their old photo album. Telling him of how they still dreamed of Alex, even now.

How they saw his face outside their window some nights.

I know you do. But you cant stay here.

Shed argued she was only fifteen, a year below age. But her dad had insisted. It was time. The Ordeal. Her last test before she was initiated into the Order.

And no one argued with Arthur SanGreal.

Shed expected some Hot Meet. A fight, lots of sound and fury. Why else all those extra lessons sword-fighting with Percy? Her arms and legs were a busy map of bruises and cuts and already attracted enough attention at school. Shed thought thered be a duel against one of the real Unholy. A Loony, Fang-face, even an Infernal maybe.

Not this.

Not killing a little kid.

Billi took another step.

Why? Its not fair! The swings either side of him rattled on their chains, agitated. Billi tensed. Goosebumps crept along her arm, even under her fleece. Alex radiated coldness.

I know, son.

Billi spun round.

Her father strode over the broken fence and walked

The boy looked at him. Have you come to kill me too?

Arthur stopped halfway between them and the fence and discarded the scabbard. He smiled at Alex, but it was tired and wan. And there was no gentleness in his icy blue eyes.

No, lad. You know I cant. He glanced at Billi. Youre already dead.

Its not fair! The swings were thrashing and clanging now, the roundabout creaked to life, turning slowly, grinding its rusty axle against its corroded socket.

The man said I could feed the birds! The man said

Hes been punished for what he did, said Arthur.

Is he in Hell? asked Alex.

I promise you he is.

The boy wailed. I didnt want to die! He held up his hands. Please, let me stay. Crystal tears dribbled down his face, and his mouth and chin wrinkled in misery. Its dark and Im all alone! Its dark and Im scared! He stepped nearer, begging.

Hes just a little boy

No, Billi! shouted Arthur, but too late. Billi dropped to her knees and embraced Alex. She pulled him close to her heart and

the chill seeps into her pores, saturating her skin with ice. Like venom, black ichor floods her veins, pumping her with Alexs despair, envy and

HATE

that he was snatched from the sunlight by sweaty hands and crushing fingers, in the dirt and fallen leaves never to feel the

WARMTH

he misses so much and wants more than anything and so he sucks it from her, leaving only coldness that is brittle-bone deep, sucks the air out of her lungs, white frost, and her

FLESH

blisters and tears freeze on her cheeks as she stares into Alexs eyes, black and malice-filled, remembering only the

AGONY

that he cannot forget and it eats him, an abysmal virus that he cant contain so she must

SUFFER

like he did and the cold burns her heart as he burrows deeper, clawing at her to join him in the darkness, far, far

Powerful fingers dug deep into Billis shoulders and ripped her free. Arthur tossed her away from the boy and she tumbled in the gravel, slamming down hard on her cheek.