“I’m just sad I didn’t bring any siege equipment,” said Faustus. “You really want to do this? Attack an actual castle?”
“That’s where Reggie is, that’s where Ivan is and that’s where he’ll carry out his ritual so, yeah, I am really gonna attack an actual bloody castle. You in?”
Faustus chuckled. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She’d been more relieved than she’d imagined when he had arrived. He wore tough, heavy clothing, and had handed over the Templar sword the moment the door had opened. Billi had felt pretty relieved as she’d tightened her grip on its hilt. Funny how problems disappear when you’ve got steel in your fist.
He’d brought more, the boy could think on his feet. A few more weapons, naturally, but also her spare boots and heavy leather jacket. If you were going into a fight you wanted to be comfortable. And Billi planned on a lot of fighting.
“This is what we’re dealing with.” They stood over the small kitchen table, map open and a pile of local guidebooks piled on top. Billi opened one up, a large hardback. “This is the history of Hollburgh. The place was a big deal in the Middle Ages. Like most of East Anglia it was wool, being shipped out all across Europe. The FitzRoys controlled it all from their castle on the highest cliff. From it they protected this entire stretch of coastline with watch-towers and warning beacons. But over the centuries the waves ate away at the bottom of those cliffs and then during one stormy night in the 18th century the whole village fell into the sea. Look.” She turned the book around.
The black and white photos showed Victorian day-trippers climbing over semi-submerged ruins. The cliffs themselves showed the aftermath of the collapse, one slope was still grassy and the remains of a row of houses were still visible, despite the years that had already passed. But beyond, tottering precariously on the highest part of the cliff, sections already collapsed, was the ancient Norman castle. The seaward walls were gone, the smaller buildings too, leaving the original keep and sections of a road and a gatehouse still whole. It was a classic late Norman build, the type found everywhere from here to Sicily. There’d been several extensions over the centuries. A Tudor chapel and the converted stables looked Georgian. It would have been glorious in its day.
“And since this photo was taken?” asked Faustus.
Billi pointed to a newspaper front page framed on the wall. The East Anglia Herald’s headline was simple and stark: The end of Hollburgh!
“Ten years ago. A long stretch of the cliff gave way and since then the castle’s been out of bounds. Too dangerous. You still get people taking day trips here for a picnic and splash around but there are better villages and prettier beaches elsewhere along the coast. You should see the state of the road in. Potholes everywhere and the tarmac’s cracked. You need a four-by-four to reach the village now. Or what’s left of it.”
Faustus was still gazing at the old photo. “How many died when it first collapsed?”
“A few families. People were already abandoning it by then. You think there’ll be ghosts? After all this time?”
“What does time matter to a ghost? The question is, can we can get them to help us?”
Billi gazed at him warily. “You got a way of making that happen?”
“We need all the help we can get and your shiny sword ain’t going to be enough, Billi.”
“You forgotten what I did to those demons back at the cemetery?”
“No, and neither will Reggie. Tonight’s his big night and he’ll not want any interruptions. He’ll be bringing out the big guns.”
So his answer would be to call on the dead himself? Seems like that was solving one problem by creating a bigger one. “It’s risky.”
“That’s because you have no idea what we’re up against,” said Faustus. “Reggie uses the power of the Anunnaki, the old ones. They are entities not of this universe. Reality is nothing to them, their presence here would tear it apart so we need to take those risks. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of things my end, if it comes to it.”
Billi nodded. She had to trust Faustus on this one. She would do things her way, and he would do his things his way. “You sure you want to tag along on this?”
“You know why I picked the name Faustus?”
Billi shook her head.
“You know the story of Johan Faustus? It’s an old German legend. He’s a good man, but wants to be better. So he makes a deal with the Devil. All with the best of intentions. He loses it all in the end, of course.”
Billi nodded. “I’ve heard the story.”
“That was me, Billi. I made deals with people I shouldn’t have. People who used me, people who I trusted. You’re a kid living on the streets. You don’t have many choices. Every time it happened I promised myself I wouldn’t fall for it again, but you hope. Hope leads to damnation. It may be a sad way of looking at the world, but that’s my experience. But you’re different. You don’t make deals. You’re a take it or leave it kinda girl.”
“I’m not sure I like that about myself.”
“You don’t bargain. You don’t haggle. You don’t make false promises. You’ve walked the vale of darkness. I’ve never known anyone like you.”
“That’s not a good thing, Faustus. I’ve got people I cared about killed. You know that about me.”
“And yet here we are. You never demand more than you’d sacrifice yourself. If anyone’s going to get my soul out of Hell, when the time comes, it’ll be you. I suppose that’s why I’m here.”
She picked up the Templar sword, still in its scabbard, and swung
