Sarwat Chadda - Billi SanGreal 02 - Dark Goddess (30 page)

"Looks like this is it, then," said Billi.

Vasilisa stood beside her. Billi held out her hand, but she retreated. Billi put her hand down. Friendships were hard to come by in Billi's line of work. "She's close," said Vasilisa. She scratched her head and frowned. The henna covered her arms up to her elbows. She turned her palms over, staring at the strange patterns, then looked at the reactor in the distance. "Look at what we've done. We made the Earth so sick."

"Sounds like you agree with her," said Billi. Their eyes met.

"She's old and tired, Billi. She thinks she's the only one who cares about the Earth. She hoped mankind would learn, but we haven't. That's why she won't die: she thinks no one else will look after it when she's gone. So she's trapped in winter, and it's always cold." Tears ran down her cheeks.

The sky was turning red. Billi watched the sun sink lower on the horizon. For now the moon was a weak indistinct circle. But it was full and perfectly round. Her skin itched and she loosened her collar, trying to let the heat out.

"Not yet, not yet," she promised herself.

The thin birch trees were rustling when the first howl rippled across the snowbound town. Another joined it, then another, until the distant woods erupted with the chorus of hunters' songs. Olga waved at her from below, and Billi ran clown, Vasilisa a few steps behind.

They gathered in front of the amusement park gates. Olga had stripped down to a thin T-shirt and shorts. Her bare legs and arms bristled with gray hair, and already her nails had transformed into claws.

"How long do we have?" Billi asked.

"Five, six minutes," growled Old Gray, listening hard to the sound of the oncoming army. She snapped her teeth as they grew in length and sharpness.

"We need to give ourselves some space." Billi searched around: three roads led from this park, giving them options. "Keep the engine running in case we need a quick getaway."

Olga laughed. "We are not getting away, young Templar. This is where we die."

"Maybe, but let's take the old witch with us." Billi pulled out a stone-tipped arrow. "I just need Baba Yaga out in the open and close, that's all."

Old Gray growled as steel scraped across steel. Billi spun around, arrow drawn, as a figure emerged from behind them.

Arthur drew the Templar Sword from his scabbard as he approached. He wore his own mail, covered with a patched-up leather coat. Snowflakes sprinkled his black beard, and his scars were paler than normal, stark white in the frosty, weak sunlight. Gareth joined him, fingers in his composite bow. He saw Billi's own bow and nodded with approval. He had his quiver strapped to his belt, all the fletching made up of black eagle feathers.

"Hope we're not too late," said Arthur.

Mordred, the tall, elegant Ethiopian, stood nearby, his hands eager and anxious around his spear shaft. Hanging from his hip was a quiver, and slung over his back a longbow. He'd wrapped a scarf around his face and had his woolen cap pulled low so only his deep brown eyes showed. With him were Gwaine and Lance. They'd survived, thank God.

Gwaine had taken a battering: there was a clean bandage across his forehead, and his mouth, usually so thin and grim, turned slightly. It could have been a smile, the first Billi had from the old warrior. On his back was a bow and quiver of arrows. In his hands he held a hefty battle-ax and had a dented steel breast plate strapped on. A crude red cross had been painted high on the left of it. A Templar to the last.

"
Bonjour
, Bilqis," said Lance as he smoothed out his long brown mustache and bowed. The Frenchman had found a knee-length mail hauberk, older and heavier than Billi's, and on his left hip he had a longsword. He carried a shield, white with a black band across the top: the argent field and sable fess. The battle banner of the Templars. He looked like he'd stepped out of the Crusades.

Billi's throat was tight, clogged with relief. She wet her dry lips. "About bloody time."

LANCE KISSED HER ON BOTH CHEEKS.

Billi grinned. "You made it. How?"

Lance looked surprised. "Why would we not make it?" Mordred shook her hand. "You look ready to cause trouble," he said.

Billi laughed. She had her quiver and bow on her back, a suit of fine chain mail, and a sword and dagger tucked into her belt. "Trouble's coming," she said.

Gwaine stopped and looked down at Vasilisa. "She still alive?" He spoke as though she weren't there. "Why haven't you killed her?"

Billi drew Vasilisa close beside her. "I've found a way to kill Baba Yaga. But I need her close. If we hang on to Vasilisa, she'll come close enough to give us a chance to be rid of the old witch once and for all."

"She's bait, then?" Gwaine said.

Vasilisa flinched as he said it. She pushed Billi's hand away and stepped back, gazing at the Templars. Billi bent down and faced her.

"Vasilisa, we're here to protect you, I swear it. But you'll need to play along." She looked over at her dad, who watched impassively. "When Baba Yaga comes, we will destroy her."

"And if you don't?" asked the Spring Child. "Then we will have done our best." Billi touched Vasilisa's cheek.

The other Templars gathered warily around Old Gray. She'd not fully transformed, but her skin was covered in fur, and her skull had elongated to accommodate a snout and a line of fangs. She barely acknowledged them.

Arthur slapped Billi on the back and inspected her armor, nodding with satisfaction. "Well done," he said. He nodded at Lance. "Get the car ready. I want to be able to make a quick exit, if need be."

"
Bon"
said Lance. He took Vasilisa's hand and patted it between his palms. "It is good to see you again, Vasilisa." Then he slung his shield over his shoulder and disappeared down an alleyway.

Billi looked at her dad and held up her arrow. "This is tipped with meteoric rock from the blast. I made it from the Venus figurine."

Arthur took the arrow and pressed his thumb against the tip. "Elaine told me the statue'd been left in London. You found it?"

Billi gestured to the small girl. "Vasilisa had it all along."

Arthur handed it to Gareth. "What do you think?"

Gareth, the Templars' best archer, rolled the arrow in his fingers, testing its weight. He put the arrow to the string, and the bow creaked as he drew it back to his cheek. "Good for thirty, forty yards."

Billi took out the other two stone-tipped arrows and handed them to Gareth.

"This all?" he asked.

"Sorry, it wasn't a big piece of rock."

Gareth checked all three arrows and handed one back. "The head's too loose on this one—won't fly far. I'll hang on to these two."

"And if that doesn't work?" asked Gwaine. "What about the girl?"

"If that doesn't work, we fight to the last man," said Arthur. Unconsciously, he ran his thumb over the engraved pommel of his sword as he scanned the battleground, tracing the emblem of the two knights on a single horse. He pointed to the school building. "What do you reckon, Gareth?"

"I'd prefer a grassy knoll, but that'll do." He sprinted off, bow in one hand and his quiver in the other. Billi held Vasilisa's hand and drew her saber. "Stick close to me."

Vasilisa responded with a squeeze. Arthur turned to Ivan. "And you are?"

Ivan straightened. "I am Tsarevich Ivan Alexeivich Rom—"

"But you can call him Ivan," Billi interrupted. She wiped the sweat off her forehead. Arthur took her arm, seeing the bandages.

"You've been injured? How bad?"

"Werewolves. Pretty bad." She pulled up a corner of the bandages. The bite marks were black circles now, but thin, dark veins ran just under the skin. "She took a big bite."

"Where are Elaine's poultices?" Arthur asked Mordred. The young squire sprang to attention.

"In the car, sir."

"Then take Billi over there right now. Just get her—"

"Eyes front," said Gwaine.

They came. Engines died as one by one the followers of Baba Yaga stepped out of their vehicles. Packs of wolves crept out of the woods and through the sprawling amusement park. Then the Polenitsy stopped, and Billi watched their skin ripple as the wolves became women. They approached, chests heaving and blowing big clouds of steaming breath in the frosty air, eyes on Billi and the others. Closest was Svetlana. Her body shone with sweat as she stood on top of a car, staring down at them. Her face turned to horror as she saw her grandmother. Then the horror gave way to fury as she realized she was there of her own free will.

But the younger wolf didn't even have to voice her rage before the land around them came alive, silencing them all. The trees shook. Their burden of snow tumbled down over the gathered crowd. Their boughs creaked and their branches rustled, as though whispering to one another.

"What's happening?" said Arthur as he backed away. He gestured to the other Templars, and they formed a line alongside him, Billi and Vasilisa behind them.

"Baba Yaga," said Vasilisa.

Old Gray crouched. Her hands had fully changed into claws, and she flexed them, prepared for the attack. Gwaine took a wide stance as the ground trembled under him. Mordred's hands wrung the spear shaft while Arthur kept his sword low but ready.

Ivan had his revolver in his right hand and used his scabbarded sword as a stick to help steady himself. He quickly looked back at Billi.

"Now we will find out how right you are," he said as he swayed on the pitching ground.

Billi, still holding Vasilisa, drew out her saber.

A powerful wind roared down between the buildings, and in its howl there was the scream of a thousand voices. What Billi thought was a circling flock of crows was actually a single mass, a figure wrapped in long streaming robes and a tangle of cloaks.

The ground shook and a crevasse tore along the pavement, hurling off sharp chips of concrete. The buildings groaned, and Billi spun around as she heard the school's windowpanes creak, lines of fracture growing like spiderwebs across the glass, twisting, but holding.

The Polenitsy knelt as one, all but Old Gray. She raised her head defiantly, her face now more wolf than human, long-muzzled and black-lipped. The trees bowed, the thick trunks groaning as their branches touched the ground. Billi covered her eyes as the wind stung her. She pulled Vasilisa against her, covering her as best she could.

Then the air stilled.

Baba Yaga stood among the Polenitsy. She drew her taloned fingers through her brittle white hair, and her wrinkled iron-fanged face darkened with rage as she slammed her bone staff on the hard packed snow. The ancient witch unbent, rising high over them, her shadow covering the Templars as she lifted herself to her full height, nearly twenty feet tall.

"Mother of God," whispered Mordred. "Steady, lad," said Arthur, even though his voice was anything but calm. Baba Yaga peered down at them, her black-diamond eyes glinting.

"The giRL. Give
herr
to MeEE," she hissed.

"Come and get her," said Billi.

Sixty yards
, Billi reckoned, between her and Gareth.
Just come a few steps closer, you old hag
.

"Trust me, okay?" Billi whispered, then put her saber against Vasilisa's throat. Vasilisa stiffened.

A few of the werewolves edged closer.

"No, not you lot." Billi stared at Baba Yaga. "Just her."

"BacK, ZTay back." Baba Yaga waved her hand. She turned her head slowly, searching the surroundings, not moving closer.

Did she suspect a trap? Of course she did. But Baba Yaga wanted the Spring Child, and what were they? Insignificant humans.

"Come on, take her," Billi taunted. "Or are you afraid of a few mortals?"

"YoU WiLL
di
E SL
owe
St, L
itt
Le Templahh."

Baba Yaga stepped forward. She moved slowly, each step churning the icy tarmac. Her fingers twitched on the bone staff, the bracelets and necklaces rattling. A deep hellish hiss rolled from her cracked throat.

Just a few more feet.

She was thinking it. They were all thinking it. Billi's mind was focused on the arrowhead, the small sharp triangle of stone that would kill Baba Yaga. It all came down to the next few steps. She thought of Gareth in the armory, sending arrow after arrow into the bull's-eye. The guy could put an arrow through the eye of a dormouse in the dark.

Just one more step and it's game over.

Billi couldn't keep the urge, the desire, out of her mind. None of them could. They were practically screaming for Baba Yaga to take another step.

"Noo, NoOO—" Baba Yaga stopped. She glared at Billi, her black eyes seeming to grow in darkness. Her teeth ground against each other.

Just one more foot.

Baba Yaga's gaze shot up to the library window. "NO
O
!"

Oh no.

Baba Yaga was an avatar, but one who'd accumulated all the powers of the thousands of Spring Children she'd devoured. She could command the elements. She'd taught the first Polenitsy to shape-shift.
She could read minds
. She'd heard them—how could she not? They were all screaming at her to step closer into the Templars' trap.

The twang of the bowstring seemed as loud as a thunderbolt, and like a thunderbolt, it covered the distance between Gareth and Baba Yaga in an instant. Baba Yaga screamed and fell backward as the arrow entered her shoulder. The Polenitsy wailed, and three scurried to aid their goddess, then backed away as she rose up again, her face twisted into a mask of horror. The iron-filled black mouth opened, and she screamed, snapping the arrow off with a flick of her taloned finger. Bilious black blood spurted from the wound.

The wolf pack leaped toward them. Dozens of Polenitsy moved from human to wolf in the blink of an eye.

"C'mon!" Billi wrapped her fingers tight around Vasilisa's wrist as she backed away.

The second arrow flew, but Baba Yaga swatted it out of the air; it tumbled away and was lost in the snow.

Arthur grabbed Vasilisa around the waist as he ran, lifting her off the ground.