Dark Goddess

Elaine smiled. “Oh, the Holy City has guardians of its own. Guardians who even the Polenitsy might hesitate to cross.”

“Like who?”

Elaine hesitated and shot a wary glance at Arthur. He nodded, but even then Elaine paused. Eventually she spoke. “Jerusalem is under the control of the Assassins.”

“Cool.” Who didn’t know about the Assassins? The Templars and the Assassins hada secret alliance, going back to the Crusades. The two orders had traded knowledge, allies, and enemies. Most of the occult lore the Templars studied was originally gleaned from the Islamic sect of killer mystics. “What are they like?”

Elaine shrugged. “Never met one. They operate through a network of middlemen. The Assassins are sleepers. It’ll be someone close, a business ally, a best friend you’ve known for years. Then one day they get the signal. You only meet an Assassin once in your life. At the very end.”

“And that’s where we’re sending Vasilisa?” Billi asked.

“The Assassins and the Templars have an agreement,” said Arthur. “The Treaty of Alamut allows us to train among the fakirs and holy men of Jerusalem. The Oracle will be as safe there as anywhere.”

Not Vasilisa anymore, but the Oracle.

“I had some friends in Whitechapel make this, just in case.” Arthur took a fake passport out from his desk drawer and tossed it to Elaine. “Take her to Jerusalem.”

9

THE NEXT AFTERNOON BILLI WATCHED VASILISA build a snowman. Middle Temple Gardens was pretty to the snowfall. The office workers stayed indoors, so Vasilisa had spent most of the afternoon rolling a misshapen ball to form the bottom of a snowman, and was now rolling a second ball for the head.

Elaine had been keeping a wary eye out, as had Lance and Bors. They weren’t going to let the Oracle out of their sight.

“C’mon, Billi!”

She’s happy. Vasilisa patted the small boulder of snow, trying to keep it in shape. Her hair stuck out from under a woolen bobble hat, and her bare hands were pink, but she didn’t care.

“Let’s go inside,” Billi shouted across the garden. “It’s cold.” She felt exposed. Anyone could come wandering by and see them. It wasn’t safe. But would Vasilisa ever be safe again? Billi had no idea what had happened to Kay out in Jerusalem; he never talked about it. But he’d come back a changed man, more confident, more detached. More powerfulby far. What would happen to Vasilisa? What would she be like a few years down the line?

Vasilisa strolled over. “C’mon, come and look! It’s almost done.”

“We should start packing.”

“Why?” Vasilisa brushed the snow off her trousers. “Where are we going?”

No one had told her. The girl was flying to Jerusalem in two days and no one had told her. “Er, somewhere safe.”

“I’m safe here, aren’t I? With you?”

Billi looked over for Elaine; she’d be better at explaining this. But the old woman was nowhere to be seen. Typical. Billi frowned.

“Let’s play, Billi.” Vasilisa started away, but Billi took her hand. Despite the freezing temperature, her fingers were warm little sausages.

“Look, Vasilisa. About what happened last night.” Billi sat the girl down on a bench. “This power you have, it could be dangerous.”

Vasilisa rattled her silver necklace. “No, I’m okay now.”

“That may not be enough. You need to learn how to manage your special gifts. There’s a place where you can learn how to do that.”

“Where?”

“Jerusalem.”

Vasilisa sprang up. She stared at Billi. “Jerusalem? But I want to go home to my granny!”

“Vasilisa, if you go back to Karelia, they’ll catch you. Elaine will go to Jerusalem with you. To make sure you’re settled in. It’s…” Billi lowered her head, unwilling to look at the girl. “…It’s for the best.”

“No, Billi. Please, I don’t want to go.” Vasilisa’s fingers tightened around hers. “Can’t I stay with you?”

“No, it wouldn’t work. I’m sorry.”

“Liar,” Vasilisa whispered. Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re not sorry.” She closed her eyes. “I want my mum and dad back. That’s all.”

Billi went to put her arm around Vasilisa.

“Don’t touch me!” she cried. She dug her fingers into the snowman’s head and pushed until the head fell apart, and then trembled with silent sobs.

Billi wanted to tell her that she’d do so much good, that she’d be powerful, someone important. But the words felt meaningless. She sighed, knowing the future meant hardship and misery for the nine-year-old. But there was no alternative. It was God’s will.

Deus vult.

It wasn’t just the Polenitsy who sacrificed children.

10

BILLI AWOKE TO THE MUTED SOUNDS OF RATTLING. Pipes came alive as the old water system gurgled into action. At four in the morning. What the hell was going on? It sounded like whoever was on guard duty had decided to run a bath.

Every limb demanded that she stay in bed. Three hours of unarmed combat with Bors had left her aching all over. But she forced herself up and looked out the window. Gareth stood, cold and miserable, in the opposite doorway. He saw the light from her window and waved.

She numbly slid her feet across the bare wooden floorboards until her toes tapped her slippers. She tugged on her dressing gown and wandered on to the landing.

The bathroom door was open and the shower was running. “Hello?”

“Billi…”

“Vasilisa?”

Vasilisa stood in the bath, the dense jet of water bearing down on her. She was still in her pajamas and her hair lay like a curtain over her face. The shower curtain hadn’t been drawn, so water was spraying everywhere. Billi rushed forward and icy-cold droplets hit her bare arms.

“Jesus, Vasilisa,” Billi swore as she twisted the taps shut. The bottom of the bath was half full. Billi grabbed a towel and wrapped Vasilisa in it. The girl’s skin was burning.

“So hot,” she said, choking on a half-suppressed sob.

Billi pulled off her own bathrobe and swapped it with Vasilisa’s sodden clothes.

“What happened?” said Arthur as he came in, dressed in a pair of baggy sweat pants and a green T- shirt.

“Vasilisa’s sick.”

Arthur laid his hand against her forehead.

“I can’t help it,” the little girl murmured. Arthur filled up a glass and got her to take a few gulps.

“Is there a thermometer in these cabinets?” he asked Billi. There were bandages, a box of syringes, tubs of antibiotics, and at the bottom, in a silver case, the thermometer. Billi handed it to her dad. They both turned to Vasilisa. She was on the stool, sweating, her hands clasped tightly around the glass.

The water in it boiled. It bubbled over, and steam rose from the puddles on the floor. Small red burns marked Vasilisa’s hands, but she didn’t seem to feel them.