Dark Goddess

while she checked the rest of the small room. Screws, tape, and various other engineering tools cluttered the shelves. Billi pulled out her sword and felt better. She smiled at Vasilisa.

Vasilisa put her finger to her lips.

The door was thick, but Billi still heard the scuttling of claws against the concrete. There was a short grunt as something landed on the ledge outside and sniffed. Billi pushed Vasilisa into a corner and gave her the flashlight. The handle clicked and the door opened slightly.

Billi shoulder-charged the door, and there was a yelp as it smashed into the intruder’s face. She leaped back into the tunnel, landing squarely on the chest of the fallen werewolf. She slashed twice, each time feeling the blade bite deep. The monster coughed and gurgled, and Billi rolled off as two more approached her.

“Behind me!” she shouted to Vasilisa. Billi defended the doorway, stopping the werewolves from reaching Vasilisa. The air hissed, and Billi ducked as one of the pair swiped its claws in the space where her throat had just been. She stamped on its long toes and kicked out at its legs, but it rolled and was back on all fours, snarling and snapping. Billi slashed and parried furiously with her wakizashi, not letting anything pass. Then she glimpsed flashlights bouncing along in the darkness. Help was coming. Police, rescue services, transport staff-she didn’t care. They may not be able to fight, but they’d give her a chance to escape.

“Here! Here!” Billi screamed. She just needed to hang on a few more seconds. The third werewolf, the one with the bleeding head, got to its feet. Billi swung at it again, but it blocked her blow. Just for a moment she was caught motionless. Then the werewolf swung both its arms into her, catapulting Billi off her feet. She tumbled through the air and crashed down on the ground, banging her head on a ledge. Bright sparks erupted in front of her eyes.

“Billi!”

Billi tried to get up, but was totally lost in the darkness. The floor pitched and tilted, and she groped for something to hold on to. She caught sight of a brown-pelted werewolf emerging from the storeroom, Vasilisa trapped in its arms. The light caught its black oily lips and deadly fangs before Vasilisa dropped the flashlight, leaving only her terrified screams.

“Vasilisa,” Billi croaked, all the air driven from her lungs. She punched out drunkenly, but there was nothing there. She smelled the raw damp odor of sweaty fur and spun toward it, hands outstretched. But the werewolf swatted her away, and Billi tripped and crashed against the concrete. Then even the distant lights faded, and the screams of the small girl fell silent until all Billi had was…nothing.

14

T HE SKY IS BURNING, BUT IT’S SNOWING. PEOPLE LIE around Billi, charcoal statues slowly accumulating a blanket of snow. The trees are blackened sticks of ash; one has branches that still smolder.

It’s the end of the world and she knows it.

The billboards have burned to nothing, and the houses themselves are ruined, black, with their roofs collapsed and all the windows shattered. The cars sit idle, their drivers husks of carbonized flesh and bone.

Billi holds out her hand. The snow is gray.

Ash. The sky is full of ash.

“She will do this unless you destroy her.”

Billi sees Kay ahead. This time she doesn’t go to him, but she feels warm just seeing him.

Kay walks closer. He’s holding hands with two children. One is Vasilisa, dressed in her pajamas. The other is a small boy wearing a pair of jeans and a blue-and-burgundy Crystal Palace football top.

Oh, God. No.

“You did it to me, Billi,” says Alex Weeks. He holds a sword out, hilt first. “The first time is always the hardest.” Billi didn’t spot it before, but a red stain is spreading over his chest. His shirt is torn open and his white flesh is like an empty page. The red is the story of his life. It wasn’t long.

Billi takes the sword, her father’s sword. She looks to Kay for help.

“You have to decide,” says Kay.

This is wrong. Billi is holding the sword tip against Vasilisa’s heart now. Vasilisa looks up at Billi. She trusts Billi.

“No.” Billi tries to drop the weapon, but someone’s holding her hand and arm. She looks around, and it’s her dad. The other Templars line up behind him. He grips Billi’s arm and pushes her toward Vasilisa.

“You must.” His mouth is firm. “It is your duty.”

“Kay, help me!” Billi struggles against her dad, but the others add their strength to his. An endless line of knights appears, vague in the gloom, and all their power is being channeled through Arthur’s arm.

“You must. For all our sakes,” says Arthur.

Billi stares down at Vasilisa and sees the girl’s shadow. It is huge, malformed, and crooked. The shadow of a monstrous old crone.

Vasilisa screams as Billi slides the sword into her heart.

* * *

“Vasilisa!” Billi jerked awake. She was straining against the straps holding her down while pain pounded behind her eyes. Bright lights shone all around her, and she didn’t know where she was.

“Easy, miss,” said a woman dressed in a green paramedic’s uniform. Gas canisters and masks hung off the wall, and beside her was a rack neatly stacked with emergency gear: a portable defibrillator and packets of morphine, antiseptics, and bandages. Billi was in an ambulance. On the floor beside her lay the torn remains of her backpack. She could see three deeply carved cuts on it. Outside she could hear sirens, car horns, and the cacophony of hundreds of people.

“I…have to leave,” said Billi. She had to save Vasilisa. If she hurried, there might still be a chance. But she couldn’t move; the straps across her chest, waist, and legs held her firmly to the stretcher. “Please, I’m okay.”

The medic patted her hand. “I’m sure you are, dear, but you’ve had a nasty knock. Best we take you in and keep an eye on you, just for tonight.”

The doors swung open and Arthur barged in.

“Hey, you can’t just come in here.” The woman stood up and held out her hand. For a second Billi thought he was going to break it, but he glanced at Billi and his shoulders slumped. He gave a weak smile, but Billi knew he knew: she’d lost Vasilisa.

“She’s my daughter.”

“Oh.” The paramedic looked down at Billi. “Well, we’re taking her into Charing Cross Hospital. Just for the night.”

“Dad, I just want to go home.”

Arthur nodded. “Fine. The others are waiting.”

The paramedic sighed impatiently. She stood in front of Arthur, blocking him from Billi.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. I’m afraid-”

Arthur put his hand on the woman’s wrist. He didn’t squeeze, but held it firmly. The woman tried to twist it free, but she was caught. She gazed into his eyes, first angry, then defiant, and then away.

“I’m afraid…” she whispered.

Yes. She was.

Minutes later, Billi and Arthur were beside the car. They’d made their way through the police cordon, past the