Dark Goddess

wiped the sweat off his forehead, dragging his hand over his short dark bristles, leaving them spiky with blood. The red fingerprints left a long trail over his face.

“You are a fool, coming in here alone like this,” he said. “But now we are even, da?”

Still trying to catch her breath, Billi looked up into Ivan’s serious gray eyes and nodded. She would have been dead without him.

Achild’s whimper suddenly pulled Billi away from her thoughts.

Vasilisa. Billi jumped to her feet. “Vasilisa?” She went to the far door. There was a clown painted on it. Billi twisted the handle and heard a cry from inside. Locked. Ivan came up beside her. He hoisted the gun up and smashed the brass knob off with the butt.

The bedroom was basic but clean. A chest of drawers stood in the corner, and next to it, under the window, was a child’s bed, the quilt patchy and faded. Someone huddled beneath it.

Oh thank God. She’d made it. It had been worth it. Billi moved forward and gently pulled the cover away.

“Vasilisa, I’m here.” She could take her back; it would all be okay. Billi’s eyes blurred, and the pistol light wouldn’t lie straight. The cover fell from the child’s face.

The girl sobbed, clutching a clown doll. Her blond hair was bristly and unkempt, much like the woman’s who lay dead in the corridor. Her eyes were light brown; her teeth an even row of ivory needle points. She growled.

No. It wasn’t Vasilisa.

“Stand aside,” ordered Yuri. Billi spun around as he raised his gun, and she jumped in front of him. The smallest squeeze of the trigger and Billi’s guts would be decorating the wall. At this range, her body armor would be as useful as tissue paper.

“Polenitsy,” he insisted.

“It doesn’t matter.” Billi turned her back to him and looked at the girl, her heart tripping with fear. She put the Glock on the table and held out her hand. “Come with me.”

The girl didn’t understand what Billi was saying, but she looked at her hand, then reached out. Her fingers were thin and cold, but her grip fierce. She stepped off the bed, and Billi held her close. She may not have found Vasilisa, but she wasn’t going to be responsible for this girl’s death.

Yuri blocked the doorway. He raised his pistol and Billi blinked as the red laser spot rose to the center of her forehead. She looked at the Glock on the table. It was only a foot away, but it may as well have been on the other side of the planet.

I’ll never reach it.

Ivan took a step in front of Yuri.

“Polozhi pistolet,” he said.

Yuri didn’t lower his weapon. “Nu ona zhe oboroten.”

“Ya skazal, polozhi pistolet!” Ivan pulled out his own pistol and pointed it at Yuri.

Any second now this is going all Tarantino. Maybe I could just sneak out while they’re busy.

Yuri scowled. Sweat formed on his forehead. Billi held her breath, her hand slowly moved toward her Glock, just in case.

“Chort!” shouted Yuri, dropping his pistol to his side. Ivan lowered his weapon, but never took his eyes off the Bogatyr. “Now what?”

“Get her out of here,” Billi’s hands were still shaking. That had been too bloody close. She picked up the pistol and shoved it back in her pocket. She came to the door and Yuri stepped aside, tapping his pistol against his leg impatiently. She looked down the corridor. No one. “Well, are you going to help or what?”

“Billi…”

“What, Ivan? What?” Billi wrapped her arm around the girl. “Is this what the Bogatyrs do? You think this is noble?”

Conflicting emotions fought in Ivan’s eyes. Frustration and rage. Against his desire to be better. To be a true Bogatyr. Nobility wasn’t in the blood, it was in the deed.

“Follow me.” He headed upstairs.

The floor above was no different-run-down and damp. Ivan went to the farthest door and rammed his boot into the lock, shattering it out of its frame.

A young woman cowered behind a cupboard. She wore a rough woolen coat and had been putting on her shoes when they’d burst in. An old-fashioned green paisley scarf covered her head. She fell to her knees, hands raised, cowering.

Ivan spoke rapidly and helped her up.

The girl in Billi’s arms whimpered and struggled when she saw the young woman. Billi let her go, and she ran into her arms.

Men shouted from below. The Bogatyrs must have gathered in the lobby. They wanted to know if Ivan was okay.

“I’ll deal with them,” he said, and left.

“Do you speak English?” Billi asked. The young woman nodded.

“Good. We’re getting you two out of here.” She inspected the apartment for a way out, but found none. She pulled back the curtains.

The back of the block overlooked a wide field of derelict buildings. The nearest abutted the back of theirs. Billi opened the window and reckoned the drop was about fifteen feet. The young woman stood beside her and peered out.

Billi heard footsteps banging on the stairs.

The paisley woman jumped first. Despite her human appearance, she landed softly on all fours. She twitched her head, then stood up, arms reaching toward the window.

Billi took the girl and dangled her out over the edge, lowering her slowly down the wall. Her back strained and she bent double over the windowsill, the stiff Kevlar jacket now a hindrance, restricting her movements.

“Billi!” Someone, Lance, shouted for her. But there were more men, more voices, behind him.

Sod it!

Billi let go.

The girl cried as she fell, but then there was a grunt as Paisley caught her. Billi struggled back in-she had half fallen out the window-just as Lance and two Bogatyrs burst in. Billi blocked the window from their view.

“D’accord?” Lance asked.

Billi took a deep breath and straightened her armor. “Yes, I’m okay.” She followed Lance and the other men downstairs.

Back in the lobby it was clear the battle was over. The air was tainted with the metallic sting of gunpowder, and fresh bullet holes decorated the walls. A half dozen Bogatyrs had gathered in the ground-floor lobby. Three more lay against the wall, unmoving. The man who’d come out to collect his paper lay by the door, and there were four other bullet-ridden corpses-women, their bodies bleached white.

Ivan stood by the door with Dimitri. Billi gave him a small nod.

“No Vasilisa?” asked Gwaine. His ax had been cleaned, but blood still smeared the bright steel.

Billi shook her head and gestured to the bodies. “All this bloodshed for nothing.”

“They were the Unholy,” he said.

Billi just thought of the frightened girl cowering under a quilt, her mother dead in the corridor. “Yeah, ’course they were.”

24

WHAT A BLOODY DISASTER!

Billi hurled her body armor across her bedroom. It crashed into an elegant antique chair, sending both across the floor. Then she slumped down onto her bed.