Dark Goddess

“Drop it, fat man.”

Koshchey’s jaw fell open. Gwaine stood right behind him, the barrel of his pistol pressed against the back of Koshchey’s head.

The other Bogatyrs reacted in different ways. Some turned to point their guns at Gwaine, but Koshchey was so large he practically formed a human shield. Lance appeared from behind a shot-up column and motioned Billi and Elaine toward him and the door. He held a pistol in his hand and had a backpack slung over his shoulder. They’d come in the nick of time.

Gwaine turned Koshchey around so the big Russian covered him. “We’re leaving now. Thanks for your hospitality.”

Billi and Ivan gathered all the men’s guns, took two each, then tossed the rest out the nearest window.

They backed slowly toward the elevator, Gwaine holding Koshchey in front of him.

They got in, and Lance pressed the bottom button for the garage.

“You won’t get away with this,” snarled Koshchey.

“Now that’s original,” replied Gwaine.

Billi used her sleeve to wipe the blood from Ivan’s face, as gently as she could. She knew how much it would be hurting right now.

“You all right?”

“I’ll live.” He faced Koshchey. “Unlike this pig.” He shoved his pistol under Koshchey’s chin. Koshchey’s face drained of all color.

“Alors, Tsarevich,” said Lance. “He is our hostage, oui?”

Ivan pushed the pistol farther into the man’s jaw. Billi leaned back, expecting scattered brains any second. Ivan saw her and hung his head in frustration. He nodded and lowered his weapon.

“What’s the plan?” asked Billi.

“First we get out of here. After you.” Gwaine pushed Koshchey forward as the doors opened. Men spilled out of the doorway from the stairs in the far corners of the garage, but they could do nothing but glower; no one dared approach while Koshchey was their hostage. A few had grabbed more weapons, but no one was going to risk a shot in the poor light.

Elaine and Billi bundled into the front seat of a big seven-seater four-by-four, the others got in the back. It took Elaine only seconds to hot-wire the vehicle.

“When did you learn that?” asked Billi.

“During my misspent youth.”

“They had cars back then?”

Elaine flattened the accelerator and twisted the wheel without commenting. The large vehicle spun around to face the exit. Billi could see that many of the Bogatyrs were starting up their own cars. They weren’t going to let their boss out of their sight.

The four-by-four rolled up the ramp and onto ulitsa Bolshaya Polyanka, the main road that headed away from the city.

Behind them three more vehicles rose out of the garage. At this time of the morning there were hardly any other cars on the road.

“Where to?” Billi asked.

“There’s a private airfield to the south,” said Ivan. “We can leave Moscow, but my plane is too small for all of us.” He gazed coldly at their prisoner. “Where is Dimitri?”

“Where do you think, Tsarevich?”

Ivan sank into his seat, head bowed. Billi saw him close his eyes and bite his lips. Dimitri must have meant a lot to him. “He was loyal, Koshchey.”

“To you. I had no need of such men.”

“So, Ivan, what about this bloke?” asked Gwaine. They all looked at Koshchey. No one leaped to his defense.

With Billi and Elaine up front, the rear two rows faced each other. Gwaine and Ivan were opposite Koshchey, with Lance wedged up beside him.

“Too bad for you, fat man,” said Gwaine. He looked at Lance. “What do you think?” Koshchey’s eyes widened as he got it: they were going to execute him.

Billi couldn’t help glancing at the reflection of the four men in the back. Despite the crowded car, she felt cold and put up her hood, casting her face into shadow.

“Oui, kill him,” said Lance with little feeling. He could have been ordering a baguette.

“Billi?” asked Gwaine.

She turned around and looked at the big man. Koshchey was ashen, frozen stiff in his seat. He raised his hands in a futile gesture.

This was not how they did things, Billi knew that. Templars were warriors, not executioners. Killing a defenseless man went against the Templar Rules, their code.

But as Billi peered out from under her black hood, she knew even Arthur would make an exception in this case. “Yes, kill him.”

“Wait,” said Koshchey. His eyes darted between them, desperate. “I can help you.”

Gwaine found a strip of cloth and began wrapping it around the barrel to use as a crude silencer. “We don’t need your help.” He pointed the pistol at Koshchey’s face.

“No, no, you don’t understand.” Koshchey’s voice rose an octave, almost screeching in fear.

Lance slapped him. “Hush now,” he said. “At least die like a man.”

The big bad Bogatyr. He could torture and murder. Melt people in acid. He’d killed so many, but couldn’t face death himself. There he sat, white with terror, sweat pouring off his face, legs trembling. Billi reached back and put her hand on Ivan’s shoulder. He hadn’t moved throughout the discussion. He put his fingers through hers. Gwaine creaked in his seat, slightly shifting to half face the young man.

“Tsarevich?” Ivan should have the right to issue the command.

“No!” Koshchey screamed. “I know where Vasilisa is!”

Gwaine tutted. “Sorry, mate, but I don’t believe you.”

“Lady SanGreal, let me help you save your friend.”

“Wait,” said Billi. Gwaine lowered the pistol.

“How do you know where she is?”

Koshchey looked down. “The Polenitsy woman. She told me.”

“The woman you tortured to death. Right?”

Koshchey didn’t respond.

Blow his brains out. That’s what he deserves. But Billi realized that if he knew where Vasilisa was, well, the execution would have to wait.

Billi pulled down her hood and drew her hair behind her ear. “Where is she?” He shook his head. “Your word, as a Templar, that you will not kill me if I tell you.”

Gwaine looked at Billi; this was her play.

“I swear, neither I, nor any Templar here, will kill you,” she said. “Now, where is Vasilisa?”

Koshchey smiled. “She is to the south. In the old forest.”

“The Belovezhskaya Pushcha,” said Ivan. “It is the oldest remaining forest in Europe. It stretches from Poland, through Belarus, into Ukraine.”

Billi cursed. “Better call Dad and tell him he’s at the totally wrong end of the country.”

“I am telling the truth, I swear it,” said Koshchey, his old arrogance slowly returning.

He was, she could tell. They could still find Vasilisa. Billi’s heart surged, but she couldn’t let it show. After days of stumbling in the dark, hope glimmered inside her. They had their chance. Koshchey smirked, knowing she believed him and thinking he had saved himself. A Templars’ word was their bond, and Billi would not break hers.

Billi looked at Ivan and nodded slowly. “He’s all yours.”

“W-w-wait!” Koshchey stuttered, his face ghost-white. “You gave your word.”