Dark Goddess

Billi’s throat was tight, clogged with relief. She wet her dry lips. “About bloody time.”

40

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 hardpacked 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.