Sarwat Chadda - Dark Goddess

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 row of ambulances treating the injured, past the hordes of sightseers and media. Huge spotlights had been erected around the station entrance. News vans lined the road, and dozens of flashlights bobbed around her as the rescue services tended the wounded and frightened passengers. The news was garbled, but Billi heard one newscaster reporting that a pack of large dogs-Rottweilers or pit bulls-had gone mad when a power failure had plunged the line into complete darkness. Several people had been savaged, but the dogs had escaped down the tunnels.

Arthur waved for a taxi.

“I lost her, Dad.” Billi struggled to keep up, her bones groaning with pain. If she moved too fast, she thought she might crack into a million pieces. But the ache wasn’t just because of the beating. She’d failed Vasilisa. But it wasn’t just a single girl’s life she’d jeopordized-it was the entire planet’s.

“It’s not over yet.”

Billi stopped. “You know something?”

Arthur opened the taxi door. “Bors was mauled and there are three dead bodies at the Temple. The police are goingto have a field day. That’s all I know.” He sighed. It had been a long night for them both, and there was still a lot to do. “But Elaine’s okay and she has a plan.”

“To find Vasilisa?” Billi gazed at the bedlam outside the tube station. The flashing lights, the crowds, and the ambulances. “And the Polenitsy.”

“By God, yes.” Arthur put his hand on her shoulder and smiled grimly. “And we will make them pay.”

A FEW HOURS LATER BILLI WAS BACK IN THE TEMPLE Church. She peered around at the other knights as they sat patiently in the council of war. She struggled to keep upright. She’d got back and found that Middle Temple Lane had been cordoned off by the police, who were going house to house, trying to understand how three dead women, one headless, had ended up in an area occupied mainly by lawyers.

Lance leaned over. “How are you, Bilqis?”

Her head felt like someone was rolling cannonballs in it. Her bones ached, and the thwack she’d been given by the werewolf made breathing hard work. She tried to smile, to be stoic and tough, but her grin turned into a grimace.

“You look awful,” said Gwaine as he crossed the circle of chairs and took his own.

Arthur hadn’t arrived, but the others waited in the gloomy candlelight of the round. They’d all got a battering that night. The closed chamber stank of Elaine’s poultice concoction, the sour odor of old vegetables. Each knight had claw and bite wounds, so Elaine had spent half the night patching them up. She’d checked Billi’s prior injuries and pronounced her fully recovered. It was a relief to get those stinking bandages off her back at last.

The west door opened, and a flurry of snow blossomed in, followed by Arthur, Elaine, and Father Rowland. Rowland shut the door and took his seat in a pew, turning so he could see the circle of knights. Elaine usually sat with him, but this time she followed Arthur into the circle. The normally cool and sarcastic old woman seemed anxious, and for the first time didn’t have a cigarette twitching in her fingers. She looked around the high-backed chairs. She picked an empty one next to Billi and sat down.

Gwaine’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“That’s Bors’s seat,” he said, his voice weak and cracked.

“Not while he’s in hospital.” Arthur took his own seat. “This needs all of us.”

“But, Arthur, she’s…Jewish,” said Gwaine, still staring in disbelief at the woman in his nephew’s seat.

“Right now I really couldn’t givea shit,” replied Arthur. He slowly looked each of them in the eye. “It’s been a bad night. Bors was badly wounded, but, God be praised, he’s going to live.”