Sarwat Chadda - Dark Goddess

Ivan gave a single curt nod to Dimitri, and the car started up.

“What is Fimbulwinter?” He sank his head in his hands. He looked shattered. The news of Koshchey’s betrayal threatened to overwhelm him. That, and how the Bogatyrs had become so swiftly corrupted. His father’s legacy, everything he was striving for, was in tatters.

So, as they trailed behind the Polenitsy, Billi explained. She told Ivan how they’d found Vasilisa, how they’d discovered she wasn’t just a psychically gifted child but an avatar, a being with the power to control nature. Ivan listened, not moving, his eyes barely blinking. Eventually Billi finished. They sat silently for a minute. Ivan had a lot to take in.

“You really think Vasilisa can cause such a huge cataclysm?” said Ivan.

“She felt the eruption of Vesuvius and was able to damp it down, so she’s certainly got a psychic link with volcanoes. Beyond that we don’t truly know. But we have to assume the worst case, that Vasilisa has the power to cause a super-volcanic eruption.”

“And why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Ivan, I’ve made mistakes before, trusting someone because I cared about them too much, trusting them too early.” Billi touched the scar on her neck. “I was betrayed and a lot of people died. I couldn’t make that mistake again.”

“Who was this person?”

“Michael. Your Michael.”

Ivan gasped. “So it is true. Michael was cast down.”

“Believe me, he deserved it.” Billi took his hand. “My not telling you sooner should change nothing between us. I trust you, Ivan. I need your help.”

Ivan slowly nodded. But he still pulled back his hand. “Nothing that I thought I knew aboutmy fatheror even this situation is as I imagined it. You are not the only one who needs some time to trust now, Billi.”

They drove for an hour, not speaking much, before the Volvo stopped and Paisley got out. Dimitri drew their own car up beside the Volvo. As soon as they’d stopped, Ivan got out and confronted Paisley.

“Come and see,” she said.

They’d parked beneath a massive, rumbling bridge. Cars roared overhead and graffiti covered the concrete supports. Three large semitrailers sat gathering rust, and the shell of a burned-out car lay among the weeds and piles of rubbish. A tall wire fence lined the far side, isolating this derelict area from another equally derelict zone.

“Have you ever wondered why the vampires no longer hunt in Moscow?” asked the woman.

“Koshchey has driven most of them out,” said Ivan.

“No. Koshchey made a deal with the blood-drinkers.” The woman walked up to one of the trailers. The cornerswere deeply pitted with rust, and the paint flaked, exposing the dull brown-and-orange panels beneath. Someone had tried to set fire to it, leaving black scorch marks along the doors.

The chain and lock holding the doors shut were brand new.

One of the Polenitsy hauled a large pair of steel cutters from the backseat of their car, and after a few grunts of effort, snapped the shiny chrome chain, then tossed it into the undergrowth.

Paisley stepped back, indicating for Billi and Ivan to go before her.

“I’m not here to play games,” Billi said.

“This is not a game. Look inside.”

Ivan looked at the door, testing the handle. He nodded at Billi. He wanted to know how far Koshchey had gone.

Together, Billi and Ivan heaved the door lever up. The smell warned her before her eyes were able to penetrate the darkness within. She’d smelled the putrid odor of death enough times to recognize it without being sickened. But this time she covered her mouth as she looked into the dark chamber.

Naked, emaciated bodies lay piled within. Billi’s head swam with nausea as she saw broken teeth sprinkled across the steel floor. She saw the hands of one man who lay closer than the others. The flesh on the fingers had fused together. Billi stepped forward and saw his face. She closed her eyes too late. The image had burned itself into her.

It was as though his face had been wax and put against a fire. No features remained, just rivulets of skin.

The man’s face had been melted with acid.

There were dozens of them. They didn’t look human, more like malformed statues, failed human shapes that had been abandoned. Then Billi saw the bites. Along the arms. Along the thighs and necks. Chunks had been bitten off where the ghuls had gnawed at the flesh.

“No fingerprints, no features. No way of finding out who they were,” said the woman. “Every month Koshchey delivers a container of fresh ones to the vampires. They pay him well and he keeps them fat and off the streets. A few decide they would rather hunt than pay. Those Koshchey eliminates.”

“ Koshchey arranged this?” Billi asked. Even for him this seemed beyond inhuman.

“Yes. That is why the vampires no longer hunt on the streets. They do not need to. Koshchey delivers them all the fresh blood they could want. They pay him well. And think of what the vampires have offered him for a Spring Child.”

“Just for money? All this just for money?” Billi had thought, despite their brutality, that the Bogatyrs fought for the same cause as the Templars. But she knew that ghuls , vampires, supped on the soul of their victim. That’s why they couldn’t survive on blood from animals or blood bags. It was those last few drops of blood, the drops that carried the last heartbeat and with it the soul, that strengthened ghuls . And the soul of a Spring Child, an avatar, would be the richest of all.

“You call us evil, when all we do is defend what is ours. You call the sacrifice of the Spring Child evil, when she will renew the world.” The woman waved her three companions away. “I have seen what evil is, and it is mankind. You do this for paper.” She spat on the ground. “Perhaps you are right and Baba Yaga will bring Fimbulwinter. But she will save us from it. My goddess is old and wise, and if she thinks that the world will be purged of mankind and born a new, I will not question her wisdom.”

“No. Not all of us are like that.” Billi grabbed the woman’s wrist. “You came here to thank me for saving you and the girl, but I haven’t. Not her, not anyone, if Baba Yaga gets her way. We will all die! Tell me where Vasilisa is, please.”

Doubt briefly crossed the paisley woman’s eyes. She could see that Billi believed what she was telling her.

“Please,” Billi begged. “Just because Koshchey is a monster doesn’t mean we all are. You know that, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Tell me where they’ve taken Vasilisa.”

“I’m sorry. I cannot defy the will of the goddess.” She waited for Billi to release her.

“You’re making a big mistake.” Billi dropped her grip. She turned away and looked at Ivan. He stood as rigid as a statue, eyes fixed on the contents of the rusty container.

“Let’s go, Ivan.” The smell of decaying flesh fogged her brain.

“Look at what he’s done, Billi.”

“We’ll deal with him later,” she promised. She’d never seen anything so horrific. The Unholy had done the killing, but it had taken a human’s capacity for cold, heartless logic to make it happen, month in, month out.

Ivan shook his head. “No. I will deal with him.” There was a conviction in his voice that Billi found chilling. “I will kill Koshchey.”

“I’M CALLING THE OTHERS. WE’RE LEAVING.” Billi started dialing her father’s number. The Templars had to get out, tonight, and meet up with Arthur. Vasilisa’s granny was the only lead they had now. There was no way they could trust the Bogatyrs. The moment Koshchey had Vasilisa, he’d no longer need the Templars. Billi had no illusions of what would happen then: they’d be eliminated without a thought.