Sarwat Chadda - Dark Goddess

“Er…” said Billi, mortified at being caught out.

Ivan said nothing and turned his attention back to his bruises. He leaned closer to the mirror, checking the swelling on his cheek. Water dripped off his chin; small sparkling droplets glistened on the surface of his neck.

“What do you think?” he asked. He struck a pose, flexing his biceps like a body builder. “You can touch me, if you like.”

Billi laughed, grateful to Ivan for breaking the tension. She handed him his shirt, finding it hard to keep her attention on his shoes. “You’d look great even in a body bag.”

“Let us hope we never find out. And it’s not what you wear that’s important,” he said as he slipped the shirt over his head. He then picked up his pistol. It was a Glock 19, one of the pair he’d grabbed off the Bogatyrs. He tucked it into his waistband and patted it.

“It’s all about the accessories,” said Billi.

Ivan smirked at her and left.

A few minutes later Billi returned to the canteen and joined Elaine.

“I called Arthur. He’ll be on the next flight south,” said Elaine, still lost in her own thoughts. She smiled, but it was stiff and forced. “Should be in Kiev by morning. He’ll get local transport from there into the forest.”

“You okay?” Billi asked as she sat down.

Three cigarette stubs smoldered in the ashtray, and Elaine lit up a fourth. “I just needed my vitamins.”

“I didn’t realize nicotine counted as a food group these days.” Billi took a sip of her tea and shifted her chair closer. “What was it you found out about Baba Yaga that you were going to tell me in the library before we were so rudely interrupted?”

Elaine grimaced at the memory.

“You remember how Baba Yaga had been injured?” Elaine said. “Apparently she’d vanished at the beginning of the twentieth century, after suffering some terrible injury. That first made me suspicious. I looked up events around that time, natural disasters mainly.” Her eyes brightened. “And I found a big one. The Tunguska blast.”

Tunguska? Why did that ring a bell? Hadn’t Vasilisa said her great-grandmother had been there?

“What was it?” Billi asked.

Elaine spread out her arms. “A meteor. Just thirty feet across. It hit the forest region of Tunguska in 1908 and wiped it out. If the rock had hit London, the entire city would have been obliterated.” Elaine leaned closer, whispering but excited. “Baba Yaga is Russia. What happens to the land happens to her. That meteorite impact must have sent shock waves, psychic shock waves, into the old crone, nearly killing her. I believe she’s spent the last hundred years healing.”

“So we need to stand Baba Yaga under the next meteorite strike? There’s going to be one in the next two days? And you know where?”

Elaine screwed the cigarette into extinction. “This is sympathetic magic, Billi. That meteor injured Baba Yaga once. A connection has been established between her and that meteor. Now, if I’m right, any piece of that rock, however small, will have the same effect on her as the whole meteor.”

Billi laughed. “It’s just like homeopathy. You dilute the medicinal mixture in more and more water, but the potency remains. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Elaine frowned. “That’s not the comparison I would have chosen, but yes, that’s it. The rock injured Russia; it will injure Baba Yaga.”

“Sowe needtogoto Tunguskaand findalumpof space rock? Fat chance of that, Elaine.” Billi shoved her bowl away. “Bloody hell, that’s worse than useless. We’ve two days, Elaine, just two.”

Elaine took a picture from her back pocket and unfolded it. “After the blast, locals explored the crater and picked out bits of the meteor. Made carvings with it and sold them to tourists and scientists who’d come to investigate. I’d hoped by staying in Moscow just for another day, I might have been able to get to some museum or antiquities shop and buy one. Or steal one.” She slid the picture, torn from a book, over to Billi. “That is how we could have defeated Baba Yaga. It was taken at a market in Tunguska.”

The photo was a grainy black-and-white that showed a couple of well-dressed men standing on either side of a simple wooden-framed bazaar stall. The table was half hidden in shade, but one of the men held out a small stone carving. A carving of a crude, big-hipped woman.

“Oh God. A Venus figurine,” Billi gasped. She held the photo in her quivering fingertips. Vasilisa’s great-grandmother had made one. She’d put it into the heart of the matryoshka doll.

“I had one, Elaine, in my hand.”

“What?”

Billi stared at her palm, remembering the small stone statue lying there, maybe hoping, by some magic, by her own desperate desire, that it would suddenly appear.

“Where is it now?” Elaine dug her fingers into Billi’s arm. “We’ve got to get it.”

Where was it? The last time she’d seen it was with Vasilisa, just before the Polenitsy attack.

“At home. It’s probably lying under Vasilisa’s bed.” Billi had literally let the means to defeating Baba Yaga slip through her fingers.

“We could call Rowland. Get him to search for it.”

“Even if he finds it right now, what good would that do? No way he’ll get it to us in time.” Billi slapped the table. “And send it where? The Knights Templar, care of Baba Yaga, the big cave, deep forest, Russia?”

Billi couldn’t duck it any longer. It had been the default plan from the very beginning, but she’d hoped there’d be some way out. “We’re not going to be able to save her, are we?” she said, but not to Elaine, to herself. “Poor Vasilisa.” There was only one way to stop Fimbulwinter. But the price was Vasilisa’s life.

Billi peered out the window, her body weary and her heart heavy. Somewhere out there was a frightened nine-year-old girl, held hostage by monsters and a cannibal witch, hoping that someone, that Billi, would keep her promise and rescue her.

Perhaps there were times when Templars had to break their promises.

Ivan entered, Lance’s backpack slung over one shoulder, and with some food supplies. “The plane is ready. We should leave now, before the others find us.” He then pulled out a brand-new mobile phone and gave it to Billi. “Full satellite function and GPS-useful where we are going. If Lance and Gwaine escaped, you could contact them with this.”

“What’s next, boss?” Elaine asked, looking to Billi.

Boss. What did she know? Billi felt like she was stumbling from one disaster to another. God, she wished her dad were here. She didn’t want this responsibility. But being a Templar-this was her life. And she had chosen it.

“We take the plane south and try to find Baba Yaga’s camp. Simple, really.”

Elaine put her cup down. “No time to lose, then.”

“You can’t come, Elaine,” said Billi. “I’m sorry, but we won’t be needing you here anymore. From now on it’ll just be fighting, and the Templars need you alive.”

My kind of work, not yours.

Billi addressed Ivan. “Elaine needs to get back to London. Can you sort that out?”

“I’ll make a few calls.”

Elaine started forward, wanting to say something. But she couldn’t: Billi was right.

Billi held out her hand. “ Deus vult , Elaine.”

Elaine sprang forward and crushed Billi against her chest. She had a lot of power in those scrawny limbs. Billi squeezed the old woman back. When Elaine eventually let go, her eyes were red and watery.

“Good luck, girl.”

TEN MINUTES LATER AND IT WAS DONE. ELAINE would go straight to the airport and get on the next plane to London.

Billi went through Lance’s backpack while Ivan walked Elaine to a taxi.