Sarwat Chadda: Dark Goddess

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.

Sixty yards, Billi reckoned, between her and Gareth. Just come a few steps closer, you old hag.

“Trust me, okay?” Billi whispered, then put her saber against Vasilisa’s throat. Vasilisa stiffened.

Afew of the werewolves edged closer.

“No, not you lot.” Billi stared at Baba Yaga. “Just her.”

“BacK, ZT ay back.” Baba Yaga waved her hand. She turned her head slowly, searching the surroundings, not moving closer.

Did she suspect a trap? Of course she did. But Baba Yaga wanted the Spring Child, and what were they? Insignificant humans.

“Come on, take her,” Billi taunted. “Or are you afraid of a few mortals?”

“YoU WiLL dIESLowe St, L ittLe Templahh.”

Baba Yaga stepped forward. She moved slowly, each step churning the icy tarmac. Her fingers twitched on the bone staff, the bracelets and necklaces rattling. A deep hellish hiss rolled from her cracked throat.

Just a few more feet.

She was thinking it. They were all thinking it. Billi’s mind was focused on the arrowhead, the small sharp triangle of stone that would kill Baba Yaga. It all came down to the next few steps. She thought of Gareth in the armory, sending arrow after arrow into the bull’s-eye. The guy could put an arrow through the eye of a dormouse in the dark.

Just one more step and it’s game over.

Billi couldn’t keep the urge, the desire, out of her mind. None of them could. They were practically screaming for Baba Yaga to take another step.

“N oo , NoOO-” Baba Yaga stopped. She glared at Billi, her black eyes seeming to grow in darkness. Her teeth ground against each other.

Just one more foot.

Baba Yaga’s gaze shot up to the library window. “NO O !”

Oh no.

Baba Yaga was an avatar, but one who’d accumulated all the powers of the thousands of Spring Children she’d devoured. She could command the elements. She’d taught the first Polenitsy to shape-shift. She could read minds. She’d heard them-how could she not? They were all screaming at her to step closer into the Templars’ trap.

The twang of the bowstring seemed as loud as a thunderbolt, and like a thunderbolt, it covered the distance between Gareth and Baba Yaga in an instant. Baba Yaga screamed and fell backward as the arrow entered her shoulder. The Polenitsy wailed, and three scurried to aid their goddess, then backed away as she rose up again, her face twisted into a mask of horror. The iron-filled black mouth opened, and she screamed, snapping the arrow off with a flick of her taloned finger. Bilious black blood spurted from the wound.

The wolf pack leaped toward them. Dozens of Polenitsy moved from human to wolf in the blink of an eye.

“C’mon!” Billi wrapped her fingers tight around Vasilisa’s wrist as she backed away.

The second arrow flew, but Baba Yaga swatted it out of the air; it tumbled away and was lost in the snow.

Arthur grabbed Vasilisa around the waist as he ran, lifting her off the ground.

An engine revved and a Jeep raced out from an alleyway, Lance at the wheel.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said.

The wolves charged them.

“Ivan!” Billi pulled him toward the Jeep. She kicked one startled werewolf in the jaw, catching its tongue in its teeth. Old Gray leaped among the Polenitsy in a frenzy of fangs and claws.

Gwaine and Mordred sprinted into the school building while arrow after arrow from Gareth’s regular supply flew in among the werewolves. Billi understood immediately: the three Templars would cover the retreat, forcing the werewolves to advance under a flight of arrows. Already two werewolves lay still in the reddening snow, arrows lodged in their throats and eye sockets. As Billi ran, more arrows darted through the darkening sky as Gwaine and Mordred added their volleys to Gareth’s onslaught.

Billi’s heart raced as she threw herself into the passenger seat, expecting to have her back torn open to the bone any second. Arthur tossed Vasilisa in beside her and squeezed in next. Ivan slammed the front passenger door shut as a pair of claws ripped across the windshield.

“Seat belts!” Lance shouted as the Jeep’s engine roared.

Two werewolves clambered onto the hood, then yelled as they were ripped off. Gray took one across the throat and hurled it into the pack. Its fur was crisscrossed by bleeding wounds and its jaw slavering red. Gray was defending them from her sisters.

The sky turned twilight dark as the moon slid halfway across the sun’s face. The car jumped forward and accelerated away from the crowd of werewolves. Gray snapped at the arm of one, then she too turned and ran, loping easily alongside the Jeep. Billi glanced in the side mirror and saw a dozen wolves spring into the chase.

She checked Vasilisa, who sat beside her sobbing. She didn’t look hurt, just scared. Beside the girl was Arthur, twisted around so he could watch out of the rear. His leather jacket creaked as he stretched his shoulders, and his fingers fidgeted around the wire bindings of the sword hilt.

Ivan, beside Lance, put his revolver on the dashboard as he adjusted his sword belt. Then he wiped his hands on his lap and took up the big gun. He winked at Billi.

The car hit an ice patch and skidded sideways, the rear turning a full circle before bumping against a tree.

“Down!” shouted Ivan, glancing back at the werewolves descending upon them.

Vasilisa screamed as werewolves slammed into the rear. The Jeep jumped from the impact, then crashed back down with bone-jarring force. The glass blew apart and there was an ear-piercing cry as a wolf went down.

“Any time now would be good,” said Arthur to Lance as the wheels spun uselessly on the ice.

“ Merde ,” swore Lance, jamming the vehicle into reverse and barreling over the surprised wolves. The Jeep jolted, and they heard a crunch and a yelp from under it.

“Nasty,” muttered Arthur. Something slammed onto the top of the car, and he shoved his sword through the roof. The sword caught, and he pushed harder. Blood trickled through the tear, and a body tumbled off.