Sarwat Chadda: Dark Goddess

“Is that possible? To be alive for so long?” Billi asked Elaine. If all this were true, then Baba Yaga must have killed thousands-tens of thousands-over her vast life.

“It’s called the Ritual of Devouring, and it is the darkest maleficia ,” said Elaine, using the Templar term for black magic. “A powerful psychic is able to rip the life force from another psychic, which is why Baba Yaga consumes only… gifted children; a normal one wouldn’t benefit her at all.”

“Consumes?” asked Billi.

Elaine opened her mouth wide and mimed putting food in. “Eats them whole.” She patted her belly. “That’s what a sacrifice ritual is, after all. The soul of the victim goes to renew the life force of the god. In Baba Yaga’s case it is literally true.”

“So Vasilisa is food for this Baba Yaga,” muttered Mordred. “If she’s an Oracle.”

“And if she isn’t?” snapped Gwaine. “Pelleas would have died for nothing.”

Arthur stood up again. “We don’t leave innocent children to be kidnapped and eaten by werewolves. Pelleas did not die for nothing.” He nodded at Elaine, and she sat down. He looked around the circle. “Vasilisa will stay with us until we find out if she’s psychic or not. If she isn’t, we’ll arrange for her to be adopted somewhere safe. If she is, she’ll be recruited into the Order and will begin training.” He looked at Billi. “If God wills it, Vasilisa will be a Knight Templar.”

“Hold on, Billi!”

Billi had been hurrying out after matins prayers when Elaine dashed across the courtyard, calling to her. She stopped beneath the Templar column, a thirty-foot-high stone post topped by the Order’s emblem: two knights riding a single horse. Billi checked her watch. An hour before school. She’d drop off breakfast for the girl, then head to the armory and get some sparring in. Next time she met those loonies she wanted to be ready.

“Just a sec.” Elaine stopped to catch her breath.

“Those cigarettes will kill you.”

“A lot of things will kill you.” Elaine put her hand on Billi’s arm. “Just wanted to find out how the poultice was holding up.” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the other Templars had gone. “Maybe we could have a chat? You had breakfast?”

“A bowl of Purina. Delicious.” The wounds still itched, but that meant the herbs were working their magic. A few more days and she’d take them off, fully healed. But Elaine’s attention wasn’t on Billi’s injuries; the old woman had something else on her mind. “What do you want, Elaine?” Billi cupped her hands and blew into them. “It’s freezing out here.”

Elaine glanced in the direction of Billi’s house. “How’s our young guest?”

Billi shrugged. “How d’you think?”

“Remember when Kay first came? It was just like this.”

Billi’s eyes narrowed. “Was it?”

“You and him were as thick as thieves.” Elaine looked deep into Billi’s eyes. “He was a frightened little boy, and you looked after him, Billi. It wasn’t your job to, but you did. That’s what the old Billi did.”

Billi moved Elaine’s hand off her arm. “I am not that child anymore.”

“I’m just saying that girl needs a friend, someone who’s been where she’s been. Things are going to be hard for her.”

“Oh, and they weren’t hard for me?”

She’d been forced into the Order at ten. The next five years of her life had been an utter misery of endless training and bruises and lying at school. Her friends had slowly dwindled, and when Kay had been sent off to Jerusalem for further training, she’d spent all her time alone.

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it. Don’t you care what happens to her? Don’t you care-”

Billi interrupted. “No, I don’t care.” She couldn’t afford to. “All I care aboutis the Order now.”

“You cared about Kay.”

“That was a mistake.”

Elaine shook her head. “I was wrong about you, Billi.” She started across the courtyard. “I thought Kay’s sacrifice meant something.”

“It means I should have been a better Templar.” If she had been, Kay might have lived.

Elaine shuffled away, head lowered and weary. “You are your father’s daughter.”

BILLI KNEW SHE SHOULD FEEL DIFFERENTLY BY NOW. But there was a hollowness inside her that nothing filled. No matter how much she trained, how hard she fought, the emptiness only seemed to grow. She’d cared too much, and only realized how she felt after he’d gone.

Never again.

She sat in the kitchen, looking at the tray Lance had left.

Elaine was too soft. But then she could afford to be: she wasn’t a Templar.

Billi had her priorities, and looking after a little girl was way, way down on the list. Her job was to fight the Bataille Ténébreuse, the Dark Conflict. There was no room for weakness.

She carried the tray up the flight of stairs to the top floor, and stopped outside Vasilisa’s bedroom. She knocked and went straight in. The quicker this was over and done with, the better. She had no desire to lull the child in to a false sense of security if her destiny was to be a Knight Templar.

Vasilisa sat in an old wooden rocking chair with her back to Billi, gazing out of a small window. They were high in the eaves, overlooking Middle Temple Gardens, so all she could see were bare, black branches against the white winter sky. The chair creaked as she rocked back and forth.

She was wearing Billi’s old clothes: a faded brown jumper and pair of blue jeans with sequin flowers stitched around the ankles. Billi had no idea that her dad had kept her old stuff. Vasilisa looked tiny in that big old chair. Her skinny shoulders were slumped, her head low.

She could be me, thought Billi. The girl was so small and alone. For a second Billi felt awkward seeing Vasilisa so vulnerable. But she flicked her head and reminded herself Vasilisa was safer here than anywhere else. If the Templars hadn’t come along, she’d be dog food by now. Still, Billi couldn’t shake the discomfort. Looking at the child, she thought of Kay, how afraid he’d been when he’d first arrived. Vasilisa didn’t deserve this.

It was unfair. But since when was life fair? Never.

Billi put the tray down on the table.

“Vasilisa?”

“When can I go?” asked Vasilisa. Brittle twigs scratched the windowpane like a witch’s fingers, and a low wind moaned through the loft void above.

“Where?”

“Away from here. You’re not my family.”

“My dad will sort something out.” Billi began straightening the bedsheets, doing anything to distract herself. She picked up a plastic garbage bag and shook its contents over the bed. Out fell a jumble of stuffed animals: elephants, tigers, and a few patched-up bears. Billi rummaged around the bottom of the bag and found something else, curved and solid. She pulled out the Russian doll. She’d first seen it last night in Vasilisa’s bedroom.

“That’s mine,” said the girl. She held out her hand for the doll. “Mum said she would protect me from them. But she couldn’t.”

As Billi passed the doll to her, Vasilisa grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered. “I’m scared. Please.” Her fingernails dug into Billi’s skin, and she clung on to her with desperate strength. Billi stood rigid, trapped in the girl’s grip, her heart racing. Then she unhooked the girl’s fingers and hurried to the door. She couldn’t stay here any longer; she had to get to school.

“I’m off now, but I’ll look in again later.” Billi fumbled for the door handle. “You’ll be safe here.”

The girl didn’t look around, but spoke so softly Billi wondered if she was actually talking to the doll.