Sarwat Chadda: Dark Goddess

“Will I?”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK, PERCY?” billi asked as she sat beside her godfather’s gravestone. It had been a few weeks since she’d visited, and the grave needed tending.

Percival. A poor soldier.

That was all his epitaph said. Templars didn’t need anything long or melodramatic. “The others send their regards.” She flicked up the collar of her greatcoat and rewrapped her scarf around the bottom half of her face.

The snow had fallen steadily all week, slowly covering London with a veil of white. Unfortunately, school was still open and Billi wasn’t looking forward to her midnight patrol. Double thermals would be in order.

“Oh, how’s school? Same old, same old. You know me, too busy to hang out with the girls.” That hadn’t changed. Billi’s reputation was already mud, but after Kay’s death it had gotten even worse.

According to the police, Kay’s death had been an accident. He’d broken into a building site and fallen from a half-constructed skyscraper. Case closed.

Nothing about the battle that had been fought against the Unholy, the dark angels that had tried to kill them and London’s firstborn. Nothing about how Billi had slid a sword into Kay’s chest, sacrificing him so millions might live.

The nightmares had lasted for weeks. She couldn’t close her eyes for seeing Kay’s staring at her, wide and empty.

At school people said Billi was bad luck-bad things happened around her. Kay was just an unfortunate soul who’d got too close. Best stay away.

“We might have a new Oracle. Do ask Kay if he’s got any advice.” Billi carried on talking to Percy’s grave. She wasn’t looking forward to getting back home and having to deal with Vasilisa. Why couldn’t they move her to Rowland’s or Elaine’s? The little girl unsettled things. Reminded Billi too muchof Kay. A new Oracle. Would Vasilisa survive longer than the last one?

“I’ll come and visit Kay sometime, Percy. Tell him that. I promise I will.” But not yet. She wasn’t strong enough to go to Kay’s grave.

The icy wind picked up, and the hairs along Billi’s nape stiffened. The air carried with it a strange thick smell, damp and cloying, like wet fur.

Two women approached, winding their way through the maze of tombs and gravestones. One, a big girl with hair the color of flame, was wearing a T-shirt that revealed her wide muscular torso and long heavy arms. The other woman was gray-haired and had her hands tucked into the pockets of a hip-length woolen coat, embroidered with petroglyphs much like the ones Elaine had shown the Templars. They walked with a predator’s confidence, their movements graceful and economic; a hunter’s stride. Billi knew exactly what they were. But even if there had been any doubt, the eyes gave them away. Emerald green.

The old woman raised her palm as she came closer, in a friendly way. “My name is Olga. This is my granddaughter Svetlana.” The accent was Russian.

“Polenitsy,” Billi said. The old woman stopped a few feet from her, perhaps surprised that Billi knew who they were. The red-haired girl continued to move, not nearer, but around. She grinned at Billi, revealing teeth that were long and sharp. Her face was a jigsaw of cuts and scratches. The sort you might get if you’d been thrown through a window recently.

Billi took a step back. She should have gone home first and tooled up. Here, all she could do was throw snowballs.

“We mean you no harm,” said the old woman.

“Tell that to her,” Billi said, pointing at the prowling girl. “Svetlana, enough,” snapped Olga. Svetlana snarled, but stopped. “We merely want the Spring Child, and then we will go.” She glanced down at Percy’s gravestone as she stepped closer. “‘Apoor soldier.’” She nodded and looked at Billi, intrigued. “Now I understand. A Templar. A female within the Order of the Temple of Solomon? Perhaps the knights have acquired some wisdom at last.”

Was Olga laughing at her? At the idea that a girl could be a Templar? No. Billi could see the old woman was serious.

“We want no war with the Knights Templar,” said Olga.

“You lay a claw on Vasilisa’s head and we’ll give you a war you wouldn’t believe.”

Olga grinned.

My, what big teeth you have, Granny .

“Templar, you are few. We are many. We would wipe you out.”

“People have tried that before. No one’s managed it yet.” Billi clenched her fists-not that she’d last a second if things got hairy. “Why Vasilisa?”

Svetlana jumped forward, snarling. “The girl will bring a new spring, one without the foulness of mankind. She has been chosen by Baba Yaga-”

“ Nyet!” Olga glared at Svetlana, then back at Billi. “That is none of your concern. She has been chosen by the goddess and that is enough.”

Billi laughed. “Baba Yaga? Your witch? The one who lives in a hut and walks on chicken legs?”

“You dare insult Mother Russia?” Svetlana growled, and talons grew from her fingertips. Olga stepped between them, blocking the younger woman.

“And what of your crucified god?” said Olga, pointing at Billi’s crucifix. “Perhaps in a thousand year shis story may be nothing more than a fairy tale. You would do well not to mock what you do not understand.”

“What I understand is that you want to kill a nine-year old kid. That’s not going to happen. Vasilisa is with us now.” Olga sighed. “So be it, Templar. Your doom is sealed.”

“SO IT IS THE POLENITSY. THEY’RE PRETTY BAD NEWS, Art,” said Elaine.

“Now, that’sa surprise,” replied Arthur. He stood by the window, curtain pulled back as he peered out into the dark. He held the Templar Sword in his fist.

Billi had gone home, checking over her shoulder every thirty seconds or so. If she’d been followed, she hadn’t spotted them.

Lance was downstairs, Gwaine and Bors on patrol. Billi, her dad, and Elaine sat in the kitchen. It felt like they were under siege. All because of a little girl, asleep upstairs.

“And Baba Yaga?” asked Billi. “What else do you know about her?”

Elaine drummed her figures on a stack of books. The old Templar diaries. The aged books were a mismatch of leather-bound tomes that were the core of the Order’s occult lore. All the knights were meant to have studied them, but nobody knew as much as Elaine: she was practically a walking library.

“Not much. She’s been in Russia for thousands of years, but that was never within the Templars’ territories.” She gazed into the middle distance. “The stories of Baba Yaga cast her as an ancient witch, a powerful figure in pre-Christian Russia. Utterly evil, with the ability to command the elements and the beasts, a psychic, just like Kay, but much, much more powerful. She’s also called Mother Russia. They say she’s part of the soil, the very stones of the country. The stories refer to her having been driven deep into the forests by the Bogatyrs.”

“Bogatyrs?” asked Billi.

“An order of Christian knights, older than the Templars,” interrupted Arthur. “Last I heard, they were being led by Alexei Viktorovich Romanov. A good man, by all accounts. That was a few years ago.”

“And now she’s after Vasilisa.” Billi leaned back in her chair.

“You get any further with her?” Arthur asked Elaine.

“I’m still testing. These things take time.”

“Make contact with Jerusalem anyway. Once we know for sure, we’ll send Vasilisa there to start her training.”

“Until then?” Billi asked. She couldn’t just sit around waiting.

Arthur finished inspecting his sword and pushed it into its scabbard. “Double weapons’ training.”