Sarwat Chadda - Billi SanGreal 02 - Dark Goddess

by Unknown

  She was fifteen years old. Funny, she felt older. She'd been shadowed by death and now it had caught up with her. The warm air of the ger warmed her back, and fora moment Billi could have turned and rushed into Ivan's arms, but that was a foolish fantasy. She was a Templar.

  Duty always came first.

  You shall keep the company of martyrs.

  Billi closed her eyes and searched the air, seeking out a scent that she recognized. The air was filled with emotions—hers, the Polenitsys'. They rolled like a melange of sharp spices. Fear was peppery, eye-watering. Chili-powder rage stung her lips. Musky love swam through her nostrils.

  The world of the werewolf overpowered her senses.

  Humans lived in such a dull, lifeless world.

  I'm human.

  Her eyes snapped open.

  People waded through the dense snow, their vision limited by the flumes. Nobody paid her any attention. Billi peered into the snowy veil and saw a shock of red against the white field. Svetlana. Well, here I come, ready or not.

  She was among the trees, twenty yards away. A smaller figure followed a few paces behind. Billi tightened her grip on the sword hilt. This was it. In a few minutes it would all be over.

  Billi made her way directly toward them. Step by step she pushed, never taking her eyes off of them. They'd come out of a tent on the opposite side of the clearing and moved onward, oblivious to her. Svetlana held out her hand and helped Vasilisa through the whiteness. The girl still wore only a smock. At times she was invisible; at others she shone brighter than the icicles dangling off the branches. She'd been given even more jewelry, multicolored armlets, rings, necklaces, and small crowns of woven twigs and winter flowers.

  Billi clambered over a huge boulder, hauling herself by the net of vines that ran over the gray rock like veins. She reached the top and stood, her scarlet coat flapping in the icy winds. She pulled out the saber in her right hand and settled the dagger in her left.

  "Vasilisa," she said.

  Vasilisa looked up and stared. She tried to pull free of Svetlana, but the red-haired girl was too strong. "Billi... " Vasilisa pleaded. "Help me." But the young Polenitsy understood that Billi wasn't here to save Vasilisa, and pushed the small girl onto the ground behind her. She smiled, revealing her long canines.

  "Death in red," Svetlana said. "My favorite color."

  Chapter 36

  SVETLANA CAST OFF HER COAT. SHE WAS NAKED EXCEPT for the downy red hair that covered her broad shoulders and thick upper arms. She stalked forward, flexing her fingers. "Come down here and die, Templar."

  Billi leaped.

  Svetlana changed in a heartbeat. Two bounds and she had transformed into a raging monster, the beast Billi had first seen in Thetford. The hulking half-human, half-wolf creature had dense, heavily muscled arms and long ivory claws, each tipped to needle-point sharpness. She threw back her shaggy head and howled. Billi slammed down in front of her and waited until she could feel the claws cutting the air, then dived sideways, slicing horizontally to open the wolf's belly. But Svetlana stopped dead, and the blade's edge just scraped her furry pelt.

  Billi rolled in the snow, but was up instantly. The Beast Within arose: rage flooded her, and she stabbed. Billi didn't fight with skill or grace: the battle was for blood, for blood's sake. Svetlana took a nick on her ribs while swiping at Billi's face. Billi stabbed upward with her dagger, but Svetlana dragged her claws across Billi's wrist, forcing her to drop it.

  A red mist filled Billi's eyes, and her human self shook under the assault from the Beast. She had to control it, bend that power to her advantage, use the Beast rather than let it use her. If she fought mindlessly, on Red's terms, she was going to lose. She focused her attention on her saber, on her training, on fighting like a knight, not like a beast.

  Something ripped at her leg, and she vaguely saw three red lines through her torn trousers. Instead of backing off, Billi screamed and hurled herself at the young woman. They fell, and Billi heaved the saber down across Svetlana's neck. Svetlana grabbed the blade and held it, trying to force it away. Her fangs snapped inches from Billi's face.

  Billi's arms quivered with fury, and she forced her full weight onto the weapon, which sank closer to the werewolf's throat. She grinned. She'd never felt so strong. Billi could see every hair on the werewolf's body and each bead of sweat on its brow. The blade began to break the creature's skin, and a warm, single drip of red sprang from the wound. Billi wanted to lick it. The Beast Within howled.

  Svetlana hurled her off. Billi tumbled through the snow and crashed against a large rock, then scrabbled to her feet, hand still gripping the saber. She raised the sword two-handed over her head. Her skin was burning from the fire within her. Her bones ground together as they fought between human and wolf form. Her grip shook violently as the transformation spasmed through her.

  Oh God, no.

  The moon, almost full, shone bright within the blanket of black sky. Billi wanted to tear off her clothes and bathe in its ivory stare, to let it carry her into the deep forest, away from humanity and all the ties that bound her. To be free.

  Then Billi saw Vasilisa cowering under a boulder. She couldn't give in to the Beast vet, not until Vasilisa was dead.

  As a werewolf, what might she do? Would she rip Vasilisa to shreds, or bow down before her like the other Polenitsy? She had to stay human, to be sure she killed Vasilisa.

  Still human.

  Svetlana crashed into her, catapulting her into the air. The sword spun away as Billi crumpled into the thick snow. It hit a rock and the blade snapped. The blow should have broken Billi apart, but instead she just felt a hard jolt. She flipped back up and grabbed Red's face as the werewolf dug her claws into Billi's ribs.

  Despite the roaring pain, Billi concentrated on sinking her razor-sharp nails into Red's face. Her thumbs were tipped with daggers, and she pushed toward Red's eyes. Grooves opened along the wolf's snout as she slid closer.

  Svetlana screamed and twisted away. Billi stumbled toward the sword and, chest heaving, tried to lift it. It seemed ten times heavier now, even with only half a blade. Blood sprinkled the snow. Her blood. Her body was covered in cuts, and her coat hung off her in tatters.

  Every step was like dragging through lead. The werewolf's eyes were filled with blood. She howled and swiped left and right blindly. Billi slashed at her legs, cracking the kneecap, and the red-pelted wolf buckled.

  Billi stared down at Svetlana, who panted, her tongue dangling loosely out of her savage jaw. Blood smeared her face, and her fur was blood-splattered. She tried to raise her arm to defend herself, but the effort was weak, defeated. Billi raised her sword and stiffened her grip. Svetlana stared up, eyes filled with impotent fury. Billi smashed the pommel on her head, and the werewolf collapsed.

  Vasilisa lay curled up in the nook of a boulder. She'd buried her face in her knees and had her hands over her head as if trying to blank out what had happened.

  Billi looked at her own hands. The nails were thicker, but normal. She'd fought down the change again. The bloodthirsty rage subsided, and with it she shook the Beast back into its cage.

  Shouts rose out of the wind. Flashlights appeared in the distance and dark figures ran through the snow. The wind carried fearful howls.

  Billi tossed away the broken sword. She groaned as she bent down to pick up her dagger. Every muscle screamed, and her bones did too, each having been twisted and tortured out of shape and back. Her spine popped as each joint set back into its socket. It took a huge effort to grasp the dagger and lift it.

  "Billi?"

  She had to do it now.

  Billi grabbed Vasilisa by her dangling necklaces and held her fast. She raised her knife.

  Oh God. This is it.

  Vasilisa stared up at her, not understanding. She shook her head as if this might be some nightmare. She held on to Billi's fingers, wanting this to be okay, wanting to trust Billi, but she could only tremble.

  Strike!

 
Billi willed her arm down, willed the blade to enter the girl's heart, but her arm wouldn't bend. Vasilisa gazed up at her, too terrified to move.

  "Close your eyes, Vasilisa. You won't feel anything." Billi's voice broke. She pressed her lips together despite the tremor running through her. She had to do this.

  It was her duty as a Templar. The life of one against the lives of billions. Baba Yaga would bring Fimbulwinter, and humanity would suffer a long, slow death by starvation. A second of ruthless action and the world was saved. Billi wouldn't have time to regret it; the werewolves were going to tear her to pieces at any moment.

  "God forgive me," said Billi. She pushed Vasilisa against the rock and twisted the necklaces around her fist, holding Vasilisa still. The moonlight caught the little girl's petrified face, her bewilderment. It glistened off the brightly polished baubles and old flint arrowheads dangling from her neck. The small bones, lumps of precious metal, beads, and a crude statue all jangled from Billi's grip.

  The statue.

  Billi's breath stopped. She held it between her fingers. The small, roughly carved shape of a woman, the big hips and small stub of a head, all veined with dark iron.

  It was the Venus figurine.

  A werewolf slammed into Billi, pushing her away from Vasilisa, and the necklace broke a part as it came free. The pair tumbled in the snow, knocking all the air from Billi's lungs. She lay limp under the snarling werewolf, its gruesome fangs just a few inches from her throat. Half buried in the snow, Billi twisted enough to look at Vasilisa. Olga was already there, passing the girl to others. Two women helped Svetlana up.

  Vasilisa was removed, quickly surrounded by the Polenitsy and carried away. Only when she'd gone did the werewolf move off of Billi.

  They lifted Billi up. Olga approached.

  "Why didn't you kill her?" the old woman asked.

  Billi smiled. She slipped her closed hand into her pocket, feeling the smooth cold curves of the statuette made in Tunguska. The one thing that could kill Baba Yaga.

  Oh, but I will.

  Chapter 37

  IVAN STARED OPENMOUTHED AS THEY DRAGGED BILLI back. He shook his head like he couldn't believe his eyes. It lasted a second before his face dropped. He was tied to one of the thick wooden posts in the center of the ger. They did the same to Billi on the one opposite him. The leather straps bit deep into her wrists as Olga twisted and knotted the bindings around and around. She gave the knots a sharp tug, then stood between the two of them. The other Polenitsy had gone, and Olga shifted from foot to foot, her gaze moving from Billi to Ivan and back. Then she straightened her coat and left.

  Ivan waited a few moments, then leaned over and whispered, "What happened?"

  "I couldn't do it." Billi couldn't quite believe it. "I think I've found another way."

  Ivan blinked. He leaned back against the column, shifting his shoulders to get more comfortable. A slow smile crept over his lips. "I am glad you are alive."

  "Me too." Billi tried to turn her hands, but the leather seemed to cut into her skin. Already she felt her fingers tingle with numbness.

  "I can kill Baba Yaga," she whispered.

  "That's impossible. She's immortal."

  Billi grinned, unable to resist the taunt. "Let a Templar show you how its done."

  Ivan raised an eyebrow. "And how is that, exactly?"

  "Remember when I told you about the meteorite—the figurines?"

  "Yes."

  "Well—I've got one now." Billi smiled.

  "So let's do it," said Ivan at last.

  "We just need to get out of these straps." She'd thought it through. The rack of the Venus figurine could be sharpened, chiseled away, until it became a crude stone knife. All she needed was to get close enough to deliver the blow.

  "But even with this, why let Vasilisa live? You're taking a huge risk." Ivan struggled at his own bindings, but they were as tight as Billi's.

  "If I'd killed Vasilisa, I'd have achieved nothing. I would be dead and the figurine lost, maybe forever. So what if Vasilisa died? Sooner or later another powerful Spring Child would come along, and we'd be back where we started." After all, they'd found Kay and Vasilisa within a few years of each other. Who knows who else might be out there, waiting to be found by the Polenitsy and brought to their goddess? She continued. "Think about it. We have the means to kill Baba Yaga, and she's nearby. If Vasilisa had died right now, the Polenitsy would have ripped us to shreds, and the only chance to kill Baba Yaga, once and for all, would have been lost. We need to get close to her. It's now or never."

  "So that's why you let Vasilisa live." Ivan grinned. "I thought you'd gone all sentimental and soft."

  "Then you've a lot to learn about me."

  "I hope I get the chance."

  The door flap flipped open, and Olga came in to begin the watch, carrying a steaming wooden bowl. She took a stool and sat down, then blew over the bowl and scooped a spoonful into her mouth. She ate in silence, watching Billi and Ivan.

  Billi spoke. "Olga, I don't understand why you're going to help her do this. You know she's lying to you."

  Olga lowered the bowl from her lips. "Look at us, Templar. What do you see?"

  Billi's first reaction was to say a bunch of howling monsters, but that wasn't true. The Templars had taught her to believe that werewolves were the Unholy—creatures who had to be destroyed at all costs—but why? She saw women, powerful warriors, and a tribe of hunters. She saw the respect they had for each other, and the strength of their beliefs. They were fighting for a better world too, just like the Templars.

  They weren't so different. Billi laughed to herself. And tomorrow she'd be no different from them at all.

  "We are so few. If mankind continues on his path, we will die." Olga put down the empty bowl. "Year by year, the forests shrink and the trees fall. What is left for us?" The old woman stared at the ash of the fire, nudging it with her boot. "Baba Yaga will save us. The only reason you are being kept alive for now is so you can see this."

  "If she knew how to save you, why wouldn't she say how?" Billi said. "She'll summon the global winter and hibernate until it's over. Civilization will be gone. Every species of this planet decimated. She isn't just planning to sacrifice Vasilisa—she's wants to sacrifice everyone." Billi met the old woman's gaze. "Trust me. I'm telling you the truth."

  Olga stood, snarling. "Trust you? There is no trust between men and wolves."

  "I am not a man," Billi replied plainly.

  "There is only one way you can save the Polenitsy."

  Two tall women entered the ger. Each was nearly seven feet tall and made of hard, wiry muscle. Both were dressed in long, ankle-length cloaks of hide and fur. One wore a necklace made of claws and animal bones, and had her long blond hair strung with beads and feathers. The other, dark-skinned, had her face marked with tribal tattoos.

  "Olga," said the dark-skinned woman. "We must move the camp."

  "Why?"

  The woman cast a hateful look at Billi and Ivan. "These two humans must have been followed. Men come. Many men."

  Olga tossed the bowl away. "What men?"

  The woman's eyes darkened.

  "Bogatyrs."

  Chapter 38

  VEHICLES JOSTLED ON THE FRINGES OF THE CAMP. Fires blaszed and tents collapsed as the Polenitsy prepared to leave. The night was thick with tension. Billi and Ivan were cut free and taken out of the ger, flanked by the two Polenitsy. One handed Billi a long black nomad coat and a strip of red cloth to use as a sash. Billi wrapped it twice around her waist and knotted it.

  "Where are we going?" Billi asked Olga.

  "We cannot risk the ritual being disrupted by the Bogatyrs." Olga pointed into the darkness. "The forest is deep and we know how to hide."

  The Russians were coming for Vasilisa. Maybe if there were enough of them, they could overcome the Polenitsy, but it would be a bloodbath.

  Could Billi escape if it came to a battle? Find Baba Yaga in the confusion and kill her? Unl
ikely. The Polenitsy would defend Baba Yaga to the last. She needed Baba Yaga with her guard down if she was going to succeed. And what of Vasilisa? The Bogatyrs still wanted to sell her to the ghuls.

  "So Koshchey survived," said Ivan as he joined her. He'd covered himself with his deep blue coat, and his hands were tucked into the sleeves. The Polenitsy didn't trust him with his crutch anymore, but though Ivan moved slowly, he didn't show any weakness, just gritty determination. He squinted as the freezing air blew into his face.

  "It could be one of the others," Billi replied.

  "No. He is Koshchey the Undying." He pulled out his hands and flexed his fingers. Despite the wounds Ivan had suffered, Billi could see the power in his hands as he clenched them into fists. "I let him escape once."

  "Baba Yaga's the priority," Billi reminded him.

  Ivan shook his head. "No, stopping Fimbulwinter is the priority. Listen"—he held her arms and looked at her, hard —"you go after Baba Yaga. But if you fail, we cannot permit her to complete the ritual."

  Billi nodded grimly. "Then you'll finish the job for me?"

  "Da." He sighed. "I am not happy about this, but while both Vasilisa and Baba Yaga live, we are in double the peril. We have a greater responsibility than just saving the life of a small child, no matter how innocent."

  "Wow." It was like having Arthur addressing her. Ivan had leader in the making written all over him.

  Howls came from all over the camp. Figures moved like shadows on the fringes of the campfires, silhouettes creeping in and out of the stands of tall birch trees. The forest was thick with them. Billi watched as two of the Polenitsy threw off their cloaks, hunched down on all fours, and went from human to beast within a few paces. Some children stood by their tents as their parents packed. Billi watched one child, his shaggy black hair decorated with strips of bright cloth and plastic beads, yelp with laughter as his mother lightly cuffed him into the snow. The boy rolled around happily, wearing nothing but a pair of cotton underpants. Then his mum hauled him up and kissed his eyelids.