Dark Goddess Read online

  “It’s an old picture. My mum died a long time ago.”

  Vasilisa stared at the photo, then back into the box. “Whose things are these?” she asked, carefully keeping her hands to herself.

  “My friend’s. His name was Kay.”

  “Kay? Was he like you?”

  Billi looked into Vasilisa’s big summer-sky-blue eyes. “No, I think maybe he was like you.”

  There were half a dozen folders saved on Kay’s mobile. She shouldn’t look at them. Kay was dead and she needed to get over him. Quickly. But as she gazed over his belongings she knew that wasn’t fair. Not for Kay, and not for her. He’d been the best part of her life.

  “Tell me about Karelia.”

  “There was a big garden, and my babushka, my granny, she taught me the names of every plant, every flower.” Vasilisa pointed to the pot of twigs and drooping stalks on the windowsill. “Chrysanthemums. You should put those somewhere sunny.”

  “When did you leave?”

  “I was five. I didn’t want to. But someone came.”

  “Who?”

  Vasilisa closed her eyes, and Billi could see she was frightened.

  “An old lady. Not nice like my babushka, but horrible, with green eyes. She was looking for me.”

  Olga. So the Polenitsy had been after her already.

  “My granny made me hide, but she was scared. She said the woman would come back, so we had to run. That night we all packed our bags and we came here, to be safe. I miss them. I miss my granny.” Vasilisa swung her feet, idle and wistful. “They say I’m going to be a Templar.” She looked at the paintings on the wall. “Are they all Templars? Those old men?”

  “I’m a Templar.” Vasilisa looked at Billi curiously. “What are they? The Templars.”

  Billi breathed a deep sigh. Where to begin? She had almost a thousand years of history in her head. Short or long version?

  Short.

  “They were a group of knights who swore to defend the Holy Land from the Muslims, back in the Middle Ages. That’s how they started. Just nine men.”

  “Like the Bogatyrs?”

  “You know about the Bogatyrs?” asked Billi.

  Vasilisa’s eyes brightened. “Everybody in Russia knows! My mother used to read me stories about them. They fought dragons, evil witches, the Mongols, the Muslims. All the evil people.”

  Billi laughed. “My mother was a Muslim.”

  Vasilisa went red. “Are you?”

  Billi shrugged. She could pray in Latin, Greek, English, and Arabic. She knew the direction of Mecca and the psalms. Did God really care?

  “Anyway, back to the Templars.” She got up and took a picture off the wall. It was a landscape over Jerusalem, an elaborate medieval woodcut of the Holy City. She pointed to a dome in the center. “The knights fought the Muslims for a few hundred years. But then they were betrayed by their fellow Christians, by the Pope himself. After that the survivors rejected the Crusades and chose a new war-a war they call the Bataille Ténébreuse. That means the Dark Conflict. Instead of fighting other men, we fight the Unholy-monsters, like werewolves. Ghosts. The blood-drinkers. To be a knight you have to face one of those monsters. It’s called the Ordeal.”

  “Did you have to do it?”

  Billi nodded. Alex Weeks. The ghost of a six-year-old boy. Remembering what she’d had to do still turned her stomach.

  “You don’t like being a Templar, Billi?”

  “It’smyduty. Like’sgot nothing to do with it.” She caught the worried expression on Vasilisa’s face. She was talking about the girl’s future, if she was an Oracle. Billi rummaged around in the drawers and took out a pad and paper.

  “Look, Vasilisa, we’re going to play a game.” With the pad up, she drew a circle. “See if you can guess what shape I’m drawing.”

  “I’ve already done this with Elaine.”

  “Let’s play again.” Elaine had said the powers would be temperamental at this age, but it was worth a shot.

  Vasilisa frowned. “A circle.”

  Could just be luck. Billi tore off the sheet and drew a triangle. “Now?”

  “A triangle?”

  Now we’re getting somewhere. She tore off that sheet and drew a five-pointed star.

  “And this?”

  “A star.”

  “How many points?”

  “Five.”

  Oh my God. She drew a fish.

  “What’s on the page? Concentrate.”

  “A fish.”

  Billi’s heart was beating hard and fast. Perhaps the Templars had their new Oracle after all.

  “That’s amazing, Vasilisa.”

  Vasilisa shook her head. “No. Anyone could do that.” Billi laughed. “I don’t think so.” But Vasilisa straightened and pointed behind Billi.

  The window was right behind her. With the desk lamp on, everything Billi wrote was perfectly reflected in the glass. She blushed.

  “Oh, right.” What an idiot. “Look, Vasilisa. I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone what just happened. Okay?”

  Vasilisa rocked back and forth, laughing until she started hiccuping. “I tricked you,” she crowed.

  “Seriously, it wasn’t that funny,” Billi said. Vasilisa laughed harder. Billi smiled. Maybe it was.

  Eventually Vasilisa calmed down. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and looked at Kay’s belongings.

  “What’s going to happen now?” she asked.

  There was a creak as Billi leaned back into the worn leather of Arthur’s chair.

  “We’ll take you somewhere safe. Then, when things have calmed down, probably send you home to your grandmother.”

  Vasilisa nodded. “I would love to see her garden again.” She stood up and bent over the flowerpot, stroking the bright petals. “She loves chrysanthemums.”

  Billi stared at the plant. Thick, luscious, green leaves covered what had been bare twigs minutes ago. Fluffy orange flowers bloomed, and even as Billi watched, buds rose along the twigs, growing into balls and unfurling into more blossoms. A soft, fresh scent began to fill the room.

  Vasilisa plucked a flower and it blossomed open in her hands-she held it out to Billi. Her smile was open and she seemed unaware of what had just happened. Any chance of her living a normal life had just gone forever.

  Vasilisa would be the next Templar Oracle.

  8

  MORDRED JUMPED UP FROM HIS CHAIR WHEN Billi rushed into the kitchen. He wiped ketchup from his mouth and looked guiltily at the half-eaten bacon sandwich. “Where’s Dad?” Billi held the flowerpot in one hand and Vasilisa’s wrist in the other.

  “On patrol with Gwaine.”

  “Get him now.”

  A few minutes later Arthur and Gwaine entered. Arthur nodded at Billi as he unbuttoned his coat. “Tell me,” he said. Billi put the potted plant on the table. “Vasilisa did this.” Arthur touched the large green leaves and plucked a flower. He handed it to Gwaine.

  “It was just a bunch of twigs ten minutes ago,” Billi added.

  “Vasilisa, I want you to hold this.” Arthur grabbed a wilted African violet from the windowsill and put it on Vasilisa’s lap.

  The leaves began to perk up. The stalks lengthened and the leaves swelled, then buds grew, blossoming into velvety lavender flowers.

  The room was filled with a thick musty scent-far more powerful than the flowers could have generated. It was like someone had opened a door into a greenhouse. All the other potted plants were in full bloom too, scattering color over the kitchen.

  It had taken a dozen seconds. Vasilisa lowered her hands and looked around at the knights.

  “That’s amazing,” said Mordred as an ivy plant spread over the floor.

  A flower hissed. It turned black and burst into flames.

  Within seconds, half a dozen of the flowers had combusted, and Vasilisa screamed. Billi kicked the flowerpot off the girl’s lap, and it smashed on the floor. The soil bubbled and spat as smoke rose from the burning bush. Billi grabbed Vasilisa, an
d Mordred ran to the sink as the fire alarm went off. He soaked a hand towel.

  The kitchen filled up with smoke as they put the flames out.

  “What the hell happened?” Gwaine asked. The alarm shrieked in the background.

  Arthur looked at the floor. The heat had melted the linoleum, which smelled poisonous. He stepped on a still-smoldering flower, grinding it to ash under his boot.

  “Get Elaine,” he said.

  Elaine didn’t waste any time racing over. The kitchen still stank of molten plastic and burned foliage, so they crowded into the study, next door to the now-sleeping Vasilisa. Gwaine waited by the window, nervously checking outside every few minutes. Billi was on the old sofa, and Arthur came down after returning Vasilisa to her bed.

  Elaine rubbed her eyes as she settled into an armchair in the corner. In the gloomy lamplight, her sunken features looked just this side of zombie.

  “I spoke to her before she went to sleep,” started Arthur. “Looks like elementalism runs in the family. Her granny used to do the same-make flowers grow and fruit appear out of season.” He frowned as he gazed at them. “Vasilisa never really considered it strange. It was just what her family did. It seems they were white witches. The grandmother apparently knew all the tales about Baba Yaga.”

  Gwaine spoke. “You think the gran knew Baba Yaga was real?”

  “Yes, but Vasilisa just assumed they were stories.” Elaine smiled to herself. “I’d like to meet this grandmother. She sounds interesting.”

  “What about the other stuff? The fire?” asked Billi.

  Elaine sighed. “Judging by tonight I’d say Vasilisa’s psychic powers include fire-starting, pyrokinetics. And elementalism. Not a great combination.”

  “Explain.” Arthur took a cigarette from Elaine’s packet and lit up. This was the first he’d had in three months. Despite his coolness, tonight’s events must have shocked him too.

  “Vasilisa’s in sympathy with the natural environment.”

  “What’s that mean? In sympathy?” asked Gwaine. Of all the Templars, he was least comfortable with Elaine and the occult knowledge she brought to the Order. He thought she was only one short step from being a witch.

  “What happens to her affects the natural world. She could eat an ice cream and then cover the garden with frost. Conversely, she could draw heat from a hot summer’s day and use it to cook sausages in her bare hands,” said Elaine, as though she were explaining something blindingly obvious. “It’s simple Newtonian physics. Every action has an opposite and equal reaction. In this case it’s psychic energy being transferred from Vasilisa into the living environment and back again. But she’s too inexperienced to control it. The flowers were a victim of that.”

  “Great. She’ll be handy if we’re ever attacked by demonic daffodils,” said Gwaine.

  Elaine ignored Gwaine’s not-quite-veiled insult. “I brought this.” She took out a necklace from her pocket. It was a thin strip of leather strung with silver plaques.

  Billi recognized them. Kay had used them when he’d tried to contact the spirit realms. “Maqlu?”

  The ancient talismans had been found in an archaeological dig in Iraq, on the site of the ancient city of Nineveh. They were a defense against psychic intrusion.

  “Someone might try to possess Vasilisa?” Gwaine asked.

  “Just to be sure. Vasilisa has no control over her powers. She can’t defend herself. It’s possible another psychic, someone with telepathy, could access her mind and manipulate her, albeit temporarily.” Elaine handed the necklace to Billi. “Put this on her when she wakes up. Tell her that she can’t take it off, understand?”

  Billi inspected the plaques, with their minute cuneiform letters-spells carefully carved onto each. “You mean someone like Baba Yaga?”

  Elaine nodded. “If she’s been consuming other psychics over the centuries, her telepathic powers would be awesome. She’d be an elementalist, spirit-talker, the whole package. It also means she’d be totally insane. That amount of action in one head cannot be healthy. I don’t want her in Vasilisa’s mind, even for a minute.”

  “Then the next step is obvious,” said Arthur.

  “Jerusalem it is,” agreed Elaine.

  “Wait,” Billi interrupted. “What’s to stop the Polenitsy from just heading out to Jerusalem and kidnapping Vasilisa there?”

  Elaine smiled. “Oh, the Holy City has guardians of its own. Guardians who even the Polenitsy might hesitate to cross.”

  “Like who?”

  Elaine hesitated and shot a wary glance at Arthur. He nodded, but even then Elaine paused. Eventually she spoke. “Jerusalem is under the control of the Assassins.”

  “Cool.” Who didn’t know about the Assassins? The Templars and the Assassins hada secret alliance, going back to the Crusades. The two orders had traded knowledge, allies, and enemies. Most of the occult lore the Templars studied was originally gleaned from the Islamic sect of killer mystics. “What are they like?”

  Elaine shrugged. “Never met one. They operate through a network of middlemen. The Assassins are sleepers. It’ll be someone close, a business ally, a best friend you’ve known for years. Then one day they get the signal. You only meet an Assassin once in your life. At the very end.”

  “And that’s where we’re sending Vasilisa?” Billi asked.

  “The Assassins and the Templars have an agreement,” said Arthur. “The Treaty of Alamut allows us to train among the fakirs and holy men of Jerusalem. The Oracle will be as safe there as anywhere.”

  Not Vasilisa anymore, but the Oracle.

  “I had some friends in Whitechapel make this, just in case.” Arthur took a fake passport out from his desk drawer and tossed it to Elaine. “Take her to Jerusalem.”

  9

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON BILLI WATCHED VASILISA build a snowman. Middle Temple Gardens was pretty to the snowfall. The office workers stayed indoors, so Vasilisa had spent most of the afternoon rolling a misshapen ball to form the bottom of a snowman, and was now rolling a second ball for the head.

  Elaine had been keeping a wary eye out, as had Lance and Bors. They weren’t going to let the Oracle out of their sight.

  “C’mon, Billi!”

  She’s happy. Vasilisa patted the small boulder of snow, trying to keep it in shape. Her hair stuck out from under a woolen bobble hat, and her bare hands were pink, but she didn’t care.

  “Let’s go inside,” Billi shouted across the garden. “It’s cold.” She felt exposed. Anyone could come wandering by and see them. It wasn’t safe. But would Vasilisa ever be safe again? Billi had no idea what had happened to Kay out in Jerusalem; he never talked about it. But he’d come back a changed man, more confident, more detached. More powerfulby far. What would happen to Vasilisa? What would she be like a few years down the line?

  Vasilisa strolled over. “C’mon, come and look! It’s almost done.”

  “We should start packing.”

  “Why?” Vasilisa brushed the snow off her trousers. “Where are we going?”

  No one had told her. The girl was flying to Jerusalem in two days and no one had told her. “Er, somewhere safe.”

  “I’m safe here, aren’t I? With you?”

  Billi looked over for Elaine; she’d be better at explaining this. But the old woman was nowhere to be seen. Typical. Billi frowned.

  “Let’s play, Billi.” Vasilisa started away, but Billi took her hand. Despite the freezing temperature, her fingers were warm little sausages.

  “Look, Vasilisa. About what happened last night.” Billi sat the girl down on a bench. “This power you have, it could be dangerous.”

  Vasilisa rattled her silver necklace. “No, I’m okay now.”

  “That may not be enough. You need to learn how to manage your special gifts. There’s a place where you can learn how to do that.”

  “Where?”

  “Jerusalem.”

  Vasilisa sprang up. She stared at Billi. “Jerusalem? But I want to go home to my gra
nny!”

  “Vasilisa, if you go back to Karelia, they’ll catch you. Elaine will go to Jerusalem with you. To make sure you’re settled in. It’s…” Billi lowered her head, unwilling to look at the girl. “…It’s for the best.”

  “No, Billi. Please, I don’t want to go.” Vasilisa’s fingers tightened around hers. “Can’t I stay with you?”

  “No, it wouldn’t work. I’m sorry.”

  “Liar,” Vasilisa whispered. Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re not sorry.” She closed her eyes. “I want my mum and dad back. That’s all.”

  Billi went to put her arm around Vasilisa.

  “Don’t touch me!” she cried. She dug her fingers into the snowman’s head and pushed until the head fell apart, and then trembled with silent sobs.

  Billi wanted to tell her that she’d do so much good, that she’d be powerful, someone important. But the words felt meaningless. She sighed, knowing the future meant hardship and misery for the nine-year-old. But there was no alternative. It was God’s will.

  Deus vult.

  It wasn’t just the Polenitsy who sacrificed children.

  10

  BILLI AWOKE TO THE MUTED SOUNDS OF RATTLING. Pipes came alive as the old water system gurgled into action. At four in the morning. What the hell was going on? It sounded like whoever was on guard duty had decided to run a bath.

  Every limb demanded that she stay in bed. Three hours of unarmed combat with Bors had left her aching all over. But she forced herself up and looked out the window. Gareth stood, cold and miserable, in the opposite doorway. He saw the light from her window and waved.

  She numbly slid her feet across the bare wooden floorboards until her toes tapped her slippers. She tugged on her dressing gown and wandered on to the landing.

  The bathroom door was open and the shower was running. “Hello?”

  “Billi…”

  “Vasilisa?”

  Vasilisa stood in the bath, the dense jet of water bearing down on her. She was still in her pajamas and her hair lay like a curtain over her face. The shower curtain hadn’t been drawn, so water was spraying everywhere. Billi rushed forward and icy-cold droplets hit her bare arms.