Sarwat Chadda - Billi SanGreal 02 - Dark Goddess (16 page)

"Vasilisa?" Billi shouted.
Oh my God, she's in here. She's here
!

Clawed feet scuttled across the tiled floor, and the werewolf darted in and out of sight. There had to be interconnecting doors. She should go back, wait for the others.

But Vasilisa. She was so close. Billi couldn't risk leaving her. She took another step into the apartment.

The smell of damp heat permeated the air. A girl's dress lay steaming on the radiator. The small spotlight from Billi's flashlight showed her peeling wallpaper, spots of mold and flaking paint on the doors. The furniture looked like it had been collected from a Dumpster, a patchy sofa with threadbare seats and half-untangled wicker chairs. She checked the light switch. Nothing. The Bogatyrs must have cut the electricity.

Billi squinted, trying to penetrate the darkness ahead. The flashlight was nearly useless; the beam was so narrow that it lit only a hand's width of space.

Billi could hear a child's sniffling coming from somewhere ahead. Vasilisa was so close. Billi wanted to run toward the sound, but had to fight to keep herself focused on the job at hand. Her search was almost over. But almost wasn't good enough.

A floorboard creaked next to her, and Billi spun, but a thick forearm crashed across hers, and her pistol flew away. The bestial roar was by her ear, and hot, offal-scented breath hissed across her face as she grabbed the black snout to stop it from tearing out her throat. Her fingers dug deep into the werewolf's muzzle as she held it away, and the long fangs snapped only inches from her face. It lifted her high up against the wall, its claws slashing at her body armor while she kneed it in the stomach. But even as it cried out, it pushed its head steadily closer to her. Billi's arms quivered, and hot spittle dripped on her cheek. She had her kukri, but needed to let go with one hand to grab it. The monster hissed; Billi couldn't resist its primordial strength for much longer and it knew it.

So close. So close
. Vasilisa was on the other side of that door, and Billi had to save her. Her teeth locked into a feral snarl and she dragged up every ounce of strength she had, burying her nails into the fleshy snout, grinding them in. The beast flinched as she drew blood, but it wasn't going to let its prize escape. She felt its body stiffen as it focused all of its power on tearing out her throat.

"No," Billi whispered. It couldn't end like this. But it would. Her arms ached and she couldn't hold it back anymore.

She buckled under the relentless force, and the werewolf growled as it shook itself free of Billi's grip. It opened its jaws and...

Screamed. The knife went in through its jaw and slammed it shut as the blade buried itself in its upper palette. Blood frothed through its blacklips, and a snort of red foam burst from its nostrils. Ivan wrapped his arm around the monster's neck and twisted his knife deeper. The werewolf tried clawing at him, but Ivan bent it backward, almost lifting the huge creature off its feet, so its attacks were wild and weak. Ivan pulled the knife out and plunged it back in. The werewolf's scream rose into a high-pitched wail, then it went slack. Ivan stood and slowly released the body. The werewolf slid to the floor, its body shedding fur second by second. Bill stumbled across the room and snatched up her pistol. Then she turned back to the monster.

It was gone. In its place lay a young woman. Her body was stone-white except for the scarf of crimson blood that ran from her jaw and down her chest. Ivan stood over her, panting hard. Then he straightened up and slowly wiped the sweat off his forehead, dragging his hand over his short dark bristles, leaving them spiky with blood. The red fingerprints left a long trail over his face.

"You are a fool, coming in here alone like this," he said. "But now we are even,
da
?"

Still trying to catch her breath, Billi looked up into Ivan's serious gray eyes and nodded. She would have been dead without him.

A child's whimper suddenly pulled Billi away from her thoughts.

Vasilisa
. Billi jumped to her feet. "Vasilisa?" She went to the far door.

There was a clown painted on it. Billi twisted the handle and heard a cry from inside. Locked. Ivan came up beside her. He hoisted the gun up and smashed the brass knob off with the butt.

The bedroom was basic but clean. A chest of drawers stood in the corner, and next to it, under the window, was a child's bed, the quilt patchy and faded. Someone huddled beneath it.

Oh thank God
. She'd made it. It had been worth it. Billi moved forward and gently pulled the cover away.

"Vasilisa, I'm here." She could take her back; it would all be okay. Billi's eyes blurred, and the pistol light wouldn't lie straight. The cover fell from the child's face.

The girl sobbed, clutching a clown doll. Her blond hair was bristly and unkempt, much like the woman's who lay dead in the corridor. Her eyes were light brown; her teeth an even row of ivory needle points. She growled.

No. It wasn't Vasilisa.

"Stand aside," ordered Yuri. Billi spun around as he raised his gun, and she jumped in front of him. The smallest squeeze of the trigger and Billi's guts would be decorating the wall. At this range, her body armor would be as useful as tissue paper.

"Polenitsy," he insisted.

"It doesn't matter." Billi turned her back to him and looked at the girl, her heart tripping with fear. She put the dock on the table and held out her hand. "Come with me."

The girl didn't understand what Billi was saying, but she looked at her hand, then reached out. Her fingers were thin and cold, but her grip fierce. She stepped off the bed, and Billi held her close. She may not have found Vasilisa, but she wasn't going to be responsible for this girl's death.

Yuri blocked the doorway. He raised his pistol and Billi blinked as the red laser spot rose to the center of her forehead. She looked at the dock on the table. It was only a foot away, but it may as well have been on the other side of the planet.

I'll never reach it.

Ivan took a step in front of Yuri.

"
Polozhi pistolet
," he said.

Yuri didn't lower his weapon. "
Nu ona zhe oboroten
."

"
Ya skazal, polozhi pistolet
!" Ivan pulled out his own pistol and pointed it at Yuri.

Any second now this is going all Tarantino. Maybe I could just sneak out while they're busy.

Yuri scowled. Sweat formed on his forehead. Billi held her breath, her hand slowly moved toward her Glock, just in case.

"
Chort
!" shouted Yuri, dropping his pistol to his side. Ivan lowered his weapon, but never took his eyes off the Bogatyr. "Now what?"

"Get her out of here," Billi's hands were still shaking. That had been too bloody close. She picked up the pistol and shoved it back in her pocket. She came to the door and Yuri stepped aside, tapping his pistol against his leg impatiently. She looked down the corridor. No one. "Well, are you going to help or what?"

"Billi... "

"What, Ivan? What?" Billi wrapped her arm around the girl. "Is this what the Bogatyrs do? You think this is noble?"

Conflicting emotions fought in Ivan's eves. Frustration and rage. Against his desire to be better. To be a true Bogatyr. Nobility wasn't in the blood, it was in the deed.

"Follow me." He headed upstairs.

The floor above was no different— run-down and damp. Ivan went to the farthest door and rammed his boot into the lock, shattering it out of its frame.

A young woman cowered behind a cupboard. She wore a rough woolen coat and had been putting on her shoes when they'd burst in. An old-fashioned green paisley scarf covered her head. She fell to her knees, hands raised, cowering.

Ivan spoke rapidly and helped her up.

The girl in Billi's arms whimpered and struggled when she saw the young woman. Billi let her go, and she ran into her arms.

Men shouted from below. The Bogatyrs must have gathered in the lobby. They wanted to know if Ivan was okay.

"I'll deal with them," he said, and left.

"Do you speak English?" Billi asked. The young woman nodded.

"Good. We're getting you two out of here." She inspected the apartment for a way out, but found none. She pulled back the curtains.

The back of the block overlooked a wide field of derelict buildings. The nearest abutted the back of theirs. Billi opened the window and reckoned the drop was about fifteen feet. The young woman stood beside her and peered out.

Billi heard footsteps banging on the stairs.

The paisley woman jumped first. Despite her human appearance, she landed softly on all fours. She twitched her head, then stood up, arms reaching toward the window.

Billi took the girl and dangled her out over the edge, lowering her slowly down the wall. Her back strained and she bent double over the windowsill, the stiff Kevlar jacket now a hindrance, restricting her movements.

"Billi!" Someone, Lance, shouted for her. But there were more men, more voices, behind him.

Sod it!

Billi let go.

The girl cried as she fell, but then there was a grunt as Paisley caught her. Billi struggled back in—she had half fallen out the window—just as Lance and two Bogatyrs burst in. Billi blocked the window from their view.

"
D'accord
?" Lance asked. Billi took a deep breath and straightened her armor. "Yes, I'm okay." She followed Lance and the other men downstairs.

Back in the lobby it was clear the battle was over. The air was tainted with the metallic sting of gunpowder, and fresh bullet holes decorated the walls. A half dozen Bogatyrs had gathered in the ground-floor lobby. Three more lay against the wall, unmoving. The man who'd come out to collect his paper lay by the door, and there were four other bullet-ridden corpses—women, their bodies bleached white.

Ivan stood by the door with Dimitri. Billi gave him a small nod.

"No Vasilisa?" asked Gwaine. His ax had been cleaned, but blood still smeared the bright steel.

Billi shook her head and gestured to the bodies. "All this bloodshed for nothing."

"They were the Unholy," he said.

Billi just thought of the frightened girl cowering under a quilt, her mother dead in the corridor. "Yeah, 'course they were."

WHAT A BLOODY DISASTER!

Billi hurled her body armor across her bedroom. It crashed into an elegant antique chair, sending both across the floor. Then she slumped down onto her bed.

She glanced at the satellite phone; her dad had left a message. No doubt eager for the good news.

How many dead? Three Bogatyrs and nine Polenitsy. A couple of the werewolves had escaped in the confusion, but there had been no other children. It was clear that Vasilisa hadn't been there. The photo that Billi had convinced herself was Vasilisa had been the werewolf child. Some news.

Maybe Elaine had found something in the library. But if she came up blank, Billi had no idea how they could find Vasilisa before it was too late. It was Thursday lunchtime already, and the full moon was coming up on Saturday.

She grabbed the phone and took the elevator down to report in to her dad outside—you never knew who was listening here.

The elevators halted on one of the other floors. The doors opened and Koshchey stood waiting.

His massive frame blocked the elevator doors, and he was so tall he'd have to lower his head to get in. His suit rustled softly as he brushed it and adjusted his cuffs. Billi caught the crimson sparkle of rubies in the cufflinks.

The guy was vain and flashy. It was as though he'd modeled himself on Ivan: debonair outfits and cool looks. But Ivan carried himself with a seamless, casual elegance. Koshchey was a million miles away from that. Billi wasn't sure what would suit Koshchey except a butcher's apron.

"Are you well, Lady SanGreal?"

"I'm fine."

He stepped into the elevator, and Billi could have sworn it dropped a few inches under his weight.

"I am sorry about today. Very unpleasant. But do not worry, we will find your friend." He straightened the fat knot of his tie, checking himself, admiring himself, in the mirrored paneling. "We moved too quickly, without confirming our intelligence. Such operations carry a large risk of... "

"Failure?"

"Disappointment. We will find her." He spoke with hard certainty. "You will have my best men to help you."

"And Ivan? Will he help?"

"Alas, no. I cannot permit it. He is best here, where I can protect him."

Where you can keep an eye on him, you mean.

Koshchey made a broad sweep with his hand. "Come with me. I have a gift."

"Really, it's not necessary."

"Oh, but it is." He reached out and pressed a button on the elevator's control panel.

The elevator took them up and up. Billi shifted as far away from Koshchey as she could, but the elevator was small and Koshchey was huge. As they passed each floor, a bell chimed and illuminated the floor numbers above the door.

The elevator stopped at the thirtieth floor and the doors slid open.

"My suite," said Koshchey.

"Which used to be Ivan's father's, right?"

"And now it is mine. You like Ivan, do you not?" He raised an eyebrow, interested in Billi's response. "All the young women do. He has charm, that boy."

"And guts."

"Yes, yes. The Romanovs never lacked for courage." Koshchey shook his massive head. "But the boy is an idealist. He does not understand that there are no rules in war." He smiled as if he were sharing a secret joke with Billi. "Unlike you, SanGreal. I think you understand that all too well."

"What do you mean?"

"Is there anything you wouldn't do to get the job done?" He drew his red beard into a neat point as he talked.

Billi couldn't answer. She couldn't say, "But I don't go around killing innocent children," because she might have to do exactly that before the week was through. Billi lowered her head in shame.

"I thought as much," said Koshchey. "If Ivan was more like you, I would gladly hand the Bogatyrs over to him." He stepped out of the elevator and strode across into a large entryway, tall windows along one wall, the morning sunlight sweeping across the lofty space. "Magnificent, isn't it?"