Sarwat Chadda - Billi SanGreal 02 - Dark Goddess (6 page)

There was a gentle tapping on the door. "Billi? Is that you?"

"Vasilisa?"

The girl came in. She'd wrapped herself up in one of Billi's old bathrobes, which trailed along the floor.

"I couldn't sleep," she said. Billi had heard her crying earlier. She'd thought about going in and saying something, but what? Nothing would bring Vasilisa's parents back, and nothing Billi could say would ease the pain.

"What do you want?" It came out harsher than Billi intended.

Vasilisa stood in the center of the faded red carpet. "I want to go home." She said it in a small, hopeless voice. "I don't like it here."

"
Who does
? The farmhouse isn't safe."

"No. Home in Karelia."

"That's not safe either. Don't worry. My dad will figure something out." Billi shook her head; she wasn't going to get rid of Vasilisa, so she pulled up a stool.

"Fine. Sit here, but don't touch anything."

Billi cut the thick tape that bound the cardboard box and rested her fingers on the lid. This was the last of Kay. She opened the box.

CDs, a pile of books, a copy of
NME
magazine, and a couple of paperbacks. Nothing special except it was all Kay's. Billi began emptying the contents, making neat piles on the large desk. Vasilisa sat up and watched.

Billi flicked through a scrapbook of newspaper clippings. They were all seemingly minor incidents. A grave being defiled. Some wild-dog attack in a park. They didn't seem like much, but the Templars kept an eye out for odd events. You never knew if one might lead to a
ghul
or a werewolf. Kay had made notes in his small, neat script in the margins, marking down which he thought worth investigating. Then there were the clippings on the mysterious sickness spreading through Britain. The last article was a few days before his death. Billi smiled. He was such a nerd. As Billi flicked through Kay's comments she saw Vasilisa reaching into the box.

"No!" Billi slapped the girl's hand, and something silver flew across the room and cracked against the wall. Billi stared at Vasilisa. "I
said
don't touch anything."

"I was just helping." She lowered her head, and her unkempt blond hair fell like a veil over her face. "Sorry."

Billi rose and picked up the object.

It was Kay's old cell phone. Billi turned it in her hand. The screen was cracked now. Billi bit her lip. If Vasilisa had broken it, Billi would be furious. She dug out a charger from one of the drawers and plugged it in.

The screen a I owed and the blood red Templar cross appeared.
It works, thank God
. The logo faded away, and Billi stared at the screen saver.

It was her and Kay.

She didn't even remember him taking it. They were outside, somewhere in the gardens, sitting on a bench. Wind had caught strands of his platinum-white hair, half covering his face. He was smiling that smile of his—like he knew a big secret. Vasilisa peered over her shoulder and gazed closely at the photo.

Billi looked at Vasilisa. She had a wide pale face with dimpled cheeks that converged into a small pointed chin. Her blond hair was thick and uncombed. She had a young child's nose, a round button, red from sniffing.

Look to the living.

"You've got a pixie face," Billi said, fighting back a sudden urge to gently tuck Vasilisa's blond locks behind her ear.
Where had that come from
?

"
Are
there pixies?"

"Not since 1807."

"I like you with long hair," Vasilisa said. She pointed to the photo on the wall. "Like your mum."

It was a picture of the three of them— Billi, her mum, and her dad. It had been taken when she was five. She was being squeezed between her parents. Jamila was looking toward the camera, but Arthur was just gazing at his wife with open, uninhibited joy. He seemed decades younger, no gray in his hair, and his face smooth and worry-free. Billi grinned at herself, a five-year-old girl with a small gap in the middle of her baby teeth.

"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 follow 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's my duty.
Like's
got 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.

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, and 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."