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 it’s 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 rock 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.”
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? Unlikely. 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.
Jesus. The Bogatyrs and Koshchey on one side, and Baba Yaga on the other. Where the hell was her dad? She couldn’t fight everyone alone.
“He’s dead, you know that?” Billi said to Olga. “That boy over there-and his mother. You’re all racing off to your deaths.” Olga tried to turn, but Billi just blocked her path. “Fimbulwinter is coming unless we do something.”
/>
They’d stopped beside a rusty-looking van. Two men loaded chests and boxes on to the roof rack. A man in a parka attacked the deep snow with a shovel, hacking at the thick ice that had set around the wheels. The night echoed angrily with the bedlam of machines and wolves. Olga shoved the rear door open. “What’s your answer, then?”
“All I know is that we need to stop this… madness.”
“It is not madness. It is the will of the Great Mother.”
Olga held the door open for Billi. “Do you not have a similar saying? Deus vult?”
Billi stepped into the van, followed by Ivan. A man was already sitting in the passenger seat, a big Swede. There was steel mesh between them. He glanced at Billi and Ivan, then pulled his thick parka closer around him. Olga climbed into the driver’s seat and revved the engine. The headlights came on and the vehicle shook itself into action. Snow slid off the hood as the van climbed out of the snow-packed trench. Olga glanced at Billi through the rear-view mirror.
What is she thinking? Billi wondered. Olga wasn’ta blind fanatic like her granddaughter. She was the Polenitsy pack leader and took her responsibilities seriously. The survival of the pack was paramount, but loyalty to Baba Yaga had been bred into the Polenitsy for thousands of years. Olga looked away, and the van began to move, bouncing over the rough snow.
Billi felt the Venus figurine in her pocket. She shifted closer to Ivan and put her head on his shoulder. His arm came up around her, and they settled into silence together.
She sniffs the air and growls to her sisters. Mingled with the fresh scent of the forest is ash, the smell of burning, of man. She flexes her claws and peers into the veil of snowflakes that drift from the moon-bright sky.
There, at the edge of the trees. She sees light come from a window and hears the sounds of singing and music. But it is a harsh sound that hisses and crackles-men and their false voices and noises. A thin spiral of smoke rises from the stone chimney.
Billi steps over the low fence and comes to a wall of cloth. The human woman has hung out the sheets, though they are brittle with frost. Billi sniffs the white cloth and her head swims with the soft, milky odor of a suckling baby. She licks her lips.
Her sisters creep beside her as they approach the front door. Through the glass, Billi sees the family sitting in front of their glowing box of colors. She blinks. The light is painful and the noise tears at her sensitive ears. No wonder humans are driven mad, in this pandemonium of hateful sounds and lights. The human woman laughs and the babe in her arms wails.
Billi reaches for the door. Her hands, covered in glossy black hair, touch the cold brass handle, and her claws click together as she turns it.
Four humans gaze at her. The woman screams now, clutching the baby close to her chest. The boy stares, eyes blank with terror, and the acid sting of urine rises as he wets himself.
The man reaches for the poker beside the fire, though his hand trembles.
“Manflesh,” Billi growls. She and her sisters will feed well.
She leaps.
“Billi!”
Billi woke. Ivan was staring anxiously at her. Her head was on his lap now.
God, she was boiling: sweat soaked her clothes, and her hair stuck to her scalp.
“Are you okay?” He held her tightly, and his face was close to hers.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just a bad dream.”
Thank God.
She was tossed and bounced as the van rattled across the countryside. Billi saw the lights of a convoy through the rear window; a dozen or so vehicles followed while wolves chased after, weaving in and out of the dense forest on either side of the road.
But where was Vasilisa? Billi caught a glimpse of something above her: a huge, cumbersome bat-shape that darted through the whirling snow. Ribbons trailed from the edges of its cloak, and a scream of wild joy pierced through the wind.
Baba Yaga rode the storm.
Billi desperately fought the primordial feelings threatening to take her over forever. “You’ll make it, Billi,” whispered Ivan. “No I won’t,” she answered. He wanted to reassure her, but she knew she didn’t have long. “Listen, you know where the stone is.” She nodded to her left trouser pocket. “If I change tonight, I’ll need you to take it and use it.”
“You’ll make it. I know you will.” He stroked her hair while Billi hugged him, putting her head against his chest and closing her eyes. She listened to the steady beat of his heart and tried to forget the hunger she’d felt in her dream when she’d walked into that room.
This wasn’t over yet.
The long night wore on, and Billi sweated and shook with lycanthropic fever. The weather worsened, and the only relief came when the moon went behind snow-stuffed clouds. Ivan stayed beside her, never sleeping, murmuring to her in Russian. Billi leaned her head on his shoulder, focusing on his gentle voice.
The engine rattled and gears screamed as the van came to a halt. Billi’s eyes snapped open.
Olga turned the ignition off and on, but the noise was getting even worse, as though the entire vehicle were having a seizure.
The big Swede swore and jumped out of the passenger door. Olga got out too.
The storm had lifted, but snow fell heavily from a dull, colorless sky. The sun was up, somewhere behind the clouds, and Billi was washed over with relief; she could rest now that the moon was no longer in the sky.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Ivan twisted his head and looked out. “We’ve lost the others. Storm must have broken up the convoy.”
The Swede hauled out his tool kit as Olga popped open the hood. She held up a flashlight while the man rummaged around in the grease and steel. He leaned farther in, complaining that Olga wasn’t directing the flashlight properly.
Olga slammed the hood down on him.
He groaned and she did it again, making a hollow, clunking noise. The man’s legs gave out, but he was still conscious. He swung his arms, but Olga stepped back, then struck him across the forehead with the heavy metal flashlight, just to make sure. He hit the ground with a thud.
The rear door opened and Olga addressed Ivan. “Tsarevich, I am going to have to trust you.” Ivan said nothing, but his grim gaze spoke loudly enough. Olga sighed.
“I killed your father, but I meant him no ill will. It is war and that is the way of things. Do you understand?” Billi hadn’t noticed, but Olga wasn’t wearing her tribal outfit anymore; she wore instead a wool tunic and jeans tucked into a pair of stout boots. Her gray hair was loose and swayed in the wind.
“I understand my father is dead.”
“We will all be dead unless you and I can work together.” Olga helped Billi out of the van. “Though we are enemies, there can be respect between us.”
Ivan pulled himself out, never taking his eyes off Olga. Eventually he gave a curt nod.
“We will settle our differences another time,” he said.
Olga and Billi made their way to the front of the van, beside the unconsicous Scandinavian.
“Take his legs,” Olga said, and together they rolled the big man into the verge.
“What made you change your mind?”
Olga watched the man slide through the deep snow and come to a stop at the bottom. “My first duty is to the Polenitsy. I managed to speak to the Spring Child alone after seeing you. She is truly innocent and has no guile in her. If the Spring Child says it is so, that Baba Yaga plans to kill us all with Fimbulwinter, then it is so.”
“Thank you,” said Billi. “What about Vasilisa?”
Olga pointed back down the road behind them. Two weak headlights shone through the snow as a hulking Humvee lumbered toward them, part of the convoy that had fallen behind. Olga went to the glove compartment in the van and pulled out a heavy revolver. The chunky Smith &Wesson’s barrel was over seven inches long, and it looked like it had been built to hunt elephants.
“Ambush?” asked Billi.
“Ambu
sh.”
Billi slid a foot or so down the verge and waited. Olga waved her flashlight at the approaching vehicle.
The car stopped, its engine still running. Peeking over the embankment, Billi saw a man jump out of the backseat and approach Olga, smiling. He was still smiling when she swung the flashlight against his head.
Billi scrambled up the slope and ran to the driver’s half-open window. There was a woman at the wheel, one of the Polenitsy still in human form.
Vasilisa lay in the back, asleep under a shawl. Billi poked the long barrel through the window.
“I’ll take the Spring Child, if you don’t mind,” she said.
Vasilisa woke up as Billi opened the door. She screamed and backed away, frantically wrestling with the door handle.
“No, Vasilisa, don’t!” Billi reached out with her hand slowly. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
“You promised before and you lied.” She pressed herself hard against the far door, knees up against her chest and hand still on the door handle. Looking at her, Billi’s heart broke. She had been dressed for sacrifice. Someone had combed out her hair, and it shone like the gold necklaces that hung around her. Small wire armlets studded with gems covered her upper arms. Henna patterns had been applied around her eyes, spirals and delicate feather shapes that seemed to transform her into a fairy princess. Her dress was white and embroidered with gold thread; outlines of prehistoric animals and sorcerers covered the cloth.
Billi nodded; she had no answer. “Please, Vasilisa. I need you to come with me.”
Olga ordered the other Polenitsy out of the car and confiscated their cell phones. Billi put the gun down on the car seat in front of Vasilisa and raised her hands.
Dark Goddess Page 22