The other Templars gathered warily around Old Gray. She’d not fully transformed, but her skin was covered in fur, and her skull had elongated to accommodate a snout and a line of fangs. She barely acknowledged them.
Arthur slapped Billi on the back and inspected her armor, nodding with satisfaction. “Well done,” he said. He nodded at Lance. “Get the car ready. I want to be able to make a quick exit, if need be.”
“Bon,” said Lance. He took Vasilisa’s hand and patted it between his palms. “It is good to see you again, Vasilisa.” Then he slung his shield over his shoulder and disappeared down an alleyway.
Billi looked at her dad and held up her arrow. “This is tipped with meteoric rock from the blast. I made it from the Venus figurine.”
Arthur took the arrow and pressed his thumb against the tip. “Elaine told me the statue’d been left in London. You found it?”
Billi gestured to the small girl. “Vasilisa had it all along.”
Arthur handed it to Gareth. “What do you think?”
Gareth, the Templars’ best archer, rolled the arrow in his fingers, testing its weight. He put the arrow to the string, and the bow creaked as he drew it back to his cheek. “Good for thirty, forty yards.”
Billi took out the other two stone-tipped arrows and handed them to Gareth.
“This all?” he asked.
“Sorry, it wasn’t a big piece of rock.”
Gareth checked all three arrows and handed one back. “The head’s too loose on this one-won’t fly far. I’ll hang on to these two.”
“And if that doesn’t work?” asked Gwaine. “What about the girl?”
“If that doesn’t work, we fight to the last man,” said Arthur. Unconsciously, he ran his thumb over the engraved pommel of his sword as he scanned the battleground, tracing the emblem of the two knights on a single horse. He pointed to the school building. “What do you reckon, Gareth?”
“I’d prefer a grassy knoll, but that’ll do.” He sprinted off, bow in one hand and his quiver in the other. Billi held Vasilisa’s hand and drew her saber. “Stick close to me.”
Vasilisa responded with a squeeze.
Arthur turned to Ivan. “And you are?”
Ivan straightened. “I am Tsarevich Ivan Alexeivich Rom-”
“But you can call him Ivan,” Billi interrupted. She wiped the sweat off her forehead. Arthur took her arm, seeing the bandages.
“You’ve been injured? How bad?”
“Werewolves. Pretty bad.” She pulled up a corner of the bandages. The bite marks were black circles now, but thin, dark veins ran just under the skin. “She took a big bite.”
“Where are Elaine’s poultices?” Arthur asked Mordred. The young squire sprang to attention.
“In the car, sir.”
“Then take Billi over there right now. Just get her-”
“Eyes front,” said Gwaine.
They came. Engines died as one by one the followers of Baba Yaga stepped out of their vehicles. Packs of wolves crept out of the woods and through the sprawling amusement park. Then the Polenitsy stopped, and Billi watched their skin ripple as the wolves became women. They approached, chests heaving and blowing big clouds of steaming breath in the frosty air, eyes on Billi and the others. Closest was Svetlana. Her body shone with sweat as she stood on top of a car, staring down at them. Her face turned to horror as she saw her grandmother. Then the horror gave way to fury as she realized she was there of her own free will.
But the younger wolf didn’t even have to voice her rage before the land around them came alive, silencing them all. The trees shook. Their burden of snow tumbled down over the gathered crowd. Their boughs creaked and their branches rustled, as though whispering to one another.
“What’s happening?” said Arthur as he backed away. He gestured to the other Templars, and they formed a line alongside him, Billi and Vasilisa behind them.
“Baba Yaga,” said Vasilisa.
Old Gray crouched. Her hands had fully changed into claws, and she flexed them, prepared for the attack. Gwaine took a wide stance as the ground trembled under him. Mordred’s hands wrung the spear shaft while Arthur kept his sword low but ready.
Ivan had his revolver in his right hand and used his scabbarded sword as a stick to help steady himself. He quickly looked back at Billi.
“Now we will find out how right you are,” he said as he swayed on the pitching ground.
Billi, still holding Vasilisa, drew out her saber.
A powerful wind roared down between the buildings, and in its howl there was the scream of a thousand voices. What Billi thought was a circling flock of crows was actually a single mass, a figure wrapped in long streaming robes and a tangle of cloaks.
The ground shook and a crevasse tore along the pavement, hurling off sharp chips of concrete. The buildings groaned, and Billi spun around as she heard the school’s windowpanes creak, lines of fracture growing like spiderwebs across the glass, twisting, but holding.
The Polenitsy knelt as one, all but Old Gray. She raised her head defiantly, her face now more wolf than human, long-muzzled and black-lipped. The trees bowed, the thick trunks groaning as their branches touched the ground. Billi covered her eyes as the wind stung her. She pulled Vasilisa against her, covering her as best she could.
Then the air stilled.
Baba Yaga stood among the Polenitsy. She drew her taloned fingers through her brittle white hair, and her wrinkled iron-fanged face darkened with rage as she slammed her bone staff on the hardpacked snow. The ancient witch unbent, rising high over them, her shadow covering the Templars as she lifted herself to her full height, nearly twenty feet tall.
“Mother of God,” whispered Mordred. “Steady, lad,” said Arthur, even though his voice was anything but calm. Baba Yaga peered down at them, her black-diamond eyes glinting.
“The giRL. Give herr to MeEE,” she hissed.
“Come and get her,” said Billi.
Sixty yards, Billi reckoned, between her and Gareth. Just come a few steps closer, you old hag.
“Trust me, okay?” Billi whispered, then put her saber against Vasilisa’s throat. Vasilisa stiffened.
Afew of the werewolves edged closer.
“No, not you lot.” Billi stared at Baba Yaga. “Just her.”
“BacK, ZTay back.” Baba Yaga waved her hand. She turned her head slowly, searching the surroundings, not moving closer.
Did she suspect a trap? Of course she did. But Baba Yaga wanted the Spring Child, and what were they? Insignificant humans.
“Come on, take her,” Billi taunted. “Or are you afraid of a few mortals?”
“YoU WiLL dIESLoweSt, LittLe Templahh.”
Baba Yaga stepped forward. She moved slowly, each step churning the icy tarmac. Her fingers twitched on the bone staff, the bracelets and necklaces rattling. A deep hellish hiss rolled from her cracked throat.
Just a few more feet.
She was thinking it. They were all thinking it. Billi’s mind was focused on the arrowhead, the small sharp triangle of stone that would kill Baba Yaga. It all came down to the next few steps. She thought of Gareth in the armory, sending arrow after arrow into the bull’s-eye. The guy could put an arrow through the eye of a dormouse in the dark.
Just one more step and it’s game over.
Billi couldn’t keep the urge, the desire, out of her mind. None of them could. They were practically screaming for Baba Yaga to take another step.
“Noo, NoOO-” Baba Yaga stopped. She glared at Billi, her black eyes seeming to grow in darkness. Her teeth ground against each other.
Just one more foot.
Baba Yaga’s gaze shot up to the library window. “NOO!”
Oh no.
Baba Yaga was an avatar, but one who’d accumulated all the powers of the thousands of Spring Children she’d devoured. She could command the elements. She’d taught the first Polenitsy to shape-shift. She could read minds. She’d heard them-how could she not? They were all screaming at
her to step closer into the Templars’ trap.
The twang of the bowstring seemed as loud as a thunderbolt, and like a thunderbolt, it covered the distance between Gareth and Baba Yaga in an instant. Baba Yaga screamed and fell backward as the arrow entered her shoulder. The Polenitsy wailed, and three scurried to aid their goddess, then backed away as she rose up again, her face twisted into a mask of horror. The iron-filled black mouth opened, and she screamed, snapping the arrow off with a flick of her taloned finger. Bilious black blood spurted from the wound.
The wolf pack leaped toward them. Dozens of Polenitsy moved from human to wolf in the blink of an eye.
“C’mon!” Billi wrapped her fingers tight around Vasilisa’s wrist as she backed away.
The second arrow flew, but Baba Yaga swatted it out of the air; it tumbled away and was lost in the snow.
Arthur grabbed Vasilisa around the waist as he ran, lifting her off the ground.
An engine revved and a Jeep raced out from an alleyway, Lance at the wheel.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said.
The wolves charged them.
“Ivan!” Billi pulled him toward the Jeep. She kicked one startled werewolf in the jaw, catching its tongue in its teeth. Old Gray leaped among the Polenitsy in a frenzy of fangs and claws.
Gwaine and Mordred sprinted into the school building while arrow after arrow from Gareth’s regular supply flew in among the werewolves. Billi understood immediately: the three Templars would cover the retreat, forcing the werewolves to advance under a flight of arrows. Already two werewolves lay still in the reddening snow, arrows lodged in their throats and eye sockets. As Billi ran, more arrows darted through the darkening sky as Gwaine and Mordred added their volleys to Gareth’s onslaught.
Billi’s heart raced as she threw herself into the passenger seat, expecting to have her back torn open to the bone any second. Arthur tossed Vasilisa in beside her and squeezed in next. Ivan slammed the front passenger door shut as a pair of claws ripped across the windshield.
“Seat belts!” Lance shouted as the Jeep’s engine roared.
Two werewolves clambered onto the hood, then yelled as they were ripped off. Gray took one across the throat and hurled it into the pack. Its fur was crisscrossed by bleeding wounds and its jaw slavering red. Gray was defending them from her sisters.
The sky turned twilight dark as the moon slid halfway across the sun’s face. The car jumped forward and accelerated away from the crowd of werewolves. Gray snapped at the arm of one, then she too turned and ran, loping easily alongside the Jeep. Billi glanced in the side mirror and saw a dozen wolves spring into the chase.
She checked Vasilisa, who sat beside her sobbing. She didn’t look hurt, just scared. Beside the girl was Arthur, twisted around so he could watch out of the rear. His leather jacket creaked as he stretched his shoulders, and his fingers fidgeted around the wire bindings of the sword hilt.
Ivan, beside Lance, put his revolver on the dashboard as he adjusted his sword belt. Then he wiped his hands on his lap and took up the big gun. He winked at Billi.
The car hit an ice patch and skidded sideways, the rear turning a full circle before bumping against a tree.
“Down!” shouted Ivan, glancing back at the werewolves descending upon them.
Vasilisa screamed as werewolves slammed into the rear. The Jeep jumped from the impact, then crashed back down with bone-jarring force. The glass blew apart and there was an ear-piercing cry as a wolf went down.
“Any time now would be good,” said Arthur to Lance as the wheels spun uselessly on the ice.
“Merde,” swore Lance, jamming the vehicle into reverse and barreling over the surprised wolves. The Jeep jolted, and they heard a crunch and a yelp from under it.
“Nasty,” muttered Arthur. Something slammed onto the top of the car, and he shoved his sword through the roof. The sword caught, and he pushed harder. Blood trickled through the tear, and a body tumbled off.
Lance shoved the wheel around and took them down a dark alleyway.
Arthur peered at Ivan. “How are you doing, lad?”
Ivan was dripping with sweat, and blood seeped through his trousers. All the running had reopened the wound on his leg, but his face didn’t betray his pain.
“Not dead yet,” he replied.
“Where to?” Billi asked. They’d lost the wolves, but it was only a matter of minutes before they were sniffed out.
“We patch you up, then fly you and Vasilisa right to Jerusalem,” answered Arthur. “We’ve got the girl away from them. That’s more than we’d hoped for. There’s a helicopter parked near the reactor. The other team will keep the Polenitsy busy for a while longer.”
“And there’s still this.” Billi pulled out the last stone-tipped arrow. Her bow was across her lap now, and she plucked the taut bowstring. Maybe the arrowhead wasn’t as well fixed as the others, but it could still do the job.
Billi looked again at Arthur, Vasilisa, and Ivan. She had three people she cared about right here. And she was going to do everything she could to save them.
41
“A NYTHING?” ASKED LANCE.
Billi peered out the rear window. No wolves. “We’ve lost them.” They’d lost Olga too. She must have fallen back to fight her fellow werewolves. “What about Gwaine and the others?” she asked. Arthur wiped his sword with his sleeve. “They’ll meet us at the rendezvous.”
“Bon.” Lance took his foot off the accelerator to get his bearings. Half the road signs were gone or too rusted to be legible. Arthur put his hand on Billi’s arm, and she winced.
“Show me your arm,” he said.
Billi rolled up her sleeve and looked at the wound.
Black lumps covered the bite marks, and thick veins pulsed just beneath her skin. The wound itself smelled of damp, rotten earth.
Arthur drew a sharp breath.
“What d’you think?” Billi asked. She felt sick looking at the bite marks. It was like she had the plague. The skin around them was hot and red, feverish.
Arthur said nothing, but reached under the seat and pulled out a plastic box. The moment he took the lid off, Billi sighed with relief. Elaine’s stinking poultices. The smell made her eyes water, but right now the musky odor was sweeter than any perfume.
“We’ll patch you up right and proper,” he said, but Billi could hear the tension in his voice.
Was it too late?
Just then Billi caught a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye. A tree-a thick oak-tilted. It twitched, shaking snow off its branches as though it were awakening. The pavement around it cracked and rose up in a shower of dirt and concrete as it leaned over. The boughs swayed, groaning as they bent like reeds, sweeping toward the approaching car.
A massive branch slammed across the side of the Jeep, catapulting it into the air. Billi was tossed around as the Jeep rolled over and over. The windows exploded and the metal frame screeched, flinging Billi against the back, then she was hurled forward, caughtby the seat belt. She grabbed hold of Vasilisa, trying her best to cover the little girl’s body with her own.
Then the car stopped. Billi hung upside down as it came to rest on its roof. Her ears buzzed, and she tried to shake the fuzz out of her head. It took a few seconds for her focus to come back.
Outside, Baba Yaga slammed down to the earth. The ground around her cracked, and shock waves spread out across the snow. She looked over at the upturned Jeep, moonlight catching on her grinning teeth. She bent her arm, slowly flexing her fingers. The tree branches responded, bursting through the glass and piercing the car’s bodywork. Baba Yaga pressed her hands together and pushed the Jeep deeper into the ground.
Vasilisa lay on the ceiling, crying. Loudly.
That’s good, Billi thought. She sounds very much alive.
Shouting. People were shouting. Billi fumbled around for the belt catch and dropped out with a click.
Arthur reached in and grabbed Billi’s hand.
“Ar
e you okay?” He stared at her, terrified. Billi nodded.
“Vasilisa…” she said. Arthur understood. Billi crawled out as he wrenched the passenger door open. The metal buckled as the tree leaned its thickest boughs into the steel frame. Arthur lifted Vasilisa out.
“I’m okay.” Her smock was torn and she had small cuts on her hands and knees. Her necklaces and jewelry hung in tatters.
“Ivan?” Billi lay on her belly and desperately looked for signs of life.
Ivan groaned and unbuckled his seat belt. He dropped out of the Jeep and yelled in pain upon landing. “This is becoming a habit,” he muttered. Billi helped him up.
“Thank you,” he said. His sleeve had been ripped to the cuff, so he took off his coat and threw it aside. His white shirt clung to his sweaty chest as he flicked open the gun barrel and checked that the revolver wasn’t damaged.
Lance crawled out the opposite side, pulling his sword out after him. He held up Ivan’s own sword. Ivan shook his head.
Lance took a sword in each hand and joined Arthur to face the ancient witch.
Baba Yaga stood at the far end of the street, and cried in victory as the Jeep bent double under the pressure of the tree. The hood popped and folded like a book. Oil and gasoline spewed out as the engine cracked. Baba Yaga shot up her arm, and the oak tree sprang up straight. The branches shivered, then settled. They weren’t getting away from her again.
The ancient witch flicked back her cloak and banged her stick on the icy ground. The sound echoed between the concrete walls and spread out across the still night sky. In the near distance it was answered by howls. The Polenitsy were on their way, coming from all directions. Baba Yaga lifted her stick and cried out to her werewolves.
Billi took a few steps before falling down. Her head felt heavy and swollen. Ivan slung his arm under hers and brought her to her feet. She rested against him, her head throbbing.
“Bloody hell,” whispered Billi. The moon rose, fat and full, bathing the tomb of mankind’s nuclear folly with its dead light.
Chernobyl.
The old reactor was encased with huge concrete blocks. Millions of tons had been used to bury the radioactive heart of the disaster, and the sarcophagus was nearly a hundred feet high. Dark patches of leaked contaminants smeared the sides of the walls, and some areas had been crudely patched with steel panels, themselves now deeply corroded. The perimeter walls were topped with rusty barbed wire.
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