by Unknown
"It's beautiful," said Billi. It was a woman, crudely shaped, with a small head and large breasts and hips. Billi had seen statuettes like this in museums. It was a Venus figurine—they were prehistoric religious items, found throughout Europe.
Billi inspected the stone. The gold leaf had fallen off in patches and the stone beneath was highly polished, like black obsidian. Dark veins of iron ran through it.
"Babushka said it was the goddess."
"Baba Yaga?"
"No, not just Baba Yaga." Vasilisa took back the statue. "Baba Yaga is the Dark Goddess, the Winter Crone. But sooner or later winter ends and spring comes." Vasilisa kissed the statue gently. "My babushka's mother made this and the matryoshka dolls around it when she lived in Tunguska."
"Tunguska?"
Vasilisa waved at the window. "Out in Siberia." She picked up the gold-covered figurine. "She used to say this was magic. That's why she covered it in gold."
"She sounds like an interesting woman," said Billi. "What else did your babushka's mother say? Anything about Baba Yaga?"
"Oh yes." Vasilisa took the figurine and whispered, "Baba Yaga hates us, Billi. For all the damage we've done."
"What sort of damage?"
"She wants the Earth back to how it was before men came. She feels the Earth; she feels it like it's her. Every time we dig mines we're cutting her skin. When we put our garbage in the sea we're pouring poison in her mouth. We make her sick." Vasilisa held up the figurine, turning it toward the moonlight.
"You know that from her mind?" Vasilisa spoke with such simple clarity, Billi could almost see Baba Yaga's point.
Vasilisa didn't answer. She just stared, openmouthed, at the window.
Bright brown eyes peered through the glass. The hulking black silhouette of a werewolf filled the window frame as it perched on a tree bough.
Billi leaped up, dragging Vasilisa with her. The werewolf smashed its clawed fist through the glass.
Howls filled the darkness outside, and Billi heard something crash through the front door below.
Billi pushed Vasilisa out the door as her father bounded up the stairs, Templar Sword in his fist.
"Out of the way!"
He barged past, and Billi glanced back to see the werewolf scrabbling through the broken window. It howled at Arthur, flailing its claws at him, but got caught in the small frame. Arthur stepped to the side, checked the distance between them, and hacked at the neck twice before the head came off. By the time it had rolled over to the door, the head had transformed into that of a woman, and not one Billi recognized. Olga and Svetlana had come with friends.
"Let's go," Arthur said as he flicked the blood off his sword.
With Arthur in front, Vasilisa in the middle, and Billi behind, they descended into the basement. More glass smashed, this time in the living room. Gareth, a spiked mace in his hand, went to investigate.
Bors waited in the crowded storeroom. He passed them each a flashlight, then set about moving a large storage trunk.
Billi found her wakizashi and scabbard hanging from the wall. She strapped it to her back and pulled her jacket over it while Bors lifted up a manhole cover. Arthur grabbed his Fairbairn-Sykes dagger, his old Royal Marine weapon, and slid it into a leather forearm sheath, which he covered with his sleeve.
"If anyone with a tail comes down here, treat them exceedingly badly," he said as he handed the Templar Sword to Bors.
"Damn right I will," said Bors.
They climbed down the shaft, Arthur first. He shone his flashlight up and down the tunnel before waving the others down. The stink doubled every yard they descended until eventually Billi touched the floor. Rats squeaked in the darkness, and Billi pointed the light down into the low circular sewer. The old bricks shone wetly, and foul water seeped through the gaps, collecting into a thin stream that trickled along the lowest point.
A vast labyrinth of underground tunnels and sewers lay under Temple District, and only the Templars knew them all. The old Fleet River had been covered over by the Victorians and turned into a main sewer. One of Billi's earliest training exercises had been to find her way around the system without a map.
"Which way?" Billi asked.
"Exit eleven." Holborn. That made sense. They could take the tube straight to Heathrow Airport from there.
"Don't step in anything," Arthur warned as he led them past colonies of red-eyed rats and pits overflowing with vomit-inducing foulness.
Eventually they reached a flight of steps leading to a steel door. Arthur unlocked it with a large key, and they emerged into a white-tiled corridor, the Holborn tube station itself. The door said danger—high voltage and had an official-looking London Electricity sign on it, so to the casual observer it was just one of the thousands of substations that covered the city.
Commuters in their winter coats, heads down and iPod buds in, barely gave them a second glance. It was rush hour and everyone wanted to get home. Billi took Vasilisa's hand and joined the flow.
Buffeted and shoved along by the crowd, Billi locked her fingers around Vasilisa's wrist as the sea of humanity caught her up. She couldn't see anything but the back of the guy in front of her. A Polenitsy could be right there and she wouldn't know it until the claws were in her back. Someone's elbow hit her ribs, and Billi almost lashed out, her senses on hyperdrive. A man barged between Billi and Vasilisa, knocking Billi's grip free.
"Billi!"
Vasilisa screamed as she disappeared in a sudden surge of people heading to the escalator. Billi glanced back and forth. Arthur was gone.
Bloody hell!
"Out of the way!" Billi pushed a man aside, knocking the newspaper out of his hands.
"Oi!"
Billi snarled, then saw Vasilisa turning around and around in a wall of bodies. Billi broke through, and Vasilisa ran into her arms. It took a minute for Billi to calm down, her heart racing harder here in the station than when the werewolves had attacked. She couldn't lose Vasilisa. Billi used her sleeve to wipe the tears from Vasilisa's face. This time they walked side by side to the westbound platform.
Arthur was waiting at the bottom of the steps. He put away his mobile.
"Elaine will meet us at Heathrow with Vasilisa's passport. She'll take her."
"You're not going?" Billi asked.
"Not with the Polenitsy on a rampage."
Together they emerged onto the crowded platform. HEATHROW—2 MINUTES.
The train pulled in and they pushed on board. A couple of seats came free, so Billi and Vasilisa sat. Arthur stood in the center of the car a few paces away, keeping an eye on the doors.
"We're okay," said Billi to herself as much as to Vasilisa, who still clutched her hand. People loomed over them, swaying from side to side as the train rattled through the tunnels. "Just sit tight."
Billi flicked open her mobile to check the time, but instead stopped to look at the display screen. The photo of her and Kay shone brightly. Billi had transferred it from Kay's old mobile to hers. She knew she shouldn't have, but looking at him felt different now. Only a week ago his smile would have cut her; now she just felt its warmth—its support.
Vasilisa looked up. "This is all my fault, isn't it?"
"No. This is their fault. The Polenitsy." Billi wiped her damp hair away from her forehead. "Don't worry. I won't let them touch you."
"You promise?"
"Promise."
Arthur pushed his way through the crowd. His eyes darted left and right, never dropping his guard. "Once Vasilisa's on her way, we'll set up at the Canterbury preceptory."
Someone started shouting. Arthur jumped.
"You two stick together," he ordered, and barged back down the car.
Vasilisa tightened her small cold fingers around Billi's and looked up at her. "They're here," she said, her voice soft and infinitely sad. Tears welled in her eyes.
Then the lights died.
Chapter 13
CRIES RAND OUT. THE CAR WAS LIT BY SMALL SPOTS of pearly white
as people used their mobiles to see, but all that was revealed were other stark faces rigid with fear. Billi tightened her hold on Vasilisa as the masses moved and people buffeted against each other. The air thickened with terror.
"I can't breathe!"
"Get out!"
"It's a bomb!"
"It's terrorists!"
"Open the doors!"
A scuffle broke out as people tried to barge their way through the interconnecting doors while those in the next carriage tried to do the same. The screams multiplied, and someone clawed at Billi's leg as they were knocked down.
The first howl silenced the entire train.
The second howl unleashed total chaos. The heaving mass of panicked passengers degenerated into pandemonium. They didn't know which way to run—the snarls and predatory growling seemed to be coming from all around. Billi heard the telltale slash of claws and the ripping of flesh, and someone's scream rose to an ear-splitting screech. Savage barks signaled the attack, then it was all tearing and biting. A black shape with a dripping snout loomedup, framed by the haze of cell phone lights. It peered down the carriage and saw them. It shook its ragged head, tossing bloody spittle across the ceiling.
"Deus vult!" Arthur slammed into the beast. He smacked his forearm across its jaw and rammed his dagger into its throat. People around him screamed, and suddenly he vanished into the panicking crowd.
"We're leaving," said Billi.
She jumped up and grabbed hold of the straps dangling over her head. Both of her feet came up high, then shot out, cracking a window. The glass exploded as she kicked it again. She grabbed Vasilisa around her waist.
"You first. Carefully."
Vasilisa hesitated, then embraced her. "You did your best," she said.
"It's not bloody over yet!" exclaimed Billi. She wasn't going to quit. They were getting out. There was no room to fight properly in here. Although the wall of terrified bodies stopped the werewolves from reaching Billi, she only had a few more seconds. She pushed Vasilisa out of the broken window, careful she didn't catch any of the jagged shards stuck in the frame. Billi felt Vasilisa step away, then she put her arms through the gap and followed.
Billi landed on a narrow ledge that ran alongside the train. She reached out, and Vasilisa grabbed her hand immediately.
Don't panic. How many times had that been drummed into her? If she just stuck to the tunnel, along the rails, she'd come out at the next platform. Simple. She clicked on her flashlight and shuffled along the ledge with Vasilisa behind her. They cleared the front of the train, and she hopped down onto the tracks.
"Don't touch the rails."
They followed the curve of the tunnel, slow and steady. They left the train behind, and soon the bestial cries and screams were lost, and the only sound was Billi's heart thumping in her chest. Her hand found a door handle and tested it: unlocked. She pulled Vasilisa in.
A storeroom. Billi inspected a map of the tube system pinned to the wall; they were halfway to the Knightsbridge station. Two service tunnels branched off nearby, and maybe if she took those, she could lose any pursuers. But that was a long detour. Speed or safety? Billi peeled the map off the wall and gave it to Vasilisa while she checked the rest of the small room. Screws, tape, and various other engineering tools cluttered the shelves. Billi pulled out her sword and felt better. She smiled at Vasilisa.
Vasilisa put her finger to her lips. The door was thick, but Billi still heard the scuttling of claws against the concrete. There was a short grunt as something landed on the ledge outside and sniffed. Billi pushed Vasilisa into a corner and gave her the flashlight. The handle clicked and the door opened slightly.
Billi shoulder-charged the door, and there was a yelp as it smashed into the intruder's face. She leaped back into the tunnel, landing squarely on the chest of the fallen werewolf. She slashed twice, each time feeling the blade bite deep. The monster coughed and gurgled, and Billi rolled off as two more approached her.
"Behind me!" she shouted to Vasilisa. Billi defended the doorway, stopping the werewolves from reaching Vasilisa. The air hissed, and Billi ducked as one of the pair swiped its claws in the space where her throat had just been.
She stamped on its long toes and kicked out at its legs, but it rolled and was back on all fours, snarling and snapping. Billi slashed and parried furiously with her wakizashi, not letting anything pass. Then she glimpsed flashlights bouncing along in the darkness. Help was coming. Police, rescue services, transport staff-she didn't care. They may not be able to fight, but they'd give her a chance to escape.
"Here! Here!" Billi screamed. She just needed to hang on a few more seconds. The third werewolf, the one with the bleeding head, got to its feet. Billi swung at it again, but it blocked her blow. Just tor a moment she was caught motionless. Then the werewolf swung both its arms into her, catapulting Billi off her feet. She tumbled through the air and crashed down on the ground, banging her head on a ledge. Bright sparks erupted in front of her eyes.
"Billi!"
Billi tried to get up, but was totally lost in the darkness. The floor pitched and tilted, and she groped for something to hold on to. She caught sight of a brown-pelted werewolf emerging from the storeroom, Vasilisa trapped in its anus. The light caught its black oily lips and deadly fangs before Vasilisa dropped the flashlight, leaving only her terrified screams.
"Vasilisa," Billi croaked, all the air driven from her lungs. She punched out drunkenly, but there was nothing there. She smelled the raw damp odor of sweaty fur and spun toward it, hands outstretched. But the werewolf swatted her away, and Billi tripped and crashed against the concrete. Then even the distant lights faded, and the screams of the small girl fell silent until all Billi had was... nothing.
Chapter 14
THE SKY IS BURNING, BUT IT'S SNOWING. PEOPLE LIE around Billi, charcoal statues slowly accumulating a blanket of snow. The trees are blackened sticks of ash; one has branches that still smolder.
It's the end of the world and she knows it.
The billboards have burned to nothing, and the houses themselves are ruined, black, with their roofs collapsed and all the windows shattered. The cars sit idle, their drivers husks of carbonized flesh and bone.
Billi holds out her hand. The snow is gray.
Ash. The sky is full of ash.
"She will do this unless you destroy her."
Billi sees Kay ahead. This time she doesn't go to him, but she feels warm just seeing him.
Kay walks closer. He's holding hands with two children. One is Vasilisa, dressed in her pajamas. The other is a small boy wearing a pair of jeans and a blue-and-burgundy Crystal Palace football top.
Oh, God. No.
"You did it to me, Billi," says Alex Weeks. He holds a sword out, hilt first. The first time is always the hardest. "Billi didn't spot it before, but a red stain is spreading over his chest. His shirt is torn open and his white flesh is like an empty page. The red is the story of his life. It wasn't long.
Billi takes the sword, her father's sword. She looks to Kay for help.
"You have to decide," says Kay.
This is wrong. Billi is holding the sword tip against Vasilisa's heart now. Vasilisa looks up at Billi. She trusts Billi.
"No "Billi tries to drop the weapon, but someone's holding her hand and arm. She looks around, and it's her dad. The other Templars line up behind him. He grips Billi's arm and pushes her toward Vasilisa.
"You must." His mouth is firm. "It is your duty."
"Kay, help me!" Billi struggles against her dad, but the others add their strength to his. An endless line of knights appears, vague in the gloom, and all their power is being channeled through Arthur's arm.
"You must. For all our sakes," says Arthur.
Billi stares down at Vasilisa and sees the girl's shadow. It is huge, malformed, and crooked. The shadow of a monstrous old crone.
Vasilisa screams as Billi slides the sword into her heart.
"Vasilisa!" Billi jerked awake. She was
straining against the straps holding her down while pain pounded behind her eyes. Bright lights shone all around her, and she didn't know where she was.
"Easy, miss," said a woman dressed in a green paramedic's uniform. Gas canisters and masks hung off the wall, and beside her was a rack neatly stacked with emergency gear: a portable defibrillator and packets of morphine, antiseptics, and bandages. Billi was in an ambulance. On the floor beside her lay the torn remains of her backpack. She could see three deeply carved cuts on it. Outside she could hear sirens, car horns, and the cacophony of hundreds of people.
"I... have to leave," said Billi. She had to save Vasilisa. If she hurried, there might still be a chance. But she couldn't move; the straps across her chest, waist, and legs held her firmly to the stretcher. "Please, I'm okay."
The medic patted her hand. "I'm sure you are, dear, but you've had a nasty knock. Best we take you in and keep an eye on you, just for tonight."
The doors swung open and Arthur barged in.
"Hey, you can't just come in here." The woman stood up and held out her hand. For a second Billi thought he was going to break it, but he glanced at Billi and his shoulders slumped. He gave a weak smile, but Billi knew he knew: she'd lost Vasilisa.
"She's my daughter."
"Oh." The paramedic looked down at Billi. "Well, we're taking her into Charing Cross Hospital. Just for the night."
"Dad, I just want to go home."
Arthur nodded. "Fine. The others are waiting."
The paramedic sighed impatiently. She stood in front of Arthur, blocking him from Billi.
"I'm afraid that's not possible. I'm afraid—"
Arthur put his hand on the woman's wrist. He didn't squeeze, but held it firmly. The woman tried to twist it free, but she was caught. She gazed into his eyes, first angry, then defiant, and then away.
"I'm afraid... " she whispered.
Yes. She was.
Minutes later, Billi and Arthur were beside the car. They'd made their way through the police cordon, past the row of ambulances treating the injured, past the hordes of sightseers and media. Huge spotlights had been erected around the station entrance. News vans lined the road, and dozens of flashlights bobbed around her as the rescue services tended the wounded and frightened passengers. The news was garbled, but Billi heard one newscaster reporting that a pack of large dogs—Rottweilers or pit bulls—had gone mad when a power failure had plunged the line into complete darkness. Several people had been savaged, but the dogs had escaped down the tunnels.