by Unknown
Arthur waved for a taxi.
"I lost her, Dad." Billi struggled to keep up, her bones groaning with pain. If she moved too fast, she thought she might crack into a million pieces. But the ache wasn't just because of the beating. She'd failed Vasilisa. But it wasn't just a single girl's life she'd jeopordized—it was the entire planet's.
"It's not over yet."
Billi stopped. "You know something?"
Arthur opened the taxi door. "Bors was mauled and there are three dead bodies at the Temple. The police are going to have a field day. That's all I know." He sighed. It had been a long night for them both, and there was still a lot to do. "But Elaine's okay and she has a plan."
"To find Vasilisa?" Billi gazed at the bedlam outside the tube station. The flashing lights, the crowds, and the ambulances. "And the Polenitsy."
"By God, yes." Arthur put his hand on her shoulder and smiled grimly. "And we will make them pay."
Chapter 15
A FEW HOURS LATER BILLI WAS BACK IN THE TEMPLE Church. She peered around at the other knights as they sat patiently in the council of war. She struggled to keep upright. She'd got back and found that Middle Temple Lane had been cordoned off by the police, who were going house to house, trying to understand how three dead women, one headless, had ended up in an area occupied mainly by lawyers.
Lance leaned over. "How are you, Bilqis?"
Her head felt like someone was rolling cannonballs in it. Her bones ached, and the thwack she'd been given by the werewolf made breathing hard work. She tried to smile, to be stoic and tough, but her grin turned into a grimace.
"You look awful," said Gwaine as he crossed the circle of chairs and took his own.
Arthur hadn't arrived, but the others waited in the gloomy candlelight of the round. They'd all got a battering that night. The closed chamber stank of Elaine's poultice concoction, the sour odor of old vegetables. Each knight had claw and bite wounds, so Elaine had spent half the night patching them up. She'd checked Billi's prior injuries and pronounced her fully recovered. It was a relief to get those stinking bandages off her back at last.
The west door opened, and a flurry of snow blossomed in, followed by Arthur, Elaine, and Father Rowland. Rowland shut the door and took his seat in a pew, turning so he could see the circle of knights. Elaine usually sat with him, but this time she followed Arthur into the circle. The normally cool and sarcastic old woman seemed anxious, and for the first time didn't have a cigarette twitching in her fingers. She looked around the high-backed chairs. She picked an empty one next to Billi and sat down.
Gwaine's mouth dropped open in shock.
"That's Bors's seat," he said, his voice weak and cracked.
"Not while he's in hospital." Arthur took his own seat. "This needs all of us."
"But, Arthur, she's... Jewish," said Gwaine, still staring in disbelief at the woman in his nephew's seat.
"Right now I really couldn't give a shit," replied Arthur. He slowly looked each of them in the eye. "It's been a bad night. Bors was badly wounded, but, God be praised, he's going to live."
"And the others?" Billi asked. The werewolves had attacked dozens of people on the train, infecting them all with lycanthropy.
Rowland cleared his throat. "Elaine and I have been to Crow Street Hospital, where the injured were taken. We've been able to use our contacts there to make sure they're being treated with Elaine's poultices. They'll recover."
"But we've no time to rest up and lick our wounds," said Arthur. "The Polenitsy have the girl."
Elaine butted in. "We've got to get her back. Soon."
Billi felt flushed and red, like they were all looking at her. She'd lost Vasilisa.
"The last time Vasilisa was with us she spoke of Fimbulwinter, something she believed Baba Yaga would bring about." Arthur twisted his wedding ring, constantly winding it around his finger. "Once Baba Yaga performs the Ritual of Devouring, she will be powerful enough to create a global winter that could last for many years."
"The ritual can only be carried out on the night of the full moon. Saturday," said Elaine.
"Bloody hell," said Billi. It was early Wednesday already. "That's four days from now. How on earth are we going to find her in four days? We've no idea where she is."
"Oh, Vasilisa's in Russia," replied Elaine. "The Polenitsy will take her straight to Baba Yaga, and the old witch is Mother Russia. She'll be nowhere else."
"Great. That's going to make it so much easier." Russia was gigantic. Billi could see that everyone was thinking the same. It would be like searching for a snowflake in the Arctic.
Gwaine snorted scornfully. "And how exactly are we going to find her?" He spread out his arms. "Look at us. We've just had our arses whipped by a bunch of hairy freaks, and that's with the home advantage. We go into their territory and we're just so much dog food. If II be suicide."
"This time we'll have help," said Arthur. "We'll go to the Bogatyrs. Romanov is a good man; once he knows what's at stake he'll want to help. Then there's Vasilisa's grandmother, a white witch by all accounts. She could have valuable information for us. Plus, there are many wolf packs in the area; the Polenitsy may have come from one." He stood up and walked slowly around the circle of chairs. "Two teams, one to Vasilisa's birthplace in Karelia, the other to Moscow, where we'll meet the Bogatyrs. We'll stop Baba Yaga."
"By any means necessary, right?" asked Gwaine. Billi's eyes narrowed.
"We'll rescue Vasilisa if we can." Arthur looked slowly around, but stopped at Billi. "But that may not be possible."
A chill crept up Billi's heart.
"Then?" she asked. She knew the answer, but needed someone to say it out loud.
"If we can't save her, we'll have to kill her," replied her father in his plain, matter-of-fact tone. "Baba Yaga must not carry out the ritual. That's all that matters."
"There has to be another way," said Billi, sickened. "We can't just kill her."
Arthur frowned. "I'm not happy about this either, Billi. But what's the life of one against the entire population of the planet? With Vasilisa in Baba Yaga's hands, that's the choice we face."
"But can't we—"
"Enough," Arthur snapped. "You will do as you are ordered, squire."
Billi glared at him, but Arthur's cold blue eyes were empty. He'd made his decision.
"I will go to Moscow. I have friends there," said Lance.
"Agreed," said Arthur. "Gwaine will lead the Moscow team and contact the Bogatyrs. I will lead the Karelia team."
"Who goes with you?" asked Billi.
Arthur frowned. "I take Gareth and Mordred."
No.
Arthur pointed at Billi. "You go with Elaine, Lance... and Gwaine."
"I'm not going with Gwaine," said Billi the moment she and Arthur left the Temple Church. They couldn't go home—the place was crawling with police—so they crossed the courtyard to Chaplain's House.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Oh, nothing. Except he's a narrow-minded, bigoted, religious fundamentalist."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
Oh, he was trying to be funny. That's just what she needed. A funny parent.
"Anyway, you'll have Elaine."
"Gwaine hates Elaine more than anyone. Why don't I swap with Mordred?"
"He's too inexperienced. He sticks with me. One squire per team and you're in Gwaine's." Arthur tapped his watch. "It's late, Billi. Get some sleep. The flight's at seven."
"Not until we've finished discussing this." She stood in the hallway, glowering.
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Fine." He twisted his wedding ring. "You're even more stubborn than Jamila."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Billi, why are you trying to pick a fight with me? Is this really all about Gwaine?"
Billi shook her head and scowled. "It's not right. We're meant to protect innocent people like Vasilisa. I can't believe her sacrifice is even an option."
Wearily, Arthur took o
ff his coat, and Billi saw the slowness in his movements. He'd taken a beating down in the tube and was as bruised and busted as the rest of them. It shocked her to see her dad's moments of frailty. "Billi, the world's not black and white. The bad guys come bright and beautiful, and the good guys might look like monsters. You of all people know that."
Michael. The commander of the Shining Host. The archangel had tried to kill every firstborn child in London. He'd been beautiful right up to the moment she'd destroyed him.
"You know its not the answer, Dad. If we kill Vasilisa, we stop Baba Yaga. This time. But what about the next Spring Child she goes after? We kill that one too? And the one after that? What we really need to do is kill Baba Yaga."
"I don't disagree. That's why I'm going to Karelia. Maybe Vasilisa's grandmother can help us. But it's a long shot. Baba Yaga's very old and very powerful. If she could be destroyed easily, someone would have done it a long time ago."
"Maybe the right people have never tried."
Arthur laughed. "You stick with that attitude." Then he sat down next to her. "Billi, this is important. If you have to choose between saving one life or saving millions, you can't have any doubts. I have to trust you on this. If the time comes, you must kill Vasilisa."
Billi sat in the hallway well before dawn with her bag packed and ready. Her dad had gone to sort out the last-minute flights and visas for Russia.
She hadn't slept a wink. How could she? The clock in the hall ticked away every second, and the noise reminded her of what was at stake. Billi stared at Kay's photo on her mobile, tracing the outline of his face with her fingernail.
Once, a long time ago, she'd believed being a Templar was cool, noble, even. No matter how hard it had gotten in school, the secret that she belonged to something old, important, and powerful had kept her going. Her training, her loneliness, her bruises all meant something. She'd hung on to that after Kay's death. The Templars fought the Unholy. They fought the ghosts and the ghuls and all the supernatural evil that preyed on mankind. They protected the innocent.
Billi searched Kay's face, trying to find the answer. He had known his death was coming and had prepared for it. But that hadn't made it any easier for her to be the one left behind.
Billi had killed Kay, and it had almost destroyed her. Now her job was to cross half the world and do the same to a nine-year-old. Billi remembered her last dream. Had Kay been trying to tell her that Vasilisa had to die?
It was hopeless to think otherwise.
Baba Yaga would destroy everything if she had Vasilisa. How could the life of one child compare to that?
There could be no room for pity. The Knights Templar, from being an ancient order of warriors, was now a death squad.
So be it.
Billi looked at Kay one last time, then deleted him forever.
Chapter 16
THE ERUPTION HAD THROWN UP SO MUCH ASH THAT flights throughout Europe had been delayed. Now, two days after the eruption, the backlog of weary and irate travelers still hadn't been cleared. People slept on the seats, on the floors, up against the walls. Long lines of cars and buses blocked the entrance to Heathrow Airport as the passengers were transferred to other airports or hotels, all being managed by a forlorn airport staff.
Billi and the other knights picked their way through the groups of abandoned passengers and climbed over piles of waiting luggage. It wasn't yet seven, but the airport was overflowing.
Billi watched the news on one of the big overhead screens. The destruction of Naples dominated everything. Almost thirty feet of ash and rock had fallen over the city in the last two days, and only now were any rescue vehicles able to even approach the devastated city. Buildings had collapsed under the sheer weight of the falling debris, burying scores of people. Ash had set as hard as concrete, and the drills and picks and the desperate hands did little good.
Miracles still occurred. People continued to trickle out of the tunnels. They'd fled into the underground system, then walked out once the eruptions had ended. Thousands were gathered in an ever-growing refugee camp, and families pored over long lists plastered to wooden walls, hoping to find a relative or friend among the survivors.
"It seems so hopeless," said a woman watching the coverage.
Hopeless? Maybe. But people still fought on. Billi stared at the small figures moving over the vast gray city like ants, struggling against the wrath of nature. That's what humanity did, wasn't it? Despite the overwhelming odds, it fought on.
No weapons. Arthur didn't want anyone getting arrested at customs because they'd tried to smuggle in a broadsword. Lance knew an arms dealer in Moscow from his bad old days as a smuggler, and that was where Gwaine's team would tool up. Arthur had friends across the waters in Finland, and they would deliver gear to the Karelia team. Each Templar had a package of Elaine's wolfsbane poultices.
Billi pulled off her backpack while Elaine arranged the boarding passes. She scratched her shoulder blade. The claw marks had healed up nicely, but she had no plans to get bitten or clawed again. She'd put the roll of stinking brown cloth in an airtight Tupperware sandwich box, but still the smell seemed to linger on everything.
The Knights Templar gathered at the coffee shop on the other side of passport control. The Karelia flight was just before the Moscow one.
Arthur brought his latte over to Billi.
"How are you feeling?" He sat down stiffly.
"Better than you, I think."
"Funny girl." He stirred in his sugar, and the chair creaked as he leaned back. "It's going to be a bad one, Billi."
Like she didn't know. They were going in blind. Here in Britain the Templars had secret contacts and hideouts scattered across the country. Russia was the unknown. It was Baba Yaga and the Polenitsys' heartland. They'd be outnumbered ten to one, at least.
"Tell me about the Bogatyrs," Billi said. Everything had been so rushed, she'd had no time to find out about the Russian knights.
"Christian warriors, set up before the Templars. The Russians never got involved in the Crusades; their enemies weren't the Saracens, but the followers of the old ways—pagans, witches, the werewolves."
"And what about this Romanov bloke? Alexeithingamajig?"
"Alexei Viktorovich Romanov. Please get the pronunciation right—he is royalty. Great-grandson of Tsar Nicholas, if I remember correctly." Arthur scratched his beard, trying to remember what else he knew. "The story is that everyone in the royal family was killed at the beginning of the Russian revolution. That much is history. But there were always rumors that one Romanov survived; the princess Anastasia. She was saved by the Bogatyrs. Since then her children and her children's children have served, and led, the Russian order of knights. Stalin tried his best to wipe them out, and they went into hiding, like us. But after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the Bogatyrs became active again, under the leadership of Alexei. Tsar Alexei."
"What's he like?"
Arthur shrugged. "Never met him. But I hear he's a man of honor." He glanced up at the overhead display. "Time to go." He leaned across the table and kissed Billi's cheek. "Good-bye."
The other knights waited. Arthur looked as though there were something else he wanted to say. He fidgeted with his wedding ring. "Listen, Billi. If the worst happens, don't worry about me. Look after yourself." He patted her arm. It was a pathetic gesture, but neither of them knew what else to do. "You'll be fine." Then he turned toward the others.
"Dad, wait."
Billi wanted to say something. She wanted to say she loved him. That despite how things had turned out, it wasn't his fault. She'd chosen this life.
"Deus vult, Dad."
Arthur smiled and nodded. "Deus vult, Billi."
Chapter 17
"WHAT D'YOU THINK?" ASKED ELAINE AS SHE leaned over Billi to peer out the plane window. They were over Russia and would be landing in the next ten minutes. What did she think? Billi stared out over a world of mutilated white.
They'd left the suburban landscape of s
outheast England, the blotches of orange-roofed estates and fragmented fields. From up above she'd realized how small, how provincial England was, away from the cluster of skyscrapers and parks of London.
Russia was on a different scale entirely. The plane banked over a maze of monolithic housing blocks that seemed to have been dumped at random over the countryside. A huge power station with four hellhole chimneys belched great clouds of steam into the sky. The snow around it was smeared with soot. Motorways ran like scars across the vast plains, razor-straight and black.
The main roads led to vast expanses of forest, with smaller roads winding to clusters of houses on the edge of a river or a lake.
"Dachas," said Elaine. "Once, all Russians dreamed of was their little hidey-hole in the country. Play peasant during the weekend, then go back to big bad Moscow."
"What do they dream of now?"
"Diamonds and caviar, like the rest of us," Elaine said as she summoned the steward. Her tray table was already overflowing with miniature bottles of Gordon's gin.
Lance appeared. The plane was half empty, giving everyone space to spread out. He and Gwaine were up near the front, while Billi and Elaine had gone to the back.
He grabbed a bottle as it rolled off the small flip-down table. Elaine blushed as he handed it back to her. Was she embarrassed because of her drinking? That would be a first.
Maybe it was Lance. He'd joined the order a week or two after Percy's funeral. The Templars had known about him for years, a loner who stalked ghuls and the other Unholy across Europe. Billi had seen him in action a few days after he'd arrived. A trio of blood-drinkers had been feeding on people in a nursing home, safe in the assumption that no one would believe horror stories from the elderly inhabitants. Lance had gone through those undead like a hurricane.