It was her duty as a Templar. The life of one against the lives of billions. Baba Yaga would bring Fimbulwinter, and humanity would suffera long, slow deathby starvation. A second of ruthless action and the world was saved. Billi wouldn’t have time to regret it; the werewolves were going to tear her to pieces at any moment.
“God forgive me,” said Billi. She pushed Vasilisa against the rock and twisted the necklaces around her fist, holding Vasilisa still. The moonlight caught the little girl’s petrified face, her bewilderment. It glistened off the brightly polished baubles and old flint arrowheads dangling from her neck. The small bones, lumps of precious metal, beads, and a crude statue all jangled from Billi’s grip.
The statue.
Billi’s breath stopped. She held it between her fingers. The small, roughly carved shape of a woman, the big hips and small stub of a head, all veined with dark iron.
It was the Venus figurine.
A werewolf slammed into Billi, pushing her away from Vasilisa, and the necklace broke a part as it came free. The pair tumbled in the snow, knocking all the air from Billi’slungs. She lay limp under the snarling werewolf, its gruesome fangs just a few inches from her throat. Half buried in the snow, Billi twisted enough to look at Vasilisa. Olga was already there, passing the girl to others. Two women helped Svetlana up.
Vasilisa was removed, quickly surrounded by the Polenitsy and carried away. Only when she’d gone did the werewolf move off of Billi.
They lifted Billi up. Olga approached.
“Why didn’t you kill her?” the old woman asked.
Billi smiled. She slipped her closed hand into her pocket, feeling the smooth cold curves of the statuette made in Tunguska. The one thing that could kill Baba Yaga.
Oh, but I will.
37
IVAN STARED OPENMOUTHER AS THEY DRAGGED BILLI back. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe his eyes. It lasted a second before his face dropped. He was tied to one of the thick wooden posts in the center of the ger. They did the same to Billi on the one opposite him. The leather straps bit deep into her wrists as Olga twisted and knotted the bindings around and around. She gave the knots a sharp tug, then stood between the two of them. The other Polenitsy had gone, and Olga shifted from foot to foot, her gaze moving from Billi to Ivan and back. Then she straightened her coat and left.
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.