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.
“Are 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.