Then nothing.
“Ivan?” She put her fingers to his still lips. “Ivan!”
No no no. Not again. Billi pressed her fists against her head, though she wanted to scream.
“Billi!”
Vasilisa raised her head. She stared at Billi, eyes gigantic with terror. Baba Yaga lifted the girl and licked her great iron fangs. Her jaw ground like steel plates as she opened her mouth wider and wider, almost bending her head back like a mantrap.
Billi looked once at Ivan, then searched the dusty ruins frantically. She got on to her hands and knees and looked among the broken slabs and bricks for her weapon. Then she saw it, wedged under a fallen cupboard.
Somehow the bow had survived. A long crack ran down the wood, but the string was still wire-taut.
The arrow lay beneath two slabs a yard away. Billi spotted it through a narrow gap that had been left as the wall and roof collided. Vasilisa screamed and Billi glanced back. The little girl was trying to fight, but couldn’t resist the strength of the ancient crone. Vasilisa kicked furiously as she was lowered headfirst into the old monster’s maw.
The moon was full, and with one snap of her jaws, Baba Yaga would consume all of Vasilisa, her flesh, blood, and her powers.
Billi wanted to run and tear at the witch, but she fought the mindless urge. She screamed in anger and frustration as she reached through the gap, her fingers outstretched, vainly reaching for the arrow. A tremor ran across the ground, and the slabs slid closer together and pinched Billi’s arm. If they moved much more, it would be severed.
Billi watched the two avatars. One ancient, decrepit, wise, and evil; the other a frail child. She pushed her shoulder into the hole and stretched her fingers as far as she could. Dust fell over her as she wormed deeper into the rubble. The slabs slid another inch closer together.
She touched smooth wood and jerked her hand out as the two huge chunks of concrete slammed together.
Billi raised her bow and notched the arrow.
Thumb ring hooks around the string, and she pulls with the right as she pushes with the left. Her arms and shoulders shake under the strain. Baba Yaga is twenty yards away, holding the small girl above her, and her teeth begin to close around the girl’s head.
Vasilisa screams.
Billi shoots.
43
THE ARROW FLIES.
44
BABA YAGA STUMBLED BACK AND LIFTED HER HAND to her throat. Vasilisa fell to the ground, motionless.
The old crone coughed. It was a small weak noise, as if she were shaking a seed out of her gullet.
Her hand touched the arrow shaft jutting out just under her chin. She snapped it and tossed it to the ground, then sank to her knees. One by one the werewolves paused in battle.
The blood was flooding out of Baba Yaga’s neck, great gushes with every heartbeat, spraying over Vasilisa’s limp and exhausted body. The young girl blinked, awake.
Billi stumbled over the broken wall to try to reach her.
Vasilisa slowly rose and wiped the blood out of her eyes. Then she saw Baba Yaga.
“I am here, Babushka,” she said.
Baba Yaga hissed as she lowered her head; blood covered most of her chest. Vasilisa reached up and stroked the monster’s face, carefully drawing the broken arrow out.
Billi cautiously made her way toward them. She could hardly breathe after having been crushed under the collapsed roof, and her head swam with exhaustion and pain.
Blood formed soapy bubbles around the old crone’s mouth. Baba Yaga stretched out her fingers, and Vasilisa put her hand in the Dark Goddess’s.
“Vasilisa, get away from her!” Billi dropped her bow and began to run toward them.
“Child …” said Baba Yaga. She gazed at her huge palm. Then, through the crevasses of wrinkled skin, a thin green shoot unfurled itself. Baba Yaga gasped.
The green veins spread along Baba Yaga’s fingers and up her arm. Billi watched as a string of flowers sprouted across the witch’s fingertips. Vasilisa kept her small hand in Baba Yaga’s even as it began to transform, her skin thickening into deep wrinkled bark. Her arms turned into thick, long boughs, and her fingers burst with bright green leaves until her body was covered in lustrous foliage. Baba Yaga’s black eyes flowered with purple irises. Her iron teeth closed forever, and her blood turned to moss.
A wolf crept up to the bent oak tree. It sniffed around the trunk. It whined and molded its body from wolf back into human. Others gathered around, some as wolves, some in human form. Olga was nowhere to be seen.
“My God. It’s over,” whispered Billi. Baba Yaga was gone. Vasilisa stumbled toward her, and they hugged. Billi bent down and cupped Vasilisa’s bloody face. “We did it, Vasilisa. We-”
Koshchey strode toward them, surrounded by what remained of his army-ten or so men. The Bogatyrs had been decimated in the battle, it seemed. They stopped six or seven yards away, and Koshchey pointed his pistol at Billi.
“Give me the girl,” he said.
No, not after all this. He was too far away for her to attack, and at her first move he’d put a bullet in her head. But she didn’t care. “Forget it, Koshchey. You can kill me, but you won’t get a dozen feet before the werewolves rip you to pieces. If they don’t, the Templars certainly will.”
“You have cost me too much, Templar, for me to walk away empty-handed. I have lost half my men getting here. Give me the girl. What I get from the vampires for the Spring Child will barely cover expenses.”
“You will not have her.” Billi’s heart pounded in her chest, and hot blood began to course through her body, filling her muscles with fiery strength. The Beast Within sensed victory.
Koshchey gazed at her, then at the werewolves gathered around him. Nobody would come out of this a clear victor. The bloodbath wasn’t over yet.
Koshchey nodded. “You are right, Templar.” He raised his pistol. “But if I can’t have her, no one can.” A shot rang out, and Billi gasped. Vasilisa let go of Billi and put a hand to her chest. She looked quietly surprised. A red spot grew on her white smock. She tilted away and fell.
Koshchey fired once more, and Vasilisa twitched. Then stopped.
“She’s all yours,” he said.
45
WHAT?
What?
Billi stared at Vasilisa. Then at Koshchey.
What?
Adeep, threatening growl rumbled in her throat as she stood and turned toward him. Koshchey backed away into the protective circle of his Bogatyrs.
“Do not try it, little Templar.”
Billi stepped forward. It really didn’t matter now, but she was still going to kill him. Koshchey pointed the pistol at her head. At this distance he could hardly miss.
“I will warn you only once.”
Billi had one weapon left-her dagger. She pulled it out and held it in her fist. If she died, she’d make sure she took him with her. The power racing through her meant she’d leap the few feet between them easily.
“BILLI.” A hand, wet and sticky, touched her arm, and she turned. “STEP AWAY.”
Vasilisa stood in the red snow. She was covered in blood and there was a burn hole in the center of her smock. She looked up at Billi and smiled, a guileless child’s smile. But the eyes were aged, not just a few years, but many, many thousands. They were black and as deep as eternity. Billi glanced at the Bogatyrs, then stepped away, retreating from the young girl who’d now become so much more. Baba Yaga had tried to consume Vasilisa, but instead Vasilisa had consumed her. All the Spring Children now inhabited the body of a nine-year-old. And so did all their powers.