by Unknown
"Come on," he ordered, pulling her away from the verge.
Billi glanced down, hesitating, hoping that Lance and Gwaine were clambering back up. But all she saw were indistinct shadows fighting in the snow, and she was unable to tell Templar from Bogatyr.
Billi ran into the car, slamming the doors shut just as they were raked by gunfire. Billi and Ivan huddled together on the floor as the four-by-four accelerated under the hailstorm of bullets. She buried herself against him and didn't look up until they were far away.
Chapter 28
THE RING OF SOVIET-ERA TOWER BLOCKS GAVE WAY snow-cloaked fields, and after an hour Ivan directed Elaine down a side road through the woods. Billi saw a light two-seater aircraft rise from behind the shield of trees, and moments later they came to the gates of a small airfield.
Ivan's window rolled down as he greeted the security guard, who took more than a little interest in the bullet-punctured vehicle. They talked briefly, then Ivan took off his Rolex and handed it over. The guard pocketed the watch and waved them through.
"We fly south from here," he said. "You know how to fly?" Ivan obviously took his James Bond pills every morning.
"Doesn't everyone?" He pointed at a single-story concrete building to the left. "Canteen. Fill yourself up with something hot. The goulash is good." He headed toward the hangar. "Let me freshen up and then I'll sort out a plane."
The canteen was rough and ready. Posters of aircrafts and old Soviet airshows hid most of the awful brown-and-yellow wallpaper. There were four chipped Formica tables with plastic fold out chairs stacked up against each. Two men—mechanics, judging by their greasy overalls—sat at a table, smoking and reading the paper. On the side of the counter was a large jar filled with loose change. On it was stuck the word Vesuvius. The whole world was joining in with mourning the loss of the Italian city, not knowing what was still to come if the Templars failed.
Billi and Elaine each ordered a bowl of goulash and a cup of tea and sat by the window. Billi faced the doorway, keeping her eyes peeled.
"What are we going to do?" asked Elaine. She was busy trying, and failing, to light her breakfast cigarette. Billi took the lighter from her shaking hands and applied it.
Elaine took a long drag off her cigarette and closed her eyes.
"We'll be okay, Elaine," Billi reassured her. She reminded herself that Elaine was mostly back-of-house research, a glorified librarian, really. This sort of fieldwork was way out of her comfort zone.
"Yes, just give me a minute," said Elaine. She nodded as though she were agreeing with herself.
Above the door was a clock, just coming up to eleven thirty. Billi wanted a bed, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen. She got up. She needed to splash some water on her face and start thinking about their next step. She found the washroom and went in.
Ivan was leaning over a steel basin in front of a mirror. His shirt hung over a radiator and his wet back shone like marble under the stark white fluorescent lights. He ran his hands over his bristling hair, sighing wearily. Then he raised his arms and turned slowly, looking at the marks Koshchey had given him. He gently pushed his finger against the row of bruised stomach muscles. Then he saw Billi watching him in the mirror.
"Er... "said Billi, mortified at being caught out.
Ivan said nothing and turned his attention back to his bruises. He leaned closer to the mirror, checking the swelling on his cheek. Water dripped off his chin; small sparkling droplets glistened on the surface of his neck.
"What do you think?" he asked. He struck a pose, flexing his biceps like a body builder. "You can touch me, if you like."
Billi laughed, grateful to Ivan for breaking the tension. She handed him his shirt, finding it hard to keep her attention on his shoes. "You'd look great even in a body bag."
"Let us hope we never find out. And it's not what you wear that's important," he said as he slipped the shirt over his head. He then picked up his pistol. It was a Glock 19, one of the pair he'd grabbed off the Bogatyrs. He tucked it into his waistband and patted it.
"It's all about the accessories," said Billi.
Ivan smirked at her and left.
A few minutes later Billi returned to the canteen and joined Elaine.
"I called Arthur. He'll be on the next flight south," said Elaine, still lost in her own thoughts. She smiled, but it was stiff and forced. "Should be in Kiev by morning. He'll get local transport from there into the forest."
"You okay?" Billi asked as she sat down.
Three cigarette stubs smoldered in the ashtray, and Elaine lit up a fourth. "I just needed my vitamins."
"I didn't realize nicotine counted as a food group these days." Billi took a sip of her tea and shifted her chair closer. "What was it you found out about Baba Yaga that you were going to tell me in the library before we were so rudely interrupted?"
Elaine grimaced at the memory.
"You remember how Baba Yaga had been injured?" Elaine said. "Apparently she'd vanished at the beginning of the twentieth century, after suffering some terrible injury. That first made me suspicious. I looked up events around that time, natural disasters mainly." Her eyes brightened. "And I found a big one. The Tunguska blast."
Tunguska? Why did that ring a bell? Hadn't Vasilisa said her great-grandmother had been there?
"What was it?" Billi asked.
Elaine spread out her arms. "A meteor. Just thirty feet across. It hit the forest region of Tunguska in 1908 and wiped it out. If the rock had hit London, the entire city would have been obliterated." Elaine leaned closer, whispering but excited. "Baba Yaga is Russia. What happens to the land happens to her. That meteorite impact must have sent shock waves, psychic shock waves, into the old crone, nearly killing her. I believe she's spent the last hundred years healing."
"So we need to stand Baba Yaga under the next meteorite strike? There's going to be one in the next two days? And you know where?"
Elaine screwed the cigarette into extinction. "This is sympathetic magic, Billi. That meteor injured Baba Yaga once. A connection has been established between her and that meteor. Now, if I'm right, any piece of that rock, however small, will have the same effect on her as the whole meteor."
Billi laughed. "It's just like homeopathy. You dilute the medicinal mixture in more and more water, but the potency remains. That's it, isn't it?"
Elaine frowned. "That's not the comparison I would have chosen, but yes, that's it. The rock injured Russia; it will injure Baba Yaga."
"So we need to go to Tunguska and find a lump of space rock? Fat chance of that, Elaine." Billi shoved her bowl away. "Bloody hell, that's worse than useless. We've two days, Elaine, just two."
Elaine took a picture from her back pocket and unfolded it. "After the blast, locals explored the crater and picked out bits of the meteor. Made carvings with it and sold them to tourists and scientists who'd come to investigate. I'd hoped by staying in Moscow just for another day, I might have been able to get to some museum or antiquities shop and buy one. Or steal one." She slid the picture, torn from a book, over to Billi. "That is how we could have defeated Baba Yaga. It was taken at a market in Tunguska."
The photo was a grainy black-and-white that showed a couple of well-dressed men standing on either side of a simple wooden-framed bazaar stall. The table was half hidden in shade, but one of the men held out a small stone carving. A carving of a crude, big-hipped woman.
"Oh God. A Venus figurine," Billi gasped. She held the photo in her quivering fingertips. Vasilisa's great-grandmother had made one. She'd put it into the heart of the matryoshka doll.
"I had one, Elaine, in my hand."
"What?"
Billi stared at her palm, remembering the small stone statue lying there, maybe hoping, by some magic, by her own desperate desire, that it would suddenly appear.
"Where is it now?" Elaine dug her fingers into Billi's arm. "We've got to get it."
Where was it? The last time she'd seen it was with Vasilisa, just
before the Polenitsy attack.
"At home. It's probably lying under Vasilisa's bed." Billi had literally let the means to defeating Baba Yaga slip through her fingers.
"We could call Rowland. Get him to search for it."
"Even if he finds it right now, what good would that do? No way he'll get it to us in time." Billi slapped the table. "And send it where? The Knights Templar, care of Baba Yaga, the big cave, deep forest, Russia?"
Billi couldn't duck it any longer. It had been the default plan from the very beginning, but she'd hoped there'd be some way out. "We're not going to be able to save her, are we?" she said, but not to Elaine, to herself. "Poor Vasilisa." There was only one way to stop Fimbulwinter. But the price was Vasilisa's life.
Billi peered out the window, her body weary and her heart heavy. Somewhere out there was a frightened nine-year-old girl, held hostage by monsters and a cannibal witch, hoping that someone, that Billi, would keep her promise and rescue her.
Perhaps there were times when Templars had to break their promises.
Ivan entered, Lance's backpack slung over one shoulder, and with some food supplies. "The plane is ready. We should leave now, before the others find us." He then pulled out a brand-new mobile phone and gave it to Billi. "Full satellite function and GPS—useful where we are going. If Lance and Gwaine escaped, you could contact them with this."
"What's next, boss?" Elaine asked, looking to Billi.
Boss. What did she know? Billi felt like she was stumbling from one disaster to another. God, she wished her dad were here. She didn't want this responsibility. But being a Templar—this was her life. And she had chosen it.
"We take the plane south and try to find Baba Yaga's camp. Simple, really."
Elaine put her cup down. "No time to lose, then."
"You can't come, Elaine," said Billi. "I'm sorry, but we won't be needing you here anymore. From now on if II just be fighting, and the Templars need you alive."
My kind of work, not yours.
Billi addressed Ivan. "Elaine needs to get back to London. Can you sort that out?"
"I'll make a few calls."
Elaine started forward, wanting to say something. But she couldn't: Billi was right.
Billi held out her hand. "Deus vult, Elaine."
Elaine sprang forward and crushed Billi against her chest. She had a lot of power in those scrawny limbs. Billi squeezed the old woman back. When Elaine eventually let go, her eyes were red and watery.
"Good luck, girl."
Chapter 29
TEN MINUTES LATER AND IT WAS DONE. ELAINE would go straight to the airport and get on the next plane to London.
Billi went through Lance's backpack while Ivan walked Elaine to a taxi.
She could smell the poultices for wolf bites as soon as she opened the zipper. They were tucked tidily into sandwich bags. There was also a box of silver bullets, 9mm caliber and perfect for their pistols.
Ivan returned and led Billi out on to the airfield. The deep night sky was littered with stars, not a cloud in the sky.
"You can sleep on the plane," Ivan said.
Billi looked at him guiltily. Even though she hadn't been thinking about it, she was exhausted. Ivan must have been feeling even worse than her; she hadn't recently been used as a punching bag. The bruise on his cheek was coming up big and shiny, but it didn't mar his good looks in any way. She glanced sideways as they walked across the airstrip. His hard jaw was fixed, his gray eyes focused on the job ahead.
Everything about Ivan radiated iron discipline. She'd seen how he'd entered the gunfight, unflinching as the bullets had whizzed around him. Then he turned and smiled, and the almost machinelike persona vanished. Another Ivan appeared. One warm and thoughtful toward others. The true noble. He took her hand.
"Here we are, Billi."
They stopped by a small white propeller plane. It was about twenty feet long, its wingspan thirty. The cockpit looked like it had been built for hobbits.
"This is it?" said Billi. The two-seater seemed pretty fragile.
"They were out of MiG jet fighters. This will do the job." He patted the fuselage. "I like to think of it as... cozy."
The instrument panel was basic, just two small electronic screens and a couple of switches. Her mobile phone had more functions. Ivan unhooked the headphones and started the engine. The propellers turned slowly twice, then the engine sparked. Billi felt the aircraft wanting to surge forward. The displays came on and Ivan scrolled down a series of options on one of the screens. He tapped it.
"This is the EFIS: the Electronic Flight Information System. Most of the key data is on this nowadays. Altimeter, compass, the artificial horizon, stuff like that." He pointed at the screen next to it. "That's the GPS. Combined with the EFIS, the thing practically flies itself."
"How long's the trip?" Billi straightened out her coat as she settled into the cramped seat. The dark red cloth rippled with shades of deep pink and purple as she smoothed her hands over it.
I'm becoming as vain as Ivan. She found the seat belt and clipped herself in over the shoulders and across the waist.
"Depending on the tail wind, three to four hours."
The plane started to accelerate down the runway. It lurched upward, and Billi's stomach lurched downward. Wind buffeted the plane sideways, and Ivan swore, both hands fast around the control column, fighting to bring the plane level. Billi's heart pounded, but then suddenly the fight was over and the plane rose smoothly away from the ground and toward the clouds.
Ivan's bruised cheek was big and shiny now, and he winced as he adjusted his headset.
"That hurt much?" Billi said, pointing to his face.
"You want to kiss it better?"
Billi smirked. "I do that and we'll crash."
"You have a lot of confidence in your kissing."
"No. I just don't have much confidence in your flying," Billi replied, looking out at the black horizon. "So, where are we going on our first date? Somewhere special, I hope."
"Due south to the Ukrainian border. From there we'll turn west. Then we'll find somewhere to land."
"There's no airfield where we're going?"
"We don't need one for an aircraft like this. Just a bit of straight road."
They settled into silence. The engine drone filled the small cockpit, but Billi couldn't sleep. She just stared out the window.
"So, what is the plan, Billi SanGreal?" asked Ivan, his eyes never leaving the distant horizon.
Billi almost laughed—first Elaine and now Ivan presuming she would be the one to lead.
"Don't you have one?"
"Me? I'm the good-looking one. You're the brains."
"You mean the smart but ugly one?" Ivan glanced out the corner of his eye, amused. "I never said you were ugly. I said you were interesting-looking."
"And I suppose you usually date supermodels?"
"I've not really thought about it, but yes. I suppose I do."
Great. Interesting-looking versus long-legged glamazons. Not much of a contest.
"But one can get tired even of perfection." Ivan took a hand from the control panel to brush back a strand of Billi's hair that had fallen loose. "I like a little... battle-damage in a girl."
"You think I'm battle-damaged?" Billi huffed and shoved herself farther into her seat, arms crossed. "You really know how to woo a person."
"Billi... "
"No, don't apologize. Good thing we're only looking at the short term, then."
Exceedingly short term. It was now almost Friday. Saturday night was the full moon. No Vasilisa, no future.
"Yes. I know. But that's if we fail." Ivan's eyes turned steely certain. "We won't."
"I wish I had your faith."
"Tell me what you're planning."
"We find Vasilisa."
"And then?" Ivan didn't look at her, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what Billi would have to do—the sacrifice she would have to make to save everyone else.
"If only we'd had
a few more days... " Billi lamented aloud.
"What difference would that have made?"
"Baba Yaga has a weakness. The trouble is that the weapon we could use against her is back in London."
She explained about the Venus figurine and everything Elaine had told her.
"We've got no way to kill Baba Yaga —you know that, don't you?" Billi said.
Ivan gestured at the backpack. "Don't you have some Templar super weapon in there? I thought your Order had all these holy relics. Don't you have the Holy Grail?"
Billi's face flushed. "Er, we did. Sort of."
"Sort of?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Ivan smiled slowly, intrigued by Billi's apparent embarrassment. "Tell me."
Billi huffed. "It's in Jerusalem now, but we did have it, all safely locked away in our reliquary. We took it out once a year, at Easter." She waved dismissively. "Y'know, to celebrate the Resurrection and all that."
"And?"
"And I dropped it."
Ivan coughed loudly. "What happened?"
"What do you think happened? It broke."
Ivan coughed again, but struggled. "What did your father say?"
Billi could picture it so clearly. The knights stood at the altar in Temple Church; Gwaine had gone white, still holding the velvet cushion Billi had lifted the clay cup from. She'd been so nervous. Arthur had picked up a few of the pieces.
"He said, 'Better get some glue.'"
Billi waited while Ivan gathered himself. He didn't say anything, but sat there biting his lip. "Ow," he said.
"Still leaks a bit," added Billi.
Ivan roared with laughter.
"Well, I'm glad you find it funn—"
The plane shook violently.
Lightning flashed in the distant cloud banks. Ivan frowned.
"Didn't see that coming," he muttered. The clouds were heavy and angry, and the winds buffeted the small plane.
"We okay?" asked Billi nervously. Ivan checked his controls.
