by Unknown
"It's meant to be clear skies the whole way." He studied the storm clouds ahead. "We don't have enough fuel to go around them."
The plane shook from a sudden gust. The elements were making their threat known. Billi tightened her harness.
Ivan's knuckles whitened around the control column, and Billi sat silently, focused on the rolling horizon. The cockpit blazed white as sheet lightning struck, and Billi saw Ivan's face, his jaw locked and sweat dripping off his ivory skin, his concentration total. He breathed slowly through his clenched teeth.
Maybe we'll make it.
Then the plane plummeted as thunder exploded around them.
It didn't glide: it fell with all the aerodynamics of a brick. Ivan groaned as he fought with the control column.
"Downdraft! The winds are driving us down!" he shouted. "Hold on!"
He'd lost it. The plane spun wildly. Billi's head was bashed against the side window, and all she could see through the spinning haze were black clouds. Another curtain of white light broke around them, and the next roar of thunder nearly blew out their windows. Through her blurred vision Billi saw treetops rapidly approaching, an endless mass of snow and a silver line—a river— glistening in the distance. Branches scratched the undercarriage, and the fragile shell of the plane bucked and jolted as it skated through the treetops. A thick bough caught a wing, which sheared off, the sudden impact throwing Billi forward in her harness. She grabbed hold of the straps and hung on with all her strength.
No! Not like this! It can't end like—
The plane spun horizontally, and in the scream of crumbling metal and splintering glass, Billi's world shattered.
Chapter 30
BLINKING HURT, BILLI TRIED TO MOVE, BUT SPASMS OF sharp pain shot through her; it was if she'd spent all week at the armory, losing. She opened her eyes, then shook the broken glass out of her hair.
Dirt and snow filled half the cockpit. The safety harnesses had done their work, but she could feel bruises across her chest and shoulders where she'd been hurled forward and held. The engines coughed like the airplane's death rattle.
Thick branches skewered the fuselage. A spear of wood had been driven straight through the windshield, inches from her face. A bit to the left and she'd have lost her head. Instead Billi bore minute scratches from the twigs that had caught her.
Ivan was slumped in his seat, amid a tangle of cables and wires. Sparks jumped from the shattered control panel and there was a faint whiff of fuel mixed in with the cold air. One cable, still humming with electricity, hung perilously close over the hydraulic oil that pooled at their feet.
"Ivan?" Billi undipped the harness and checked his neck for a pulse. She couldn't see any blood, but that didn't rule out internal injuries.
"Ivan, are you okay?"
"Are we there yet?" he muttered. He had a fat new bruise on his forehead. He moaned and went pale as he tried to free himself. His right trouser leg was blood-soaked, and Billi gasped when she saw the deep gash through his thigh. "It's pretty bad," she said.
"As they say in your language, No shit, Sherlock."
Billi raised an eyebrow—she obviously hadn't lost him quite yet. She pulled out a length of cable and wrapped a tourniquet around his leg as tightly as she dared.
"Do you know what you're doing?" asked Ivan, through gritted teeth.
"Yes," Billi lied. She knew enough first aid to make a sling and deliver a baby—in principle. But major surgery hadn't been covered in the course. "The tourniquet will cut down the blood loss, but we've got to keep an eye on it and loosen the knot occasionally, otherwise you'll get blood poisoning." Billi kicked open the crumpled door. "Once we're out we'll put together a splint."
"Then what?"
Billi sniffed: the acrid smell of melting plastic was filling the cockpit. The puddles of oil erupted into clusters of flames. "We'll make you comfortable." But first things first: they needed to get out. "This is going to hurt. A lot."
Ivan bit down hard as Billi dragged him out of the cabin, hissing through his clenched teeth. Gaping holes punctured the fuselage, and the rear of the plane had been torn away. Billi half climbed out —using the aluminium frame and dense tree branches as a ladder. Unfortunately, Ivan ended up bumping almost every branch on his way out.
"You did that on purpose," was about all he could say as they reached the ground. She dragged Ivan away from the wreck, then clambered back up as flames began to spread across the seats.
Scrabbling in the rear among the thickening, stinking smoke, she tossed out weapons and supplies before the heat became unbearable. Flames enveloped the front seats, and Billi shoved herself out of the wreck. Dangling from one of the branches, she dropped the last few feet into the snow, just as the fire consumed the plane. It rose up the tree, setting alight the higher branches until the tree itself was a burning torch.
Stepping away, Billi paused to properly examine their surroundings. They were deep in a forest, but it was unlike any forest she'd ever seen. The smell of decay was thick and pungent, even where dampened by the snow. The trees around her were thick-barked, their diameter wider than she could put her arms around. Despite the burning plane a dozen yards away, the sense of nature's domination was overpowering. The old plane seemed like a toy next to the ancient strength of the huge trees.
"Where are we?" she asked as she cut a branch down with her kukri. Trimmed, it would serve as a crude crutch.
"On the Russian-Ukrainian border. There or thereabouts."
"So this is it?"
Ivan nodded. "The eastern tip of the Belovezhskaya Pushcha. The primeval forest."
Billi pressed her hand into the moss hanging from a giant oak trunk. "It's beautiful." She was awestruck, humbled by her surroundings. The earth around her was alive. Like a dragon slumbering in winter, but huge, ancient, and powerful.
Ivan continued. "Once upon a time, all of Europe was like this. From Ireland to Siberia." He sighed as he leaned against the trunk. "This was the world before man came along. This is what it'll return to, once we've gone."
This is what Baba Yaga wants. A beautiful, empty planet. Billi could almost understand it. She gazed up into the dark canopy. "We're not gone yet."
Billi set up camp by a cave under a rocky outcrop. It was a house-sized boulder, all split by roots and covered in vines. She spread out a lattice of twigs so they were slightly off the ground, then added a layer of pine needles taken from the nearby conifers before covering it all with a plastic sheet she'd found in the plane.
She chopped down four straight sticks, which she bound together on either side of Ivan's leg. But walking was agony even with the splint, and Ivan, leaning heavily on the crutch, ended up hopping to alleviate the worst of it.
"How does it feel?" Billi asked. She was starting to regret sending Elaine back. She'd have patched Ivan up, no worries.
"I'm... fine."
"You're such a liar." Billi, kneeling in front of him, took a corner of the blanket and dabbed his face, wiping the sweat. She smoothed the cloth over his forehead and softly over each eye. Her hand moved down his face, touching his bruised cheek.
"Ouch," he whispered. He looked up at her. "Now that I'm not flying... "
"A kiss right now would probably kill you," Billi said as she drew the cloth over his lips, slowly down his jawline to his neck. She could feel his pulse beating strongly now. "There. All done."
"Thank you."
They sat facing one another, not speaking. She'd never thought she'd find anyone after Kay. Billi had buried her love under training and combat, and now, with the end so near, here he was.
"There was so much I wanted to do," Billi said, rocking back onto her heels. She raised her eyes to the stars.
"Funny, but you think its all so endless."
"Life is not measured in length, but in deeds."
Billi laughed. "More Chekhov?"
"My father."
Billi shook out her hair. She must look a total bomb site. "Not that I had any b
ig plans, mind you." She peeked at him from under the loose locks. "Not like you."
Ivan shrugged. "Things didn't turn out that badly."
"Glad you're so stoic about it. Last night you were sleeping in a four-poster bed with silk sheets; tonight you've got pine needles and snow."
"But with you, da?" He smiled. "You would have made a fine tsarina."
Billi scraped her hair back into a bun. "I'm sure I would have. When you'd run out of your supermodels."
Billi saw Ivan try to smile back, but all he could do was shake. He'd lost a lot of blood, and was weak.
"We need to warm you up some more." She picked up her kukri.
Billi quickly cut down some of the lower, drier branches and built up a fire at the mouth of the cave. It wasn't quite Davy Crockett, but it would do.
"We'll rest here tonight," she said. She threw some more branches onto the fire. Damn it! We were so close. She stared into the forest. Vasilisa was in there some-where.
She picked up her satellite phone and called her father.
The reception was awful, but she could just hear his voice. He sounded like he was down a mine shaft, shouting up.
"Billi? Where are you?"
"We've been delayed. Badly."
"You okay?"
Billi looked at Ivan. His face was bloodless and his mouth drawn into a tight grimace.
"Don't worry about us," she said. Ivan flinched as she spoke. She couldn't risk the Templars wasting time looking for them. Vasilisa was the priority. "Where are you?"
"En route. Elaine called and filled me in. But I found Vasilisa's granny."
"And?"
"You know most of it. Baba Yaga disappeared right after the Tunguska meteor strike." Arthur huffed, probably angry that they'd had the means to destroy Baba Yaga—the Venus figurine —and not realized. "But the old granny gave us some useful advice. Baba Yaga is strongest in the wilderness; the deeper she lives in the forest the more powerful she becomes. So the opposite is true: she's weakest in cities. It makes sense. That's why she relies on the Polenitsy; otherwise she'd have come for Vasilisa herself. Take her out of the woods and we may have a chance against her."
"We could kill her?"
"We could try." He sighed. "But it's a bloody big risk if we're wrong. Stick to the plan, as agreed."
Billi bit her lip. There was no escaping it. "We still need to find Vasilisa."
"There's a wolf reserve deep in the forest. And an extensive cave network in that region. If she's anywhere, it's there. I'll text you the coordinates."
So many pieces were coming together—Baba Yaga's weaknesses, the location of the wolves—but was it too late? Without the Venus figurine, they were missing the biggest piece. Billi looked at her dad's coordinates and checked the map. The boundary of the wolf compound was ten miles away. The sun would be up in a few hours, and she could get going. Ten miles through dense snow? It would take four or five hours.
But that meant leaving Ivan. He sat quietly, gingerly settling his leg in the least painful position. They'd only known one another for a few days, but she'd come to depend on him. She wouldn't abandon him; she'd find a way to make him safe before she went. Maybe things would be clearer in the morning.
Billi turned and picked up her pistol and emptied the magazine, throwing the 9mm rounds into the bushes. The steel-jacketed bullets were man-killers, but she needed wolf-killers. She loaded in fifteen of Lance's silver bullets.
Ivan groaned as he eased himself against the rock. The alcove under the rock was cold, but with enough pine branches the worst of the wind was cut off.
Billi shuffled in next to Ivan and checked his splint.
Then they huddled together under blankets while using the flight map and GPS to establish their approximate position. South was the Pripyat River, which crossed through into Belarus and Ukraine beyond. Maybe, if the river wasn't totally iced up, they could organize a lift from a boat. Or at least Ivan could. Billi still had work to do.
The leg looked even worse in the firelight. Billi had done her best to patch the deep cut, but the crude bandages— torn strips of blanket—were already soaked. Ivan just lay there, eyes closed, utterly still. No breath stirred. Billi touched his hand.
Her heart seemed to stop. It was ice-cold.
"Ivan?"
"Mmm?" His eyelids fluttered and opened.
"Just checking."
Thank you, God.
He looked up at her, grimly determined, grimly hanging on. Ivan wasn't going to die tonight.
Billi swallowed back her tears. Not like this. She'd already lost Kay—she wouldn't lose Ivan too. Whatever was ahead she would face it with Ivan. No matter what.
Then she sat listening to the trees groaning in the wind.
"Tell me about Arthur," said Ivan. He lay against the rock, gazing into the fire. Billi lowered the scarf she'd wrapped around her face. "What makes you think I want to discuss my dad with you?"
Ivan laughed. "Billi, what difference could it possibly make now?"
The flames waved and hissed as the snowflakes danced. Her father had brought her up ever since her mother had been murdered. "It's been him and me since I was five."
"Is that why you wanted to be a Templar? To be like him?" Billi shook her head. "No. He made me join the Order. I hated him."
Hated him. Yes, it was true. She had hated him for years. Her training had begun at ten, and it had been brutal. Most of the scars Ivan had seen had come from her countless hours in the armory. The more you bleed in practice, the less you bleed in battle. That's what her father believed. So she'd practiced with swords, with daggers, with anything that could be called a weapon. Again and again she'd turned up at school with bruises or cuts, even with a broken wrist once. But her dad had only pushed her harder so that when the time came, she'd be ready.
And the time had come, sooner than expected. She'd faced the Angel of Death and she had been ready.
"Then I understood why my father was the way he was. I saw things differently."
"What changed?" Ivan shuffled closer, adjusting the blanket so it covered them both.
"Kay. The boy I killed." She closed her eyes and there he was.
She stares into his eyes as creeping death turns them dull. His blood is warm on her hand as it trickles along the blade, and his chest slowly rises, then sinks.
"It's okay, Billi," he says. His breath is warm with fading life. Then his breath stops.
"I loved him and I killed him. I had no choice." Billi felt her chest tightening.
"Is that how you feel now? That you have no choice?" Ivan put his hand on Billi's. "That to stop Baba Yaga you must kill Vasilisa?"
Billi sighed and gazed deep into the flames.
"This is what your father would do, yes?"
"Maybe my dad's way is the only way." Billi blinked and drew her sleeve across her face.
Elaine's clues to destroying Baba Yaga were useless without the figurine, and they were running out of time and options. Billi had to prepare herself. She had to be more like Arthur: cold and heartless. That seemed to be her future, no matter what. To be like her father. Just like her father.
"That is a sad way to live, I think."
Billi turned sharply, but she could see that Ivan didn't mean it as a criticism. Just a fact. There was no arguing with the truth.
"For a Templar, it's the only way," she answered. She was afraid of what he must think of her. But Ivan said nothing. He just put his arm around her.
"My father had noble ideals. He knew that evil had to be fought, and that good men died." Ivan stared into the flames, lost in old memories. "I wish I had fought beside him." He looked at Billi, smiling softly. "I will fight beside you, Billi."
He trusted her, and Billi was grateful for that.
The night had become eerily silent. Billi hadn't noticed the gale die away, but now her breathing seemed to be the loudest thing in the forest. The fire was going well; the flames cast their caressing heat over them both, and the rock fac
e glowed with soft orange light.
Billi closed her eyes as Ivan brushed loose strands of hair away from her face, and his fingertips grazed her cheek. He kissed her forehead, his lips leaving a warm imprint on her skin. Billi raised her head and felt his lips press down onto hers, as his hands went to the back of her head, urgently pulling her closer. If the world ended tomorrow, at least she'd have this.
The snow crunched as a weight settled on it. The musty smell of the forest was joined with a new odor: the arrival of a hunter.
Billi sprang up, staring into the darkness. She held out her hand, and without saying anything, Ivan slapped the Glock into her palm. The flames from the aircraft had withered to a few smoldering embers, but the shallow circle was still lit by their dull, golden glow. Beyond it was a dark tapestry, impossible to penetrate.
The hairs on her nape stiffened as the barest breeze whispered out of the encompassing blackness like a curse. It was cold, and on it was the stench of blood.
Alone wolf stepped into the clearing. The tree branches overhead cast a net of phantom light and darkness over its silvery fur, so it looked as if it were built of shadows. Its lips turned up on either side of its snout, revealing long, ivory fangs.
Billi breathed slowly as she raised the pistol.
"You going to shoot it?" whispered Ivan.
"Just wait."
It was pure wolf except the eyes. They were human—light brown and glowing softly in the darkness. A loony, then. Billi wondered why it wasn't in its monstrous form—half-man half-beast. Maybe over time the wolf aspect grew stronger until one day it awoke, forgetting it had ever walked on two legs. It patrolled back and forth in the shadows, wary but testing. There was about sixteen feet between them, but Billi knew it could cover that in an instant. If the first bullet didn't kill it, then she was dead meat.
What are you waiting for? Billi cursed. Just take a step into the light and give me one clear shot.
But the creature's haunches stayed loose and relaxed, even though the hairs on its shoulders bristled with eagerness.
It wasn't stupid.
