Ivan opened his mouth to reply, well aware of Billi’s not-quite-respectful tone, but he let it pass.
Koshchey tapped his watch. “We leave in ten minutes.”
Lance handed Billi her armor. The Kevlar jacket went on like a waistcoat and zipped up high. The collar covered her to her chin, but was wide enough to allow Billi to turn her head. The jacket had been modified to hold Billi’s katar and kukri; each sat comfortably when strapped in. Then Lance grinned as he showed Billi a slim-bladed straight-sword, similar in length to Percy’s wakizashi. This he slid into a sheath clipped to her back.
Billi promised herself an outfit just like this for her next birthday.
Gwaine came over. “Leave the rough stuff to the Russians. If they’re right and this place is crawling with Polenitsy, they won’t give Vasilisa up without a fight. Not that I’m complaining.”
“We get her alive, understand?” said Billi. This was their chance, and she wanted everyone to be of the same mind. Vasilisa could be saved.
“I don’t need you to tell me my job, squire,” was Gwaine’s reply.
Billi glanced at Lance, who nodded. “We save the petite fille.”
They were set.
“Where’s Elaine?” Billi asked.
Lance gestured upstairs. “Koshchey showed her the Bogatyrs’ library. It is like she’s gone to researcher heaven. Maybe she might find something on Baba Yaga,
As Lance and Gwaine discussed tactics, Billi went into the corner of the lobby and took out her mobile.
“Dad. You there?”
The line crackled, but then she heard her father’s familiar voice.
“Billi?”
“Dad? We found her.” She couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. “You sure? How?”
“The Bogatyrs found her. She’s being held not far from here by the Polenitsy. We’re heading over there right now.”
“I don’t need to tell you to be careful, do I?”
Billi looked around at the soldiers armed to the teeth. There was enough firepower here to conquer a small country. “I think we’ve got that covered.”
“Praise be to God,” said Arthur. “We’ve drawn a blank here.”
“Did you find Vasilisa’s granny?”
“She’s gone into hiding. I suspect the Polenitsy have come for her. We’re still looking, but Karelia’s a big place. But we’ve picked up some interesting legends about Baba Yaga.”
“Like what?” Billi’s attention was pricked.
“Baba Yaga vanished a hundred years ago. There were no more hunts for Spring Children-the werewolves just stopped. The local wise women say that’s because Baba Yaga was hurt in the early twentieth century, and went to sleep deep in the earth to recover. Now she’s back and she’s hungry. That’s why the Polenitsy have returned.”
“How was she injured?”
“Wish I knew.” Arthur coughed. “You just get Vasilisa to Jerusalem.”
“Bilqis.” Lance came up. “They are waiting.”
“Dad…”
“I heard.” Arthur’s tone deepened. “Give them hell.”
“Come,” Ivan said to Billi as they stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage. “You will stick close to me, Dimitri, and Yuri.” Another Bogatyr fell into step with them. Two beady black eyes glistened from beneath a thick, bushy eyebrow that ran straight across from ear to ear. Tattoos covered his arms, neck, and ears. His tattoos had tattoos.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Billi.
Yuri smiled, exposing a fortune in gold teeth.
A silver BMW growled as it crept along the snow-covered drive, leading a line of big shiny four-by-fours. Billi and Ivan took this car, with Yuri up front with Dimitri. Lance and Gwaine took the next.
The car slipped out onto a main road. Snow trucks rolled along to the road, but otherwise the traffic was pretty light. Billi settled herself into the soft leather seat.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Ivan. He held out a lacquered wooden box. “A present.”
It was made from dark red wood, and had a lid decorated with an inlaid pattern of silver.
Billi’s fingers touched the case, then she raised the lid slowly.
A pistol lay on a white cushion. A fan of silver bullets had been arranged around it. It was a matte black color, simple-looking and plain, but as Billi put her hand on the cold surface, she could see that the gun was elegant in its simplicity. The best weapons always were.
“You do know how to shoot?”
“Point and click.”
“Glock 26,” Ivan said. He held one of the silver bullets between his thumb and forefinger. “Ninety-nine percent pure. Just in case.”
Despite the three bladed weapons buckled to her armor, Billi picked it up. It was light and not much bigger than her palm, with a stubby light fixed to the underside of the barrel. Ivan took the magazine and, one by one, clicked in the rounds.
“Fashion is all about the accessories,” he said.
Billi turned the pistol over. She’d used one for target practice, but this was very different. Despite the contempt the Templars had for such weapons, she couldn’t stop herself from wrapping her fingers around the butt and lightly touching the trigger. Her thumb felt along the safety catch.
So small a thing. But there was something compelling in the object. A sword could be played with. There was pleasure in the physical act of wielding it, learning the moves, the cuts, the way it shone and flashed. There was art, beauty, in the sword.
But gunpowder was pure destruction. The gun’s simple functionality made it want to be used…carnage called to it. Despite herself, despite the prejudices against such weapons, Billi wanted it. She slipped it into her pocket.
“Is it true that the Templars don’t use guns?” asked Ivan.
“We live in London, not Baghdad. Gunfights tend to attract a lot of unwanted attention,” Billi said. “Anyway, nothing says serious body trauma like an ax to the head.”
Despite the advances in military technology over the centuries, old-fashioned swords and axes still did the job best. Besides, many of the Unholy needed beheading to be truly destroyed.
The car slowed to a halt.
“We’re here,” said Ivan.
23
THEY WERE IN A DERELICT PART OF THE SUBURBS, OUT past the huge, wild Izmaylovsky Park. They drove through a ghost town of empty garages, abandoned factories, and lonely single-story shops. All the buildings around them had been demolished, except for one old housing block that sat like a squat brick in the center of a wasteland of mud and concrete. The only thing that broke its shape was a tall, faintly smoking chimney. Otherwise it was five stories of identical windows, with a few satellite dishes to break the monotony of the design.
Snow flurries tumbled chaotically around them as they stood outside the car. They’d parked down a side alley. Large industrial-sized bins lined the wall, stuffed with broken furniture, bits of carpet, and snow-sprinkled garbage bags. Ivan walked to the mouth of the narrow corridor and waited, watching the building opposite. His two companions were making last-minute checks to their gear. Yuri reloaded three times before finally leaving his pistol alone. Everyone had their own way of dealing with their pre-battle nerves.
“Come on,” Billi urged. “What are we waiting for?” For God’s sake, Vasilisa was just across the road! Billi fought the urge to simply run over there shouting out her name.
“Hush,” ordered Ivan.
