“Elaine, you in there?”
Abook slammed onto the floor, and Elaine, glasses resting on her forehead, stared at Billi, rubbing her eyes.
“Where the hell have you been?” she demanded. She took hold of Billi’s sleeve and dragged her in, shutting the door behind her. “You have got to see this.”
“We don’t have time.” Billi tried to resist, but the old woman wouldn’t let her go.
Books from the Bogatyr library covered the entire floor. Old books and scrolls were scattered over a dining table. Lance was right: Elaine was in research heaven. A mattress and blanket lay on the polished wooden floor. So this was where Elaine was sleeping. Billi had guessed as much. She glanced over the endless cabinets and rows of stuffed bookshelves, then rested her eyes on a large portrait above the fireplace, and on a face she recognized.
That could be Ivan.
Tsar Nicholas II gazed at her with imperious indifference. He stood behind a chair upon which his wife, the tsarina, sat. Beside him were three young women. Billi didn’t need to guess which was Anastasia. Ivan had inherited more than just her beauty. He even stood the same way she did, straight, relaxed, regal.
Elaine grinned. “I know what happened to Baba Yaga.” She slapped her head. “Obvious, really. She’s an elementalist. Whatever affects the Earth affects her. And something did affect her-the Earth-a hundred years ago.” Elaine smacked her fist into her palm. “Right here, in Russia.”
“What, Elaine?”
Elaine began searching through the scattered books, opening and slamming them as she tried to find what she was looking for. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you…”
Billi sighed impatiently and leaned up against the table. Arms folded, she caughta glimpse of movement. A shadow moved in the gap between the bottom of the door frame and the floor. She heard a man take a deep breath, followed by the click of a catch. She grabbed Elaineand dived behindthe sofa as the door exploded open and the darkness screamed with gunfire.
27
BILLI THREW HER ARMS OVER HER HEAD AS SHARDS of glass from the long line of windows around her exploded like crystal shrapnel. The sofa pulsed as bullets thumped into the dense wood. The wind pulled savagely at the long curtains, and Billi felt the snow-carrying cold blast her. In a matter of seconds the world had gone to hell.
Her ears rang with the echoing gunfire that bounced back and forth off the heavy marble walls. The air carried the acrid, metallic flavor of gunpowder.
Petrified, Elaine hung on to Billi, her eyes shut tight. She shook so badly that Billi had to wrap her arms around her, even though she herself could do nothing but pray.
The echoes lasted longer than the gunfire. Snow blew in from the line of now-demolished windows, and the city beyond sparkled.
“Hello? Are you still alive?” a mocking voice boomed, deep with amusement. Koshchey.
“Of course!” shouted Billi, sounding a hell of a lot braver than she felt. “Were you shooting at us? I didn’t realize.”
Two Bogatyrs poked their guns over the sofa. One dragged Elaine out by the hair, and the other went for Billi. She slapped his hands away and stood up.
Billi casually brushed the splinters from her coat. She couldn’t let Koshchey see how frightened she was. The Bogatyrs gathered around them. The Bogatyr released his hold on Elaine, and she stood beside Billi, staring at the devastation.
Koshchey strolled into the library. His collar was loose and his shirt stained with sweat, face flushed red by some recent exertion.
There were now ten Bogatyrs in the library. They all wore casual clothing, but carried guns. Two held Ivan between them. He struggled, but the men had his arms bent behind his back.
Where were Lance and Gwaine? Koshchey glared at the portrait of the royal family and held out his hand. One of his men put a pistol in it.
Koshchey shot Tsar Nicholas between the eyes. The hole in the canvas flickered with flame, then turned into wispy smoke.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he said.
He put another hole between Anastasia’s eyes.
“And that,” he said, handing the pistol back. With one sweep of his trunk-wide arms he hurled the books off the table. Elaine flinched as the priceless, one-of-a-kind tomes and scrolls scattered.
“You can’t-” Elaine started as she scrabbled among the discarded books. One of the Bogatyrs knocked them out of her hands and pushed her back against Billi.
Koshchey glanced at the man. “Andrei, if the old woman speaks again, break her jaw.”
“Is something wrong?” Billi asked. If Gwaine and Lance were anywhere close, they would have heard the gunfire. She needed to play for time. Give them a chance to get away.
“I offered you hospitality, my aid. My men’s lives, Templar, and you betray my trust. Sneaking off behind my back. Aiding the enemy. Yuri saw you and Ivan talking with the Polenitsy tonight. Did you not think I would find out?” He looked at the cloth in his hand. “Is that gratitude?”
“All you’ve ever done has been for yourself.” Ivan glared, trying to break free.
“Ah, Romanov.” Koshchey waved at the men on either side of Ivan. “All this you owe to me. If your father had been left in charge, we’d be as poor as the Templars.” He slapped his chest. “I have made the Bogatyrs strong. I have made them powerful, feared. And you dare to think I would hand it all over to a whelp like you? It is my destiny to rule the Bogatyrs. Your father had to die.”
“You don’t even deny it? That you are a traitor?”
Koshchey looked around at his men and laughed. They laughed too. “Deny it? I deny nothing. I led him to the Polenitsy and left him there. He was weak. The gray werewolf made short work of him, I hear. He died begging on his knees. I still celebrate your father’s death.”
Ivan roared and charged. Koshchey’s right fist snapped forward, and the blow took Ivan off the ground. Billi caught him as he stumbled backward, amazed he wasn’t unconscious, or dead.
“No, Ivan-”
He threw himself forward, but still reeling from Koshchey’s blow, his punch was off target. Koshchey took it on his chest without a reaction. Then he grabbed Ivan’s collar and slammed his knee into the young man’s belly.
Ivan slumped down. His chest heaved and his fingers scraped the floor as he searched for a grip that would help him get up again.
“It would have been better if the vampire had killed you, as planned,” said Koshchey. “But Lady SanGreal had to save you.”
Slowly, Ivan rose to his feet, his rage and defiance undiminished.
“Fight me, fight me like a man of honor,” he snarled, staring hatefully at the huge Bogatyr.
“Honor is for old men and young fools.” Koshchey pulled out a rag and shook it open. He pressed it against the back of his neck, drawing it over his bald head. Up close, Billi saw it bore a green pattern, one she recognized.
Paisley.
Koshchey spotted Billi’s look of horror.
“Oh yes, Templar. The woman told me everything. Eventually.” Then he straightened and pulled the pistol from his waistband. “I will find Vasilisa-you can take comfort in that. I will make sure Baba Yaga does not get her. And I will make sure Fimbulwinter never happens. That is what you all want, yes? She is much too valuable to be left to the Polenitsy and their insane goddess.”
He drew back the slide of his gun, chambering a round. Then he pointed it at Ivan’s head.
“I’ve dreamed of killing a Romanov myself,” he said.
