The fighting had stopped. Billi shook her head, trying to focus. The trees outside creaked, and the wind rustled through the empty streets.
Billi’s hair flickered as the breeze rose. The office quivered and the desks and chairs rattled and slid across the room.
Deep long cracks opened along the walls, and the roof rattled its tiles loose. The floorboards bent and snapped one by one. Then the walls exploded. Billi threw herself toward Vasilisa, but something fell from above, knocking her aside. Ivan shouted, but was drowned out as the building crumbled. All Billi could do was cover her head with her arms as the ceiling collapsed and she vanished under the avalanche of tiles and timber. She choked on the dust that filled her lungs, and a deep drumming echoed in her ears.
The avalanche seemed to go on and on. Billi, submerged in debris, had managed to crawl under a gap made by two cupboards landing on each other.
Where’s Ivan?
Where’s Vasilisa?
She tried to call out, but could only cough. Eventually, when the noise had subsided, Billi began to drag herself out. A layer of broken roof slates covered the rubble, and Billi started sliding them aside.
“Vasilisa?” Billi called.
A deep black mass rose from the ruined building. Tap tap tap wenta staff on the cracked concrete and rotten wood. Black eyes, old and so full of evil, glistened with victory. Baba Yaga used her claws to dig through the rubble. She tossed large lumps of brick and block behind her like packing foam.
“Vasilisa!” Billi cried as she struggled to push herself free of the debris.
Baba Yaga reached into the dark pit and dragged Vasilisa out of the devastation.
42
ARTHUR AND LANCE WERE SURROUNDED BY WOLVES. A Bogatyr charged Baba Yaga, his rifle blazing. The bullets merely sparked against her skin. With one hand she snapped her fingers around his neck and popped his head off. The body stumbled another two steps, then slumped, its neck pumping scarlet into the dirty snow. Vasilisa screamed as Baba Yaga dragged her away from the collapsed building.
The Bogatyrs were retreating. Men and wolves lay dead, some killed fleeing, others locked in their death fury. But the wolves were slowly gaining the upper hand. Billi watched as two werewolves broke through a gap and launched themselves at her father. His sword took one in the gullet, but the second knocked him down. Lance’s swords stabbed into the wolf’s side, and the monster was tossed away.
Gwaine, Mordred, and Gareth came charging down the street. Their arrows all spent, they launched into the melee, Gwaine swinging his ax in great skull-smashing arcs as they fought their way to the Templar Master.
Billi tried to heave herself up, but every muscle felt shredded. She managed to slide a beam far enough to crawl out of the rubble. Her armor was in tatters, and blood dripped from a cut on her forehead. The taste of it stung her lips.
Baba Yaga took her prisoner away from the ruined building as Vasilisa screamed and struggled in the old crone’s grip.
Red leaped across the broken rubble. She sniffed the ground and her emerald eyes rose to meet Billi’s.
Rage filled Billi’s heart. Her head swam with fury.
“Get out of my way,” Billi snarled.
Red stalked closer. Then the broken concrete between them parted, and Ivan reached out, revolver in his hand. He fired at Red, point-blank and straight into her belly. She stumbled back as he put two rounds into her.
But she did not fall.
Ivan rose to his feet, both hands on the gun, as she sprang. He pushed the revolver barrel against Red’s stomach, and two muffled explosions went off in rapid succession. Red rammed her claws into his chest as she roared with savage hatred. Ivan tilted backward, firing again and catching the werewolf in the chest.
Red spasmed, and bright blood spilled from her abdomen as her body changed. The hair began to sink away into her pale flesh, and the limbs twisted under the pulsing skin. Ivan lay on his back, fingers still locked around the gun, his chest torn and bleeding heavily. Billi stepped toward him and touched his face. His eyes closed and he sighed.
Then nothing.
“Ivan?” She put her fingers to his still lips. “Ivan!”
No no no.
“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.
