“Me? Dead? Do you know who I am?” Ivan winced. “I am Tsarevich Ivan Alexeivich Romanov. It would take more than a couple of scratches to kill me.” He wobbled and would have fallen if Billi hadn’t hung on to him. “Not much more, though.”
One of the wolves howled. A woman climbed onto a wall and cried at the moon. The victorious Polenitsy gave full voice to their joy, and the city echoed with their feral calling. The sound trembled in Billi’s soul, and her ears pricked at the cries of celebrating beasts.
She sighed and stepped back from Ivan. She raised her head and stared at the moon. The brightness of it hurt her eyes, but she didn’t blink.
The Beast Within stepped out of its cage.
She pulled off the broken remains of her mail armor.
Ivan took hold of her arm. “No. Not after all this.” He shouted at the Templars. “Quickly!”
Billi twisted, but he wouldn’t let go. She stared at her coat, bloodstained and ripped. She drew her long sharp nails-talons now-peeling it off.
They had won. Her sisters.
Dimly, she watched her father run toward her, backpack slung over his shoulder. His blue eyes were open and fearful. Why?
“Billi, your dad’s coming, just hang on,” said a man, a man called Ivan.
No, he was the enemy. He smelled of blood and wolf and gun and smoke, the stench of civilization.
“Let me go,” Billi said. Oh, how ripe he looked.
“No.”
Billi snarled, and her tongue touched the needle-sharp row of fangs in her mouth, all the better for tearing out his throat. She smiled, smelling the fear dripping through his pores.
“You are not a beast, Billi.”
He did not flee as prey should. He stood facing her, daring her.
No. This was Ivan. He’d saved her life. Billi faltered.
The howls drowned out her thoughts, and Billi screamed. She collapsed, curling up as her body began to break its human mold. Arthur dropped beside her.
Human and beast fought for domination. Billi’s soul split in two, each eager to rule the other. Muscles flinched and jerked as the Beast Within tried to force its will over body and flesh.
I am not a beast.
No matter what she’d done, she’d not given into it.
Billi stared hard at Ivan, digging her nails into his skin, hanging on to him like she was drowning.
Arthur ripped open his backpack, and the stench made Billi want to vomit. The werewolf part recoiled and snarled as Arthur pasted the thick herbal poultices over her arm and side. Her blood boiled and her skin burned.
Then a stream of coolness began to spread through her. First Billi sweated, then shivered as the herbs did their work.
Billi slumped in Ivan’s arms and gave in to the comforting chill coursing through her veins.
46
BILLI FELT THE TRICKLE OF COLD WATER ACROSS HER forehead. Drops fell on her eyelids, making her blink.
“Thank God,” whispered Arthur.
Billi blinked again, wiping the water away, and gazed around.
“It was looking a bit hairy for a moment,” said her father. He dropped the cloth into a plastic bowl.
“Is that a… joke?” she asked. “Please, no more. I don’t think I could take it.”
Arthur brushed her hair away from her face as she sat up. A few blankets had been tossed over a tiled floor, and she lay under a heavy coat.
“What happened?” Billi saw the fresh poultices on her arm and felt them against her ribs. It was still dark outside, and she flinched as she saw the moon hovering over the buildings, but then she relaxed. It had no power over her.
“A truce, of sorts,” said Arthur. He looked weary, and the Templar Sword stood against the wall. “Vasilisa, if she is still Vasilisa, permitted us to stay in Chernobyl while you were resting. I think she was curious to see if you would change.” He pointed at the moon. “Join the Polenitsy. I think she’d like that.”
“She’s with the Polenitsy now?” Billi asked.
“Oh yes. They’ve lost their old goddess and found a new one.” Arthur scratched his chin. “It looks like all the power Baba Yaga had has passed to her.” He didn’t sound entirely happy about it.
Billi swung her feet in front of her.
“You should rest a bit. Lance is sorting out some transport.”
“Where’s Ivan?” Billi stood and wobbled, grabbing the wall to steady herself. Then she slowly let go and stood on her own two feet. “I want to see him.”
“As stubborn as your mother.” Arthur handed Billi a coat. “Outside. He’s been waiting.”
Billi smiled as she slung the coat over her shoulders. “Thanks, Dad.”
Outside, Billi watched Lance and Mordred busy with one of the large Humvees the Bogatyrs had abandoned. Gwaine and Gareth stood on the roof, packing. Gareth’s arm was in a sling, and he winced as he shifted a box of food with one hand and one boot. To the edge of the buildings, just beyond a rough strip of brushland that might once have been a park, were the Polenitsy. Even from here, Billi felt the stir of the Beast. It wanted to go and join them. She turned away and saw Ivan.
He sat on a pile of bricks, staring at Koshchey’s body. Ivan’s chest was wrapped in bandages, and someone had given him a bulky winter coat.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Billi asked.
“They aren’t worth a penny.”
The big man’s eyes were still wide open, a faint expression of shock frozen on his stark, white face. There was a large blood-encrusted pit in his chest. “How do you feel?” Billi wanted to embrace Ivan, but she kept back.
“Honestly? Numb. Cold. Nothing in particular. I thought I would feel…more.”
“It’s done now, Ivan.” Billi held out her hand. Ivan glanced at it. Silently, he slipped his fingers into hers.
“It has been an honor to fight beside you, Billi SanGreal.” He smiled, and Billi helped him up.
“What are you going to do now?”
Ivan shrugged. “Get adopted.”
“What?” She must have misheard. She tapped her head; perhaps she was still delirious with all that had just happened. It sounded like he’d said “get adopted.”
Ivan smiled slyly. “England’s royal family. We’re related, you know. I may decide to come to London and impose on my cousins’ hospitality.”
Billi laughed. “Well, if you have no luck at Buckingham Palace, we might be able to find some space for you at the Temple.” They began walking back to the building, supporting each other. Billi clung close to Ivan as he limped along, and he had his arm around her waist, holding her tightly.
A plaintive howl made them both look up.
Amangy gray wolf, its pelt bloody and torn, licked the still face of Big Red, of Svetlana. Its green eyes searched the girl’s body for some sign of life, whimpering softly as it sniffed the deep chest wounds. It licked the girl’s cheek, but she did not stir.
“Olga,” Billi said. The wolf lifted its head in her direction, and Billi raised her hand. She wanted to thank her. The old werewolf, more than anyone, had saved the world from Fimbulwinter.
The old gray wolf watched them, blinking. Then it touched its nose against Svetlana’s still lips and jumped down. With what could have been a nod or a bow, it turned and disappeared.
“Sister SanGreal,” said a voice from behind them. A woman with scars and tattoos waited a few yards away.
