SVETLANA CAST OFF HER COAT. SHE WAS NAKED EXCEPT for the downy red hair that covered her broad shoulders and thick upper arms. She stalked forward, flexing her fingers. “Come down here and die, Templar.”
Billi leaped.
Svetlana changed in a heartbeat. Two bounds and she had transformed into a raging monster, the beast Billi had first seen in Thetford. The hulking half-human, half-wolf creature had dense, heavily muscled arms and long ivory claws, each tipped to needle-point sharpness. She threw back her shaggy head and howled. Billi slammed down in front of her and waited until she could feel the claws cutting the air, then dived sideways, slicing horizontally to open the wolf’s belly. But Svetlana stopped dead, and the blade’s edge just scraped her furry pelt.
Billi rolled in the snow, but was up instantly. The Beast Within arose: rage flooded her, and she stabbed. Billi didn’t fight with skill or grace: the battle was for blood, for blood’s sake. Svetlana tooka nickonher ribs while swipingat Billi’s face. Billi stabbed upward with her dagger, but Svetlana dragged her claws across Billi’s wrist, forcing her to drop it.
Ared mist filled Billi’s eyes, and her human self shook under the assault from the Beast. She had to control it, bend that power to her advantage, use the Beast rather than let it use her. If she fought mindlessly, on Red’s terms, she was going to lose. She focused her attention on her saber, on her training, on fighting like a knight, not like a beast.
Something ripped at her leg, and she vaguely saw three red lines through her torn trousers. Instead of backing off, Billi screamed and hurled herself at the young woman. They fell, and Billi heaved the saber down across Svetlana’s neck. Svetlana grabbed the blade and held it, trying to force it away. Her fangs snapped inches from Billi’s face.
Billi’s arms quivered with fury, and she forced her full weight onto the weapon, which sank closer to the werewolf’s throat. She grinned. She’d never felt so strong. Billi could see every hair on the werewolf’s body and each bead of sweat on its brow. The blade began to break the creature’s skin, and a warm, single drip of red sprang from the wound. Billi wanted to lick it.
The Beast Within howled.
Svetlana hurled her off. Billi tumbled through the snow and crashed against a large rock, then scrabbled to her feet, hand still gripping the saber. She raised the sword two-handed over her head. Her skin was burning from the fire within her. Her bones ground together as they fought between human and wolf form. Her grip shook violently as the transformation spasmed through her.
Oh God, no.
The moon, almost full, shone bright within the blanket of black sky. Billi wanted to tear off her clothes and bathe in its ivory stare, to let it carry her into the deep forest, away from humanity and all the ties that bound her. To be free.
Then Billi saw Vasilisa cowering under a boulder. She couldn’t give in to the Beast yet, not until Vasilisa was dead. As a werewolf, what might she do? Would she rip Vasilisa to shreds, or bow down before her like the other Polenitsy? She had to stay human, to be sure she killed Vasilisa.
Still human.
Svetlana crashed into her, catapulting her into the air. The sword spun away as Billi crumpled into the thick snow. It hit a rock and the blade snapped. The blow should have broken Billi apart, but instead she just felt a hard jolt. She flipped back up and grabbed Red’s face as the werewolf dug her claws into Billi’s ribs.
Despite the roaring pain, Billi concentrated on sinking her razor-sharp nails into Red’s face. Her thumbs were tipped with daggers, and she pushed toward Red’s eyes. Grooves opened along the wolf’s snout as she slid closer.
Svetlana screamed and twisted away. Billi stumbled toward the sword and, chest heaving, tried to lift it. It seemed ten times heavier now, even with only half a blade. Blood sprinkled the snow. Her blood. Her body was covered in cuts, and her coat hung off her in tatters.
Every step was like dragging through lead. The werewolf’s eyes were filled with blood. She howled and swiped left and right blindly. Billi slashed at her legs, cracking the kneecap, and the red-pelted wolf buckled.
Billi stared down at Svetlana, who panted, her tongue dangling loosely out of her savage jaw. Blood smeared her face, and her fur was blood-splattered. She tried to raise her arm to defend herself, but the effort was weak, defeated. Billi raised her sword and stiffened her grip. Svetlana stared up, eyes filled with impotent fury. Billi smashed the pommel on her head, and the werewolf collapsed.
Vasilisa lay curled up in the nook of a boulder. She’d buried her face in her knees and had her hands over her head as if trying to blank out what had happened.
Billi looked at her own hands. The nails were thicker, but normal. She’d fought down the change again. The bloodthirsty rage subsided, and with it she shook the Beast back into its cage.
Shouts rose out of the wind. Flashlights appeared in the distance and dark figures ran through the snow. The wind carried fearful howls.
Billi tossed away the broken sword. She groaned as she bent down to pick up her dagger. Every muscle screamed, and her bones did too, each having been twisted and tortured out of shape and back. Her spine popped as each joint set back into its socket. It took a huge effort to grasp the dagger and lift it.
“Billi?”
She had to do it now.
Billi grabbed Vasilisa by her dangling necklaces and held her fast. She raised her knife.
Oh God. This is it.
Vasilisa stared up at her, not understanding. She shook her head as if this might be some nightmare. She held on to Billi’s fingers, wanting this to be okay, wanting to trust Billi, but she could only tremble.
Strike!
Billi willed her arm down, willed the blade to enter the girl’s heart, but her arm wouldn’t bend. Vasilisa gazed up at her, too terrified to move.
“Close your eyes, Vasilisa. You won’t feel anything.” Billi’s voice broke. She pressed her lips together despite the tremor running through her. She had to do this.
It was her duty as a Templar. The life of one against the lives of billions. Baba Yaga would bring Fimbulwinter, and humanity would suffera long, slow deathby starvation. A second of ruthless action and the world was saved. Billi wouldn’t have time to regret it; the werewolves were going to tear her to pieces at any moment.
“God forgive me,” said Billi. She pushed Vasilisa against the rock and twisted the necklaces around her fist, holding Vasilisa still. The moonlight caught the little girl’s petrified face, her bewilderment. It glistened off the brightly polished baubles and old flint arrowheads dangling from her neck. The small bones, lumps of precious metal, beads, and a crude statue all jangled from Billi’s grip.
The statue.
Billi’s breath stopped. She held it between her fingers. The small, roughly carved shape of a woman, the big hips and small stub of a head, all veined with dark iron.
It was the Venus figurine.
A werewolf slammed into Billi, pushing her away from Vasilisa, and the necklace broke a part as it came free. The pair tumbled in the snow, knocking all the air from Billi’slungs. She lay limp under the snarling werewolf, its gruesome fangs just a few inches from her throat. Half buried in the snow, Billi twisted enough to look at Vasilisa. Olga was already there, passing the girl to others. Two women helped Svetlana up.
Vasilisa was removed, quickly surrounded by the Polenitsy and carried away. Only when she’d gone did the werewolf move off of Billi.
They lifted Billi up. Olga approached.
“Why didn’t you kill her?” the old woman asked.
Billi smiled. She slipped her closed hand into her pocket, feeling the smooth cold curves of the statuette made in Tunguska. The one thing that could kill Baba Yaga.
Oh, but I will.