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  “Jesus, Vasilisa,” Billi swore as she twisted the taps shut. The bottom of the bath was half full. Billi grabbed a towel and wrapped Vasilisa in it. The girl’s skin was burning.

  “So hot,” she said, choking on a half-suppressed sob.

  Billi pulled off her own bathrobe and swapped it with Vasilisa’s sodden clothes.

  “What happened?” said Arthur as he came in, dressed in a pair of baggy sweat pants and a green T-shirt.

  “Vasilisa’s sick.”

  Arthur laid his hand against her forehead.

  “I can’t help it,” the little girl murmured. Arthur filled up a glass and got her to take a few gulps.

  “Is there a thermometer in these cabinets?” he asked Billi. There were bandages, a box of syringes, tubs of antibiotics, and at the bottom, in a silver case, the thermometer. Billi handed it to her dad. They both turned to Vasilisa. She was on the stool, sweating, her hands clasped tightly around the glass.

  The water in it boiled. It bubbled over, and steam rose from the puddles on the floor. Small red burns marked Vasilisa’s hands, but she didn’t seem to feel them.

  “Bring Elaine up,” ordered Arthur as he put Vasilisa’s hands under the tap.

  Elaine was on the couch, asleep in front of the muted TV.

  Billi shook the old woman. “Dad wants you. Quickly.”

  Elaine nodded and stood up, straightening her shawl. Billi was about to follow when the screen caught her attention.

  At first it looked like snow falling, but it was too gray, too dirty. A man’s shoulders were covered with it, and long streaks of ash ran down his smart suit. His face, too, was coated in soot; the ash was everywhere. He stood in a square filled with people. Car horns screamed in the background, and lights flashed behind him.

  Nicholas Rhodes, live from Naples, ran the headline on the screen. Billi paused, caught between the desire to help Vasilisa and the apocalyptic scenes on the screen.

  “…It’s unbelievable. Even in all this smoke, you can see the glow surrounding the edge of the crater. And the column, it just goes up and up…” The radio crackled and the voice faded in, then away, but there was no mistaking the excitement and fear in the broadcaster’s voice.

  The road signs and advertisements, those not completely lost in the fog of ash, were all in Italian. But behind them, Billi saw the burning mountain and gasped.

  It climbed like a tidal wave behind the city, a black silhouette crowned by a red-lit cone. Mount Vesuvius. A huge column of black smoke rose straight into the sky. Occasionally a flash of sky-hurled lava would light up the rolling clouds, and lightning stabbed against the rising black tower. The camera shook as a roar broke out of the TV. People started screaming, and bumped and pushed past the newsman. He almost fell under a surge of panicking locals. The screen went blank, but the voices carried on.

  “Don’t lose the camera… There it is!”

  The picture was suddenly restored, and showed the newsman, Nicholas Rhodes, staring into the camera, close up and coughing. His red eyes ran with tears, but he couldn’t speak. The ash was too thick, muting even the cries coming from around them.

  The ground shook, and again the camera went dark, but then the screen was filled with the blurred image of another eruption. The dense cloud rising out of the cone fattened, then collapsed, rolling down on itself, flooding the mountaintop, slipping like overflowing boiling water outofa pan.

  “Oh my God,” muttered the cameraman. “C’mon, Nick. We’ve got to run.” But he kept filming even as he backed away.

  The crater top was gone now as the black cloud dropped down on top of it. Waves of ash and smoke threw newspapers, litter, any loose thing into the air. People fell and were trampled. Cars crashed and drivers scrambled out of their windows as the square gridlocked.

  “What is it?” shouted Nicholas at his cameraman. A howling rose through the streets. People grabbed on to each other as winds shook the white-coated trees. Windows in apartments overlooking the square shattered.

  Pyroclastic surge, thought Billi. Hadn’t it all been in that Latin book? Superheated poisonous gases traveling at hundreds of miles per hour, incinerating everything in its path. It was the surge that had annihilated Pompeii back in a.d.

  79. The ash fall had merely buried an already extinct city. There was no escape. “No use, no use,” said the cameraman. The camera lowered to dangle over a pair of boots. “We’re dead.”

  The camera swung back and forth. The sound was just screaming and the roaring of the wind. Then the camera went up and Nicholas was back on the screen, his red tear-filled eyes staring straight at Billi, straight at them all.

  “Keep filming,” he said grimly. He steadied himself and ran his hand through his hair, shaking ash off his hands.

  “I love you,” he said. “I just wanted to say that I love you, Maggie.” He was shouting now as the wailing around them became deafening. “Tell the girls Daddy is thinking of them.” His voice was hoarse and he cradled the camera with both hands. “Tell them I love-”

  The screen crackled, filled with electronic snow, then went black and silent. The only thing left on it was the headline, Nicholas Rhodes, live from Naples, then that too disappeared. The picture went back to the studio. The anchorwoman stared dumbly at her monitor.

  Billi raced up the stairs.

  Elaine and Arthur held Vasilisa in the half-filled tub. The water steamed, and both were using soaking towels to hold the semiconscious girl; she was too hot to touch.

  “What’s she doing?” Billi could only think of that eruption. “She’s not doing anything! Something’s happening to her!” snapped Elaine.

  Vasilisa jerked savagely, almost breaking free. Water splashed everywhere as she fought. Her eyes were squeezed shut. “This is what she wants!” she screamed. She grabbed Arthur’s arm, staring madly at him. Billi held her shoulders and watched the girl’s eyes darken, the pale blue melting into black. “This is what she wants!”

  Elaine fumbled for the talismans around Vasilisa’s neck and pressed them against her temples.

  “Fight. Fight her,” she whispered.

  Vasilisa glared, snapping her teeth in fury. “FooLiisH.” It was just a word, a curse, but it wasn’t Vasilisa. She hissed in a cacophony of dozens of discordant tongues. She clawed at Elaine’s face and left red-hot blisters down her cheek. Then Vasilisa’s eyes lost focus, glazing over. Her eyelids fluttered, and she slumped into the water.

  The water in the bath continued to steam, and Arthur pulled back his hand, which was ringed with burns. It was sauna hot in here, and the temperature was still rising.

  “Snow,” Billi said. “Put her in the snow.”

  What happens to her affects the natural world. What happens to the natural world affects her.

  Arthur wrapped Vasilisa in a wet blanket. The three of them ran into the gardens of Middle Temple. The blanket was smoldering by the time he unrolled her into the snow. Desperately they scooped handfuls over her, and great wet puddles formed as the snow almost instantly melted. But with the three of them at work they managed to get Vasilisa’s skin back to a normal temperature. Vasilisa gazed around her.

  “Oh. So much snow.” She turned to Billi. “It’s Fimbulwinter…” Vasilisa’s voice fell into a murmur and she slumped.

  Elaine put her hand against the girl’s forehead. She waited a minute, then sighed.

  “She’s okay.”

  Arthur lifted Vasilisa, cradling her in his arms. Elaine struggled to her feet.

  As they made their way back home they passed a house with the lights still on. Billi paused outside a window.

  It was indistinct, but the newscaster was repeating the same sentence over and over again, as though eventually she would believe her own words.

  The eruption is over, but Naples has been destroyed.

  11

  THE ASH KEPT FALLING OVER NAPLES. NEWS COVERAGE continued as the scale of the disaster climbed. Towns had vanished, completely submerged under the millions of
tons of volcanic detritus.

  The pyroclastic blast had petered out as it smashed into the eastern face of the city, so the western inhabitants avoided the worst excesses of the eruption. Huge crowds of terrified people clustered at the bay, all struggling for a space on the flotilla of boats and ships that had gathered as part of the rescue operation.

  For a while reports still came out of the city, mostly telephone calls from people who had hidden in basements while the volcano raged. But slowly the signals faded as they were buried alive, trapped forever underground.

  * * *

  They’d put Vasilisa back in bed, and she was sleeping soundly. Elaine had made sure the talismans were firmly in place before closing the door.

  Billi, Arthur, and Elaine sat in the kitchen; by midmorning they’d all had enough of watching the news. Gwaine arrived, somber and carrying an armful of newspapers.

  “What I want to know is, did Vasilisa do it?” asked Arthur. “Did she cause that eruption?”

  “No…” Elaine began, but her tone was ambiguous. “Vesuvius is an active volcano. Sooner or later something like this was bound to happen.” She stared at the scorch marks on the floor. “Vasilisa’s sympathetic powers meant that she felt the eruption coming-she got worse as it did-but by the same token, as she cooled down, so did the volcano. She stopped the eruption. If it hadn’t been for Billi’s quick thinking, things could have been much, much worse…”

  “There are thousands dead, tens of thousands. How much worse could it have been?” asked Gwaine. “And in the future?” His hand rested on the day’s Guardian. naples gone was the headline; the rest of the front page was black. “Will Vasilisa be able to cause volcanic eruptions?”

  Elaine looked at Arthur, biting her lip. She spoke in a low whisper. “Yes. It’s possible-if she’s an avatar.”

  Avatar? Wasn’t an avatar a computer icon? Somehow Billi got the feeling this was something different.

  Elaine continued. “It’sa concept I came across in India during my traveling days.” In the bright overhead light the wrinkles around her mouth were deep black crevasses. “A super-Oracle.”

  “Christ Almighty,” muttered Gwaine.

  “Yes, like him. Don’t you get it? Vasilisa stopped a volcanic eruption. To be able to manipulate such energies requires incredible psychic strength; it would be like Kay trying to read the minds of everyone in London at once. The fact that Vasilisa survived and didn’t self-combust makes me think she has vast potential. It’s all lurking there, deep within her. She’s just too young to access it consciously.” Elaine gazed at the stairs that led to Vasilisa. “But once she learns how to control her abilities she’ll be able to create hurricanes with a clap of her hands. Stomp the ground and bring on earthquakes. Manipulate nature to suit her whims.”

  “Oh,” said Billi. “Is that all? I was worried for a minute.”

  This was the girl she’d rescued: someone who could destroy cities. Billi struggled to match the image of the frail blond girl with the destruction that had been wrought in Italy. She had powers and responsibility no human should be burdened with. Billi pitied her. She was a pawn in a game between the Templars and the Polenitsy. Whoever possessed Vasilisa could control nature.

  “No wonder the Polenitsy want her so badly,” said Billi. They must have suspected Vasilisa was powerful, to have come all this way.

  “Not just the werewolves,” added Elaine. “Can you imagine what the ghuls would give for the blood of such a powerful psychic? Or the devils for her soul? The powers they would gain by devouring her?”

  “And if Baba Yaga finds her, she’ll gain all of Vasilisa’s powers. Not good,” said Arthur. He gazed out at the snow. “That’s who tried to possess her, isn’t it?”

  The others looked uneasy as Elaine tapped the ash off her cigarette.

  “Yes. She obviously made a brief connection with Vasilisa’s mind, but the talismans stopped her. If she didn’t suspect it already, she’ll know now that Vasilisa’s an avatar. No way is she going to pass up a meal like that.”

  Billi shivered. The way Vasilisa had thrashed and screamed. The voices, they had been a major freak-out. How many minds had been in her head? “But there was more than one voice. I heard a dozen at least. They’re all Baba Yaga?”

  “Who knows? Baba Yaga’s not going to be like anything we’ve seen before, but even if half the stories about her are true, she must be an avatar. The voices could be the echoes of all the souls she’s consumed over the centuries. Maybe that’s what she is-an insane old witch with thousands of spirits trapped inside her. All subservient to her single will.”

  “Careful, Elaine, you sound like you admire her,” warned Arthur.

  “I respect her, Art. We all should.” Elaine watched her smoke trail rise upward. “It’s always wise to respect gods, whether they’re yours or not.”

  “And Fimbulwinter?” Arthur said, grim-faced.

  Elaine nodded. “The Norse legends talk of the long winter that will herald the end of the world.”

  “Why would Vasilisa say that Fimbulwinter is coming?”

  “Because she told me.” The little girl stood barefooted in the doorway, the Russian doll in her hand.

  Elaine got up. “You should be in bed. Why don’t we-”

  “Who told you?” asked Arthur, stopping Elaine.

  Vasilisa’s small hands rubbed the doll nervously. “Baba Yaga. She told me. Or I heard her.” She bit her lip, staring at them, white with fear. “I heard her.” Billi led Vasilisa to a stool, then leaned on the windowsill behind her.

  Vasilisa had shrunk, or so it seemed. It looked like she’d had her insides drained out. Dark rings circled her eyes, giving her a sunken, haunted look. She bit her lip and pressed her fist against her temple.

  “She was in here, whispering in my head. She wanted more. Much more. She wanted the world to be covered in ice and snow. I could see her dreams,” Vasilisa whispered. “She wants it all, Billi. She wants it all covered in white. She wants to bury the world.”

  Gwaine shook his head. “That’s not possible. How can you freeze the entire planet?”

  Billi spoke. “Eruptions affect the weather.” With her class studying what had happened in Pompeii, she’d picked up a lot on volcanoes. “The eruption throws up huge volumes of sulphur dioxide into the air. That reacts with the water in the atmosphere and acts like a great big mirror. It reflects the sun’s heat back out into space. If the eruption was big enough, it could definitely create a volcanic winter.”

  Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “You think Vesuvius will cause Fimbulwinter?”

  “Even a medium-sized eruption like Vesuvius will affect temperatures, but for Fimbulwinter, something much, much bigger would have to happen.” Billi racked her brains, trying to recall what had come up at school. “A super-volcano. If one of those blew, we’d have a global temperature drop-cooling, may be even freezing, most of the planet. Could last ten years.”

  “Long enough to obliterate crops and livestock. Most people would starve to death,” added Elaine.

  “A cull,” said Billi. Wasn’t that what humans did if any other species overpopulated? Hunt them down until they reached more “manageable” numbers? Now Baba Yaga wanted to do that to mankind.

  Gwaine shook his head. “But it would wipe out everyone. Polenitsy included.”

  “She doesn’t care,” said Vasilisa. She sat between Elaine and Arthur, her shoulders hunched and her voice a bare whisper. “She wants to clean the world. Start it over again.”

  Arthur spoke. “She’s nearly immortal. In a few hundred years the planet would repopulate, but humanity would be nowhere near the six billion it is today. Baba Yaga’s seen so many species come and go, the loss of a few more wouldn’t bother her in the least, and neither would the time scale. A few centuries mean nothing to her.” He looked at Billi. “We got any of these super-volcanoes this side of the equator?”

  Billi nodded. “Yellowstone. The entire park is a gigantic one. When that goes, it’s
good-bye for all of us.”

  Arthur cleared his throat and squatted down in front of Vasilisa.

  “You look tired, child. I think it best you sleep.” He held out his hand. “C’mon.”

  As Arthur took the girl upstairs, Billi went to the kettle. She tried to fill it, but her hand wouldn’t hold it still enough. She gave up.

  Baba Yaga wanted Fimbulwinter. With her and Vasilisa’s power combined, could she do it? Wipe out the world?

  Arthur returned and stood in the center of the kitchen. “I’m moving everything forward.” He glanced at his watch. “Vasilisa flies out tonight. Elaine and I will go to Jerusalem with her until she’s handed over. I want all knights on duty until Vasilisa’s on that plane. Gwaine, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”

  Gwaine nodded.

  Arthur put his hand on Billi’s shoulder. “You get some rest, girl. I’ll need you later.”

  “What about the Polenitsy?” said Billi. “They’ll be coming for her.”

  Arthur stood by the window, immobile in the pale winter light. “Let them come.”

  12

  THE EVENING PASSED WITH THE KNIGHTS CONSTANTLY checking in on the house. Billi couldn’t rest, painfully aware that things had reached a crunch point, not just for the Templars, but for her personally.

  Tonight Vasilisa joined the Order. There would be no ceremony, no all-night vigils or prayers. Billi couldn’t let Vasilisa go to Jerusalem without making peace.

  She knocked on the door. “Vasilisa? Can I come in?”

  “No.”

  The sun had gone down, and the room was in gloomy darkness. Billi turned on the light. Vasilisa sat on her bed, huddled in the corner, holding her knees.

  Billi moved a few stuffed animals aside and sat facing the girl.

  Where to begin?

  “I’m sorry it’s come to this, Vasilisa. But it’s the only way you’ll be safe.”