Page 11 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter eleven

Rada

“I have to go,” I murmur to Lech, frantically smoothing down my hair and checking if the eyepatch sits tight. “Now. Let me go.”

“What? Why? You haven’t seen the best part yet,” he says, his voice airy and just a bit sarcastic.

But his hold loosens enough to let me slip away. I dive into the crowd, moving as fast as I can. I’m not charming like Lech, so no apologies await the people I jab with my elbows. They grumble and curse but let me pass, and I push through, finally ducking into a narrow, empty street.

“Alina!”

Lech is right on my heels, and I stop, leaning against a wall where I’m sure the dragons can’t see me. The upir gives me a long, inquiring look when he catches up.

“You look like you’ve just seen death,” he says with a frown. “Wait, that’s an unfortunate expression. You have just seen a death, but that doesn’t explain why you ran away. What happened?”

“I… I don’t feel well. It might be the food,” I say, pressing my hand to my stomach with a grimace.

It’s not a total lie. I feel nauseous, and my frantically beating heart makes my insides squirm with fear.

Foss knows exactly what I look like, and the shade of my hair or a stupid eye patch won’t fool him. My only saving grace just now was that I was one of hundreds in a crowd. If we met face to face on the street… I shudder just thinking about it.

Lech raises his eyebrows in genteel disbelief. “The food. Right. Well, maybe it’s for the best. We’ll come watch a full show another time. The good news is, our esteemed guards hold a trial every evening.”

I snort. Only Lech can make the word “esteemed” sound so scornful.

We set out on a slow climb up the streets toward the bridge. The ache in my muscles turns dull as I focus on putting one foot in front of the other. I am beyond disturbed, and my emotional turmoil feels strangely close to numbness. I wonder with detachment if I have three hardboiled eggs in me for my room, but that doesn’t worry me much. Somehow, foregoing my newfound comfort doesn’t seem important after what I just saw.

By the riverside, we pass an outdoor tavern, tables and benches packed under a wooden roof resting on four sturdy pillars. A fiddler walks among the candle-lit tables, playing a slow, mournful song. People talk in hushed voices, drinking mead and beer, and two wilas dance in the shadow at the edge of candlelight, entwined in a loving embrace.

I have a hard time reconciling this peaceful, romantic scene with the cruelty I just saw. This part of Slawa is magical and fills me with yearning, while that one makes me clench my fists in helpless rage. How can they be pieces of the same whole?

“What happens to people when they die?” I ask softly as we walk down the slope on our side of the river, the milk bar a few streets ahead, its hypnotic music guiding us home.

“The people of Slawa turn into crows, storks, or swallows, and live in the branches of the Great Oak in Wyraj,” Lech says, sounding exhausted. “They serve Perun and his gods, and after their servitude is over, they are allowed to be born again, here in Slawa. Wyraj isn’t like Nawie. No one gets to stay there forever.”

“Oh. Death doesn’t seem that bad then.”

Lech’s blue eyes are tired and devoid of their spark. “I suppose it’s not.”

I think about Woland, who can kill a person’s soul and make them die for good. Then I think about the captain of the dragons, who can suck magic out of anyone. And finally, I think about Foss, who was clearly with Woland, and yet, serves as Perun’s trusted soldier, terrorizing the city.

My exhausted mind spins in circles until we reach the bar. Zlotomira welcomes us warmly, chiding me for being so late.

“I almost gave your room away! And you, Lech—Rada was worried you wouldn’t show up today.”

The upir’s smile is forced, his eyelids drooping wearily. “You know I always show up,” he tells Zlotomira, sounding angry rather than charming for once. “Here, let me pay and I’ll go up to see her.”

His payment of two eggs made, he mumbles a goodbye, leaving me with the keen-eyed mamuna. She shoots me a shrewd look when I stare at his retreating back, blinking to keep my eyes open.

“You know, he’s right. He always comes back to her,” she says in a hushed voice after I fill one egg, the source of magic inside me straining as I force my power out, drop by drop until the egg is barely hardboiled. “Lech wants everyone to think he’s this callous, cynical upir, but mark my words—that wila is his soft spot. Her son, too. Poor boy.”

I take the second egg, noticing with dismay that my fingers shake slightly. Zlotomira glances down, missing nothing.

“Did you overextend yourself today, dear? Tomorrow make sure to pay me first, hm? That way I won’t have to wonder if you’re coming back for the night.”

I nod and let the second egg fall in the basket. The mamuna checks it quickly, and I take a deep breath, bracing for the final portion of my payment.

“Why did you say he’s a poor boy?” I ask to distract her from how badly I’m shaking. My chest throbs with a dull pain, my vision growing black at the edges.

“Oh, you know. He’s half-dragon,” she says, waving her hand as if it’s of no consequence.

“I see.”

So Rada, the wila Lech supports in exchange for her blood, is another rape victim. The surge of hot anger in my belly helps me rally the dregs of my magic, and I fill the final egg with a burst of prickling pain, but at least I’m steady on my feet. I’ve always relied on anger to keep me going, and tonight it’s no different.

“The bath and supper will be waiting,” Zlotomira says cheerfully, putting the eggs away. “Sweet dreams, dear!”

I sleep until noon, when the toll jerks me awake, tearing a chunk of barely replenished magic out of me. I grimace and stumble over to the window, opening the curtains. As soon as my breakfast appears, I devour everything, magic depletion making me famished.

The food helps, and I braid my hair, feeling at least certain that I’ll be able to afford another night above the milk bar. I desperately need to improve my disguise, though—and learn everything I can about time magic.

My main goal hasn’t changed. Back in the past, the twelve-year-old me waits for adult Jaga to save her life and change her fate, but I still haven’t figured out how to cross the distance of the years between us. Woland once told me the secret to ruling time was to be born before it existed, and that is why he can freeze time if it suits him.

But there has to be another way, because the future me used it to save me. When I was twelve years old and about to die from a knife wound, an adult version of me came through a fiery doorway and murdered my would-be killers, slaughtering their souls, too. She healed me, leaving behind only scars—scars that made me infertile.

I’ve wondered over the years why she didn’t heal me completely. I resented that deeply. Yet after Woland’s ploy to take ownership of my soul by getting me pregnant, I realized the future me knew that would happen and made me infertile for that very reason. I feel grateful now. She saved me yet again.

Woland’s voice slithers into my thoughts, unbidden and unwelcome, the memory of his thorns tingling between my legs.

“You’re the first I did it to. The first. The dearest.”

I take a deep breath as painful memories from that night come back. The devil called me his love when he was inside me. He said our child would be his first born of affection and respect for a woman.

As I breathe through the sickly feeling of hurt mixed with rage that spreads dark roots in my chest, I can’t help but wonder how many children he has, scattered around the world. And if mine was the first one he felt good about, what about the others? How were they born? Who are their mothers?

My gut crawls with disgust when I consider that Woland might be just like the dragons, raping his way through all the women that catch his eye. After all, he threatened me with rape once. He’s evil. What would stop him?

And yet, he didn’t force me into anything. It’s pathetic to feel grateful for that, but I do. Especially after what I saw yesterday.

I finger my pendant, a ridiculous, pathetic yearning gnawing somewhere in my chest. Gods damn him, but I miss the devil. If only he didn’t lie with his every breath. If only he didn’t try to own me in the most underhanded of ways. If only he hadn’t killed my best friend and terrorized my village.

If only, if only, if only.

I shake my head, gritting my teeth. Brooding will do me no good. I have things to do.

I carefully lock my emerald door and walk down the corridor to the crimson one. Aware Rada’s baby might be asleep, I knock softly and wait. A moment later, a key scrapes in the lock, and the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen opens the door.

“Yes?” she asks, and then her face lights up like the brightest star when she recognizes me. “Oh, Alina! Lech told me all about you. I’m so happy you came to visit!”

I don’t reply, my tongue fused to my palate with sheer awe. Wilas are utterly breathtaking, but Rada must have goddess blood in her, too. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as her.

She’s taller than me, her limbs graceful and perfectly proportional, her long, blonde hair so light, it’s almost white—and yet, it shimmers with fair golden highlights. Tiny braids frame her temples, and she looks like a queen wearing a crown, even though no jewels adorn her.

In fact, the dress she wears is a drab thing, brown and tattered, but it almost doesn’t matter. It’s as if the dull clothing lets her beauty shine even more.

Her lips are full, eyes silver under beautifully shaped brows, her eyelashes long and dark. When she smiles, her eyes crease in the most delightful way. I’ve never seen anyone smile like that, with their entire being.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble when that smile shrinks, her expression growing mildly inquisitive at my silence. “It’s just that… You’re magical.”

She turns her face away, her cheeks coloring, and that pink blush makes her all the lovelier.

“Thank you. Will you come in? I was about to feed Dar. We can chat while he eats.”

I nod eagerly and she motions me inside. Her room is smaller than mine but still comfortable, with a big bed and a table. A few baskets of clothes sit on the floor by the wall, and another basket is by the bed. It shakes slightly, and I come over, pressing my hand to my mouth to stifle my gasp.

The baby can’t be older than three months, but it’s already the most exquisite child I’ve ever seen. He has his mother’s coloring, light gold hair and silver eyes, with just a hint of pale gold scales lining his pudgy face. He doesn’t fuss but regards me seriously when I lean over him.

“Hello, Dar,” I say softly, marveling at the name she gave him. It means “a gift”. “You are the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.”

He untangles a small hand from the blanket he’s swaddled in and reaches up to grab my braid that hangs over my shoulder. I lower my head with a smile and let him, and the boy tugs with surprising strength, making me laugh.

“Oh, you’d better watch out,” Rada says. “You’ll be bald soon if you let him do that.”

I extricate my braid and give the boy my finger to hold instead. Rada knocks three times on the table, and two steaming cups of mint brew appear out of thin air.

“Come sit.” She waves me over to a stool, and I take my place, blowing on my brew.

She takes Dar out of his basket and sits cross legged on the bed, artfully arranging the wide skirts of her dress around her. She tries to get the boy to latch on, but he turns his head away to look at me, tugging her hair instead. She huffs softly and keeps trying until the boy starts fussing.

“He really should eat,” she says apologetically. Her voice is a melodic murmur, low and sensual, and I can’t believe the boy doesn’t calm down at once. “It used to be easier when he was smaller, but I can barely get him to eat these days. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

I set my brew down on the table. “May I? I used to be a midwife once.”

Rada’s face brightens in a beaming smile. “Of course! Gods, a real midwife. Lech really has a knack for befriending the right people.”

I smile briefly and step closer, glancing at her bare breast that’s perfectly shaped and big with milk. Her supply is not a problem, then. The baby squirms, huffing with impatience as he tries to get a good look at me. I slide my finger in his mouth to check his sucking reflex. It’s strong. From the feel of his gums, I can tell he’s already teething.

“He’s just curious, which is completely normal at this age. His teeth will come out soon,” I tell Rada as she watches me with worry. “Try to squeeze out a bit of milk and then give him the breast. Once he gets a taste, he should latch on.”

She does as I say and breathes out in relief as the boy starts eating. I smile and go back to my stool.

“So, how did you meet Lech?”

Rada smiles serenely. “Zlotomira introduced us. She helped me a lot after Dar was born. I, uh, I wasn’t in the best condition. The labor wore me out, and then for two days in a row, there were double tolls. We would have both died, but she took us in and fed us her milk until we grew stronger.”

She falls silent, her eyes glazing with thought. I can’t stop staring at her. Whether she smiles or falls pensive, Rada is luminous. I feel like I could spend my entire life looking at her and be content.

“But she couldn’t support us indefinitely,” Rada finally says, taking a deep breath. At her breast, Dar eats rhythmically, his eyes closed. “She knew Lech was looking for a feeder and vouched for him. She promised he wouldn’t take advantage. So here we are. He pays for my room and food, and in return, I let him have my blood. Thanks to this arrangement, I don’t have to leave at all. I’m safe for the first time in years.”

I blink in confusion. “How so?”

“Oh.” Rada looks away, her cheeks coloring with embarrassment. “I know how it’s going to sound, but… I’m quite beautiful.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “I’d say it’s an understatement. ‘Beautiful’ is too mundane a word for you. I was thinking, well, ‘luminous’.”

She smiles, her cheeks still pink. “Thank you. But you see, ah, it’s not really a blessing, to be a wila and this pretty. Men… Men go crazy when they see me. And then their wives hate me, and I… I never tried to seduce anyone, I swear. I don’t even like men too much. Or people. And it’s just… It’s easier to stay inside all day. I have my baby, and I have Lech to tell me gossip, and that’s enough. I’m happy.”

She looks up, her eyes like deep, glistening pools of molten silver. “I would be honored if I could see you, too, from time to time. It’s rare that… Rare that women are kind to me.”

She turns her face away, hiding behind the shiny curtain of her hair. I think about another person who is beautiful beyond measure, the god of the moon, Chors. I met him once, and he was sad and a bit awkward, just like Rada. I can’t help but think that maybe she’s right. Maybe beyond a certain point, beauty is not a blessing, but a curse.

I wouldn’t know. My face is too strange with the mismatched eyes to be considered beautiful, my hair too red and different, and my body too thin, as Woland, and then the lecherous utopek, gladly pointed out.

“I’d love to see you as often as you’ll have me,” I say earnestly, already in love with the shy, sensitive, glorious wila. “I can help if you have any trouble with Dar, and you can tell me more about Slawa. Lech showed me around, but I feel like I still know next to nothing.”

“He said you’re brave,” she murmurs, suddenly looking up, her eyes serious. “Well, to be honest, he said you’re stupid first, but then he called you brave. It’s high praise, coming from him. I haven’t known Lech for long, but he has good instincts about people. He likes you.”

“I suppose we tolerate each other.”

We chat for half an hour before I leave, promising to visit her again tomorrow. I wander the streets of Slawa and look inside various shops. In one, I purchase a hair dye much stronger than what I whipped up from walnut shells. In another, I manage to buy a tub of magically infused face paint that promises to change the lines of my chin and nose—just enough to survive a chance meeting with Foss, hopefully.

A few days later, I visit the rune shop again and get a contraceptive rune for myself. It’s just in case, if Woland ever finds me and tries to heal my scars. The rune is a small rectangle of wood that I wear on my wrist like a bracelet. I know it’s not the best protection, but it gives me peace of mind.

The next weeks pass peacefully. I spend a few more days with Lech, and I chat with Rada, who is a sweet, kind girl I have a strong urge to protect. She loves her son fiercely, and I bring them both gifts, a wooden rattle for him, a pink hair ribbon and a bag of fried sweets for her. We become friends, and even though I am no closer to mastering the art of time magic, I grow comfortable for now—even happy. Since no one seems to be looking for me, and Woland is far away, I allow myself to rest.

To have friends for once.

When the oaks in Perun’s grove clothe themselves in the glory of red and yellow, the streets grow busy with preparations for the early celebration of Dziady. Many of Slawa’s people will visit the mortal world and bring back an abundance of magic. Dziady is when the dead go to visit the living, and the barriers between worlds are thin. Upirs will feast on mortal blood, and mamunas will finally empty their breasts into the eager mouths of careless mortals.

The city becomes livelier, building facades decorated with glowing orbs and colorful ribbons, magical torches floating over the squares, shop fronts sparkling with golden paint.

Amidst the excitement, tension grows. As I walk the cold streets with Lech, I notice Woland’s sign appear more and more often, painted on walls and sometimes on the cobbles, too. Chochol workers wash them off under the dragon guards’ watch, but more signs are added every day.

There are other symbols, too. One is especially prevalent, a triangle pointing downward, with something akin to horns drawn above it. It looks like a crude goat head. When I ask Lech what it means, he shakes his head and only tells me when we’re safe in my room, the curtains drawn, the door locked.

“It’s the sigil of Weles,” he whispers, serious for once. “Don’t ever utter his name when others can hear. Don’t look at his sign. We won’t speak about this again.”

I buy a bottle of mead and share it with Rada when everyone in the city celebrates outside. People dance in the streets all night, music filling every alley under the light of Hunter’s Moon. For once, everyone has magic aplenty.

Zlotomira feeds Dar her hypnotic milk so he can sleep through the noise, and I get a bit drunk with Rada. Lech comes in at dawn, looking grim and tired, his clothes soaked with rain even though none fell in the city.

He tells us the news. Rebels attacked Perun’s fence during the festivities. They failed to damage the fence but killed a few of Perun’s warriors.

As I listen to what happened, I imagine Woland fighting dragons, ripping them apart with his claws and magic. My heart stutters with worry and longing before I force myself to think of something else.

Lech gets drunk on vodka and Rada’s blood, and in a drunken stupor, grumbles that the attack makes no sense. Rebellion leaders sent people out to be dragon fodder, and for what? Nothing of substance was gained and now, we will all pay the price.

In the evening, lightning falls from the sky.