Page 13 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter thirteen

Terror

We stand in the milk bar downstairs, the mamunas and eight guests who currently stay here side by side with our backs against two walls. Three guards watch us with hostile expressions while another three are upstairs, ransacking the rooms in search of rebels. They look more human than beastly, but traces of scales on their faces and long claws tipping their fingers are constant reminders of their power.

I stand next to Rada, who holds sleeping Dar in her trembling arms. Lech holds her close, his face blank.

One dragon gives her a long look, a tendril of smoke coming out of his nostril. Rada flinches, paling even more. Even looking pallid and sickly, she is stunning, and I realize with a jolt I should have used my illusion skills to make her less noticeable. Foss isn’t even here, so I worried for nothing—meanwhile, Rada is always at risk.

I was so selfish and now I don’t know how to fix it. Fuck.

“Girl, why are you shaking?” the dragon asks, taking a step closer. “You’re innocent, aren’t you? Those who don’t harbor rebels have nothing to fear.”

He grins with a low chuckle, as if he knows his words sound like a joke. Rada’s breathing grows ragged, and she sways on her feet. I see the muscles in Lech’s arm tense as he gives her support, seemingly without moving.

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” the wila says weakly, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

The dragon, whose scales are a bluish shade of silver, shifts his gaze to Lech. The jovial grin shrinks, replaced by cold calculation.

“An upir, ah? Where do you work?”

“I fix boats, sir,” Lech says easily, his voice subservient.

I clench my teeth. This is news to me, but I don’t react and no one else does, either. The dragon turns to another guard, this one orange-and-yellow.

“Why don’t you ask the upir some questions? If he fixes boats, he should know a fair bit about what goes on by the river.”

The other dragon nods with a snort, waving Lech to follow him to another room. The upir squeezes Rada’s shoulder, his knuckles white, and lets go, his face frozen into a mask of indifference. Rada bites down a whimper, her hands shaking so badly, Dar starts to fuss through his sleep.

“Now, now, there’s no reason to be afraid, is there?” the dragon asks, his voice turning unctuous. He comes closer yet, glancing at the boy’s face. When he sees the scales, he huffs with amusement. “Come now. Tell me your name.”

“R-Rada.”

He strokes down her trembling cheek with his knuckle. Dar whines through his sleep. She holds him so tight now, as if she expects the guard to take him away. By her side, I stand utterly still. It takes everything in my might not to blast him into pieces, but I know I can’t. If I attack a guard openly, I won’t be the only one punished. They will raze the entire milk bar to the ground and slaughter everyone in here.

So I stay still and think frantically. Do something! my instincts scream.

Yes, but what? I can’t use magic. I can’t attack them. Can I offer myself in her place? No, because no one in their right mind will choose me over Rada.

There is nothing I can do, and it terrifies me.

“What a pretty name,” the dragon says, his voice tender in a way that makes me want to gag. It sounds so fake. “Just like you.”

A mamuna standing next to me sniffs, her hands clenching into fists. By the other wall, Zlotomira folds her arms on her chest, her naked breasts spilling over. Her voice is polite but firm.

“Sir, this isn’t that kind of establishment. If you need relief, go to the Wila Garden. She is a guest.”

The dragon doesn’t even look at her, more smoke curling out of his nostrils. He knows she won’t do anything. No one will. Dragons rule us all.

“Rada, why don’t you give the child to your friend there and come up to show me your room? We need to make sure no rebels hide under your bed.”

He grins again, his orange eyes twinkling with anticipation. Rada shakes her head jerkily.

“Th-thank you, b-but I’m sure your f-friends already checked.”

Even as she says this, she turns to me, her eyes wild with terror. I take Dar when she hands him to me, my teeth clenched so hard, they hurt. We exchange a single pain-filled look, and Rada turns toward the stairs.

My blood runs cold when the dragon puts a possessive hand on the small of her back. He looks very pleased with himself, throwing Zlotomira a triumphant look, and I can just imagine he thinks himself so generous.

He could rape her right here and make us all watch. What a kind man, to take his victim somewhere private.

I wish his dick fell off.

And suddenly, just like that, I know how to save her.

“Wait!” I shout, pressing Dar to my chest.

Sleep , I think, infusing my hands with just a little bit of magic so he doesn’t wake. Be calm. Let me do this.

The dragon turns to me, his nostrils flaring. “What?” he bites out, far less jovial than before.

My heart hammers wildly as I gather magic inside me, clearing my head, forcing my fear deep down. I need to do this right. Nothing else matters. Only that I focus. If I fail… No. I can’t think about it. Success is my only option.

“Sir, she’s too scared to tell you herself, but she has… She has…” I break off, pretending to be ashamed. Blush , I tell my cheeks.

“What?” the dragon asks again, taking one step closer. He grows taller, anger making him change shape.

“The rot, sir!” I exclaim, twisting my face into a mask of embarrassment. “She has the rot!”

There are a few gasps from the mamunas, a murmur from one of the guests, a surprised chuckle from the other dragon.

The silver guard narrows his eyes at me, clearly suspicious. Horns slowly grow out of the sides of his head, and he juts his chin out, letting out a cloud of smoke through his nose.

“No, she doesn’t,” he hisses, advancing on me. “You’re lying!”

I don’t need to pretend to be scared as I cringe away from him, my fear as real as the child in my arms. Everyone around us is stunned into silence as the dragon stands too close, towering above me.

“Please, sir,” I choke out. “Just see her legs. I’m sorry, sir!”

The rot is a venereal disease that’s spread in the city in recent months. There is no protection against it yet, although healers and apothecaries work hard to come up with a cure. Lech told me about it once, and the little I know has to be enough.

As the dragon huffs with impatience and turns away, going to Rada, I rally all my magic into a net of illusion that I cast upon my friend.

Pus. Yellow, putrid discharge running down her legs. Rotten stink. Putrefaction. Oozing, infected, disgusting. Thick, yellow snot rolling down her skin like slugs. Rotten eggs. Rotten fish. Illness and death. Sick, sick, sick. The smell of puke and shit.

I’ve only once managed to create an illusion of a smell, and I focus hard to do it again. The dragon grabs Rada’s wrist and tugs her a step down from where she stands.

As he roughly pulls up her long skirt, everyone in the room recoils, sounds of disgust tumbling out from many throats. I swallow with difficulty, my gorge rising.

The insides of her beautifully shaped legs are covered with a kind of oozing mucus I’ve never seen in my life before. It’s yellow and green, and it stinks so much, my eyes water. The dragon stumbles away with a sound of horror, dropping Rada’s skirt.

If the situation weren’t so dangerous, I’d laugh at his expression. His face is etched in pure shock and horror. It’s magnificent.

A beat passes. Rada sobs once, clutching her stomach. The dragon turns and runs out of the milk bar. Just before the door slams shut, we hear a clear sound of retching.

“Well, I can’t imagine any rebels wanting to stay here with this one,” the remaining dragon says cheerfully. “Men! We’re done!”

Heavy boots thud down the stairs. The dragons leave as one, and Zlotomira bolts the door, leaning back against it with a sigh of relief.

“I swear, a night like this ages me by twenty years at least. I don’t know about you, but I could do with a nightcap—or three. Jolka, pour us all some vodka. It’s on the house.”

Lech comes into the room and takes the pale, shaking Rada in his arms. She falls apart, weeping louder and louder until he carries her up to their room, throwing me a quick look. I rock Dar in my arms, the weight and warmth of the baby soothing me after the ordeal. I follow in their footsteps.

I find them both in bed, Rada draped over Lech and crying into his shirt. He strokes her hair and back, murmuring quiet words of comfort. I rap on the table, and the mamunas send us some melissa brew and three glasses of pure vodka.

After putting Dar in his basket, I pour my drink down my throat, barely feeling the burn. I’m terrified, elated, and still shaking. Rada cries herself to sleep in Lech’s arms, and when she starts snoring softly in the most adorable way, he extricates himself and comes over to me.

“What the fuck happened?” he asks in a whisper. “She kept saying you saved her and that she can never look people in the eyes again.”

I cringe, some of my triumph fizzing out.

“Well, it was the only thing I could think of. I told him she has the rot. And then… I cast a bit of an illusion. Made it seem like I was telling the truth.”

Lech blinks at me a few times. “That would explain why she kept talking about pus.”

I nod, biting the inside of my cheek. “Look, I’m sorry. I know she’ll probably be embarrassed for the rest of her life. I should have come up with something better. But… But it worked. They left. He didn’t hurt her.”

Lech nods, his face completely expressionless. I squirm, suddenly feeling unsure. Did I make a mistake? Would Rada rather have been raped? It sounds preposterous, but not completely impossible. I humiliated her, and explaining to the mamunas it was an illusion will be tricky. For one, it was way too good and felt very real. And secondly…

“I lied to a dragon,” I whisper, my eyes big. “Lech, I swear, I didn’t mean to! I mean, I did, but it wasn’t… I didn’t mean it as an act of rebellion! Gods, if they find out and put me to trial, I can’t…”

“Calm down,” he says, his face stony. “You didn’t get caught and you won’t. You did good. I wish I could have kept her safe.”

His mask cracks for a moment, his eyes brimming with pain and regret, but he looks away, and when I blink, the fissure in his control is gone. He gives me a cold, assessing look, and the skin on my nape prickles. It seems like he’s looking for something in my face. Some sort of confirmation.

“What is it?”

Lech shakes his head, then wipes his face with his hand. He looks suddenly exhausted.

“She loves you, you know?” he says out of the blue, a strange tenderness in his tired eyes. “She wants you to stay. With us. Maybe get a house together. Share a life.”

His confession makes me happy at first. I love Rada, too, and I don’t know what kind of love it is, only that I want to be by her side, look at her face, and protect her from evil. Being always with her sounds like a dream—only a dream, because it’s not real.

My destiny will find me one day and turn all dreams into dust.

Defeated, I sigh heavily, forcing myself to smile. “Goodnight, Lech.”

I put away the glass and turn to leave, but before I reach the door, the emotions of the evening catch up with me. I shake, snorting with laughter, my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound. Lech comes over and turns me by the shoulders with a concerned look.

“You should have… seen his face…” I blurt out between bursts of silent giggles, my stomach hurting from laughter. “He was… terrified… disgusted… Mighty dragon… He fucking puked, Lech…”

He laughs, too, his forearm braced on the door next to my head. We both shake, gasping in muffled giggles, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. Tears stream down my face, my eye patch growing wet. Lech grins, not laughing anymore, but his eyes scrunch up with joy.

He leans closer and kisses my cheek. A moment later, his cool tongue darts out, licking up a tear.

Laughter dies in my throat, and I stare at him in wonder, without breathing, without a sound. We look at each other, his eyes so blue and clear, his face so good. I realize I could love this man, just like I love Rada. We’re already halfway there, all three of us.

Lech leans in to kiss my other cheek, and I turn my face away with a shaky breath. His lips land on my ear instead. He pauses for a moment before pulling back.

“I can’t,” I choke out.

Because I’m a lie. They think I’m Alina, a one-eyed woman who is some sort of bies and can boil seven eggs a day, but this person doesn’t exist. I am Jaga, a mortal woman who lives on borrowed time, because one day, Woland will find me and slaughter everyone I love.

I can’t let it happen to them. I can’t.

“Of course,” Lech says, his breath hot in my hair. “I understand.”

He pulls away. I don’t look at him as I slink out of the room, gently closing the door behind me. In the bar room, mamunas get drunk on vodka, sounds of revelry drifting up the stairs. I lean my back against the crimson door and weep for all my lost loves and everything I can’t have.

I live a lie, and I’ve fooled myself, too. Friendship seduced me into a false sense of security, but everything that happened today showed me how stupid I was to think I could have it.

I can’t truly protect and care for those I love if I spend my life afraid of being found. Today, my priority should have been protecting Rada, but I focused on avoiding Foss. I almost let her get hurt.

With a heavy heart, I trudge down the corridor to my emerald door. That’s when it happens. The sounds from below grow muffled, and the air sizzles with tension that grows and grows until it breaks. A toll rolls through Slawa, the second today. It tears my magic out of my chest, and I realize with horror it took much more than before.

I fall to my knees, coughing and wheezing as I try to catch my breath. With teary, unfocused eyes, I see the crimson door swing open. Lech falls to his knees in front of me, a pale, motionless Dar in his palms.

The baby isn’t breathing.