Page 4 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter four

Curse

“You look so much better from this angle,” he croons, though he sounds breathless. “Just let me get my bearing. I always feel wretched for a few minutes after the toll. And you know what? I’ll take that cunt, after all. Just give me a minute.”

I blink desperately, trying to turn. I lie face-down in the grass, my legs akimbo. I’m pretty sure he got a good look between them since I don’t have underwear on. Yet, no matter how much I grit my teeth, fighting pain with rage, I can’t move.

Gods. Is that it, then? Am I to be raped? My heart flutters weakly in my chest, and I finally manage to make my fingers twitch. Behind me, water splashes, the utopek groaning.

“Really nice. You should have told me you’re not as bony down there! I like pretty freckled thighs like that, and that cunt is nicely flushed. And natural red hair! I don’t think I’ve ever fucked a redhead like you. Just a moment, love.”

Love. That gives me a big spark of rage—enough to bring my hand up. With the utopek focused elsewhere, I count on him not seeing what I’m about to do. My hands shake, and it takes a few tries, since I’m doing my best to be careful.

But finally, I manage to unstopper the pendant at my throat. It’s not really a pendant, but rather a beautiful crystal bottle hanging from a chain. Woland enchanted it to shrink when it’s not in use, but once I remove the stopper, it grows to its normal size.

And it’s filled to the brim with blood. Magical, devilish blood. I need to keep most of it to hide from Woland, yet now, it’s more important to survive. Just a sip. It’s all I need, but it’s difficult to obey that thought. His blood is like a drug, and I’m terrified I might not be able to stop once I get a taste.

“Look, I’m well enough to get hard! It means playtime, girly. Stay where you are.”

Like hell. I tip the bottle to my lips and take a big sip. The blood is rich and smooth, flowing down my throat with a sensation of bone-deep wellbeing. I moan from how good it feels, the empty cavity in my chest filling with the vibrant, thrumming potency of Woland’s magic.

“Can’t wait for me, eh?” The utopek is right behind me, sounding much too pleased with himself.

I just manage to put the stopper back in, the pendant shrinking in my hand, when he grabs my ankles and drags me back, toward the pond. My short dress rolls under my belly, and I know my ass is bare. No matter.

“You’ll have to forgive me, but I prefer to fuck underwater. No worries, though. I’ll help you breathe. Come now.”

Cut, I think viciously, focusing on those webs between his fingers.

He shrieks, dropping my legs, and I sit up, twisting to see him. He stands right behind me, tall, muscular, and slimy, his feet ending in three toes connected by webs. As I watch, dark green blood drips onto those feet. He’s frozen, staring without comprehension at his bleeding palms.

I roll to my feet, and his head jerks toward me. Fear flashes in his eyes. Then—anger.

“You…”

I imagine an invisible pitchfork in my hand and command it to strike true. I throw, and the utopek lands hard on his back, wheezing. He scratches at his throat, which I know is pinned to the ground by the invisible spikes of the magical pitchfork.

My chest gives a pulse of exertion, and I know I should stop now, or the sip of Woland’s blood will run out. But I don’t need to do more magic. I have this worm right where I want him.

His body flails from side to side as he tries to lift the restraint, his webbed feet skidding in the grass. Green blood slithers down his wrists and splatters his chest. I give him a long look.

And he dared to complain about my body? His cock is a tiny thing, flopping comically as he thrashes. I bet I’d never even feel it if he raped me.

He whimpers from effort, and I wait, idly looking around. We’re alone, the only people working the fields staying close to the city border, little specks of movement in the distance. Yet, it won’t do any good to stay here too long. When he finally falls silent, his strength flagging, I give him a cold smile.

“You will answer all my questions truthfully and I’ll let you go. If you lie or fail to tell me what I want, I’ll leave you like this. Maybe someone will find you and know how to free you. Maybe not. So, how will it be?”

“It’s too tight!” he wheezes in a hoarse voice. “I can’t breathe!”

Bullshit. I definitely see his slimy chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Utopeks can breathe both on the surface and underwater, and the force I hold him with is not too tight. He’s lying, and after Woland, I have a deep hate for liars.

I grit my teeth and grab my knife. Fast and agile, I crouch by his side and press the tip of the blade to the corner of his eye.

“Did I stutter? I told you not to lie.”

“Fine! Please, please, don’t hurt me! I’ll tell you everything! I’ll give you what you want!”

I pull the knife away, giving him a sweet smile. Gods, how good it feels to be in power. I hate it’s Woland’s power, not mine, but at least I get to use it for my own means.

“What’s the toll?”

The utopek whimpers, bloodied fingers clutching his throat.

“A magic tax! It’s a payment Perun takes from everyone in Slawa. It goes through the land once a day, at different times. It takes magic from you. Nothing can stop it. No one can hide.”

That makes sense. I nod, remembering how Woland said there is a fence surrounding Slawa that sucks magic from the land, though he made it sound like it was a continuous thing, not a once-in-a-day occurrence.

“I was told there’s a fence. Where is it?”

He blinks at me, a thick, gray tear oozing out of his eye. “It surrounds the forest and the city. You can’t see it because hills are in the way. And on that side,” he rasps, pointing to the north, “there is no fence, because the Struzina River is an uncrossable border.”

“ Struzina ? A small stream? Why do you say it’s uncrossable?” I ask, confused.

He takes a wheezing breath, closing his eyes in pain. “D-don’t you know? Big names give power, so if something has too much power already, better give it a small name. Struzina is a border between Slawa and Nawie, and it’s the biggest river, with cunning currents and horrible water beasts even I’m afraid of!”

“So no one can cross from here to Nawie?” I ask, tapping my chin.

Nawie is where Wiosna is. Where Nyja is. And Weles. I don’t trust him or the Mother of Nawkas, because she’s Woland’s ally, but I’d give anything to see my old mentor. Wiosna helped me survive when Woland sent monsters after me. She could help me now.

The utopek’s eyes narrow with shrewd hatred. “No one can get into Nawie, but someone as powerful as you might. If you want to go there, the river is the only way. You might get lucky.”

I scoff. As if that would provoke me.

“Nice try. Next question: you said I’m new here. What does it mean? Do new people often come to Slawa?”

He grunts, trying to grip the force restraining his neck. His fear seems to have eased a bit, and he glares at me with jagged enmity.

“Yes. In the mortal world, when a mortal becomes a bies, they have to stay there and suffer a sentence for their crimes. The gods who curse them decide how long. After that sentence is over and the bies is still alive, they can come here and live among us. What are you, then? A hag? A weird, ugly kind of wila? A werewolf?”

I grin, showing him all my teeth. “I’m the one asking questions here. Or should I carve out something fun on your balls? You wanted to play, didn’t you?”

His hand flies down to cover his junk, and he gives me an outraged look.

“Just a few more questions,” I assure him. “Why does it seem like everyone lives in the city? There is so much land, and the forest is huge, yet almost no one lives there.”

He huffs, his face twisting with anger, but this time, he looks at the sky, not at me.

“Oh, that’s because Perun has generously divided the land into places where the toll is smaller and those where it’s bigger. Everyone who lives in the forest pays the most, and Perun’s guards leave it alone in exchange. The King of Bees offers protection to all creatures powerful enough to withstand the high toll, but it’s survival of the strongest in there. Meanwhile, the entire mountain the city is built on pays the smallest toll.”

I look at the city in thought. Smoke curls above the houses, some of the roofs gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. I’m still not close enough to see the people bustling in the streets, but I know it must be busy.

Don’t they get sick? If you crowd animals together like this, they will catch sickness from each other. And what about food? Where do they grow vegetables and keep animals?

“So… Perun wants to keep everyone in the city, enticing them with the low toll?” I ask slowly. “But why?”

The utopek scoffs, his face twisting with scorn. “Oh, he wants the best for his people. Though a heretic might say that he likes to keep everyone in one place to have more control over the people. I’m not a heretic, so I won’t say that. I admire Perun’s generosity. He even sent so many of his loyal dragons to Slawa to help guard the city against heresy.”

I tap my chin, remembering Woland’s story about how the mortals were created. He said the official version was that Perun gave mortals the breath of life, and the unofficial one, which was branded as heresy, was that it was actually Perun’s evil brother, Weles.

Woland cautioned me against ever speaking about the unofficial version in Slawa, because I could be tried for heresy. Through the utopek’s thinly veiled words, I understand finally that it’s most likely unlawful to say anything against Perun. And there are dragon guards everywhere in the city, bent on punishing dissent.

My prisoner groans, closing his eyes in exhaustion. His voice has grown hoarse and quiet, and I realize I’ll have to let him go soon. But I need to know one more thing.

“Do you know Woland? Where does he usually stay?”

The utopek’s eyes fly open, brimming with fear and shock. “Don’t say his name!” he shrieks, his hands shaking. “It’s a curse!”