Page 43 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter forty-three

Beauty

Woland doesn’t try to touch me, and I wouldn’t have noticed that peculiarity except, a weary, heartsick part of me longs for a kiss I don’t get. I don’t know whether he’s too busy, or maybe too disappointed after the defeat. It feels personal. Like he’s punishing me, but he would have said something if that was the case.

I still fall asleep without trouble, too exhausted to resist anymore. He goes off to make arrangements, and when I wake up in the morning, I’m alone in bed, no sign of Woland in the chamber.

So much for seducing him into telling me more of his goals. Maybe it will be easier tonight, after whatever he’s planned for the day is a success. Hopefully.

When I leave our chamber, the rebel base crackles with thrilled energy. Gone are the sickbeds from the cavern. It’s filled with people standing in groups and talking, dressed warmly for going out. By the door stands Wera with a kobold, and they let out people in small groups. A loose queue forms, and I join it, unsure what’s happening.

Rada finds me soon, and by her side is Lech. Well and alive, his eyes bright, cheeks flushed with excitement, he couldn’t possibly look better. Relief washes over me. Rada looks so happy, constantly shooting him small, fond looks, as if to make sure he’s really here.

“You made it,” I say with a smile, scanning him from head to toes. “I’m so happy you pulled through.”

He nods with a grin. “Nienad says I have you to thank. Apparently, you fed me half his stock of medicine. I owe you my life. You’re a tenacious little healer, aren’t you, darling?”

“I couldn’t stand Rada’s crying,” I say with mock indifference. “So I did everything in my might to get you better. I’m happy it worked.”

His unreserved smile and the endearment make a soft thrill of relief settle in my chest. It’s as if Lech didn’t reject me and we’re back to being friends. It makes me unreasonably happy but also angry at the same time.

Life was easier before I had friends and fell in love. Now, it feels like my mood is dependent on too many variables out of my control. I know that if Lech gets scared of Woland again, he’ll be cruel toward me. And yet, I can’t help but accept his unspoken apology and our renewed friendship.

I’m still starving for something. Even Woland’s frequent words of love haven’t fed this hole deep inside me. And that terrifies me, to an extent. Because the more I feed that hunger, the more I crave, and maybe one day, that craving will control me.

And I’ll do anything in exchange for acceptance.

Like now. I should demand Lech apologizes for the way he spoke to me. I should make him crawl. And yet, I am so happy he treats me like a friend again, that happiness wipes away the past hurt and humiliation.

I don’t have time to figure it out right now, so I push that tangle of emotion down, hiding it deep in my belly where I hold all my anger and pain.

Maybe I will untangle it someday.

Lech’s smile is brilliant and warm, his blue eyes sparkling, and I feel my cheeks heat up with a pleased blush that’s outside my control. Not even Woland looks at me like that, with such a charming mixture of amusement and admiration.

“I’m just glad I woke up for this,” Lech says, putting his arm around Rada’s shoulders while his eyes linger warmly on my face. “It’s the first time I’ll see the rebels going out in force.”

“But not the first time it happened.”

Lutowa stops by my side, squeezing my arm once with both hands. She wears a woolen cloak and a pair of mittens, a woolen cap pulled low on her forehead.

“You’re going out?” I ask, puzzled since she refused to accompany me yesterday.

She bounces on the balls of her feet with a happy smile that shows off the gaps in her teeth.

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it. The last time we could go out like this was decades ago. So many of us live trapped down here, we sometimes forget what sunlight looks like. People like me, who are shunned above, or known rebels the guards are on the lookout for, have to stick to the tunnels. But today, we’ll be free for one day. I’m so happy you saw Mokosz!”

“So you’re the one who saw her?” Rada asks, bouncing Dar in his sling. “Can you explain again why Mokosz being in Slawa is so significant?”

Lutowa turns to her, her eyes bright with manic energy.

“Because Perun keeps her trapped in Wyraj when he’s there. Mokosz being out means he’s far away. And if he’s away, we can leave these blasted tunnels and have some fun. I hear the master found out Perun’s gone into the mortal world, and whatever he’s doing there keeps him busy. We should have at least a few hours of peace.”

I shake my head, confused. If Mokosz is free to leave Wyraj only rarely, why does she waste that freedom on stalking me? Was it just a coincidence that I saw her?

“Why does he keep her trapped?” I ask.

Lutowa snorts with disdain. “Why do you think? So she doesn’t fuck every handsome bies in the city. Perun is said to accept her dallying, but only if she goes with other gods. Anyway, it’s all just gossip. Wera’s letting people out, which means it’s safe to come out. We’re going to make a statement.”

The playful smile on her face turns vicious, making me uneasy.

“What statement?”

Lutowa laughs under her breath. “Oh, you know. Just reminding the people up there that we’re fighting for their freedom long after they gave up.”

I want to ask her more, but Rada picks that moment to ask Lech if it’s truly safe to go out.

“Yes,” he says, putting his hand on the small of her back to get us moving. “The master went out earlier to deal with the dragons. We’ll have complete freedom in the city today, though I imagine once Perun hears about this, he’ll come with storms and thunder. But by then, we’ll be back here, hidden where he can’t reach.”

Yes, we will. What about the people who live in the city? I leave my thoughts to myself and resolve to see what happens. Maybe I’m reading too much into innocent things.

Everyone is so happy, chatting animatedly and laughing out loud. It’s such a stark contrast to the morose, defeated air of yesterday, and I can’t help but be glad.

I understand why Woland jumped on the chance to let the rebels out. He said yesterday he’s losing his people after yet another defeat, and giving them something they’ll enjoy is the perfect way to lift their spirits. I’m still not convinced it’s entirely safe. Since Perun moves freely between oak trees, he’ll probably come here as soon as he gets a whiff of trouble.

Or maybe not. I’ve lived through two rebel attacks in Slawa, and not once did Perun make an appearance in person. Maybe he doesn’t care. Or he’s too busy with other conquests.

A shiver goes down my spine. Lech said Perun’s in the mortal world. Whatever he’s doing, it can’t be good, and I should make my decision soon. At least, I’m down to only two choices.

Either trust Woland—or seek out Weles.

The line keeps moving, a group going out every two minutes or so. I suspect it’s to keep the entrance into the tunnels hidden. If a crowd of people came out from the building all at once, it would look suspicious.

Not everyone seems to understand it. When an upir woman goes up to the strzyga and asks her rudely to move faster, she throws her into the back of the cavern with a flick of her wrist.

“If you don’t like the pace I set, you’re free to use the other exits. Don’t bother me again.”

I know there are other entrances into the tunnels strewn around the city, and I suspect they might be used today, as well. This one is the most popular, though, coming out the closest to the center of the city, where most taverns and shops are.

“Behave, consort,” Wera tells me, her milky eyes narrowed with disapproval, when it’s our turn to leave. “All of you, come back before sundown.”

We climb the stairs, the muffled sounds of those who went before us coming from higher up. When we finally reach the empty house on top, Lutowa fidgets with excitement while Lech checks the street before telling us it’s safe to go.

As soon as we’re out, she twirls in place, her arms stretched wide. It’s snowing, big, fluffy snowflakes glittering in the ripe winter sunlight. The bieda catches them on her tongue, laughing, and my heart pangs with guilt and the need to do something.

She’s so happy, just being out. I want her to be happy all the time.

“Can we visit the milk bar?” Rada says, her smile wide and happy. She’s been cooped up in the tunnels for weeks, and it’s her first time out. She doesn’t seem nervous, for which I’m glad.

“I wouldn’t go there today,” Lutowa says with a beaming smile, going to the edge of the ravine to look down at the frozen river. “The mamunas will be busy with rebel customers.”

She laughs, and there is a nasty edge to it. I give her a sharp look, but she’s already running down the street toward the city center. Lech waves us along.

“Come on. The sun goes down in a few hours. We don’t have much time.”

I spell all of our shoes to stay warm and resist slipping as we go. Lech has his arm around Rada’s shoulders, his shirt open at the collar under his unbuttoned jacket. He whistles happily. When Lutowa reaches the bridge, she stops and waves at us impatiently.

“Come on! I want to eat!”

I snort under my breath. “Really? She’s eating all the time.”

“But what else can you do in the city?” Lech asks, shrugging nonchalantly. “You can eat, dance, and fuck. Maybe get some new clothes or jewelry if you feel fancy. Everything is provided for us in the tunnels thanks to magic, so being out here is about other things.”

When we reach Lutowa, sounds of fighting and dishes breaking come from a nearby tavern. I know this one, and it has a reputation for being a clean, respectable place. It’s called “Under the Temple”, since the walls of Perun’s grove rise higher up the mountain, almost on top of the tavern.

“What’s going on?” I mutter under my breath, heading that way.

“Not here, all the food will be gone,” Lutowa whines, but I ignore her. The sense of wrongness I had when she spoke about the milk bar grows sharper.

I go into the tavern, my companions following me, Lutowa with a grumble of impatience. No sooner than the door closes behind us, a clay mug smashes against the wall. I put up a shield and watch in disbelief.

The wide, brightly lit space is filled with rebels. I recognize people I know from the tunnels, kobolds, upirs, and chochols, and they fight each other, throwing chairs and cups of beer. The noise is deafening, shouts and curses mixing with sounds of destruction.

Most of the furniture is broken, and the owner, Milen, who is a kind, upstanding chochol, stands in the back of the room, cringing and wringing his hands. He looks petrified. A serving girl comes out from the door to the kitchen, stops in her tracks, and whirls around to go back, a tray of food in her hands.

“Lech, what is this?” I turn to the upir.

We’ve eaten here together plenty of times. We talked to Milen and his staff. I can’t imagine a good reason why the rebels would want to trash his place.

“It’s the nearest tavern to the exit,” Lech says, rolling his eyes. “I should have predicted this. Relax. They just need to blow off some steam.”

I shake my head, taking a step forward. “That’s not blowing off steam. That’s ruining Milen’s livelihood. Hey!” I scream, putting my hands around my mouth to be heard over the uproar. “Stop right now! What are you doing?”

Nobody listens. A stool leg flies at my head, and I send it away with a fling of my wrist. Glass breaks deeper inside the tavern, and the scent of wine fills the air. A kobold roars and grabs a chochol, throwing him on top of a table. The table breaks in half. Another bottle shatters, and Milen shakes his head with a cry of despair before disappearing through the kitchen door.

Lech grabs my hand, so tight I can’t wiggle out, and pulls me outside before I can protest. Rada stands there, looking scared, her hands frantically smoothing Dar’s back in the sling. The boy is awake, looking around with curious eyes.

Lutowa comes out right after us. Somehow, she managed to grab a chicken leg and munches on the meat steaming in the cold.

“This isn’t a good place,” she says after swallowing a big bite. “All the hot-headed morons stopped here to let it all out. They can’t fight like this in the tunnels since the master would punish them, so they bring it to the surface. Let’s go find somewhere else. I’m starving.”

“No.” I jut my chin forward. “I’ll stop them. Then we can go.”

I’m about to go back, ready to pierce Lech’s hand if he doesn’t let go of my wrist, when three people come out of a narrow alley opposite the tavern. I stop and stare. It’s Woland, Strzybog, and… her.

She doesn’t wear a cloak this time. Her only clothing is a bright red, linen dress, its color as vivid as that of a rose in bloom. It’s tight with flaring skirts, the neckline low and intricately embroidered. Her generous breasts almost spill out of it, her skin creamy and perfect, glowing in the weak winter sunlight.

Her hair is loose, a lustrous, wavy curtain of blonde strands that move around her narrow shoulders with grace. And her face is the pinnacle of beauty. I think she’s even more beautiful than Rada, with perfectly symmetrical features, a full, sensuous mouth, and big eyes so blue, they would pierce me with their beauty if she looked at me.

But despite our two eerie meetings, she doesn’t even spare me a glance. Mokosz stares at Rada, something cold and serpentine flickering across her face, marring the perfection.

By her side, Strzybog laughs. Unlike his mother, he looks right at me, his expression lecherous.

“Well, hello there! Long time no see, poppy girl.”

I flinch, and Woland growls low in his throat when a sudden playful breeze ruffles my hair. I swallow thickly, not knowing what to do. These are gods, and while I have no respect for Woland, the other two make me uneasy.

I expect Woland to tell Strzybog not to call me poppy girl, even though the god of the wind was the first one who gave me that nickname. But Woland is silent, his golden eyes flickering to Mokosz. She’s tall, just a few inches shorter than him. It strikes me how close they stand, their hips brushing.

Woland is naked.

“And who might that be?” Mokosz asks in a low, melodic voice that sounds like a warm call bringing workers home from the fields on a late summer evening.

Her eyes are on Rada. Strzybog laughs, leering at the wila. He stands tall and handsome, but his eyes are mocking, his laughter superficial. The clothes he wears are as vivid as his mother’s, green and blue, and he’s equally underdressed for this weather, with his shirt open, golden hair peeking out.

I suppose gods don’t feel the cold like we do.

“Oh, I know her!” he exclaims with delight. “She’s one of mine. It’s actually a funny story, Mother. I was pissed at you one day, can’t remember for what, and you know what I did? I went into the mortal world, deciding I’d make a wila more beautiful than you. I found that sad, pitiful girl who took her life after her young lover knocked her up and left her, and here she is! More beautiful than a summer dawn. Oh, this is precious. If you could see your face!”

He laughs heartily, while disgust and anger fill my belly with heat. Rada’s eyes are wide and terrified. She doesn’t react when Dar fusses in his sling, trying to crane his neck around to see who’s talking. Her arms hang down her sides, loose and shaking.

If I could, I’d swipe the god of the wind off the face of the world right now. I finally understand everything Woland told me about him. He is a vain, thoughtless god, selfish and shallow. The way he plays with the lives of others makes me sick.

But he’s right about one thing. The face Mokosz makes, one of cold, rigid fury, is a sight to remember. All sorts of alarm bells go off in my mind. I have a sudden fear she’ll strike Rada here and now, punishing her for the simple crime of being more beautiful than a goddess.

I step in front of my friend, hiding her from Mokosz. The goddess’ eyes flicker to mine, and her expression softens.

“And the redhead?” she asks in a calm voice, her fury wiped clean. “Is she also your creation?”

Strzybog snorts, as if the very idea offends him. “No. She is Woland’s…”

“Fucktoy,” the devil says smoothly, his voice bored. “Can we go? We all know your good-for-nothing son is just fucking with you. You are the most beautiful woman in all the worlds, and more gorgeous for every drop of divine power that flows in your veins. There is no competition, my goddess.”

His voice drops lower, into a husky, seductive cadence I know well. He takes her hand, palm up, and lowers his head reverently, planting a kiss in the middle of her palm. She laughs with delight and grips his antler, pulling him up.

Their faces come closer. Woland’s eyes flick to mine for just a second, gold and unreadable. Mokosz pulls him with ease, her laughter quieting as her mouth tilts in a playful smile, and suddenly, I can’t breathe.

She kisses him, and he makes no move to resist.