Page 51 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter fifty-one

Summer

Hours pass. Maybe a day. Woland has sucked all magic out of me, and I can’t even make clothes for myself. I lie on the floor, curled up from the cold. No fire burns in his chamber, and there is no light. It’s cold and lonely.

He’s left, but I feel his phantom presence all around me, hate lurking in the shadows, rage simmering in the air. No one comes to see me. I’ve had no food or water, and I cannot sleep. The fear that lives under my skin flares to life every time I close my eyes.

Because what if he comes back? What then? What will he do?

Strangely, I feel almost mellow about the way he chose to punish me. I am done pretending, hiding, playing games. Chors gave me a taste of honesty after a long, twisted period of drowning in lies, and even though he didn’t bring me to Weles in the end, I’m grateful for him.

All Woland did was reveal the truth. If people hate me for it, if I die alone and hunted, so be it. I will die as myself.

Refusing to be hurt by Woland’s insane actions is my only defense right now, and by gods, I will cling to it. With all my might.

I close my eyes for a moment, my exhaustion pulling me under. Something tickles my cheek, the floor feeling almost soft, and it’s not as cold anymore. I think I’m dreaming of comfort and rest, until something clangs, metal clinking, and I sit bolt upright, panting from terror. My manacles fall off.

The lights flicker to life, revealing Woland sitting on his heels a few steps away from me. His face is taut, brimming with something intense that almost seems like pain.

“I can’t even chain you up for a day,” he says, his voice hoarse and tired.

His eyes seem orange rather than gold, maybe bloodshot. I sit motionless, terrified despite his docile appearance. Inside, I am numb. Whatever he says, it won’t be the truth, and I just want to never see him again.

I will never swallow another lie.

A warm blanket falls around my shoulders, and I cover myself hastily, not bothering with words of gratitude. Maybe it’s a new game he plays. He’ll hurt me and then offer me comfort, and again and again, until I become a muddled, confused mess of a girl.

No. I won’t play this game.

And yet, when he speaks next, my heart twinges like a raw, exposed muscle, torn open and bleeding.

“I’m sorry, Jaga.”

I refuse to look at him, busying myself with turning the blanket into a nest. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. I’ll stay right here, in my spot by the chains. Make it easier for him when he wants to put them on me again.

“You were right,” he says after a heavy pause. “I betrayed you first.”

I bite back an urge to snort. No, I will not engage. All that will do is give him an opening for another horrid manipulation scheme. I’m done speaking to him, because what for? I’ll never trust him, anyway.

We sit in silence. I’m curious how long Woland’s patience will last. If I were to bet, I’d say fifteen minutes or less. He’ll curse soon. Maybe throw something.

I know he won’t truly hurt you, said Chors. And in a way, he was right. Woland didn’t rip me to shreds. He didn’t kill me. But there are other ways to hurt, and my heart still bleeds from the wounds he gave me.

Even this, the cold floor, the chains, is nothing.

“I spoke to Chors. He said you came to him seeking Weles.”

Woland sounds hesitant, as if not knowing what words to use. I prick my ears but refuse to turn toward him. I won’t look at him if I can help it, and I make another bet with myself, deciding he’ll likely force me to look within five minutes or less. He can’t stand to be ignored.

“He thought you knew,” Woland says when I don’t answer. “And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t trust you. Not until you were mine, anyway. But I think it’s time for you to know. It’s already bad enough out there. I doomed us both. I made a mess.”

Gods, I know he is a masterful liar. I still remember the loving expression on his face right after he told me his love was a lie and wiped my memory. I know not to trust him. And still, I look up, curious to see the flawless performance.

The devil admitting he did something wrong. Ha. Something to tell my grandchildren, the ones I’ll never have.

His face brightens a little when our gazes meet. He’s still on the floor, hunched, his head bowed. For the first time, it seems like his antlers are too heavy for him.

His mouth is pinched tight, eyes brimming with sorrow, and I clap thrice, the sound loud and startling in the quiet chamber.

Woland frowns in confusion, then his nostrils flare as he gets it.

Applause for the bard. What a moving song. I almost thought it was real.

He’s angry and impatient, just like I knew he would be, but I lose my bet with myself. He neither curses or explodes in any way. All he does is close his eyes and breathe until he’s calm again, and this time, I snort.

Fine performance. Let’s see you do it again tomorrow.

He watches me with painful intensity, his throat working, large hands clenched into fists in his lap. He really looks like he’s in pain, and I quash a quiet trembling of my heart. No. I will not love him anymore. I will not trust his lies.

“I’m sorry, Jaga,” he says again, and I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to accept his words. “I’ll tell you every day. I didn’t treat you right. I’ll make it up to you.”

I turn my back to him, lying on my side in my nest. I heard that one before, and I’m not stupid enough to believe it again.

Woland sighs heavily but doesn’t leave me or rage.

“You don’t have to forgive me. I don’t think I forgave you, either,” he says quietly. “But we need to be allies, at least. This is… It’s worse than I thought. No, that’s not right. I didn’t think at all when I did it. But Jaga, Perun knows. All the gods know. This place isn’t safe for you anymore. Frankly, I don’t think anywhere is.”

I curl up tighter, ignoring him. It’s his mess. Let him fix it.

“And I know you have no reason to trust me,” he plows on, not understanding that nothing he says can ever sway me. Maybe his actions might work, if they are consistent over years , but I doubt even that.

“And that’s why I’m going to tell you my biggest secret,” he says, voice dropping into a hoarse whisper. “I’ll trust you with it, Jaga. It’s collateral, too, just like my blood you carry next to your heart, but it’s so much more precious than that. This secret—you could use it to destroy me.”

I can’t hide the excited shiver that flutters over my back. It’s a lie, my instincts scream with confidence. I can hear him out, though. I’m curious what he came up with.

But before I sit up, something itches in my chest, over my heart. Like a thin thread, being pulled taut. A bodiless voice speaks right in my ear, feminine and sweet.

“Ah, here you are, redhead girl.”

I look around, bewildered, but we’re alone. Woland watches me with a slight frown.

“You owe me a favor, and I came to collect,” she speaks again, a trill of laughter in her voice.

“Did you hear that?” I ask, slowly rising to my feet as something squirms inside me, like foreign magic wrapping around my ribs.

He shakes his head. “What did you hear?”

“Just a moment, little girl. Tricky, tricky. He put you deep in the earth. But earth listens to me.”

“A woman,” I say, breathless, turning in a circle to spot her, but if she is here, she’s invisible. “She says I owe her a favor…”

“Yes, you do,” she confirms in a singsong voice. “You promised me anything I asked if I saved you. What I want is for you to let my magic carry you out. Only that. Here’s my favor, repaid.”

More magic wraps around me, itching and warm. Woland’s mouth tightens, and he leaps up, his nostrils flaring wide as he scents the air. I smell it, too. Rosemary. Cherries.

Summer.

“Come, sweet child.”

Suddenly, everything is green. I gaze around, disoriented. The world around me looks like the canopies of trees in summer, with golden sparks of the sun dancing between the leaves. The air I breathe smells of hay and herbs, and it’s warm and balmy, yet I clutch my blanket to my chest in fear.

It’s all I have. My magic has barely replenished with no food or sleep. I’m defenseless.

When the greenery fades away, I see a strange sight. It was winter in Slawa, but I stand in the middle of a clearing, green with grass and wildflowers. Twilight paints the sky, and the air is chilly, but not as cold as it was in Slawa.

Above me, a bird trills once, sad and longing. I shiver.

“Nice of you to come.”

I whirl around. Mokosz stands behind me, her hair tied into two thick braids that trail down to her waist. She’s wearing a blue dress today, low-cut. The hem swings around her knees as she walks toward me, her generous bosom bouncing with every step.

Mokosz. She knows about me, just like everyone else, and Chors’ words ring fresh in my mind. They would be very cruel to you if they knew.

The goddess smiles, serene and friendly, but as she comes toward me, I stumble back in terror until a low growl has me turning fast.

Three dragons in their half-human forms bar my way, two silver ones, one blue. I don’t know them, and it’s clear they aren’t here to help me. I turn back to Mokosz, my palms growing sweaty, heart hammering sickly.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“Just to talk,” she says with an innocent smile, cold sparkles playing in her blue eyes. “I need to confirm some gossip, and you owe me a favor.”

I shake my head. “I never made a deal with you. We never even spoke.”

She laughs knowingly, shaking her finger in gentle rebuke.

“Wrong, little witch. You prayed. I saved your life. And you promised me anything in return. See, I like gathering favors like flowers. Whenever I need something, one comes in handy, and this one was the most fortuitous of all. Poor Woland locked you up in Weles’ cursed dungeon, thinking no one would find you there. Ah, to see him now! He must be so angry!”

She trills with laughter that sounds birdlike and melodic. At a wave of her hand, flowers lift from the meadow, twining with my hair. I try to swat them away, but more and more come, until I’m wearing a fragrant crown of poppies, chamomile, and cornflowers. When I start pulling them out of my hair, a whip cracks behind me. I turn with a fearful gasp, and one of the dragons cracks it again, a tangle of thin, leather ropes weighed with metal balls hissing through the air.

“You cannot refuse my gift, it’s impolite,” Mokosz says with a soft laugh. “And? Does it remind you of anything?”

I finger the flowers, not trying to remove them again. When my touch falls on the thin, delicate petals of a poppy, I suddenly understand what she’s talking about. My lips fall open, and Mokosz nods with a satisfied sigh.

It feels like it happened an eternity ago. That Kupala Night I met Woland, I wore an enchanted chaplet. When I came over to the blessed Kupala fire, the flames leapt at me, trying to devour the forbidden magic I wore on my head.

In the privacy of my mind, I prayed. I prayed desperately. I offered the gods anything they might want, if only they saved me from the flames. And someone did. I came away unscathed, even though I deserved to burn.

“It was you?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief. “Did you already know who I was?”

Her sensuous mouth twists into a moue of disapproval. “No, I didn’t. They kept their secrets well. I only knew you were a desperate peasant girl who’d owe me her life, so I saved you. It took just a little spell. Not much effort.”

I stare at her, desperately trying to remember everything about Mokosz. She’s vain. Unfaithful. She likes to play with the lives of others. She’s the one who created the poroniec. Her goal is to be admired by all men and worshipped, and for everyone to say she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.

None of it helps me. I think Mokosz will try to kill me, because she knows I’m instrumental in defeating Perun. That’s all Woland told the rebels, so I suspect she knows nothing about the prophecy. Maybe I can tempt her by offering my allegiance, but then what?

“I see that panicked mind working so hard,” Mokosz says, laughing playfully. “Come with me, little witch. Let’s sit in the grass and talk about some gossip I heard.”

She takes my hand in her soft, feminine one, and I follow helplessly, knowing the dragons will stop me if I try to run. Mokosz sits down right in the grass, looking at home among the herbs, and when I hesitate, she grabs my hand impatiently and drags me to sit by her side.

“Now, little witch. I hear you seduced Chors. Tell me all about it.”

Her smile is friendly, eyes sparkling, but my skin crawls. I was convinced she’d want to know about my power to defeat her husband. Is it truly more important to her who I’ve fucked?

Then I understand it, and a cold, horrible fear settles in my chest.

I was his first. It means he never lay with her, and her goal is to be the one all male gods desire. It must have rankled when he refused her, and I’m suddenly certain she must have tried to get him in bed. That I succeeded when she didn’t must make her furious.

“I’m waiting,” she says pleasantly when I don’t speak.

“No,” I say, keeping my voice as even as I can, looking straight into her eyes. “I didn’t. He refused me.”

Mokosz tilts her head to the side, studying me. I don’t know whether she believes my lie. Her voice is still calm when soft, summery darkness falls around us, the sky above purple with first stars peeking through.

“One would think he must have,” she muses. “You’re not particularly pretty, are you? Striking, yes, certainly. The hair. The eyes. Some men prefer that kind of thing. But Chors? He’s innocent, and he never had any sort of type, let alone a sophisticated one like you. So why did he let you fuck him?”

Her voice is still light, but her eyes are cold. I flinch from the directness of her words. So she’s not fooled. Lying won’t work.

“You’re right. I’m certainly far less beautiful than you,” I say, and it doesn’t hurt to admit it. I know what I look like. It’s the truth.

Mokosz gives me a hard smile. “I called you here for gossip, not empty flattery.”

That won’t work then, either. Behind me, the whip cracks in a threat. I exhale and level her with a measured look, knowing I’m doomed either way.

“He simply wanted me, because he liked me. We’re friends. That’s a good enough reason. Sometimes, you don’t need to seduce people. You just need to be the right person.”

Her eyes flicker higher with a faint nod. The whip cracks down on my back with no warning, and I cry out, my body arching from the searing pain. When I try to fall to the side and curl up to protect myself, I realize I can’t. Some sort of plant has wound around my legs like shackles, and I didn’t even notice. It keeps me seated.

“Now, now.” Mokosz leans in, carefully wiping my tears away. “Have you never gossiped with anyone before? It’s supposed to be a light, fun conversation. No need for being so judgmental. So. Let’s try that again: how did you seduce Chors?”

My eyes fill with tears, even though I desperately try to blink them back and be strong. And yet, my despair is impossible to thwart. I know with complete certainty I will die here, and there is no way out.

“Please,” I say, knowing it’s pointless, yet begging anyway. “Let me go.”

Mokosz smiles and kisses my cheek, her breath carrying the scent of ripe pears.

“Gossip with me like girls do. We’ll have a grand time together. And when we’re done, I’ll build you a beautiful grave. That’s a promise.”