Page 113 of Devil's Deal

Her face is monstrous. Her eyes are milky white, skin dirty with scabs, but it’s her mouth that shocks me the most. It’s wide open, split up her cheeks, her jaw unhinged. In that raw, red mouth, fangs and sharp teeth glisten, mostly white, some stained. She stands there, almost directly underneath me, and stares, that devilish mouth wide open, like she can’t close it.

She looks at once terrifying and helpless. That long, golden hair and a white, innocent dress are so incongruous with her split-open maw.

I force myself to stop screaming and breathe. Tears stream down my face. I don’t dare blink. She is completely motionless, even her dress still, even though the grasses surrounding her sway.

She stares and stares, and I stare back, too terrified to speak. But I have to do something. My knife is at my thigh, and I don’t care what Woland said about her being invincible. If I get within a slashing distance, I’ll try my best.

My entire body trembles, making me think I might fall. She is so still, she looks like a painting, and my palms get sweatier the longer I look at her disfigured features. I have to correct my grip on the branch when my fingers grow slick.

“Fuck,” I whisper under my breath.

I have the ridiculous thought that if Wiosna was here, she’d tell me off for swearing. Right after she was done screaming. Or maybe she wouldn’t scream. No, she’d tell me how harmless the poludnica is, just like she did with the zmora.

But I know better. This is the bies that killed Jacek, and now she has her milky eyes on me.

She stares. I stare back. The song has ended, and all is silent.

Dadzbog is at his peak, meaning she’s at her strongest.

“Come and get me,” I say hoarsely, wondering if it will even work, terrified it might. “I’m right here. You just need to come closer.”

She shivers, and her entire body moves toward me in one jerky pull, but when a bit of shade falls on her hair, she recoils with a hiss. Saliva drips down her chin, clear and light pink in the sunlight, like it’s tinged with blood.

“Come on,” I urge her, a bit bolder, because it’s clearly not working. “I’m very tasty. Just come closer. You can grab me and drag me back into the sun. That’s just a bit of discomfort.”

My plan is simple: once she enters the shade, I’ll tackle her and keep her under the tree until she weakens.

She makes the same hissing sound, her hair rising and whipping around her face as if caught in a great wind. I swallow, keeping my eyes on her. She seems to rock on her feet, back and forth. Maybe she’s thinking.

Suddenly, she turns around. It’s not a human movement, more like a jerk of her entire body, and now she faces the other way, the song starting again. I don’t know where it comes from, because it’s impossible for the poludnica to sing with a mouth like that.

I look up in the direction she’s facing and my heart seizes with horrible understanding. Magda comes through the field, her head uncovered, mouth grim. She comes straight for the bies.

I have no time to wonder whether she’s here for revenge or to die. I’m too busy sliding down the tree, my dress catching on a branch and tearing on the way. The poludnica drifts toward Magda, her song growing louder in excitement.

“Magda! Run!” I scream, stumbling into a desperate chase.

Inexplicably, the poludnica is already halfway to Magda and getting closer every time I blink. I run, the wheat whipping my sides. Magda stops, and I think she freezes in terror. Too late, too late.

“No! Stop!” I wheeze out, my voice stifled by the effort of running in heat.

The poludnica falters, looking over her shoulder at me. I speed up, even though my side explodes with shocks of pain with my every step. My lungs burn, my throat closes up, and I gulp desperate, too small breaths, lurching through the wheat.

I’m almost to the poludnica when she raises her purplish hand. Magda is suddenly lifted above the ground, her back snapping into a taut arch. Her head is thrown back, body convulsing, but she makes no sound.

I run into the poludnica at full speed and we both fall, buried in the wheat. I snarl and sit on top of her, grabbing her nape. I press her face down into the dry ground.

She screeches despite her mouth being pressed right into the dirt, and seizes. She shakes so forcefully, I barely stay on. My shadow, short and squat under the midday sun, falls right on top of her. I lean in with a grunt, making sure it covers her head. Her screech grows louder. It hurts her.

Now, if only I had some rope on me. As it is, I keep pressing down with both hands to hold her, and I can’t even get my knife. We’re at an impasse, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep her here long enough for the sun to leave its zenith.

Suddenly, my vision explodes with white. A horrible, scalding heat covers every inch of my skin with blistering agony. I cry out, rolling off her, and still, it burns. Even though my eyes are closed, eyelids tightly sealed, I’m blinded by an unbearable light. My entire body tightens, water evaporating through my skin, my mind boiling in the heat. My heart struggles, each thud slower and slower.

My blood is like sludge, thickening as the water escapes, the heat making it rise into the sky in steam. I’m being cooked alive.

“No.”

It’s a word and yet not. Power bursts, laying the wheat flat over me, and suddenly, I can breathe again. Darkness slides over my eyes, and my heart beats fast again, pumping blood through me, each heartbeat bringing in more pain. I am in a cool, humid place, and I feel rather than see the steam rising from me in whorls as my body cools.

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