Page 154 of Devil's Deal

“It was w-worth a t-try,” I say, my teeth chattering. Now that I’m no longer wrapped up in him, I’m cold despite the heat of the day. I’ve been undereating for too long now, and my body conserves heat. “I d-don’t suppose you’ll let me starve to d-death, either.”

He snorts, snapping his fingers. A low table appears between us, laid with bread, hot meat, and grapes. The bread is cut into thick pieces dripping with butter. The meat lies on a bed of carrots and green peas still in their pods. There’s even a crystal cup of wine. I clench my teeth, but I’m fighting a losing battle.

“Eat or I will force it down your throat,” he says. It doesn’t sound like a threat. He simply states a fact.

I dress quickly, shivering harder. He doesn’t try to touch me or get close, just leans against a tree, his arms folded. When I sit on my heels by the table, he snaps his fingers again. A big cup of clear, steaming broth appears right in front of me.

“Drink that first.”

My mouth waters. I long to wrap my chilled fingers around the cup, and yet, I reach for the bread first just to be contrarian. Yes, it’s childish. But since I have no means to fight him, this is the only way I can make myself feel marginally better.

I wish my magic worked. Maybe then, at least, I would stand a chance.

Woland grunts with displeasure but doesn’t comment, watching me eat with his neutral mask in place. I force myself to bite off medium-sized morsels of the bread instead of devouring it in three bites, even though it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten. The butter is divine, thick and creamy, and the bread melts into sweetness when I chew.

Maybe it’s because of hunger, or maybe he brought me food from Wyraj. But it’s the best meal in my life, and I hate him a bit more for it.

When I’m done eating and my stomach hurts, distended by the huge amount of food after a period of starvation, he makes the table disappear.

“You have three weeks,” he says quietly. “After that, I’ll do what I must.”

He vanishes into smoke. I sigh, ignoring the flowers that withered where I ate, and begin walking. The short timeline scares me, but I don’t lose hope yet, even though Woland just thwarted my newest plan. A lot can change in three weeks, and the recent whirlwinds in my life are proof of that.

If only I had someone to talk to. “Wiosna?” I whisper, hoping against hope.

But there is no response.

That night, I don’t sleep well. The bear chases me in my dreams, and then the scene changes, and I’m in my cottage, delivering Maja’s baby. In the dream, I know what will happen and yet I’m still convinced I can stop it somehow, but nothing I try works. She is born in a stream of blood, and then she dies. After that, the bear chases me again.

When the nightmare changes one more time, I hear Czeslawa’s voice telling me she’s dead because of me. She says I’ll pay for it. That I’ll feed her. Something in her words doesn’t add up, and that, or maybe something else, pulls me out of sleep.

I open my eyes to the moonlit forest. Czeslawa’s face, haggard and saggy, is right above me. Her eyes have no whites. They are completely black.

I roll away with a shriek. She snaps her teeth at where my neck just was while I stumble to my feet, my heart hammering so hard, I get dizzy.

She gets up to a half crouch, peering at me with those nasty black eyes. She’s thinner than she was alive, her body rangier. Her breasts sag down her chest, just empty sacks of flesh with the fat supporting them gone. She’s naked, dirty, and pale like a thing that lives under a rock and never sees the sun.

“Jaga,” she says, her voice screechy and thin. “You did this to me. I will drink your blood. I will suck the marrow from your bones.”

“You’re an upir,” I say, finally understanding. “How did you find me?”

She doesn’t answer, instead lunging at me with her long, filthy nails poised to scratch. I jump out of the way, but she is horribly fast, and I get a stinging scratch on my upper arm. Czeslawa stops, balancing on her thin feet, and licks my blood off her nail.

“I followed you,” she says with a pleased smile. “After I died, I came back to the village to get my revenge, and what did I find? You were banished!”

“How did you die?”

She cackles with glee, swiping at me with her long arm. I jump back and stumble over a root, my ankle twisting. I grit my teeth from pain and pivot, avoiding her grip at the last moment. We stand opposite each other. I pant while she’s barely winded, licking her lips obscenely.

“I just lay down and died,” she says with another cackle. “You took what kept me going.”

She clearly blames me, but even though I do take the blame for Sara, Maja’s baby, and the others, I don’t feel guilty about Czeslawa’s death.

It crosses my mind I could let her kill me, but the idea repels me. Upir or not, I will never let Czeslawa win. This foe I must defeat.

“You attacked me first. And the gods know it, which is why you became an upir. Only bad people turn into blood-drinking scum after death.”

Her smile is gone, and she jumps at me with a horrible screech. This time, I don’t avoid her. Instead, I grab her wrists when she’s almost on me, and push until we end up on the forest floor, her body under mine.

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