Page 112 of Devil's Deal

Then I sit up as possibilities fill my head. If I saw him once, surely he’ll come again? Suddenly, I can’t wait to have another wake. I wonder if all human souls look alike or if each is different. Can they be in various sizes? Or various breeds of birds?

And if I saw Rod, will I see the Rodzanicas, as well, after I deliver a baby? What else is possible? How many gods visit the mortal world regularly?

Even though there is nothing left to guard, Jacek’s soul gone from his body, I don’t sleep that night, pacing my cottage and thinking about it all. Gods and mortals, souls and the afterlife, Woland and his threats.

When dawn comes, small birds welcoming Dadzbog’s appearance in the sky, I’m filled with a frenetic, joyful energy. Not even the things this day has in store can spoil my good mood.

Until noon.

Chapter thirty-seven

Noon

I’m hidden among the branches of a tall pear tree on the balk between Bogdan’s and Darobor’s fields. They’ve been feuding over this pear tree for years now, although amicably. At one point, Jarota proposed it should be felled and the timber equally divided between the two field owners, but luckily, both Bogdan and Darobor like their pear moonshine better than justice.

So the tree stands, and I’ve climbed it to have a good view of the spot where the poludnica appeared yesterday. Dadzbog rises steadily higher and higher up the sky, and so far, all I see is golden wheat swayed this way and that by the gentle wind.

I’m wearing a straw hat and have a flask with me, from which I take small sips as I watch. Everyone has gone off the fields for now. It’s quiet, empty, deceptively safe.

Then, just from the corner of my eye, I see a flutter of white. I turn and push a small branch aside to have a better look. There she is.

Just like Bogdan told me, it’s a woman in white. Her back is to me, and I see her loose, golden hair, but not her face. She seems carefree, walking among the wheat, her palms caressing it.

A sound carries to me. Something eerie, yet familiar. A lullaby. A moment later, the poludnica drifts closer, though her face is still turned away, and I hear the words.

Sleep, my darling, and I shall

Brush all nightmares from your brow.

Sleep, beloved, on my breast,

Let me give you peaceful rest.

I wish I could see her legs to know how she moves, but the lower half of her body is buried in the wheat. She seems to not walk but drift through it, getting closer and closer, and it looks like she’s moving backwards. Or is her hair brushed over her face? I squint, gripping a branch to keep myself steady.

My heart picks up the pace, and a metallic taste of fear fills my mouth.

She comes closer still. And closer. I see the details now. The ripped lace on her short sleeve. The dirt and tangles in her hair. The unhealthy, purplish pallor of her fingers as she strokes the tips of the wheat stalks.

She still sings the song, the same stanza over and over again, even though I know this lullaby has over eight different ones, getting progressively lewder. It’s a song about a woman deceiving her sister’s husband into having sex with her.

To distract myself from the terror that creeps up my gut, chilling me from within, I try to remember how the last stanza goes. A moment later, I have it.

In the darkness we shall lie,

Our bodies joint as one,

And though you will call her name,

It’s my body you will take.

The poludnica is here. She enters the tall grasses of the balk. I see a glimpse of her long dress, and then she’s almost under the tree, hovering right on the edge of shadow.

I stop breathing. My throat is tight with terror, and I have to keep telling myself Woland won’t let me die. I’m too important for whatever it is he wants. He’ll save me if she attacks.

I will not die, I will not die, I will not die.

I am safe. And yet, when the poludnica finally turns around, I scream in terror.

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