Page 149 of Devil's Deal

Thunder cracks above me, so loud, I moan from fear, my bare feet skidding in the mud. I’m almost out of the village, my old cottage flashing past me in the rain. Ahead are the fields and meadows, and then, the river and the forest.

I run, knowing I need to hide between the trees. If Tolimir is going to shoot me, that’s my only chance.

Another thunder cracks. The rain beats harder, its force bruising my head and back. There are terrified screams behind me, people asking if it’s witchcraft, others saying to let me go or I might kill them all.

But Darobor isn’t done. He chases me with rage in his eyes at the head of the pack. Right behind him are Janek and Leszek, Maja’s husband. He’s another one who won’t give up easily.

My strength flags. The sleepless nights and the fact I haven’t eaten today are catching up with me. But I keep running, my feet splashing the cold mud, my eyes blinded by the rain. Somehow, I stay ahead. I fly through the meadow where the Kupala celebrations were held, the river on my right. It’s a roaring, swollen beast that’s about to flood the land.

An arrow zings past me, so close, I sob from fear. But it misses, and I’m almost to the line of trees. I speed up with my last breath.

And then, just as I’m about to enter the forest, lightning strikes.

It strikes just behind me. I hear the sizzle when celestial heat bursts into mud, I feel the tingles in my feet as the force of the strike spreads all around me.

When I look back, everyone chasing me is still, staring at a cottage-sized hole in the ground. Steam rises over it, thick and gray. I stare, too, because I’ve never seen lightning do that kind of thing.

I drag in a shaky breath, balling my hands into fists. The silence breaks.

“Witchcraft!”

“She’ll murder us!”

“Let her go!”

One by one, they turn and run away. Even Janek and Leszek, even Swietko and Tolimir, even Ida, whose blonde hair flashes in the fray. Darobor stays long enough to give me a venomous look filled with vengeful promise.

“Don’t ever come back here,” he says, turning away to follow the others.

I stare after them until the thick sheet of rain and the smoke curling above the hole obscure them from view. I am completely blank, my mind devoid of thought as I stare, growing colder and colder. I’m soaked to the bone, and my feet are freezing.

In the back of my head, a thought appears. It says I should wash the mud from my feet and check for injuries, because I won’t feel any pain in this cold.

Since I have no other ideas about what to do with myself now that my life fell apart, I trudge to the river bank, staying close to the forest wall. Who knows, Tolimir might still have an eye on me, an arrow nocked and ready.

But when I look at the village, sad and soaked in the distance, I see no one. They have all left, back to their lives, to their grief and anger.

The water overflows already, and I step carefully, wading into where the grassy river bank is flooded. I rinse off my feet and follow the least muddy path I see, entering the forest. When I’m safe among the trees, I sit down on a stump and examine my feet. They are red and freezing like the rest of me, but not bleeding.

I let go of my foot and just sit there, staring ahead. I wish I felt something, but it’s like all my emotions have leeched out of me along with my body heat.

What if I just stayed here? I could fall asleep. In this cold, I might die easily, without even being aware of what’s happening. Wouldn’t this be justice?

I think about Maja’s baby that died in my arms. About Sara, who only wanted to learn and listen to my stories. And then Milka and Sobiemir, Jarota, and countless others who might die yet because they were close to me today.

Will Maja die, too?

Her baby was such a perfect, beautiful creature.

When my face grows hot, I realize I’m crying. My tears scald my cheeks, but I don’t sob. I’m numb from the throat down, sheer inertia commanding my limbs. And so I sit there for what feels like hours, until I don’t feel my fingers and toes.

At some point, the rain ends. Some time after that, red and gold rays of sunshine penetrate through the soaked canopies. Birds come out of their nests after the long rain, chirping as they fly out in search of food.

The shadows are long, the air still humid and cool, everything wet. The water painting every leaf and soaking into moss glitters in the light of the setting sun.

And then, the golden light crawls away, Dadzbog going to rest in Wyraj. I get up, my body shaking, and look around. It’s so strange to see the world still standing when it was blown to bits just hours ago.

Yet, the place where I sat bears my mark. A few small bushes of lingonberry are wilted, their fruit dried to husks, leaves blackened. Some goutweed grows nearby, its delicate white flowers now dark with rot.

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