Page 153 of Devil's Deal

But I will never be his. At least in that, I still have a choice. And if he forces me, however he plans to do that? I suppose I’ll have to avoid it.

My body constricts, growing cold. There is only one way to stop him.

I’ll have to die for good.

Chapter forty-eight

Head

“Just leave me alone,” I say. I don’t even have to fake the exhaustion in my voice, it’s so apparent.

Woland sighs, looking tired, too. His tail hangs limp, his shoulders hunching just slightly. He rubs his eyes and then looks around in irritation.

“So you’d rather walk alone in these wild woods than come with me, is that it?” he asks, gruff and annoyed.

I only stare. I’d rather die than go with him, but I won’t tell him that.

“Very well,” he snaps, his shadows rising around him like vipers poised to strike. “Just eat something, for fuck’s sake.”

He vanishes in a cloud of darkness, and when it dissipates, a low table set with food stands in his place. I don’t come over, just watch it from a distance. There’s bread, so fresh, it’s steaming. A cup of cream, a plate of small, dark grapes, and worst of all, a juicy, still sizzling cut of meat so golden and appetizing, I want to weep. There’s a sprig of fresh rosemary on it.

I clench my teeth, ignoring the tantalizing scents, and walk away as fast as I can. I don’t trust myself not to go back to the food, so I need to run while my will is still strong.

And it is strong. I have a plan, dire though it is, and having a goal is always the best way to keep myself together.

The only problem is, I don’t know whether he’s watching me or not. I wish Wiosna were here to tell me. But of course, she isn’t, so I have to time it just right.

The river is deep and wide here, the currents powerful farther away from the shore. I am a decent swimmer but not a very strong one, so at least I have an easy way to carry out my plan. It would be easier still if I had a rope, but I don’t bemoan the fact much. I’m used to working with what’s available.

Besides, maybe it’s better that my body will disappear under water. Maybe that will make it more difficult for him to find me and bring me back to life.

I just have to remember to leave as soon as I die. He never told me, but I suspect he could bring me back that day because my soul stayed behind. I hope I’m right about this.

I wander until dusk and sleep through the night on a pillow of moss. In the morning, I walk a bit, assuming Woland will get bored and leave me to it. He probably watches me through the night to keep me safe, but he must do other things, too. Like he said, he has a war to fight.

Shortly before noon, when the forest trills with birdsong, I strip off my dress and hang it on a branch. I wade into the river and swim out into the middle. When I feel the pull of the current, I take a deep breath and submerge.

I know my instincts will force me to get back to the surface to breathe, but I plan to tire myself out enough while I’m in control so then, getting back to the shore will be impossible. Drowning is an ugly death, but it’s better than belonging to Woland.

I’m sorry, I tell my twelve-year-old self in the privacy of my mind. I will find another way. Death is not the end.

I stay down, carried by the cool current until panic hits, forcing me to emerge. When I look at the shore, I don’t even see my dress anymore. I calm down enough to be in control again and submerge.

When I come out this time, gasping for breath and snorting out water, a strong, dark arm winds around my waist. I cough and fight his hold, but he doesn’t relent, his shadows wrapping around my entire body until I’m swathed in a cocoon of his power. It makes me warm, and I clench my teeth, wishing it didn’t feel so good to be wrapped so securely.

My body is a traitor in this. It enjoys simple pleasures way too much.

Woland steps up onto the surface of the river, carrying me in his arms. He walks on water, his even steps taking us back to the shore. I am too furious to marvel at his ability, and besides, my entire focus is on not allowing myself to sag in his hold or, Perun forbid, snuggle against him.

But I’m so tired, and this is so very comforting.

It takes some time before we reach the shore. Woland doesn’t aim straight for the bank, walking diagonally instead. The river shimmers all around us, silver in the sunlight.

I don’t speak, and he is silent, too. When I glance at his face, it’s pulled tight with anger, though there’s a melancholy tilt to his mouth.

And now, I really wish I had some fucking rope.

“It won’t work,” he says calmly when he deposits me on the shore in the exact place where I left my dress. His shadows slither off me, and I shiver, cold and exhausted. He simply watches me with mild interest.

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