Page 156 of Devil's Deal

“You don’t have a heart,” I finally reply, but even to my own ears, I sound weak and uncertain.

Woland laughs sharply, looking away. “If you say so.”

I take a deep breath to steel my nerves and raise the rock above my head. I bring it down on Czeslawa’s neck. Blood squirts, and my fist sinks into gore. I purse my lips, swallowing down an urge to retch, and raise my arm again. I hack at her neck a few times until my fury boils over. I shoot Woland a sharp look.

“Broken heart, my ass. Why are you trying to make me feel guilty for doing my best to save my freedom?”

“Death isn’t freedom,” he hisses. He’s angry, too. “Believe me, dead, you’d be even more a slave than alive and in my ownership.”

“Ownership,” I scoff, bringing the rock down with a wet splat. “Of course, since you’ve already marked me.”

“Well, you are mine,” he says calmly. “It’s just a matter of time.”

My anger finally snaps. I grunt, bringing the stone down, again and again. I hack through muscles and tendons, and then through Czeslawa’s spine, hurting my knuckles on her bones. When her head finally rolls away, completely detached, I’m shaking. A red mist hovers in front of my eyes, my fury coloring my vision.

“Well done,” Woland says quietly. “Though if you were mine, I would have turned her to dust with a snap of my fingers as soon as she came. You wouldn’t have even woken. But then again, you wouldn’t have slept in the forest but in my bed.”

I wipe sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and look at him with a scowl.

“Would you really turn her to dust? I don’t believe you. Maybe give me a demonstration the next time something tries to eat me in the middle of the night.”

He laughs, letting me know my attempt at manipulation won’t work. When I drop Czeslawa’s head between her legs and scatter some dirt on top of her as a makeshift burial, he leans over and whispers in my ear.

“Darling, the most dangerous beast that wants to eat you is me.”

Chapter forty-nine

Rusalka

I spend the next four days putting my head back on straight. I walk through the woods, and even though it rains, the trees mostly protect me from the gentle drizzle that’s nothing like the downpour that day I left the village.

My purpose is clear for now. Woland keeps messing with my head, hinting at his hurt feelings, laughing his warm, pleased laugh, and making it seem like he didn’t break my life into pieces. The worst thing is, it’s working. I let him feed me, called on his name, even asked him for help. I still hate him, but we’re back to this strange intimacy between two people who dance around one another, each trying to win and make the other lose. It is, indeed, like a game.

I still have nightmares. Maja’s baby dies in my arms every night. I pay too much attention to my body every time I wash, feeling like it’s not my own ever since he brought me back from the dead. When I’m in the river, I fixate on my scar, running my fingers over it again and again until it grows tender. It’s my reassurance, my proof that I am me.

Sometimes, I stare at my reflection in the water and try to scratch his mark off, even though I know it won’t help. I stop noticing the dead plants surrounding me every morning when I wake up.

All the damage Woland did is still here, marking me from without and from within, and yet my hate for him has morphed into this strange thing, partly fond, partly yearning, partly hurt.

I hate that I don’t hate him like I should.

My wandering becomes more and more unpleasant. I stop often to pick berries and leaves I can eat, but no amount of foraged food satisfies my hunger. Woland doesn’t bring me meals, but I think he would if I asked him. Maybe that’s his goal now. Or maybe he just waits for the discomfort to break me, hoping I’ll cave and let myself be claimed.

The nights grow chillier, especially when it rains.

In the afternoon, I follow a narrow stream branching off the river. The rain has stopped and the sun came out, making the water drops decorating every leaf and flower shine with thousands of prisms. I’m in a good mood, and when I hear voices up ahead, my heart beats faster with excitement.

They are female voices, happy and laughing, and I’m shocked by how much I crave company. I always considered myself a loner, but clearly, being truly on my own doesn’t serve me.

I follow the stream to the voices, coming through a cluster of lush ferns. When I emerge, I see the strangest sight.

The stream flows into a small forest pond with crystal clear water. In the pond, three stunningly beautiful women sit, laughing and splashing water at each other. They are naked, their luscious, pink breasts on display. All three are very similar, with soot-black hair and beautifully shaped, red lips. The resemblance makes me think they are sisters.

They look completely human until I blink, and for the briefest moment, I think their skin is tinted blue, their hair dark green, teeth sharp.

“Oh, come join us!” the nearest one beckons when she sees me.

She smiles brightly, and I blink, paying attention… There. Her eyes are filled with bright blue, no whites, and her pupils are vertical like an adder’s. Scales shimmer across her forehead and cheekbones.

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