Page 22 of Devil's Deal

“You will address me with respect and by my name,” he says in a low, threatening voice that sends shivers down my neck.

“No. It cuts my tongue,” I reply at once, my anger growing in reaction to pain.

Woland’s yellow eyes flash through the curtain of smoke, and I slam my eyelids shut to protect myself from the agony of looking at him. Suddenly, there is a pressure against my body coming from every side, like bundled fabric swathing me.

“Open your eyes,” he says, his voice boring into my head like the buzzing of flies.

“I won’t. It hurts,” I say through clenched teeth, because the grip on my nape doesn’t lessen. I need to brace firmly against the pain to not make any humiliating sounds.

“And it will continue to hurt until you build immunity to my gaze. Open your eyes.”

I shake my head and lock my knees, breathing fast through my nose. “I don’t need to build immunity to you. You will be gone come dawn.”

He pauses. I open my eyes just a crack, looking down so I don’t incidentally glimpse his face. Then I open them wider, gulping nervously. I no longer see the meadow, the grass under my bare feet, or the river. Everything around me is bathed in dark, soft shadows that slither across my skin like feathers.

The only source of light is a small bonfire separating us. The boundary.

When I look up for just a moment, I see Woland completely uncovered and naked in front of me. It seems like he draped his shadows over both of us so no one would see me, just like they can’t see him.

“We are outside time and hidden away,” he speaks, his voice patient, and yet with a current of irritation. I think he hates explaining things but forces himself to do so for my sake.

But why?

“Outside time?” I repeat, looking at his sternum, which seems like the safest place. Because gazing into his eyes hurts. And looking at his nakedness makes me feel uneasy and hot.

“Yes. Time has stopped for everyone outside this shadowy enclave. We may speak without being heard or disturbed.”

I strain my ears, shocked to discover the absolute silence surrounding us both. The only sounds I hear are Woland’s slow, even breathing and the thudding of my heart, punctuated with my fast, shallow breaths.

The silence is oppressive yet surprisingly soothing. My shoulders drop as I relax into the quiet. After the din of Kupala, this moment of peace is a gift.

“You stopped time,” I murmur under my breath, and suddenly, my body goes rigid again.

Time. He rules time.

I look up sharply, right into his bright, yellow eyes, and blood trickles down my cheeks at once. But I don’t care about the pain and the gruesomeness of it. Because Woland, the terrifying demon who wants me for some reason, has the very thing I need to save myself.

“Can you walk into the past?” I ask, breathless from my discovery.

He tilts his head to the side, his dark gray forehead wrinkling in thought. I don’t break eye contact even when the pain sinks deeper into my eyes. It feels like two thick, hot needles piercing my pupils, going deeper and deeper the longer I stare.

“Why?” he asks. “Do you have a need to visit the past?”

The pain grows brighter and hotter, my eyes bleeding profusely. The blood flows down my cheeks in warm rivulets and falls, staining my dress. But I don’t care. He is the solution I’ve always sought, the very thing that will save my life.

He is also the most dangerous creature I know. Seeing how unpleasant he is, I have no doubt he’ll never give me anything just because I ask for it. I have to be smart. Cunning.

“I’m just curious,” I say, trying to sound unaffected.

His full mouth splits in a wide grin, revealing red gums and white teeth. I recoil, pain exploding in my skull with a flurry of white-hot sparks. And then, it’s gone. The pressure vanishes, and I blink, red spreading across my vision. My eyes feel whole and normal again, only the faintest tingle remaining, like an echo of the piercing agony.

“See?” he says, his shockingly thick, black tongue darting out to lick his lower lip. “Now, you can look at me without pain. We shall do the same with my name. Repeat it about twenty times and it will stop cutting you.”

I blink again and again, the bloody film in my eyes clearing. Then I look down at myself. Like I suspected, my dress is ruined.

“No, thank you,” I say, looking up warily. “I’ve bled enough for tonight.”

“You’re not squeamish,” he says with a smirk. “Maybe you just don’t feel compelled to call me by that name? I have many others, so you can take your pick. Diabel, Czart, Kusy, Szatan, Loheli…”

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