Page 4 of Devil's Deal

The knife plunges inside me, just under my navel. It scrapes my pubic bone on the way in.

For a moment, nothing happens. We both stand, breathing hard, Jaromir bent low over me.

Then the pain spreads, clawing my guts, cold and burning at once.

“I saw through your lies, witch,” he wheezes, rancid and horrible while I fight my throat to keep the scream from spilling.

It hurts. It hurts so much, and now there is no hope. Even if I get away, I’ll die. I know from my studies with Wiosna. A knife to the guts is deadly. Wounds like this can’t be cleaned properly. Even if I don’t bleed out, I’ll die from infection.

The undergrowth rustles and the others burst into view. Daga watches me with fear and triumph. Miroslaw just looks sick, the pallor of his skin flashing in the dark.

When Jaromir steps away, I sink to my knees. All fight trickles out of me, even if blood doesn’t. That’s why you eviscerate the sacrifices so they die fast. Sticking a knife in doesn’t do the trick.

I will die for a long, long time. Unless I pull out the knife.

“I was supposed to do that,” Miroslaw whines when I blink heavily, locking my body so I don’t fall.

The pain ebbs, growing stronger and weaker with my heartbeat. My breaths are shallow and sharp.

“Well, you couldn’t. You’ll never be a zerca at this rate,” Jaromir says, trying to sound arrogant. But I hear the weakness in his voice. The bile threatening to rise.

“W-what now?” Daga asks. “She’s still alive.”

I try to take a deeper breath to speak, but pain explodes in my belly. I wince and hold the scream in, clenching my fists. It doesn’t help.

I just want them to leave so I can die in peace.

“Now we wait,” Jaromir says, sounding more confident. “We have to make sure she is truly dead and doesn’t turn into an upir.”

I swallow and grab the handle of the knife, getting ready to yank it out. If they aren’t going to leave, I’d better get on with it. But I’m so afraid. As long as the blade is still in me, I can hold on to hope. But once the blood flows, it will be over.

“I won’t be an upir,” I say quietly, trying to distract myself from the terror so I can just do it. Just yank the knife out to end my pain. “Upirs are made from people who did a great wrong. I never did.”

“Why isn’t she dead yet?” Daga’s voice is squeaky with fear. “There’s a knife in her belly. She should be dead! Oh, Perun, what if she really is the devil’s…”

“Quiet!” Jaromir snaps, putting his hand over her mouth. “It’s night. We don’t call his name.”

My sweaty hand slides on the handle of the knife. I feel so cold, yet the carved wood under my fingers is warm. Like it’s drawing energy straight from my lifeblood.

“I hope he comes” I whisper, gripping the knife harder as my head grows dizzy. The forest around me sways, the shadows dancing like a group of wilas passing between the trees. “But which name? Devil, demon, czart, diabel, the dark one…”

“Shut up!” Jaromir screams with rage, but he doesn’t step closer. I think he’s afraid. They all are. There is nothing like the forest at night to feed your nightmares. But I’ve gathered herbs in the moonlight with Wiosna since I was five. The darkness doesn’t scare me.

Yet death does. If I can summon the devil to save me, by Perun, I will.

“Bies, the shadow, lord of darkness…”

“I told you to shut…” Jaromir starts but he breaks off with a shout when fire bursts to life right in front of me.

One moment there is darkness, the trees looming under the clear night sky. The next, bright, red flames appear from nowhere. It’s not a bonfire. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seem before, the fire shaped unnaturally, starting well over the ground.

I raise my arm to shield my face but drop it at once with a wince. My body feels so weak and heavy, and there is no need to protect my skin. There is no heat.

This is not a real fire.

My wound pulses with a steady beat, faster and faster to the rhythm of my pounding heart.

I recognize the fiery shape for what it is. Rectangular and tall, it looks just like a doorway. The flames are contained into the sharp-edged shape, not a lick flaming past. It seems kind of flat and deep. As if an invisible barrier cut off the reach of the flames.

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