Page 45 of Foul Days

Kosara allowed herself to exhale, but she didn’t dare move yet. He’d already tricked her once today when he’d followed her to Sevar’s house.

A few minutes later, she peeled herself off the wall and looked up and down the street. Bakharov was gone, she was fairly sure. He’d be difficult to miss in that ridiculous coat of his. Perhaps he was just as glad to be rid of her as she was to be rid of him.

Kosara breathed in deeply. She was finally alone, finally free, and finally home. Now, she could sort this whole mess out.

She buried her hands deep in her pockets, and her nose deep in her scarf, and walked towards Bayan’s pub on the Main Square. Roksana would be there, just like she always was during the Foul Days. Kosara would get her to explain precisely what she’d been doing in Irnik Ivanov’s house.

Washing lines intersected above Kosara’s head, and the frozen clothes clattered in the wind. Occasionally, men and women strode past, their breaths coming out in plumes. Kosara let their voices envelop her like a warm blanket. It was good to be back home.

As she passed by the pharmacy, she spotted a young witch shooting fireballs after a startled karakonjul. Kosara deliberately hid her face in her scarf and walked faster. She recognised the girl: Siyana, who’d joined the Witch and Warlock Association last winter. She and Kosara had been sent out together to secure the church on the Main Square from monster attacks. Young Siyana had looked at Kosara as if she had all the answers. Kosara simply couldn’t face her now—shadowless and helpless.

The pub was the only bright spot in the dark square. Its windows shone, sending trails of light across the freshly fallen snow. Its chimney spat out clouds of black smoke. Kosara hesitated a step away from the door, her hand in the air, ready to knock. Roksana wouldn’t dare do anything to her in a pub full of witnesses, but Kosara still wasn’t sure if she was ready to face her.

“Who is it?” came Bayan’s gruff voice from the other side. He must have spotted her through the window.

“It’s me. Kosara.”

“Go away!”

Kosara sighed. She hadn’t exactly expected a warm welcome. “Bayan, my old friend, no need to—”

“Don’t you ‘old friend’ me! How dare you bring the Zmey to my pub?”

Kosara caught herself turning around in a panic, checking behind her shoulder, as if the Zmey might be right behind her.

“I didn’t bring him,” she said. “He found me.”

“Well then, you’d better bugger right off before he finds you again.”

“Come on, Bayan, you know I can handle him. I’m sorry about the other day. I panicked. I hadn’t seen him this angry in a while—”

“No, you can’t.”

“Sorry, what?”

“You can’t handle the Zmey. You can’t handle him now, just like you couldn’t handle him all those years ago when old Vila had to save your pimply arse from him. Now, go the fuck away.”

Kosara wanted to argue, but realised she had nothing to say. He was absolutely right. If she could handle the Zmey, she wouldn’t have traded her magic to escape him.

“Alright, alright,” she said. “I’ll go away. I just need to see Roksana. I think she—”

On the other side of the door, Bayan cocked his rifle. “Do you now? I should have known you two were in it together. Dodgy bastards, the pair of you.”

“Together in what? Bayan, please, I’ll go away as soon as I ask Roksana a few questions—”

“Your pal isn’t here.”

No way. Roksana always spent the Foul Days at Bayan’s. “She’s not? Where is she?”

“Fuck knows! If you see her, tell her to never show her face here again, if she doesn’t want to eat lead.”

“Why? What did she do?”

“Ask poor Malamir what she’s done!”

“Where’s Malamir?”

“Wouldn’t you just love to finish the job Roksana started! Well, I’m not telling. Would you kindly fuck off now?”

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