Page 9 of Foul Days

Kosara inhaled sharply. She watched, petrified, as the lines of her ward twisted and strained under the pressure, but they didn’t break. For now.

After a few long seconds, the doorknob fell still. Kosara didn’t dare exhale yet. The Zmey hit the door with his shoulder.

The ward blurred as if it barely held itself together. As if any minute, its runes would melt and leak between the floorboards like dirty rainwater disappearing down the gutter.

Kosara couldn’t take her eyes off it. Her body was glued to the chair. Her movements were sluggish, the air thick as treacle.

The Zmey hit the door again. The ward kept shifting on the floor. But it didn’t break.

It didn’t break.

Kosara let out a tiny sigh of relief. The ward was holding. She looked around the pub: at the confused faces of the patrons, at her nervous companions around the table, and at Bayan the barkeep, who gave her a thumbs-up.

After a while, the Zmey stopped banging on the door. There was a long, silent moment.

And then he laughed. Kosara shrank in her seat, his voice ringing in her ears.

“Good one, my little Kosara. Good one.”

“I’m not little,” Kosara spat out, mostly to check if she still had her voice. “And I’m not yours. What do you want?”

“How about you invite me in? It’s awfully cold out here.” He let his voice tremble, as if from a shiver. Kosara didn’t believe him for a second. She’s seen how the snowflakes landing on his skin evaporated with a hiss.

“What do you want?” Kosara repeated, careful to keep her voice steady. She was a witch. Witches weren’t afraid of monsters.

A useless witch. The voice in her mind sounded an awful lot like the Zmey’s. A weak witch. You’re nothing without me, Kosara.

The real Zmey, the one outside her mind, laughed again. As if they were simply two friends sharing a joke. “I’d like you to explain why you’d ever think it was a good idea to cheat me.”

Kosara’s mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood.

He knew. Dear God, he knew.

Of course she’d cheated him at cards last year—she’d never have won otherwise—but she’d taken every precaution to make sure he wouldn’t catch her. And he hadn’t, not until a year later.

Kosara hadn’t told anybody she’d cheated. At least, she was fairly certain she hadn’t. She did have the tendency to run her mouth when she’d had a bit too much to drink, but she wouldn’t have told anyone that. Would she?

She cast a glance at Malamir, playing with the ends of his sleeves, and at Roksana, pulling on her pipe quickly, letting out cloud after cloud of sweet-smelling smoke.

“Who told you?” Kosara asked the Zmey, the talisman hot and heavy in her hand. If he uttered one of their names, she wouldn’t hesitate. She’d use it against them.

“Nobody needed to tell me, my dear Kosara. I’m the Tsar of Monsters, remember? I know everything that happens in my city.”

This city isn’t yours.

Kosara loosened her grip around the talisman. Perhaps the Zmey was telling the truth. Perhaps she hadn’t been as smooth as she’d thought last year. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Come on, you cheating hag.” The Zmey raised his voice. He was losing his patience. “Invite me in.”

The other patrons watched Kosara and waited for her next move, mild curiosity on their faces, as if this was nothing but a play at the theatre. After all, it wasn’t them who’d angered the Zmey. He wasn’t like the other monsters, hungry for human flesh and blinded by bloodthirst. He wouldn’t bother them if they stayed out of his way.

“Very well,” the Zmey said once it became obvious Kosara had no intention of getting up from her seat. “Since Kosara here is being so rude, will one of you good people please invite me in?”

The other patrons’ murmurs filled the pub. Their eyes pierced Kosara. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if appearing as small as she could might turn her invisible.

“You, Stamen!” the Zmey shouted towards a large man sitting next to the fire. “How come you’re all alone? Where’s the wife?”

Stamen’s fingers gripped his glass so hard, Kosara was worried he’d break it. His mouth was a small, trembling o.

---