Page 137 of Foul Days

The Zmey tutted, his split tongue appearing and disappearing between his teeth. “Always so stubborn…” He grinned at her. “You’re lucky I find it endearing.”

Kosara wasn’t sure “lucky” would be a word she’d use to describe herself ever again. “And in two days, you’ll come alone. I don’t need some pea-brained karakonjul or frenzied varkolak interrupting the spell.”

“Of course. I’ll come to pick you up at midnight.” The Zmey squeezed her hand, letting his talons sink into her skin until they drew blood. He healed it again almost immediately, but not before he’d felt her flinch and try to pull her hand away from him. “You’re mine, Kosara. You can never escape me. You know that well, don’t you?”

Kosara sighed. “I know.”

* * *

Kosara couldn’t believe she was back in Chernograd. It felt surreal, walking the streets she thought she’d never even see again, the streetlights flashing above her head instead of flickering far in the distance. When she saw her house, she barely managed to contain her sobs of relief.

She watched as the yudas who’d escorted her and Asen back to Chernograd disappeared into the distance. She’d been worried the Zmey wouldn’t keep his promise to summon them away. The last thing she needed was his monsters breathing down her neck while she tried to learn the spell.

Once they were safe inside the locked house, Kosara leaned her forehead on the cold doorframe. She was so tired and so sore. Every breath scratched her throat.

“Please tell me I’ve misunderstood.” Asen stood behind her, his arms crossed. “Tell me you’re not planning on unleashing a dangerous, angry monster on both our cities.”

Kosara had no energy to argue with him. If he wanted her to share her plans with him, he shouldn’t have hidden information from her. She tried to walk past him towards the bathroom. He followed her.

“I mean,” he continued, “just imagine the destruction the monsters would cause in Belograd if the Wall fell! People would die.”

“But it’s just fine when the monsters cause destruction and death in Chernograd?”

“No, obviously not. But it’s not the same. You know your monsters.”

Kosara shut her eyes and didn’t open them again until she stopped seeing red. “Our monsters?”

He kept rattling on. “Belograd doesn’t know how to fight the monsters. We don’t know that upirs are killed with silver bullets, and varkolaks with aspen stakes—”

“The other way around.”

“What?”

“It’s the other way around!” Her voice echoed in the house.

“See? We don’t know that. The monsters would slaughter us.”

“You’ll learn,” Kosara said. “Or they’ll slaughter you.”

“Surely you can’t mean that.”

Kosara pushed past him with her shoulder. Asen made an exasperated harrumph, before turning on his heel and storming out the door into the cold night. Good. Kosara didn’t need his help. She didn’t need anyone’s help.

First, she washed the grime and soot off herself. The water ran off her in black streams between the bathroom tiles. It was freezing cold, but she didn’t turn the heat up—she didn’t want to irritate her newly healed wounds.

No matter how hard she scrubbed, she didn’t feel any cleaner. The sticky residue of her conversation with the Zmey still clung to her.

You’re mine, Kosara. You can never escape me.

She dried herself off, her teeth still clattering, and climbed the stairs to the bedroom. She was so tired, her knees shook. Her eyes burned from exhaustion, but there was no time for naps. Researching embedding magic should have taken her weeks, or even months.

She didn’t have weeks or months. The Zmey had given her two days.

In that timeframe, she had to go through all her old notes on embedding. It was like trying to remember a foreign language she’d studied a long time ago but never got the chance to practise. The gaps in her theoretical knowledge grew bigger and more frustrating the deeper into her research she went. It certainly didn’t help that teenaged Kosara seemed to have spent most of her time in class doodling hearts and writing the name of Orhan Demirbash, the actor, in the margins of the notebook.

The pile of books loomed tall over her. No, there was no time for naps.

24

---