Page 149 of Foul Days

Perfect. An almost indistinguishable dot had appeared over the symbol for “wall”—a small white window in the otherwise busy drawing. A Zmey-sized gap.

Internally, Kosara sighed with relief, but she couldn’t let herself celebrate just yet. She had to do it once again. She waited until the Zmey momentarily turned his gaze towards the Wall. A tiny, practically invisible line appeared under the symbol for “release.” It now read “imprison.”

That last one was risky. Given more time, she would have come up with something less obvious. All she could do now was to try to keep the rune out of sight. She shuffled again, draping the skirts of the Zmey’s coat over it, careful not to smear it.

The Zmey let out a loud harrumph, making her jump.

“Are you nearly ready?” he asked.

“Nearly.”

She drew the last few symbols, fast and sure. Her runes flowed flawlessly from one to the other. Her lines were precise. Every symbol stood in its place, impossible to misinterpret. It was a magic circle of which even Vila would have been proud. All that was left was to see if it would work.

Kosara put the chalk down and grabbed the Zmey’s other hand. She squeezed him tight. He held onto her, his eyes searching her face.

“Is it working?” he asked.

“Shush!” Kosara began the incantation, just the way she’d written it down in that scruffy notebook years ago. Just like Vila had taught her.

The twelve shadows stirred, as if barely containing their excitement. They moved faster and faster, growing darker with every spin around the magic circle.

The Zmey’s lips followed Kosara’s, repeating each word, building up the spell. His magic fit so well with hers, filling in the gaps she’d left for him. His long fingers were intertwined with hers. His mind reached for hers and enveloped her in its dark, soothing presence. She’d expected to hear the familiar refrain of accusations from him again, but it didn’t come. What came instead was unexpected. Clever witch, purred the Zmey in her mind. Good witch. My witch. There was no threat there anymore, only something …

Something that felt strangely, pleasantly familiar.

She remembered now why she used to like him so much. They made such a good team. Fire meeting fire. Together, they were strong enough to tear down the Wall and release Lamia. All it would take was for Kosara to turn around, wipe away her little modifications in the magic circle, and the Zmey’s sister would be free to devastate the city that had imprisoned her. The city that had imprisoned them all.

Could anyone blame Kosara if she freed Lamia, really? Belograd deserved a taste of the monsters. It greeted every New Year’s Eve as if it was a cause for celebration. It toasted the monsters’ arrival. It drank to the slow death of her city.

Kosara met the Zmey’s eyes. They pierced right through her. He couldn’t know what she was thinking, but he sensed the shape of it. He smirked.

The spell grew stronger, making the air crackle. The streetlights flickered, elongating all shadows—all but Kosara’s and the Zmey’s. Their twelve shadows danced around them in a circle.

Kosara tasted her bitterness, burning at the back of her throat, encouraged by the Zmey’s dark thoughts intertwining with hers. She squeezed her eyes shut. Behind her eyelids replayed every time she’d been betrayed. Every time someone she’d loved disappointed her. She could burn it all and start fresh. Rise up from the ashes like the Firebird.

But could she really sacrifice an entire city to Lamia? Innocent people would die. People like Asen. People like Gizda. Good people. And for what? Just to satiate her desire for retribution, for decisions made by a group of dusty old bureaucrats a hundred years ago. Just to show the Zmey she wasn’t weak.

He stared at her, his eyes smouldering. He was so handsome, his bloodthirsty grin splitting his face in half. The fire in his eyes was beautiful.

This is the monster who killed Nevena. Keep. Focused.

Her voice grew hoarse. Her temples thumped from the effort of reciting the spell, without letting her tongue slip and make a fatal mistake. Over the roofs of the nearby buildings, the sky was growing brighter.

And the Zmey was growing impatient. His eyes ran over the notes in Kosara’s hands. “How much more?”

“A few pages,” Kosara said, marking how far along they’d got with her finger. The truth was, she only had a few sentences left. She’d been stalling for the past few minutes, dragging out the spell, waiting for this exact moment.

“It’s nearly—”

“Not much longer left.”

“I don’t have much longer, either. It’s nearly dawn.” His eyes were fixed on the quickly brightening sky.

Kosara was about to shush him again, but she couldn’t. A cockerel crowed.

The Zmey’s eyes widened. His mask cracked, revealing something that looked a lot like terror. This was perhaps the first time Kosara had seen him genuinely afraid.

“Oh no,” he whispered. “Oh no.”

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