Page 46 of Foul Days

Kosara had no choice but to leave. There was no use arguing with Bayan when he was this angry, and especially when he was armed. She stumbled away through the snowdrifts, swearing under her breath. Christ, Roksana, what have you done now?

She walked fast, trying to keep warm, but without a clear direction in mind. The next logical location to check would be Roksana’s house—but something, some automatic and well-trained self-preservation instinct, told her going there alone and unprepared wasn’t the smartest idea. If she still had her magic, she would have barged in without hesitation. As it was, with Roksana quickly proving to be someone more dangerous than she’d ever suspected, it seemed like too big a risk.

Kosara couldn’t believe how quickly her trust in Roksana had evaporated.

As she turned into a dark alleyway, footsteps sounded behind her, muffled by the snow but still audible in the quiet. With the corner of her eye, she spotted someone appearing at her side.

For a second, she was too afraid to look. What if the Zmey had already found her?

However, the figure wasn’t as large as the Zmey’s. It didn’t smell like him either: that familiar otherworldly cocktail of foreign seas, smoke, fire, and magic. No, this figure wore expensive perfume and stepped in the snowdrifts carefully, desperately trying to keep her elegant shoes dry.

“Sofiya,” Kosara muttered under her breath.

“Kosara,” said Sofiya. When Kosara turned to look at her, the other woman stared back. Sofiya was impeccably dressed, as always, in imported silks and cashmere. Her dark hair fell in luscious waves down her back and her skin glowed with a brightness which could only be bought with the best potions in town. Overall, she appeared a lot healthier and less exhausted than any witch ought to have during the Foul Days.

At her feet stepped two shadows: one was Sofiya’s own, and the other she’d inherited from her godmother. Kosara’s eyes quickly moved away from them. It made her so uncomfortable—Sofiya’s godmother had gone to such lengths to make sure her shadow survived her death. It wasn’t an easy feat, even for the strongest witch. And what was Sofiya doing with it? Completely wasting its potential.

“What do you want?” Kosara asked, a tad sharper than she’d intended.

“So, you’ve returned,” Sofiya said conversationally, ignoring Kosara’s question. “How curious. I thought you’d run away to Belograd and never look back.”

“Well, I’m here. What do you want?”

“Why would you possibly come back? If I were you, I’d have been grateful for the chance to escape.”

“I’m sure you can afford to pay some smuggler—”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere. I’m happy here. You, however? With the Zmey on your heels? You’re a braver woman than I.”

Kosara took a deep breath and repeated, slowly, “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to say ‘hi.’ We’re colleagues, after all.”

Kosara scoffed. She and Sofiya were both witches, that much was true, but she hardly considered the other woman a “colleague.” A “colleague” would have been out there, in the days before the Foul Days started, with Kosara and the rest of the Witch and Warlock Association, freezing to the bone in the snow, drawing protective circles around as many doors and windows as they could. A “colleague” wouldn’t have hidden inside her swanky salon on the main street, cheerfully using the opportunity to relieve rich fools of their fortunes.

That was what Sofiya’s whole schtick was: she made most of her money during the Foul Days, when the boundary between the human world and the world of monsters and spirits was thinnest. She organised seances—exclusive and eye-wateringly expensive, but people paid, since no other witch had the time for such trifles during the busiest time of year. Sofiya offered them a rare opportunity to converse with the ghosts of their loved ones.

“Well, you’ve said ‘hi,’” Kosara spat out. “Listen, I’m in no mood for idle chatter. If you have something to say—”

“Two things. One, I know where Malamir is.”

Kosara raised her eyebrows. “Where?”

“Hospital St. Marina.”

“Christ. What’s wrong with him?”

“I heard he got in a fight with Roksana.”

Kosara shuddered. Roksana could easily put a man twice Malamir’s size in hospital. “And the second thing?” she asked, keen to get rid of the other witch so she could rush to visit Malamir.

Sofiya leaned in, as if she was about to impart some great wisdom. Her cloying perfume surrounded Kosara. “You should have stayed far away. I met the Zmey the other day, and he’s furious with you. I’ve always been impressed how you’ve managed to string him along for so long, but it seems he’s finally had enough. Why are you back?”

Kosara didn’t answer. She owed the other witch no explanations. In any case, she could waste no more time on this conversation. Sofiya had, uncharacteristically, given her a nugget of useful information. Without bothering to say goodbye, Kosara turned around and rushed to the hospital.

* * *

“You can’t come in outside of visiting hours,” the hospital receptionist repeated over and over again. Behind her, the phones incessantly rang. “Go home.”

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