Page 48 of Foul Days

“Here it is!” Finally, Krustev stopped in front of a series of symbols, hastily scribbled on the wall above the toilets. Kosara could barely read the wonky handwriting, but it appeared to be a ward protecting against upirs. One of the runes was so badly drawn, it had obviously stopped working.

“It started leaking yesterday,” Krustev said. “We’ve had five resurrections since.”

“What do you mean, five?” Kosara heard herself say. She couldn’t help but be angry at such obvious carelessness. “Are you not following the Association’s guidance? You need to place two silver coins over the eyes of the deceased, and—”

“No one has time for coins, spells, and incantations right now, lady! That’s why we ordered the wards.”

“The wards are meant as a last precaution. They’re not a cure-all.”

“Don’t you tell me about cure-alls. Get on with it.” He huffed, then he turned around and rushed back up the hallway.

Kosara looked at the mess of a ward someone had inflicted upon the poor wall. It wasn’t entirely their fault, of course. Crafting wards was a painstakingly slow, skilful job. This was the work of an overworked, underpaid witch, with not nearly enough experience to take on a project like protecting the hospital against upir resurrections.

Kosara couldn’t do anything to fix it—not without her shadow. She made sure Doctor Krustev was gone and tiptoed back to Malamir’s room.

“Kosara!” Malamir struggled to lift himself up on his elbows. “What are you doing here?” He had to shout, so she’d hear him over the snoring of the man on the next bed over.

“I came to see you.” She sat down on his bed. “You look awful.”

He beamed at her, displaying a mouth with several missing teeth. One of his eyes was swollen shut, coloured in hues of vibrant purple flowing down into navy blue and olive green.

“I make a pretty picture, don’t I?” He laughed through puffy lips. “I don’t think I’ll be making my glorious return to the stage any time soon. You’ll never guess who did it.”

Kosara waited for the snoring man to fall silent for a moment. “Roksana.”

Malamir finally managed to prop himself up on the bed. “No way! How did you guess?” He blinked a few times, as if trying to focus. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were on the other side of the Wall.”

“I’m looking for my shadow.”

“Oh.” He carefully avoided glancing at the floor. Tactful as always. “Why did you ever give it away, honestly? I can’t even begin to—”

Kosara raised her gloved hands in the air. “I know, I know. You don’t have to tell me. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I panicked.”

“You really need to get over that whole thing with the Zmey, doll. It will always come back to haunt you.”

Get over it? As if it was that easy. Kosara had tried again and again. The Zmey always came back.

“Tell me what happened with Roksana,” she said.

Malamir rolled his one functioning eye. “Believe me, I’d love to know myself. It happened shortly after you left. She snuck up on me as I came out the toilet. I’ve never seen her like that. She seemed absolutely furious. She pinned me to the wall and barked at me to give her my hypnotising watch. At first, I thought she’d simply had a bit too much to drink, you know what she can be like. I realised she was very serious once I lost a tooth or two.” Malamir chuckled. “Good thing Bayan showed up and dragged her away from me, otherwise … It honestly beats me what she needs my watch for.”

Kosara could venture a guess. Roksana had probably hoped to use it to talk Irnik into giving her the witches’ shadows without a fight. Judging by the gory scene in Irnik’s living room, she hadn’t been successful.

“Did you know she’s working for Karaivanov’s gang again?” Kosara asked.

Malamir sighed. “I’d heard rumours. Maybe she never stopped working for him. When I left the gang, Roksana promised she’d leave too, but honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if she lied. I thought I knew the gal, but…” Malamir raised only his left shoulder, since the right one was trapped in a cast. Kosara flinched when she noticed the tattoo on his chest peeking through the flimsy fabric of his hospital gown. Two interlocking K’s. An ugly reminder of a terrible decision he’d made in his youth. “Obviously, I don’t know her all that well.”

“Yeah.” Kosara looked at her hands in her lap. She could feel them, trembling and disappearing every few seconds. She willed them to stop. “Me, too. There’s the whole business with the stranger from New Year’s.…”

Kosara trailed off. Until the very last moment, there’d been a small, embarrassing part of her that had hoped she was wrong. That Roksana wasn’t responsible for Irnik’s death. Now, looking at poor Malamir, she had to face facts.

Roksana was a violent, dangerous person. She was a murderer. And she’d sold Kosara’s shadow to Konstantin Karaivanov.

It felt like a punch in the gut.

“The stranger?” Malamir asked. “The one who took your shadow?”

“Yes.” she said. “I think Roksana might have murdered him. Irnik. His name was Irnik.”

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