Page 126 of Devil's Doom

I laugh at her enthusiasm. The weight of guilt in my chest is somewhat lighter after speaking with Zlotomira, and having a clear path ahead makes me feel less overwhelmed. Lech’s recovery lifts my mood enough to be hopeful about the future.

“I think you can repay the favor with information. I met some sort of female bies, and I have a weird feeling about her.”

Lutowa listens to my brief description of the woman I saw. When I mention the scents—of hay, cherries, and rosemary—her eyes widen, and she laughs like a girl who’s just been asked to her first Kupala Night.

“You saw Mokosz in the city!” she says, clapping her hands. “Oh, joy! Finally, some good news.”

I shake my head, confused. “Mokosz? But… I thought it was just some bies…”

Lutowa shakes her head, her cheeks pink with excitement. “No, it’s clearly her! Oh, Jaga, do you know what this means?”

I shake my head, because I have no clue whatsoever. If anything, I’m anxious, my heart settling into a fast, stuttering rhythm. Because why would Mokosz, the goddess of fertility, Perun’s wife, be interested in me? I saw her twice. It cannot bode well.

“It means Perun is away!” Lutowa exclaims, turning in place until her tattered dress swirls around her knobby knees. “We could go out! Go, tell the master immediately. I can’t wait!”

She pushes me toward Woland’s chamber, and I walk slowly, confused but too overcome with anxiety to ask more questions. I don’t know whether Woland’s back, but even if he isn’t, I know I must sleep or I’ll burst into tears like a child. Besides, bed is where I should be if I want to question him the way Zlotomira suggested.

My legs ache as I walk down the stairs, sighing to myself. It’s all good for Woland to room here, since he can transport himself in a puff of smoke. I, however, have to walk all those stairs every time. It’s not fair.

I’m about to open the door to our chamber when I hear voices drifting in from the other side. I freeze, listening closely. Ever since I started living here, Woland never had any guests. Who’s there?

Instead of coming in, I press my ear to the door, willing my hearing to sharpen magically until I can make out their words.

“I need to get going before I’m missed,” a gruff male voice says, a voice I heard somewhere but can’t place. “Like I said, it’s below five thousand sick. You’d have to try harder to get more. Rats aren’t working as well as you anticipated.”

I press my hand to my mouth and brace my mental barrier behind my eyes, getting ready in case Woland will try to remove this conversation from my memory later. I have no idea what the man is talking about, but I can tell with visceral certainty that I’m not supposed to hear this.

“We’ve considered distributing contaminated eggs as a charity movement,” Woland says, his voice dispassionate and brisk. “Your thoughts?”

The other man laughs coldly. “That might work until they figure it out. There’s a lot of rumors already, and we only hear so much. Don’t you have people keeping an ear to the ground in the gutters down the mountain?”

Gutters.So that’s what the poor areas filled with sick people barely scraping by are called. My nape shivers with disgust. There’s so much scorn in that word, scorn those people don’t deserve.

Woland makes a gruff, dismissive sound. “I’ll send someone. What rumors did you hear?”

“That the rot is either Perun’s punishment or the work of another bored god. Strzybog’s name came up. In any case, people are wary. Once they realize something’s wrong with your eggs, no one will touch them.”

I bite my tongue, my heart beating faster and faster.The rot.Does it mean it’s not a natural disease? Is Woland behind it? I press myself into the door with my whole body as if that would let me hear better. I desperately want to see Woland’s guest. I’m sure I heard his voice somewhere before.

“Good input. Let me send you back,” the devil says, and something scrapes, maybe his throne. “And I’ll call on you again soon.”

He is leaving, and most likely not through the door. I make an effort to wipe my face clean of emotion and open the door without knocking. It is, after all, my room. I cross the threshold looking down, and pretend to be startled when I raise my head and see the two men.

“Oh, hello!” I say with a breathless smile. “You’re here!”

But then I see who stands next to Woland. My smile freezes on my face.

He’s a dragon, but it’s not Foss. No, he’s big, burly, and the hints of scales on his cheekbones are rusty. His unfriendly eyes take me in with cold appraisal, and my skin crawls as I remember when I saw him for the first time—raping a wila in an alley.

“My consort,” Woland says, his eyes narrowing when I don’t move, my mouth open, eyes wide. “You can meet another time. Goodbye.”

Before I have a chance to blink, shadows wrap around the dragon, and he’s gone. The door behind me shuts with a clang, touching my back. I barely entered the room.

“I take it you know him,” Woland says, prowling carefully closer.

There is such unnatural calm in him. He watches me like a predator waiting to pounce on a mouse, and I yank my barriers tighter, thinking fast. I cannot let on I heard their conversation, but my reaction just now revealed that I know the dragon. That I can’t lie about.

“Why are you entertaining the second in command of the dragon guard?” I ask tightly, shooting Woland a suspicious look as I brace myself for the fight that’s coming.

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