Page 28 of Devil's Doom

Lech’s blue eyes are tired and devoid of their spark. “I suppose it’s not.”

I think about Woland, who can kill a person’s soul and make them die for good. Then I think about the captain of the dragons, who can suck magic out of anyone. And finally, I think about Foss, who was clearly with Woland, and yet, serves as Perun’s trusted soldier, terrorizing the city.

My exhausted mind spins in circles until we reach the bar. Zlotomira welcomes us warmly, chiding me for being so late.

“I almost gave your room away! And you, Lech—Rada was worried you wouldn’t show up today.”

The upir’s smile is forced, his eyelids drooping wearily. “You know I always show up,” he tells Zlotomira, sounding angry rather than charming for once. “Here, let me pay and I’ll go up to see her.”

His payment of two eggs made, he mumbles a goodbye, leaving me with the keen-eyed mamuna. She shoots me a shrewd look when I stare at his retreating back, blinking to keep my eyes open.

“You know, he’s right. He always comes back to her,” she says in a hushed voice after I fill one egg, the source of magic inside me straining as I force my power out, drop by drop until the egg is barely hardboiled. “Lech wants everyone to think he’s this callous, cynical upir, but mark my words—that wila is his soft spot. Her son, too. Poor boy.”

I take the second egg, noticing with dismay that my fingers shake slightly. Zlotomira glances down, missing nothing.

“Did you overextend yourself today, dear? Tomorrow make sure to pay me first, hm? That way I won’t have to wonder if you’re coming back for the night.”

I nod and let the second egg fall in the basket. The mamuna checks it quickly, and I take a deep breath, bracing for the final portion of my payment.

“Why did you say he’s a poor boy?” I ask to distract her from how badly I’m shaking. My chest throbs with a dull pain, my vision growing black at the edges.

“Oh, you know. He’s half-dragon,” she says, waving her hand as if it’s of no consequence.

“I see.”

So Rada, the wila Lech supports in exchange for her blood, is another rape victim. The surge of hot anger in my belly helps me rally the dregs of my magic, and I fill the final egg with a burst of prickling pain, but at least I’m steady on my feet. I’ve always relied on anger to keep me going, and tonight it’s no different.

“The bath and supper will be waiting,” Zlotomira says cheerfully, putting the eggs away. “Sweet dreams, dear!”

I sleep until noon, when the toll jerks me awake, tearing a chunk of barely replenished magic out of me. I grimace and stumble over to the window, opening the curtains. As soon as my breakfast appears, I devour everything, magic depletion making me famished.

The food helps, and I braid my hair, feeling at least certain that I’ll be able to afford another night above the milk bar. I desperately need to improve my disguise, though—and learn everything I can about time magic.

My main goal hasn’t changed. Back in the past, the twelve-year-old me waits for adult Jaga to save her life and change her fate, but I still haven’t figured out how to cross the distance of the years between us. Woland once told me the secret to ruling time was to be born before it existed, and that is why he can freeze time if it suits him.

But there has to be another way, because the future me used it to save me. When I was twelve years old and about to die from a knife wound, an adult version of me came through a fiery doorway and murdered my would-be killers, slaughtering their souls, too. She healed me, leaving behind only scars—scars that made me infertile.

I’ve wondered over the years why she didn’t heal me completely. I resented that deeply. Yet after Woland’s ploy to take ownership of my soul by getting me pregnant, I realized the future me knew that would happen and made me infertile for that very reason. I feel grateful now. She saved me yet again.

Woland’s voice slithers into my thoughts, unbidden and unwelcome, the memory of his thorns tingling between my legs.

“You’re the first I did it to. The first. The dearest.”

I take a deep breath as painful memories from that night come back. The devil called me his love when he was inside me. He said our child would be his first born of affection and respect for a woman.

As I breathe through the sickly feeling of hurt mixed with rage that spreads dark roots in my chest, I can’t help but wonder how many children he has, scattered around the world. And if mine was the first one he felt good about, what about the others? How were they born? Who are their mothers?

My gut crawls with disgust when I consider that Woland might be just like the dragons, raping his way through all the women that catch his eye. After all, he threatened me with rape once. He’s evil. What would stop him?

And yet, he didn’t force me into anything. It’s pathetic to feel grateful for that, but I do. Especially after what I saw yesterday.

I finger my pendant, a ridiculous, pathetic yearning gnawing somewhere in my chest. Gods damn him, but I miss the devil. If only he didn’t lie with his every breath. If only he didn’t try to own me in the most underhanded of ways. If only he hadn’t killed my best friend and terrorized my village.

If only, if only, if only.

I shake my head, gritting my teeth. Brooding will do me no good. I have things to do.

I carefully lock my emerald door and walk down the corridor to the crimson one. Aware Rada’s baby might be asleep, I knock softly and wait. A moment later, a key scrapes in the lock, and the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen opens the door.

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