Page 31 of Devil's Doom

The bar is closed, all the mamunas huddled together in the big bar room downstairs. They suckle each other’s breasts for relief and even offered me milk for free, but I refused. Nobody knows I’m a mortal, and I suspect their milk might affect me differently than other magical folk.

“For Perun’s sake, don’t go dripping around the floors! Here.” Zlotomira throws me a big towel, tapping her foot with annoyance until I dry my hair and wring out my dress to her satisfaction.

Being forced to close the bar isn’t good for Zlotomira, who isn’t exactly greedy but prides herself on running a profitable establishment. Now, she’s frustrated and angry like a wasp, bemoaning the lost income any chance she gets. She makes an effort to treat me and the other guests well, though. We’re her only paying customers right now.

“When will Lech come back?” she asks after taking the towel from me. “That boy will catch his death if he keeps loitering around in the storm, mark my words.”

“He promised to come back right after dark,” is all I say.

Lech leaves early every morning after a night spent in Rada’s bed. Neither she nor I know what he does or where he stays when he’s out there. Every time we ask, he says something ironic.

“Haven’t I told you? I play with the poroniec kids in the guard tower. They get bored between trials.”

Once he said he goes out to find a blind, deaf woman with a stoop, because a nice one wouldn’t have him. I knew it was a joke meant to get us to stop asking, but Rada’s silver eyes filled with silent tears. That stupid joke hurt her, and Lech spent an entire night comforting her in their room.

From what she told me, they don’t have sex. Rada never enjoyed it and would rather never have it again in her life. Still, Lech feeds from her every night, and I know from experience sharing blood is deeply intimate—maybe even more so than fucking.

They care for each other and spend every night cuddling under the blankets. Lech claims having a ready meal by his side helps him sleep better, but I know it’s bullshit. He’s in love with Rada.

I’m a little in love with her, too. I’ve never met a kinder, more fragile, and less worldly person in my life. Rada tries very hard to keep both feet firmly on the ground, yet she floats away sometimes, her mind going somewhere normal people can’t follow. She hums strange melodies under her breath or asks nonsensical questions out of the blue.

“Alina, if stars could speak, what do you think they’d tell us? Would they sing songs of loneliness and cold? What do you think their language would sound like? I think it might be like the language of crystals. A sort of a tinkling, a vibration. A dance of particles in the air.”

It’s very hard to interest her in mundane tasks, such as sewing up holes in her dress, when she gets like this. The only person capable of calling her back from her frolics among the stars is Dar. When he cries, she comes running.

“Can I make this into a brew in the kitchen?” I ask Zlotomira, showing her my pouch of herbs.

“Oh, of course. I hope he gets better soon.”

In Rada’s room, Dar whines and squirms in her arms, his nose completely blocked. I’m about to give him the medicine when an idea hits me.

“Would you mind if I strengthened it a bit?” I ask Rada. “I know it’s just a cold, but I feel like I can make it go away faster with a little magic.”

She gives me a brilliant smile that fills me with warmth so powerful, it chases away the chill of the pelting rain.

“Of course! I trust you with my life and his.”

I smile with pleasure, though I feel like I should scold her. Rada has known me for barely a few weeks, but she’s already decided I’m like a sister. Just like Lech is something between a husband and a brother, and they’ve only met after Dar was born. I can’t decide whether life treated her so badly that she clings to barely decent people now, or if her instincts are actually sharp, and both Lech and I deserve her trust.

Holding the cup in my hands, I make my palms heat up with healing power. I know what Dar needs—a potion to drain all the snot from his nose so he can breathe, and maybe something to help him sleep. Good sleep is the best healer.

I infuse the brew with just a little pinch of magic, afraid to overdo it.

“All right. It’s sweet, so he should like it.”

Rada holds him, and I feed him the magical brew spoon by spoon. I can’t help grinning. I’ve always loved babies, and he is adorable, his shimmery cheeks delightfully pudgy.

A thunder rolls over the milk bar just as I give him the last spoonful. Dar takes a deep breath, his face scrunching up… and sneezes, covering the front of my dress with oodles of snot.

“Some magic,” Rada says, giggling with delight.

“Well, at least we got it out. Give him a breast and he should sleep.”

I change in my room and come back to find Dar sleeping peacefully in his basket, his breathing even and quiet. Rada sits by the window, looking at the raindrops sliding down the cold pane. I come over and stroke her head.

Like once with Bogna, my only friend back in the village, I had to learn to offer Rada the simple affections of friendship. My hands are unused to touching people for any other reason than to heal. But it’s worth it—I quickly discovered Rada craves all kinds of friendly touch. Even holding Dar for most of every day doesn’t fill that well inside her.

Suddenly, the sounds of rain grow muffled. I have enough time to brace my arm against the wall, and the toll hits, scorching pain splitting my chest open. Dar whines through his sleep, his voice like the cry of a swallow, and Rada shakes in silence, pressing both hands to her chest.

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