Page 33 of Devil's Doom

“I’ll wake you up if they come here,” he tells us. “Try to sleep.”

With that, I go back to my room and try to enjoy my bath, but my heart won’t stop beating like a frightened bird in my chest. It’s bad enough the dragons will come here to search the rooms, but my personal nightmare is that one of them will be Foss.

I dye my hair again with the magical paste that turns it a mousy, unappealing shade of brown. After washing, I apply spelled paint to my face. It covers my freckles and distorts my features enough to make me “quite plain”, in Lech’s words. Which is good. Plain is invisible, and invisible is perfect.

Rada tried it once, too, hoping the paint might diminish some of her beauty. It didn’t. Her wila magic is so strong, it makes her look stunning no matter what she does. I snort without humor, thinking whichever god cursed her to become a wila after she died must have had a twisted sense of humor.

To make a girl utterly uninterested in sex become the symbol of sexual attraction is truly ironic. I wonder if Woland was the one who punished her. It seems like his style.

Instead of going to bed, I sit down on the floor and stretch out my hands in front of me, palms up. Despite the daily tolls and payments for my room, I’m brimming with magic. I finally have enough to eat and a safe place to sleep. A period of wellbeing and relative calm has refilled the well inside me.

I’m even more powerful than Lech estimated at first, but I’ve learned my lesson and told no one. I checked my limits one day, and I can comfortably fill nine eggs—twelve if I push myself almost until depletion. And that’s after the toll. If only Perun didn’t steal some of my magic every day, I would be a force to reckon with.

I wonder how many eggs Woland can fill. Two dozen? Three? A hundred dozen eggs? I imagine him as I saw him last, sprawled comfortably on the grass, looking at me with pleased, hooded eyes. A moment later, the image of him appears, flickering slightly above my palms. He’s small, as if seen from a great distance, and still, my heart wrenches with a frustrating tangle of longing, fear, and hate.

The miniature illusion of Woland stretches with a smile, his tail flicking gently by his side. He looks at me with warmth, and I release a shaky breath, waving the image away. Truth is, he only looked at me that wayonce, and as I know now, he was already plotting to impregnate me then.

I think that’s what hurts the most. I have this one memory of Woland taking care of me in such a kind, loving way, his arms around me as I bled under a dead tree—and even that stupid memory is tarnished. It was a lie I was foolish enough to believe.

Taking a deep breath, I force him out of my thoughts, calling forth another image. I conjure the utopek who tried to rape me and have him do a series of idiotic capers over my spread palms, the exercise ending with him having his head stuck in a pot. I smile weakly and wave him away, too.

Illusion is a form of magic that requires immense concentration but little power. That’s why I use it to practice. My power might exceed everyone else’s, but if I can’t direct it with confidence, it’s useless.

So I train. Alone, in my room, where no one can see.

The house is quiet, the beating of rain the only sound. I go over to a wall and stroke it with my hand, willing the surface to become as clear and smooth as a pond. I feel a stretch in my chest, my hands heating, and the wall obeys.

I look at myself, a brown-haired, tall woman who finally gained some weight, though not enough to be truly attractive. I tilt my head this way and that, smooth down my dress—a gray, shapeless thing that covers me from my neck down to my ankles—and try to decide if Foss will be fooled if he sees me.

He might. He might not. My weakest detail is the violet eye, because if he tears down my eye patch, he will recognize me.

And so I focus on creating an illusion that will overlay my right eye. Holding the image firmly in my mind, I take off the patch, revealing an ugly, jagged scar where an eye should be. I stare at my reflection, searching for any vagueness or flickers around the scar, but the illusion holds. It seems real, and it’s ugly enough to make anyone look away with disgust.

That, then, is my best bet. I sigh and put on the eye patch, braiding my hair quickly. I cover it with a kerchief for good measure. It’s gray just like my dress, the colorless clothing making me look washed out and insignificant.

A faint sound comes from the street outside. A moment later, Lech pounds on my door.

“They are here!”

Chapter thirteen

Terror

We stand in the milk bar downstairs, the mamunas and eight guests who currently stay here side by side with our backs against two walls. Three guards watch us with hostile expressions while another three are upstairs, ransacking the rooms in search of rebels. They look more human than beastly, but traces of scales on their faces and long claws tipping their fingers are constant reminders of their power.

I stand next to Rada, who holds sleeping Dar in her trembling arms. Lech holds her close, his face blank.

One dragon gives her a long look, a tendril of smoke coming out of his nostril. Rada flinches, paling even more. Even looking pallid and sickly, she is stunning, and I realize with a jolt I should have used my illusion skills to make her less noticeable. Foss isn’t even here, so I worried for nothing—meanwhile, Rada is always at risk.

I was so selfish and now I don’t know how to fix it.Fuck.

“Girl, why are you shaking?” the dragon asks, taking a step closer. “You’re innocent, aren’t you? Those who don’t harbor rebels have nothing to fear.”

He grins with a low chuckle, as if he knows his words sound like a joke. Rada’s breathing grows ragged, and she sways on her feet. I see the muscles in Lech’s arm tense as he gives her support, seemingly without moving.

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” the wila says weakly, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

The dragon, whose scales are a bluish shade of silver, shifts his gaze to Lech. The jovial grin shrinks, replaced by cold calculation.

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