Page 50 of Devil's Doom

“How much time passed between his death and your intervention?” he asks finally, voice perfectly even.

“Maybe a minute. I acted instantly. I don’t know if it matters, but I talked to him. You see, when I died, I still heard everything. I heard your voice when you came, and I stayed to listen. That’s why I thought he might hear me and linger long enough.”

Woland is quiet, and when I risk a glance at his face, he watches me with uncanny intensity.

“What? It wasn’t that hard,” I mutter, defensive under his scrutiny. His lack of reaction unsettles me. I’d prefer it if he made fun of me.

“How exactly did you do it?” His next question is mild, almost indifferent. “Describe the entire process.”

He can help Dar, I remind myself, settling in. I tell Woland everything that happened, the thoughts I had, how much magic I poured into the boy, how I held on to hope. I explain which of his organs I focused on the most. Then I tell him about Lech’s reaction. Woland listens without interrupting until I’m done.

“The boy will be fine,” he says in the end. “You’re right, the rodzanicas might realize something is wrong, but they don’t go out much. They aren’t a threat. You should rather worry about yourself.”

My gut plummets with foreboding. “So Lech was right? It’s against the law?”

Suddenly, Woland grins, his calm indifference falling away. He seems delighted.

“It’s not just against the law. It’s against nature, life, and the foundations of creation,” he says cheerfully, his light tone belying the seriousness of his words. “The good news is, if you’re ever found out, you’ll be chained right next to me when we’re sentenced to an eternity of suffering. You’re as bad as me, poppy girl, or even worse. It took me centuries to get where I am, but you? So evil, at so young an age.”

He laughs warmly, and I roll my eyes, more annoyed than scared now.

“I don’t see how helping a baby stay alive is wrong. If anything, the toll that took his life in the first place is the true evil. And I wish you were serious. You make it sound like a joke, and yet you talk about eternal suffering.”

“If things were up to me, it would be a joke,” he says, his smile gone, though his eyes still spark. “But alas, we live in Perun’s world. That means you can’t tell anyone, ever. Does the mother know?”

“Just Lech. But he won’t say anything.”

Woland’s brows lift. “And you trust him with the fate of your soul? Jaga, if Perun finds out, he will chain you to the roots of the Great Oak, and as they slowly grow and spread, they will tear you apart, but you won’t die. This kind of punishment is meant to last an eternity. That’s what he did to…”

He breaks off, blinks, and his eyes refocus on my face with a certain watchfulness.

“To whom?”

“To his brother. He liked to play with creation, too. And look where he is now.”

His voice is bitter, eyes averted. I snuggle closer, eager to hear more, and Woland’s arm tightens around me.

“You mean Weles,” I say. “Or should I not mention his name? I heard there’s a law against it, too.”

The devil gives me a crooked smile. “Say his name all you want down here, but not in the city. Names have power. Or have you forgotten?”

He presses his thumb to my lower lip, and I gasp softly, remembering the night when he got me to take his name. Every time I said it, it cut a wound into my tongue, and he kissed me, sucking blood out of my mouth.

“Do many people call you by name?” I ask, remembering the rebel who was shocked I was able to say it.

“A chosen few,” he says with a smirk. “All right, I will help the boy. If it turns out you resurrected an abomination, I’ll give him a merciful death. Which side of the bed will you sleep on?”

I narrow my eyes on him, but in the end, I decide he’s upheld his end of the bargain. I asked him for his opinion and he gave it. Thanks to him, I won’t be as worried about Dar.

“The one farthest from you. And you promise my friends will be safe?”

Woland scoffs under his breath. “As long as they don’t betray us or get themselves stupidly killed. And as to your question about my tactics, my condition stands. I’ll tell you when my thorns are inside you.”

“It’s fine. I don’t need to know.”

I try to sound cool, but his low chuckle lets me know I fail. He embraces me tighter, burying his face in my hair, and then lets me go.

“Fix your dress and get yourself warm and dry,” he says as I stand on the rug between his spread legs. “I want to see how you wield magic.”

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