Page 80 of Devil's Doom

It’s preposterous that I ache for someone who cares for me so little.

When a wall of shadows rises in front of me, blocking my way, I stop, doubting my eyes for a moment. Does my stupid, pining heart make me see things again?

“I’ll let you walk away if you give me back my collateral.” Woland’s quiet voice is right behind me. It vibrates with barely suppressed anger, and I realize he’s furious with himself.

He can’t do it, after all. He can’t let me go.

I turn with a contemptuous snort. “No. This is my only guarantee that I’ll have some peace. I’m not giving it back.”

His nostrils flare, hands clenched into fists at his sides. For the first time since I met him, Woland looks uncertain, his eyes jumping from the glow nestled in the hollow of my throat to my bag, and up to my eyes.

“Are we going to just stand here?” I mock him, wrestling with my stupid heart that wants me tocomforthim, of all things. I should rip it out and give Wera to eat.

“I thought I could do this,” Woland says quietly, as if to himself. “A full month. I knew you were there, well within my reach, and still, I didn’t touch you. I really thought it was done.”

When he looks up, I let out a noise of surprise. He’s desperate, eyes burning bright, face tense with helplessness.

“What did you do to me?” he asks, angry yet pleading. “Undo it. Undo it now!”

I shake my head in confusion. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything to you. It’s you who does things to me, over and over. I begged you to leave me alone, didn’t I? But you didn’t. So if you’re suffering, good. Finally, some consequences for the devil.”

He takes a deep breath and straightens, regaining some control.

“Not just for me,” he says slowly. “As you see, I am unable to let you leave. You might have gotten stronger, but you’re still no match for me. That’s it, then. We’re going back.”

He takes a step toward me, his hoof sinking in the dewy grass. I stumble back.

“No. I won’t be trapped in your rabbit warren, especially when you won’t even deign to see me. You can’t make me.”

He stretches one side of his neck, walking steadily closer, while I retreat, refusing to let him out of my sight.

“Actually, I can, but I’d rather you came willingly. Was my absence the problem? I’ll be more accessible.”

I gape at him, taken aback by the sudden change in his manner. He’s collected again, his eyes cold as he awaits my answer.

“Your absence was a blessing,” I hiss through clenched teeth, lying right into the liar’s face. “And the problem is you. Goodbye.”

His shadows rise around us, illusive walls of soft, downy darkness. I stop and grit my teeth, knowing from experience this space outside time is impossible to escape. Woland comes closer, and I look away, breathing hard with helpless fury.

“Why did you come to see Chors?” he asks, his voice mild.

When I don’t answer, he gently cups my cheeks in his palms. I expect another choking attempt, since my burned-off hair is too short to grab now. His gentleness surprises me, and I don’t push him away.

“Please, tell me,” he says, guiding my face up to look at him.

“No,” I grit out when our eyes meet. I hold my heart in an iron fist, ignoring its frantic beating that urges me to justlook at him.His face is so handsome, eyes inquisitive, mouth soft. I don’t know this Woland. Something changed between us, and I am unmoored, desperate for an anchor. Desperate enough to fall for whatever lie he’s telling me with that tender expression and gentle thumbs that slowly brush my cheeks.

He looks puzzled. “No? But I said please. I was polite.”

I snort hard, unable to help myself. “And? Politeness doesn’t entitle you to anything.”

The devil exhales in frustration, the familiar rage stirring in his eyes, even though his hold remains gentle.

“I thought it would, with you. Everything that works on my subjects, you turn against me. I thought I’d try something else, but you defy that, as well. What should I do, then?”

“This is unbelievable,” I mutter, stifling a ridiculous urge to laugh. “Or it would be, if I didn’t know you’re as arrogant as you are powerful. Maybe more. You’re asking me for a way that will get me to do what you want, every time you want something, isn’t it? A thing like that doesn’t exist. You should start by accepting that.”

He looks into my eyes without blinking, his brows furrowed. For a moment, I see Chors again. Somehow, Woland’s eyebrows remind me of his, perfectly shaped, thick, and expressive. I wonder if all gods are made this way—and whether my newfound obsession with eyebrows will go away once mine finally grow back to their former glory. They are still thin after being burned.

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