Devil's Deal: A Dark Fantasy Romance

24. Rival

I should feel relief, but I don’t. Sharp pain throbs in my forearm, and I know it’s bad. With the werewolf’s jaw no longer crushing it, I can take a look at my wound even before I try rolling Przemyslaw off me. He’s heavy, but not as heavy as the werewolf. I can handle him.

As I raise my hand, bracing for the worst, sharper and sharper pain shoots through it. I grit my teeth, but when I see the wound, I have to blink a few times. It’s not what I expected. For one, the punctures are small, and… I blink again, making sure my eyes work properly.

Because what I see doesn’t make sense. It almost looks like the wounds are shrinking.

I stare, the pain slowly waning, until all that’s left of my injury is my fresh blood coating healed, unbroken skin. I don’t understand what happened. It’s a kind of magic I’ve never seen before.

“Enjoy,” Woland says, his voice gruff.

I look up in time to see him melt away and become one with the shadows. A moment later, it becomes obvious why. Voices come from the path outside, rushing closer. I hear Darobor, and surprisingly, Czeslawa.

Panic streaks through me. What will they do when they see dead Przemyslaw on top of me? Will they believe he was the werewolf? And what about my knife? It’s still buried deep in his throat. Even if I hide it in time, they’ll ask how I killed him.

All of that rises in a gut-wrenching whirlpool of nerves. I breathe in, trying to stay calm… And just like that, my emotions settle. I think clearly. My mind is rid of the exhaustion that plagued me for two days, my body strong and vibrant. It handles the anxiety with shocking ease.

Just what kind of magic is in Woland’s blood and, more importantly, why did he give it to me?

But there is no time to ponder these questions. People come in, gasping and cursing when they see me. Czeslawa shrieks, too shrill and fake. I grit my teeth.

When no one moves, everyone watching me from a distance like I’m a wild animal about to strike, I lose my patience. “Well, will you help me get him off or not?” I ask, pleased to hear how confident I sound.

Good. There is no room for self-doubt here.

“Together,” Darobor says, nodding at Tolimir. They come over and slowly roll Przemyslaw off my body. I sit up, remembering just in time to cover myself where my dress got torn. There are gasps from the men, and a cry of shock from Czeslawa.

I get to my feet, doing my best not to move too swiftly. Strength buzzes in my veins, intoxicating and powerful. I feel like I could run ten times around the village and not even break a sweat, but I can’t show it. These people have to see me exhausted after the fight for my life.

They have to see me mortal, even though I feel anything but.

“As it turns out,” I say in the charged silence, sweeping my gaze over the crowd, “werewolves turn back into people when they are killed.”

There are eight men here with Czeslawa, and I hear more voices coming in from the direction of the path. Soon, the entire village will try to cram into my vegetable garden and take a look at the naked body bleeding into my cucumbers.

“Are you trying to say Przemyslaw was the beast?” Czeslawa asks, such artful disbelief in her voice.

I wonder what game she’s playing, but when my outrage at her words tries to rise to the surface, I tell myself to calm down. She’s baiting me, and I won’t react.

“Alina!” I shout instead. “It’s safe to come out. Bring a sheet if you can!”

A moment later, I hear my front door open. Alina rounds the corner, bearing my linen towel she must have taken from a peg on the wall. The crowd parts, and she gasps when she sees the body.

“It was him? Oh Perun, Jaga, how did you do it? I thought the werewolf would tear you to pieces!”

“You saw the werewolf?” Darobor asks just as Czeslawa scoffs, feigning disbelief.

What is she trying to gain by making it look like I killed a man and not the beast everyone was terrified of?

“Yes!” Alina says, too loud in her excitement. “Oh Perun, it was so scary! I hid in the cottage with Swietko, but Jaga stayed outside. I thought she would die, that beast was so horrible!”

“Are you sure that’s what you saw?” Czeslawa cuts in, her voice acidic. “Or maybe Jaga only told you the werewolf was coming?”

Alina is a simple, direct woman, and Czeslawa’s insinuation flies right over her head. She frowns, shaking her head and looking at the whisperer like she’s daft.

“I know what I saw. Fur, teeth, claws, and it was so… so, I don’t know, mangled. Like it was sick. I shut the door when it came through the gate. Gods, Jaga! You’re covered in blood. Are you all right?”

I nod, feigning a wince, even though I couldn’t feel any better if I tried. It’s a wonder my skin doesn’t glow. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Aha!” Czeslawa shouts triumphantly. “So it came here? And you admit your protections failed?”

I stare at her rabid smile, finally seeing why she’s doing this. She wants to discredit me, because I steadily get more and more of her business. The villagers regard me as a whisperer, too, and Czeslawa hates competition. Not to mention, yesterday I practically forced her to treat people for free.

I see how she might hold a grudge over that.

“Someone tampered with them,” I say, looking her right in the eye, curious how she’ll react. “I buried the lamb bones Waclaw gave me across my gate. Somebody dug them out, risking not only my life, but Alina’s and Swietko’s, too.”

There. A slight flinch, a tightening around her eyes. Czeslawa draws herself up, trying to shoot me an icy look, but I see the emotion underneath. It’s almost like I feel the way temperature distributes in her body, sensing blood rushing to her cheeks as they redden in shame. My new magical senses make her deception obvious.

“What do you mean by that?” she asks through clenched teeth, voice belligerent.

“Nothing,” I answer cooly, staring right into her eyes to make sure she knows that I know. “I’m only explaining what happened. Someone in our village knowingly endangered the lives of three people by removing my protection. It disturbs me to think such a vile person lives among us.”

She flinches as if struck, and I give her a small nod. I see you, it says. I’ll get you.

Because I will. It’s clear I can’t accuse her without proof of her guilt. She would deny it. But there are other ways to deal with such a treacherous vixen. Whispering ways.

She tried to get me killed. Torn to shreds, and all because she envied me the small headway I made with my community. There is no forgiving such a thing, and I don’t intend to even try. By the time I’m done with her, Czeslawa will run back to her home village, and the position of whisperer will be mine.

“Thank you, Alina.” I turn to take the towel from her hands and drape it over Przemyslaw as well as I can. His legs stick out, but his face and nakedness are covered, at least. And with that, my knife, too.

As I straighten, I home in on the disturbed, scared looks people give me. Darobor and Alina look at me with clear concern, but others are visibly mistrustful. Czeslawa is silent, at least, still shaken that she was discovered.

“It happened fast,” I say, letting my terror from just minutes ago shine through as I speak, but not too much. A whisperer can’t be fearful. “The beast came in. For some time, it just growled and stalked me, just like it did yesterday in the road. I tried to speak to it like Darobor did.”

I give him a grateful look, and he nods.

“But I couldn’t control my voice. The beast got angry and jumped at me. I had my herb-cutting knife in my hand, and that was what saved me. That, and pure luck. Because I raised my hand with the knife to shield my face, and somehow, the knife found the werewolf’s neck. I would be dead otherwise.”

In the end, it’s Alina who earns me everyone’s trust, and then, even awe. She runs to my side and hugs me, careless of my blood and sweat. She sobs and whispers, “I’m sorry,” and I know it’s for shutting the door. She feels guilty, but then, she doesn’t know Woland wouldn’t have let me go inside, anyway.

It’s not her fault. So I pat her back and try not to be too stiff in her embrace, even though it feels strange and intrusive. Hugs from anyone but Bogna are alien to me.

When Alina pulls back, tears shine in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she says in a loud, thick voice, swallowing sobs. “First, you saved my husband, and tonight, you risked your life to save both of us. You are such a good, courageous woman. Thank you, Jaga! I owe you my life.”

Her genuine distress and gratitude are better than anything I can say or do. I am deeply aware of how awkward I am sometimes, hiding my vulnerabilities, often coming across as haughty and cold. But Alina is unguarded with her emotions. Like Bogna was.

A sharp pain bursts in my heart, my grief as fresh as that night. I use it mercilessly, letting the sad weariness of it show on my face.

“Thank you for your trust,” I say. My voice carries in the sudden quiet, because everyone’s watching. “And I didn’t do anything special. It’s the whisperer’s duty to protect her people.”

I hear it because I expect it. Czeslawa sucks in an outraged breath, and I force myself not to smile in triumph. I’ve never called myself the whisperer before, never assumed that role because it belonged to her. But that’s all in the past. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ll take her authority, her livelihood, and all the respect she has in our village.

I’m done being afraid.

After that, everything goes smoothly. The crowd disperses, gossip spreading around the village. Jaga killed the werewolf. It was Przemyslaw. He’s dead. In a moment of quiet, I remove and clean my knife, leaving the body to be taken for the funeral in the morning. Przemyslaw will be burned, just like Bogna.

Those who die violently can come back to haunt the living. Burning the body is supposed to prevent it.

I wash blood off my hands and check on Swietko, giving him another brew to keep him asleep. He can’t be moved yet, so I let Alina sleep in my bed. I’m not tired, anyway. My blood buzzes with power, and it feels like I can do anything.

I hate being cooped up in my cottage with other people, so I grab a fresh dress and my pot of soap, setting out for the meadow where the Kupala celebrations were held. The full moon is high in the sky, lighting my way, and I am confident I’ll have my privacy.

Many people wash in the river in the warm months, but none at night. The dark scares them, but I am Wiosna’s apprentice, used to foraging for herbs in the dead of night. I often bathe after dark.

On my way down the path, I revel in the cooling air. Grasshoppers are loud, filling the night with their eager clicking. As my bare feet sink into the grass, still wet with the evening dew, I exhale in relief and relax.

It’s over. And I’m finally alone. I can rest.

“How are you feeling? Any nausea?”

I stumble with a little shriek when Wiosna’s voice echoes by my ear. I stop and look around with wild eyes, my heart hammering, but of course, she’s invisible. Only her voice is here.

“You can’t sneak up on me like that!” I hiss, keeping it low even though I’m completely alone on the path among the fields.

“Oh, pish. A little fright never hurt no one. Now answer the question, girl. How are you feeling?”

I take a controlled exhale, trying to keep my rising temper at bay as I resume walking. “I feel fine. Where were you when I was almost torn to shreds?”

I know I shouldn’t rely on her, but for Perun’s sake, I almost died tonight. Some help from my nosy dead mentor would have come in handy, and I admit, I feel betrayed and abandoned because she wasn’t there.

“I have things to do other than minding you, and you were supposed to be safe tonight,”she says crossly. “But I saw what happened. You did well, girl. Do you feel any nausea?”

“No,” I growl in irritation. “Why? And I don’t need you minding me. I can deal just fine when a werewolf and the devil gang up on me. As you can see, I’m alive and well. Go away.”

I loathe myself for sounding so petulant and childish. Wiosna brings out the worst in me, but she’s also the only person who actually knows me to the core, warts and all. She was the one who raised me after my mother gave up, too burdened by being alone and rejected by her community. She took me in when Mother died.

“Yes, you dealt fine. Now listen closely, because he will come back any moment. He can hear what I say, and he watches you all the time.”

She means Woland. I push down my annoyance and focus, because Wiosna’s voice is urgent, and I suspect she has secrets to share. So I nod and purse my lips, waiting impatiently for her to speak.

“He fed you his blood,”she murmurs, her voice lowering as if she’s afraid of being overheard.

I look around, taking in the wispy, moonlit clouds, the wall of the forest in the distance, and tall grasses swaying in the light breeze on either side of the path. Only a month ago, I would have felt completely safe and alone, but now I know beings from another world can come here and watch, invisible and hidden.

“Do you know why?” I ask in a whisper, my voice mingling with the rustle of grasses combed by the wind.

“I suspect, but that’s not the point,” she says.

When I make to protest, because Woland’s reasons seem vital to me, she hisses angrily.

“Shut up and listen. He’s a deity of some kind, and that means his blood is a potent cure for mortals. But there’s more to it. Magical blood can strengthen the natural affinity for power in a mortal, though I don’t know how long it will last. We have hours, maybe less. So you need to do something now, while his blood is still in your system.”

I frown, setting my things aside on a flat stone by the river. It flows lazily, its surface silvered by Chors’ cool light.

“What should I do?”

“A spell,” Wiosna whispers urgently. “Use your magic.”

This makes no sense. “Why?”

“Because,”she growls. “Will you just trust me and do as I say?”

“No.” I snort, slipping out of my dress. I step into the river on the low bank, the gentle current lapping at my feet. The water is not too cold yet. Perfect.

“Jaga, this is important,” Wiosna urges me.

“Explain why and I’ll do it,” I say with a shrug, going in deeper until the water reaches my thighs. “I’m done being kept in the dark.”

The current strokes my skin like a caress, and if not for Wiosna, I’d probably touch myself now. There is so much tension I need to let go of.

“Because you need your magic,”Wiosna says, sounding cross. “Now more than ever. I remember how weak your spells were when I was alive, and you haven’t used any since I began watching you. That makes me think you haven’t improved at all, have you?”

I grit my teeth but nod. The last spell I did was the one to keep my poppies alive for Kupala, and I almost passed out from that.

“You need to break through, and now, with his power in your veins, you are the strongest. So practice. Let your magic out.”

“Why do I need my magic?” I ask. It’s not because I don’t know—I do, and Wiosna’s right. I should try harder. But I never told her about the woman from the future that I’m trying to become. Wiosna doesn’t know my reasons for trying to gain power.

“Perun’s sake, girl. Just look around. Gods, demons, werewolves… If you want to survive, you need to get stronger.”

And now I blush, thoroughly admonished. I hate the hot shame burning in my chest, the feeling of getting something wrong in front of my teacher. And so I make excuses, even though I know it’s something she hates.

“Well, until recently, I was supposed to survive by hiding my magic. So that’s what I was doing.”

Wiosna huffs impatiently. “Yes, and now you need something else. Hide still. But you can’t be a helpless mortal anymore, because that will get you killed. I’m serious, Jaga. Do anything it takes to release your magic. Anything at all.”

She’s right, and I give up. I can’t quarrel with Wiosna, because she always wins.

I take a deep breath and submerge. The shock of the chilly water enveloping my torso and head makes me laugh shakily until all my breath bubbles out of me. I emerge and wade in deeper until the water covers my breasts. The current is lazy here, and I feel so much cleaner, my sticky sweat dissolving in pure water.

“You’re right,” I concede. “Although, if you care about me so much, shouldn’t you encourage me to die? That way, we could be together forever. In Nawie.”

I laugh at my morbid joke, suddenly so happy Wiosna is here with me. We butted heads often, our personalities never fitting well together, and yet, she’s my family. Even more so than my mother was.

After Wiosna’s death, I had to be strong all the time. I still feel that pressure, that lack of support. Even when I feel weak, I must pretend, especially in front of myself. I forgot how nice it is to have someone to speak with frankly. Someone to ask for advice, someone to lean on.

I tip my head back and smile at Chors in the sky, thanking gods for giving me Wiosna back, even if it’s only her voice.

“Don’t be an idiot, girl,” she grumbles, though it sounds like she’s smiling. “I’ll help you stay alive as long as it takes, because there’s no way I’m suffering through an eternity with you. Live a long life and don’t bother me, you cheeky thing.”

I giggle and dive in again. When I emerge, the night air seems charged, something sizzling over my wet skin like energy. For a moment, I think it’s because of the power thrumming within me that just makes my happiness all the stronger. It buzzes like good wine in my veins.

“So, what spell should I do?” I ask with a smile, but there is no reply. Wiosna is quiet.

I brush water from my face and look at the shore. Two predatory yellow lights wink at me, watching.

It’s like he can’t stay away.