Devil's Deal: A Dark Fantasy Romance

27. Stork

It takes me one full day to get my cottage sufficiently clean after Swietko’s amputation and his and Alina’s stay. This is my space, my only refuge, and it feels violated, so I work until nothing remains of my guests.

I scrub the blood off my floor and table, replace the straw in my mattress, smoke the interior with sage and tansy. It takes longer than it should because I’m interrupted every half hour. People are curious, so they visit under the pretext of getting herbal remedies for common ailments.

I keep my annoyance to myself and serve them with as much grace as I can muster, which is not much. The only thing keeping my foul mood in check is my goal of discrediting Czeslawa and taking her place. I will fail if I’m rude to my clients.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t make this huge interest in my whispering beneficial to myself.

“Please, make it known I’m in need of good linen for dresses and towels,” I tell the first matron who comes to visit, claiming her husband, who probably has had too much mead, needs something for indigestion.

One of my two towels was burned with Przemyslaw’s corpse this morning, and my dress got torn up during the werewolf attack. I desperately need new things. I’ll also have to sew up more herb pouches. And gather more herbs, because my supplies are dwindling.

There is so much to do, and I’m grateful for the work. At least I have something to occupy myself with.

Wiosna, who accompanies me today, gasps in outrage when I talk about the linens. Whisperers aren’t supposed to dictate prices, but I find it so ridiculous. How else will people know what to bring?

Ludwika, my client, takes it in stride. “Of course,” she titters. “I brought you a dozen eggs and a cup of cream, but I will tell the others. Say, Jaga. Is that true? Did you kill the werewolf?”

I measure out the herbs, doing my best to unclench my jaw. My face has been tight with anger and frustration ever since Woland left, and I make an effort to loosen it, because it hurts.

“Yes. It jumped at me and I had a knife in my hand. The blade sank into its neck by accident. I was lucky.”

The matron peers at me suspiciously, her ample bosom heaving with excited breaths. “Lucky? Well, you know what they say about luck.”

My jaw tightens, pain shooting up to my temple. “No, I don’t,” I say, my tone acidic.

“That it’s magic,” Ludwika whispers, leaning closer. “A magic gift from the gods.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I say, handing her a pouch of herbs. “Make a brew and give it your husband to drink. If the problem persists, tell him to see me.”

She pouts, unsatisfied with my curt answer, but with no other excuse to linger, she leaves through my open door. I get back to scrubbing until another client comes in. More people visit me throughout the day, and most bear linens, which lifts my mood just a bit.

I serve them and give the same answers to their curious questions. By the time evening rolls in, I vibrate with anger that has no outlet. Keeping up the appearance of politeness exhausts me. All I want is to see Woland and spit in his face.

When I go to the river after dark to bathe and wash my clothes, I expect him to be there. He doesn’t come.

By the time I’m done washing, I’m ready to scream into the night sky. I shake with my fury and self-loathing, and I think I hate myself even more than him. Because I know I wouldn’t be in this place, suffering such humiliation, if I didn’t want to see him.

I should be relieved he’s stopped stalking me. I should be happy. The fact I’m waiting for him like a lovesick fool is what makes me mad with rage.

“He’ll be back,”Wiosna says when I hurl stones into the river, each falling in with a loud splash.

I snarl at her voice, wishing I could see her. “I don’t care! Or if I do, it’s only because I want to cut him to pieces!”

She’s quiet for a moment, and I just know she judges me. I close my eyes, forcing my anger down into the pit of my stomach, where I keep it locked up. I gather my wet clothes and soap, heading back to my cottage. A light, evening wind dries my skin and plays with the hem of my clean dress.

“You’re too weak to really hurt him,” Wiosna says after a while, her voice mild.

I purse my lips and force myself not to growl. Like I don’t know that.

“So you have to get stronger,”my mentor says calmly, stopping me in my tracks.

“How?”

“You have magic, Jaga. I know you believe it’s weak and worthless, but that is not the truth. Let’s go inside, and I’ll tell you. He’s busy now. He won’t eavesdrop.”

I growl, furious his absence or presence dictates what I can and can’t discuss. The only privacy I have is when Woland is busy with matters more important than me. It’s infuriating and strangely insulting.

“Is there a way for me to hide from him? So not everything is on his terms?”

Wiosna sighs. “You’d probably need his blood. That’s the only sure way to influence someone as powerful as him. But even if you had his blood to use for a protective talisman, you’d still need a great deal of power to use it. With the current state of your magic, it’s impossible.”

I walk faster, confusion and curiosity propelling me forward. Wiosna is quiet, and I want to ask her so many questions. I need to know what it is about my magic that she knows and I don’t, and what’s keeping Woland away. I know nothing about him, nothing of the things he does with his day and life, and it shocks me how hungry I am for that knowledge.

But I know better than to ask now. If she says she’ll talk inside, that’s what will happen.

Back home, I hang my clothes out to dry on a string between two trees outside. I wipe my feet on the threshold and put my soap away, but I don’t sit, too agitated to be still.

“Well? What is it about my magic?”

Wiosna tsks with disapproval. “Always so impatient. Drink something and eat, girl. You need to keep up your strength.”

I bristle at being told what to do. That’s the downside of having Wiosna around. I got used to being the mistress of my life after she died, and now she’s back, treating me the way she did when I was fifteen.

“I’m not hungry.”

Indeed, I don’t think I ate anything today. I’m still strong and full of energy after last night even though I haven’t slept a wink and worked from dawn till dusk.

“I know you’re not,”she snaps. “You’re not hungry, sleepy, tired, or anything mortals tend to be. But you have to take care of your needs anyway. What do you think will happen once his blood wears off? Do you really want to find out?”

I shiver, remembering the weakness that overwhelmed me in the river when I burned through Woland’s magic. No, Wiosna is right. I’d rather keep my strength, so I go out to the well and bring the bucket up to get some cheese and cold cuts I got from clients today. I empty the bucket and lower it again to get water.

After I have a simple supper and brew melissa tea to help me calm down so I can sleep later, Wiosna is finally satisfied.

“Drink your tea while it’s hot,” she says, and for once, I obey without a grumble. “Now settle down and listen. And remember not to scream. Your neighbors will hear.”

I frown. “Why would I scream? Is it bad?”

Wiosna cackles, her laughter pure malice and glee. I sigh wistfully. It’s been years since I heard it last.

“Oh, it’s bad. You’ll hate me, which is why I never told you. I won’t even make my excuses, because you won’t see reason until you calm down. So just remember to keep it quiet.”

Foreboding pools in my stomach, anger already crackling in my veins. I force myself to keep sitting and stare into the embers in my hearth, wishing I could look at Wiosna while she delivers the bad news.

“Fine. Tell me now.”

“Put your cup away first.”

I growl in irritation but do as she says, emptying the table of everything while I’m at it.

“At this point I think nothing you say will be worse than the way you’re trying to prepare me for it,” I mutter, sitting back down with a huff. “Anything else?”

“I sealed your magic when you were a baby.”

I blink, not sure if I understand her correctly. Wiosna’s revelation seems underwhelming after all the hoops she just had me jump through. But maybe that’s because I don’t know what it means.

“Sealed my magic?” I ask. “How?”

“There is a spell. Marika, my teacher, taught it to me. It’s something whisperers do from time to time if they dabble in witchcraft. So it stays hidden.”

I ponder this. Yes, I see how such a spell might come in handy. Especially for those whisperers who must endure the trial by Kupala fire every year.

“So… You put the spell on me. When I was a baby.”

I still fail to understand the importance of this. Unless…

“Is this why my magic doesn’t work?” I ask, an edge of betrayal creeping into my voice. “When you taught me spells and they backfired, you always said I just needed time. That my magic had to mature.”

“Well, of course. I believed it back then, otherwise I wouldn’t have taught you. I was confident you could break the seal. The spell that locks down magic is reversible. Most of the time. Almost always.”

She falters, sounding chagrined. I clench my fists, grudgingly grateful that she made me put my cup away. I kind of want to smash something.

“So you can’t reverse it?” I ask, straining to keep my voice calm.

“Of course not. I’m dead, girl. The fact I can see you and be heard is only thanks to… Ah, blast it.”

“Thanks to whom?”

Gods, my head is spinning. I never truly questioned how it’s possible for Wiosna to be here. At first, I thought it was my mind playing tricks, and when I accepted she’s real, the whole ordeal with the werewolf was well underway. I couldn’t focus on anything else.

Wiosna is silent. I growl, my suspicions growing.

“Why are you here and not in Nawie, Wiosna? Who sent you?”

If it’s Woland, that means I can’t trust her. My anger grows hotter, made worse by a profound feeling of helplessness. No matter how hard I try to control my life, I can’t shake the suspicion that larger powers are at play, deciding my fate for me.

“Not him, Jagusia. I know what you’re thinking, but I’d never do that. I was sent by… a friend. That’s all I can tell you. But please, believe me, I’d never do his bidding. I’m on your side. Always have been, since the day a stork landed on the roof of your mother’s house.”

“You never told me that,” I say, still suspicious but calmer. “You knew me even before I was born?”

“That stork was special,”Wiosna says. “I walked by your parents’ house that day and saw it land. It looked right at me, its gaze so meaningful. It kept ruffling its feathers and clacking loudly, like it was so excited. I knew then. That stork brought a powerful, magical soul from Wyraj. When you were born a few weeks later, I saw it in you at once. Such a peaceful baby. You didn’t cry unlike most newborns, who hate leaving their mothers’ wombs. You were quiet. It was almost like you were perfectly content being born into this world. Like you knew it was your destiny.”

I’m surprised she says that, because Wiosna was often dismissive of the lore surrounding storks. People say that a stork landing on a roof means a baby is coming. The storks are said to live in the branches of the Great Oak in Wyraj in winter, and only come to the mortal world in spring, bearing with them new souls to distribute among expecting women.

“But you said storks don’t bring souls. You said it’s bullshit people believe because most women are visibly pregnant in spring, when the storks arrive from wherever they leave to before winter.”

Wiosna huffs. “And it’s still mostly true. I never saw no stork above most houses I delivered babies in. But you were special. That’s why I believed the legends when it came to you.”

My head is spinning and I rub my temples. When that doesn’t help, I get up and pace from my door to the hearth and back. So much for my calming herbs. I don’t imagine I’ll be able to sleep until I make sense of all the things Wiosna told me.

She knows I usually need a moment of quiet to absorb new information, so she waits in silence while I think.

“All right,” I say, stopping by the cupboard where I pour myself a cup of my dewberry wine. I drink it in small sips. “Is that why you took me in as your apprentice? Because you thought I was, I don’t know, different?”

Wiosna sighs, and I think she’s relieved I’m not in a temper.

“I took you in for many reasons, but mostly because you were a quick-witted, observant child and you learned fast. It helped that no one wanted to play with you, so you had nothing better to do other than learn.”

Her direct answer coaxes a laugh out of me. Yes, that’s Wiosna at her best, honest to the bone. Her words might seem insulting, but then, I know what my childhood looked like. I don’t run from the truth of it.

“That’s reasonable if quite heartless,” I say. “Tell me about the magic sealing.”

“Very well. Remember how I told you about your first Kupala Night? Your mother came to the fire with you, and there were sparks. When I talked to her later, she said she felt an immense fear. Like there was something there, waiting to devour her baby.”

I nod, sitting down at the table. A shiver goes down my spine, because I understand exactly how my mother felt. I felt that fear, too, just a month ago. The Kupala fire is merciless.

“I realized what was happening. There was magic in you, potent and obvious, and the fire reached for it. It seemed deeply unfair and evil to me. Because it wasn’t by any fault of yours that you were born with that magic. If anyone should burn on that pyre, I’d pick the Rodzanica sisters for giving you that fate. But you were innocent, so I took you from your mother, whispered the spell, and put you to the fire trial myself. And it worked.”

I release a shaky breath, finally understanding fully what Wiosna did that night. That sealing spell was the missing piece that lets me comprehend how much she risked in saving my life. If anyone saw her doing magic, or if the spell didn’t work, she would have burned with me. I owe her everything.

“Why should I be angry that you used the spell?” I ask, getting up to pour myself more wine. Blast it, I don’t think I can get through this sober. “You saved me. I’m grateful.”

“Yes, well. That was only the first time I did it. I had to renew the spell many times until finally, I developed a more… permanent formula.”

I freeze with the cup almost to my lips. “What?”

“Well, your magic grew really strong really fast,” she says defensively, and I picture her waving her arms as she justifies herself. “That seal broke so often. Your mother came to me time and again, saying you talked to animals and they listened, that you set things on fire with a click of your tongue, and other things. Sinister things. If another child was mean to you, they would grow horrible boils or lose all their teeth overnight. It was dangerous, and so I resealed your magic every few months until I got tired.”

“I had no idea,” I mutter, looking into my cup. “I don’t remember any of it.”

“You were too young to remember. I sealed your magic for good when you were four. It stopped after that. And then you learned with me, and I had an eye on you from then on.”

I sip my wine, thinking. If what she says is true, it makes so much more sense why everyone in the village was so afraid. I thought it all stemmed from that event by the fire when I was a baby and my appearance, but to be honest, those weren’t really that significant. If children who bullied me got sick, though, that’s an entirely different story. I can see how one might get a reputation for that.

“So my magic was sealed for good then?” I ask.

Wiosna hums, not replying at once. When I make an impatient noise, she tsks at me. “Drink your wine. Good girl. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the permanent spell. You see, you broke through it once, and that’s how I know you can do it again.”

I straighten, shaking my head. “When? I don’t remember anything of the kind.”

“Don’t you? You were twelve. It was the day when your eyes changed color. Things like that don’t happen naturally, which you very well know. Then, after you came back from the woods with that scar on your belly, and your three biggest bullies disappeared for good, I knew something magical must have happened. No offense, but there’s no way you could have hurt them with those two scrawny sticks you called your arms. So I sealed you again when you were asleep. And from then on, your magic didn’t reappear.”

“So… You know? What happened that night?” I ask warily. I never told Wiosna about it. I didn’t tell anyone, but who knows what kind of knowledge she gleaned in the afterlife.

“I suspect but don’t know anything. You never told me, remember? But if you want to, I’ll be happy to listen. There is no shame in defending yourself.”

So she thinks I was the one who killed Jaromir, Daga, and Miroslaw? It’s bewildering, because I was twelve and completely defenseless, and yet… I did kill them. At least, a version of me did.

I consider telling Wiosna what really happened but decide not to. She says it’s safe to talk, because Woland is busy with something, but what if there are ways for him to listen she doesn’t know about? Also, who is this friend that let Wiosna come into the mortal world and watch over me? I’m not about to share my biggest secret if I don’t know it’s completely safe.

I shake my head.

“Fair enough. So, do you feel like screaming? If you do, put some cloth in your mouth beforehand. That should muffle the sound.”

I smile despite myself, charmed by Wiosna’s practicality. “I don’t want to scream. I think I need to think about it all. Somehow put it together so it makes sense to me.”

“Well, you were always good at that. Making broken pieces fit together. It’s why I always left bone setting to you.”

I smile at the praise, but my head is spinning with it all. Also, the herbs and wine are working, because finally, I feel sleepy. I hope I’ll be able to rest. But before I lie down, I just want to know one more thing.

“Do you know what he’s doing?” I ask, playing with the hem of my apron. “Woland?”

She releases a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, Jaga. You better put him out of your mind and focus on the important things.”

I grit my teeth. “Like what?”

There’s glee and determination in her voice when she says, “Unlocking your magic and giving that bitch, Czeslawa, what she deserves.”

I want to pout but can’t when she puts it like that. From her voice, I know Wiosna is grinning, and I grin back.

That I can do.