Devil's Deal: A Dark Fantasy Romance

49. Rusalka

I spend the next four days putting my head back on straight. I walk through the woods, and even though it rains, the trees mostly protect me from the gentle drizzle that’s nothing like the downpour that day I left the village.

My purpose is clear for now. Woland keeps messing with my head, hinting at his hurt feelings, laughing his warm, pleased laugh, and making it seem like he didn’t break my life into pieces. The worst thing is, it’s working. I let him feed me, called on his name, even asked him for help. I still hate him, but we’re back to this strange intimacy between two people who dance around one another, each trying to win and make the other lose. It is, indeed, like a game.

I still have nightmares. Maja’s baby dies in my arms every night. I pay too much attention to my body every time I wash, feeling like it’s not my own ever since he brought me back from the dead. When I’m in the river, I fixate on my scar, running my fingers over it again and again until it grows tender. It’s my reassurance, my proof that I am me.

Sometimes, I stare at my reflection in the water and try to scratch his mark off, even though I know it won’t help. I stop noticing the dead plants surrounding me every morning when I wake up.

All the damage Woland did is still here, marking me from without and from within, and yet my hate for him has morphed into this strange thing, partly fond, partly yearning, partly hurt.

I hate that I don’t hate him like I should.

My wandering becomes more and more unpleasant. I stop often to pick berries and leaves I can eat, but no amount of foraged food satisfies my hunger. Woland doesn’t bring me meals, but I think he would if I asked him. Maybe that’s his goal now. Or maybe he just waits for the discomfort to break me, hoping I’ll cave and let myself be claimed.

The nights grow chillier, especially when it rains.

In the afternoon, I follow a narrow stream branching off the river. The rain has stopped and the sun came out, making the water drops decorating every leaf and flower shine with thousands of prisms. I’m in a good mood, and when I hear voices up ahead, my heart beats faster with excitement.

They are female voices, happy and laughing, and I’m shocked by how much I crave company. I always considered myself a loner, but clearly, being truly on my own doesn’t serve me.

I follow the stream to the voices, coming through a cluster of lush ferns. When I emerge, I see the strangest sight.

The stream flows into a small forest pond with crystal clear water. In the pond, three stunningly beautiful women sit, laughing and splashing water at each other. They are naked, their luscious, pink breasts on display. All three are very similar, with soot-black hair and beautifully shaped, red lips. The resemblance makes me think they are sisters.

They look completely human until I blink, and for the briefest moment, I think their skin is tinted blue, their hair dark green, teeth sharp.

“Oh, come join us!” the nearest one beckons when she sees me.

She smiles brightly, and I blink, paying attention… There. Her eyes are filled with bright blue, no whites, and her pupils are vertical like an adder’s. Scales shimmer across her forehead and cheekbones.

“What are you?” I ask, taking a step back.

The woman laughs, the sound clear and beautiful. “You’re perceptive, aren’t you, sweetest? Come and bathe with us. We’re good company.”

I shake my head slowly. “You’re rusalkas, aren’t you? But I heard you seduce only men.”

She shrugs, those beautiful breasts bouncing above water and back under the surface. “We’re not picky, especially in these parts. Mortals don’t come here often. What brings you? Why don’t you come in and tell us your story?”

I realize I’m standing right at the edge of the pond. I don’t know why I came closer when I should be running in the other direction, but the rusalka’s voice is so melodic and compelling, I can’t resist obeying her.

“Take off your dress,” she says, her voice gaining a songlike quality as she watches me hungrily. “And come here. We’ll have a wonderful time together. You will feel so good with us.”

I do as she says, throwing my dress aside, when one of the other rusalkas stirs, her eyes widening when she takes me in.

“Wisla,” she growls, her voice completely unlike the other’s. I freeze, the spell breaking. “Look at her chin.”

The first rusalka’s eyes narrow and then widen. She stands, taking a step back from me.

“I’m so sorry!” she screeches, no longer melodic and charming. “I didn’t know you were his! Please, don’t tell him we tried to drown you!”

I blink, shaking off the remnants of her spell. Then I touch my chin. Finally, an upside to this cursed mark. “Drown me?” I repeat. “You said nothing about drowning. You told me I’d have a wonderful time!”

I’m a bit miffed, mightily scared, and on the verge of bursting into laughter when I see how terrified they are. The third one, who hasn’t said anything yet, sobs quietly into Wisla’s hair.

Their glamours disappear, and now I see them as they truly are, covered with shimmering green, blue, and pinkish scales, their faces alien and yet beautifully proportional, their hair wild and flowing as if submerged under water.

Their bodies are luscious with feminine curves, bedecked in scales that gleam like jewels.

“I’m sorry!” Wisla screeches again, panicking. “It’s just, we can’t tell people we will drown them, can we? Would you have come in if I said that? But I didn’t lie! You would have had a wonderful time with us. We make sure everyone has that. The best hours of your life!”

I laugh then. They all gasp with fear when I step into the pond. I realize it’s not of natural origin, because its sides are made of smooth, even stones, and so is the floor. The water is gloriously warm. I sit, and it reaches almost to my chin. All three stare at the brand on my face with fear in their eyes.

I’d pity them, but then, they were planning to kill me.

“Fine. You can give me a wonderful time, just don’t drown me after.”

They seem even more scared than before, if that’s possible. The two other rusalkas cower behind Wisla, shaking, while she watches me with those uncanny blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, but we cannot touch what’s his,” she finally says. Her lower lip trembles.

Now I’m confused. “Touch what’s his? What exactly do you do to people before you drown them?”

“We pleasure them, of course,” she answers, slightly incredulous that I have to ask. “With our mouths and fingers. We can breathe underwater, don’t you know? Women love when we eat their pussies in the pond. And I’d love to, I really would, because you’re gorgeous for a mortal, but you surely understand. He would kill me if I touched his woman.”

I take a deep breath and don’t make a sound, giving myself time to digest this. A blush creeps up my cheeks at the compliment, and I try not to think what would have happened if I didn’t bear Woland’s mark. They blink at me, still wary but no longer afraid, and when I don’t do anything threatening, they slowly come closer.

“And why do you do that?” I ask. “Pleasure people and then drown them?”

They exchange quick looks before Wisla answers.

“Because that’s how we feed our magic and stay alive. We feed off mortal lifeforce. There’s some in orgasms, so we milk people first, and then when they drown, their lifeforce suffuses our water.”

I tense, looking around the pond. “Do you mean to say…”

“Oh, it’s all used up,” she says, waving her hand carelessly. “Not that it would do you any good. Mortals can’t feed off each other’s lifeforce. But you don’t need that, do you? He is so powerful, he’ll probably keep you young and beautiful forever.”

She sighs wistfully, curling a lock of hair around her scaly finger. I think she’s jealous, gods only know why.

I snort. “Or until he gets bored with me.”

Wisla gasps, looking at her two friends. “Girls, has he ever marked anyone? Diwa, you’re the oldest. Do you know anything?”

The rusalka on her left, whose eyes are colored a light shade of purple, shakes her head. She is the one who told Wisla I had Woland’s mark. “I’ve only seen this on his war banners and shrines. Never on a person.”

They’ve got it wrong, but I don’t correct them for fear they decide to drown me, after all. The mark isn’t a distinction, it’s a curse. Though I suppose it’s good to know Woland doesn’t force other mortals to spread sickness and rot. I’m special.

I shake my head, pressing my fingers to my temples. I should probably leave. After all, these are rusalkas, and they admitted freely to mesmerizing people, taking advantage, and then drowning them in this pond.

Except, I need company. Also, am I really any better than them? I have blood on my hands.

And yes, I know those who died were hurt because of Woland’s mark. Yet, I’m sure it would be easier for me to blame only him if I hadn’t known what was happening. But when Maja came in, I already knew. And at that point, with Darobor guarding my door, it seemed like I had no choice. But unfortunately, over the course of my forest wanders, I realized I could have acted differently.

That’s what weighs on me. I could have left, in the end. I could have run, or at least tried. But I didn’t, and so, it’s my fault.

That’s why I can’t really judge the rusalkas for what they do. I’m a midwife who killed the baby she delivered. Truly, I am worse than them.

“Never mind him and his marks,” I say, looking up. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Jaga. Can I sit with you here for a while? I’m so tired. And do you happen to have something to eat?”

Their smiles are terrifying when all three bare their sharp teeth at me. But I’m pretty sure I’m safe, so I smile back.

“We were about to get some food, anyway,” Diwa says. “Sagna, why don’t you get us all dinner?”

The rusalka who cried into Wisla’s hair nods. She has eyes as green as the ferns I sometimes admire and seems to be the shiest and youngest of the three. She hops out of the pond, the scales glimmering on her naked body, and darts off into the greenery.

“I’ve never met rusalkas before,” I admit, settling more comfortably against the warm wall of the pond.

The stones seem to be heated, and that’s why the water is so pleasant. I’d kill to have something like this at home, especially in winter. But then, I don’t have a home anymore. And this is clearly magic, so out of my reach.

Wisla nods. “We don’t spend much time among mortals these days. We just come to hunt every few moons, but the mortal world isn’t very welcoming, to be honest. It used to be different, many years ago. We mostly live in Slawa.”

I perk up at that. Woland is bent on taking me to Slawa, and this seems like a good opportunity to find out more.

“What’s Slawa like?”

I expect them to launch into a cheerful description of their home world, but both rusalkas clamp their mouths shut, exchanging tight glances. I remember there is a war going on there. Of course they wouldn’t want to talk about it, and it was stupid of me to ask.

“Loud and crowded,” Diwa finally says. “And… draining, in some ways. That’s why we have to hunt so often. We used to get by on one mortal every few years, but now... Oh, well, it is what it is. What are you doing so deep in the forest, Jaga?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking what to tell them. But they are the only people apart from Wiosna and Woland who know about magic and everything, and I yearn to be honest with them. One can only hide certain pieces of oneself for so long.

“I’ve been banished for witchcraft, and now I just walk around, trying to find a way to keep Woland from claiming me.”

They gasp when I speak his name, Diwa’s hand flying to her mouth.

“Doesn’t it, you know, cut you?” Wisla asks carefully. “He’s put a curse on his name. Only his chosen few can speak it.”

I laugh without humor. “He made me say it until I stopped bleeding.”

“Oh my. That’s so romantic.” Wisla fans herself. “And you say he will get bored! When he is so clearly in love.”

I snort with laughter. The notion of Woland being anything as innocent as in love is ridiculous.

“Bringing a woman flowers is romantic. Or singing songs for her, stealing kisses under moonlight… But not making her bleed!”

Diwa and Wisla exchange amused looks and burst out laughing.

“Stealing kisses under moonlight so Chors can peek?” Wisla asks, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “You’re so funny, Jaga.”

Yes, I’m clearly funny and don’t know much about their world. It annoys me that I’m out of my depth, but it’s not really their fault. We come from different worlds. I suppress my irritation, because I’m their guest, and I don’t want to offend my hosts. My stomach rumbles, giving me another reason to be good. Food is coming.

Luckily, I don’t have to wait long. Soon, Sagna comes back, bearing a basket woven from sturdy grasses. She hops in the pond with a splash, showing us the contents.

There are four big fishes in the basket, clearly just caught.

“You were so quick!” Wisla praises Sagna, who flushes a darker green from pleasure. “A mighty hunt. Come on girls, let”s eat!”

They each take a fish, and when Sagna extends the basket to me with a toothy smile, I swallow thickly and take the fish, thanking her. Of course I’d prefer it cooked, but beggars can’t be choosers.

I watch as the rusalkas dig their long fingers into the fish bellies, tearing them open. I try to do the same with mine, but the fish is slippery, and my hands shake a little.

“I will help you, mortal girl,” Sagna says with a cheerful grin, coming closer.

She takes the fish out of my hands and expertly opens it. I thank her with a very forced smile.

The rusalkas don’t bother with taking out fishbones or cleaning out the entrails. They just tear into the meat with their sharp teeth. I look at the fish carcass in my hands. My stomach rumbles again.

In the end, I tear out the spine and as many fishbones as I can, and I clean up the meat before I have it raw. It’s definitely not as good as the meal Woland prepared for me, but not disgusting, either. The meat satisfies my hunger like nuts and nettles couldn’t, and when I’m done eating, I stroke my full belly with a smile.

“Thank you. That was a great meal,” I say, smiling.

Wisla grins. “You’re the first mortal we ever fed in here. Usually, it’s the other way around.”

I smile, even though the joke isn’t remotely funny.

“Well, now I’m grateful for this mark,” I say, stroking my chin. “I tried to remove it, but I’m not powerful enough.”

“Remove it?” Diwa frowns as if I just spoke heresy. “A mark like this is a gift and a promise. Only the one who gave it can remove it. I wish a god marked me for his own.”

The others nod, and I grit my teeth. “Well, it spreads rot wherever I go. People and flowers die.”

It hits me like lightning. I gasp, looking at them with terror, searching for any signs of illness. They don’t seem concerned, but I clamber out of the pond, shakily reaching for my dress.

“Jaga, what are you doing? We still want to talk,” Wisla says.

“I’m afraid it will hurt you, too.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “It can hurt mortals, because he’s the devil. But believe me, we’re made of stronger stuff. Come back in and tell us everything!”

I slowly slide back in the pond, sighing when the heat envelops my body. This is truly luxurious. I could probably fall asleep in the warm water. But I still glance at each of them in turn, searching for any signs of the curse. The ruslakas are right, though. They aren’t affected at all.

“About what?” I ask.

“About how he fucks!” Wisla almost bounces in her place, her blue eyes shining with excitement.

“Oh.” I laugh uncomfortably. “Well, we haven’t really… I mean, we did some things but… But I hate him.” Right. And I should stop blushing. “Besides, I have other problems on my mind.”

Like stopping Woland from claiming me and freeing my magic so I can at least try to fight him.

Wisla drifts closer, patting me pityingly on the arm.

“Oh, Jaga, sweetest. That is so sad. He must be pining after your pussy very much. And as to your problems, I will tell you one thing: I’ve never had a problem big enough that a nice, long dick couldn’t solve it.”

They all burst out laughing, and I join in, charmed by her ribald directness.

As I go to sleep later that night, the pond left far behind me, I think that maybe one of my problems might be solved with a dick, after all. If the seal on my magic is somehow tied to my womanhood, maybe it will take breaking another seal to destroy it.

I fall asleep wondering if I should seduce Woland so he takes my virginity. Not because I want him, because I’m not sure I do, but to use him. He’s used me for so long.

It’s my turn.