When cynical addict Rodion Popov makes a deal with the Devil and wagers his soul, his life takes a turn for the demonically surreal. Thrust into a city of shapeshifting sinners and chaos spirits, he must complete five tasks at the Devil's behest in...
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☨ THE DEVIL COMES TO ANGELOVSK 02: Satan Stops By ——————————————————
Rodion didn't see it happen–he was still facing the plunge–but the visitor Shutka let in snapped his fingers and crossed the cupboard without taking a step. He hooked the serpent head of his walking stick into the crook of Rodion's arm and with a sharp yank, Rodion came crashing down like a house of playing cards, bouncing his way from the bed to the floor and ending up between the mysterious visitor's feet.
The visitor was neither young nor old, neither short nor tall. One of his eyes was black and the other clear blue. As for his clothes, he was the most polished man Rodion had ever seen: eternally dapper in an all-black suit and matching shoes shiny like hooves. A fedora was cocked rakishly over his pointed ear; a set of gaudy gemstone rings dazzled each of his claw-like fingers. He carried a cane with a silver head shaped like a serpent and the serpent carried a marvelous ruby between its fangs. In short, he was moneyed. Moneyed and strange.
The visitor curiously stacked his hands on the serpent's scaled head at the sight of Rodion. He peered down, cocking his head side to side like he'd never seen the look of pure puzzlement etched on a man's face. Rodion felt the urge to move but could not; the visitor's movements were hypnotizing. He drew near, stooping lower than even the most flexible of backs would allow and coming so close Rodion thought he might lurch forward and bite off his nose–his teeth were surely sharp enough from the job.
Rodion slapped himself again. Things were getting stranger by the second and he desperately wanted to wake up.
"You're not real," he said. "Neither of you are real."
"False. Many people believe in my existence. My servantry, not so much," replied the visitor.
Shutka dipped her head. She slid up behind him and removed his outermost layer of black. Free of his cape, the visitor swung his walking stick and jauntily spun around the room to take in its details.
Rodion clutched both sides of his head. "I'm going mad."
"I tend to have that effect on people," the visitor replied, tapping his index finger against his chin as if pondering the subject for the thousandth time. "But you," he said, spinning around and poking the point of the cane into Rodion's chest. "You are the first to break before my arrival, Rodion Maksimovich."
Rodion knocked the cane away and stood. His eyes narrowed in challenge. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"
"I know the names of all the world's sinful souls."
"Impossible. All people have sinned."
"You know this for sure?"
"It's the entire premise of Christianity: redeem yourself through blind faith and throw in a bunch of paradoxes while you're at it."
