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 04: A Small Price to Pay ——————————————————
"How is it, little sister?"
Rodion lifted his head to find Shutka slumped over in the Kynaz's lap, loose and liquid like a raindrop. Her cheek was resting on her outstretched arm, and her knees were pulled to her chest. The Kynaz stroked her arm from wrist to shoulder with a tattooed hand, causing her set of silver bangles to chime as they shifted over her bones. He stared daggers at Rodion and Sasha all the while, a smirk quirking his mouth.
"Vint hits like lighting. It's quick, and it's got you feeling better than you ever have before, doesn't it?"
"I know it does."
Rodion clenched his jaw. Shutka's words were mushy, her tongue heavy. He was worried she was going to choke on it or on the vomit that was almost guaranteed to come up after the rush wore off. Every time he'd slammed too much, the adjustment started with retching until his stomach was empty and his throat was scorched by bile. Then came the drowsiness, the heaviness that pulled him to the floor where he laid unable to move for anything or anyone until the cold gripped him and he had to hunt down more layers.
The Kynaz swept a section of black hair off the nape of Shutka's neck. He ran his thumb down to her collarbones, tracing the route of her jugular vein. "Can you even feel that, little sister?"
"Don't touch her," Rodion said. "Come on, pakhan. Enough."
Koshchey intercepted him before he could get to the other side of the coffee table. He held Rodion in place with tree trunk arms, stopping him from advancing any further. Yielding to his disadvantage in size and strength, Rodion backed off and stayed seething . He was so close to pulling Shutka up and getting her away from the Kynaz– close but stuck on the other side of a widening chasm.
"Are you going to let him talk for you again?" The Kynaz asked, taking Shutka by the chin and tilting her head back to make her look at him. "Look at those eyes. Men used to rape for eyes like that."
Sasha grabbed Rodion's shirt collar from behind. He slapped his hand up against the center of Rodion's chest, keeping him barely restrained. Rodion breathed steadily despite the tightness of his chest and the adrenaline in his blood swirling from temple to toe. The Makarov on his hip never felt so useless.
"He's trying to squeeze us," Sasha whispered, his voice a fleeting hiss. "Relax."
"How much do you think someone would pay for those eyes now, little sister?"
Shutka mumbled a string of incoherent syllables and rolled back into the Kynaz's sable coat, into oblivion.
The Kynaz looked to Rodion. "You want to answer for her now? How much?"
"Two, three-hundred?"
"Try four. They're like fucking emeralds, those eyes."
Rodion pulled out one of the Devil's stacks, tearing away the ribbon. Koshchey let him pass. He stopped before the sofa and broke the rubles into groups of one hundred, setting them in the Kynaz's open palm.
