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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
☨ THE DEVIL COMES TO ANGELOVSK 13: Light ——————————————————
The stillness was sudden, the silence absolute.
The light of the second icon had raced back into the painted board and snapped away in a blink as if summoned home. Sensing darkness once more, Rodion drew back from Shutka, his hands still on her shoulders, holding her steady below his firm gaze.
"Are you alright?"
Shutka gave no answer. She was staring at the faces of the saints, a salty tear winding down her soft cheek.
Icy snow crunched underfoot as his brothers tried to approach. Rodion jerked his head up, refusing the offer of their presence with only a pointed expression. He mouthed for them to turn around and go back to Saint Cecilia's, to safety. They would debrief once he confirmed Shutka was alright.
When they'd gone, Shutka slid away to pull the second icon, its paint and gold filigree duller now, out of the earth. "It's Saint Herodion of Patras," she said, reading the inscription Rodion and his brothers could not. "He's your protector, your patron."
It was true. The saint depicted in the icon was one of the Seventy Apostles, follower of Saint Peter, brother of Saint Paul. He'd been beaten, stoned, and stabbed, but had risen and continued to serve the Apostles until his beheading in Rome. Herodion was Rodion's name saint if he ever had one, and, through some miracle, or luck, if such a thing existed, he'd accepted and answered Rodion's act of invocation.
Shutka lifted her green eyes to his, her face brightening. "Where did you find him?"
"I didn't. Gleb did."
"But it was you who asked him for help."
"You mean he sent the light?" asked Rodion, turning once more to look at the saint's red tunic and curly beard. "How?"
"They say the presence of figures are manifest through their icons," Shutka said in soft wonder. "They're windows into the spiritual realm; light can shine through."
Shutka made the sign of the cross over herself, turned to him, and repeated the gesture. Rodion did not reciprocate, nor did he attempt to comprehend the miracle they'd witnessed. Instead, he held Shutka when she fell back into his arms and started telling her, gently, just how sorry he was.
☨ ☨ ☨
When they were ready, Rodion and Shutka returned to the church. They found Kostya and Gleb in the back row of pews, waiting. Both of them rose as if unsure of whether they could approach or as if afraid of Shutka in all her devilry.
Except Shutka was no longer loyal to the Devil. Saint Herodion's searing light had melted the silver and steel bangles from both of their wrists, essentially liberating them from the terms of their contracts. Upon seeing her bare arms, Shutka had tried to snap herself out of the clearing and when her fingertips struck her palm and she was still there, she'd launched herself back at Rodion, clasping her arms around his neck and hanging off of it until he admitted it was hurting him.
