Page 155 of Devil's Dance

“Come out and fight me!” Mokosz screams.

I follow my husband inside, in time to receive a cup of pear wine he brought from the mortal world recently. There are wine artisans who make exceptional drinks, and Weles buys out their best wares, though I fully expect him to make his own wine soon. It’s his nature, and I love him for it.

We sip the wine, smiling at each other, but then Mokosz bursts into a litany of insults, and I grimace. Weles sighs.

“If I put her in the garden like Swarog, she’ll just make all the weeds grow faster than the good plants. Could we drown her in a pond for a while? What do you think?”

“I think it’s boring,” I say with a snicker. “Do you remember one of the old tales, about Baba Gienia? It was my favorite as a child.”

He thinks for a moment. “Baba Gienia… Wasn’t she the terrifying witch that ate children? The one who had a hut that walked around where it wanted?”

I nod, clapping my hands. “The very same. Hold on to something so you don’t fall.”

I close my eyes and focus, and Weles grabs my arm. When I huff with dry amusement, he kisses me and says I am the safest bet for him to rely on. A moment later, the house shudders, and Mokosz’s screams stop for a moment.

“Oh, fuck,” Weles murmurs, crushing my arm in his grip when the house lurches up, fast and shaky yet, because the chicken legs I just made it grow are unused to walking. We grab onto each other, but it’s not enough. We fall and roll together, and I end up on my back with him on top, his mouth on me. He kisses me, then whispers in my ear.

“What now, my formidable witch?”

“Let me up. I have to see what I’m doing.”

“Bond with me. We’ll both look through my shadows.”

I scoff. “What, don’t you have things to hide?”

He looks in my eyes, exhaling in relief when the house grows still, even though it’s high over the ground.

“Love, you can rummage in my head all you want. Worst thing that happens? You’ll discover something you don’t like and you’ll punish me for it. I promise I’ll love every second.”

“Oh, fine.”

We look into each other’s eyes, an intimate bond growing between our minds. As soon as it’s done, he makes my clothes vanish and thrusts inside me. I dig my nails into his back, struggling to breathe as his shadows surround the house, giving me a view of everything happening outside.

Mokosz looks much smaller from high up. She stares at the house with fury, pummeling at our protections with more spells.

“And go,” I whisper, moaning when my husband sucks my nipple into his mouth.

The house lurches ahead, its first step unsteady. We roll until I’m on top, and Weles laughs, pulling me close for a kiss. We take another step, and Mokosz gasps when she realizes our large, chicken-legged home is going straight at her.

“What…” she begins, stupefied.

The third step brings the house so close, she has to jump back so as not to be trampled.

“Make it so she can’t get away with magic,” I whisper, squeezing his throat. “Make her run.”

He moans, flexing his hips, and shadows wrap around Mokosz, illusory shackles limiting her magic. She waves her arms, but she’s helpless to leave. All she can do is run away while our house pursues her, now strong and certain on its two enormous, clawed legs.

It doesn’t take long. I laugh with wicked satisfaction when one leg steps right on Mokosz, crushing her under the weight of our abode. She squishes like an overripe slug, bursting into a wet sludge, and Weles makes a gagging sound of disgust. I pierce my tongue and feed him my blood to distract him. He forgets all about Mokosz, drinking deep from my mouth, but I watch as I make the house step away, and seeing the mess she’s become heightens my pleasure. I come cackling.

“You know, there never was a Baba Gienia,” Weles murmurs later, when we lie in bed. “But there could be a Baba Jaga. One who likes pus and tramples goddesses into the ground.”

I hum, nestling closer in his warm embrace. “Maybe someday.”

We sleep, happy and safe, me and the god who broke me, remade me, and put me above all else.

THE END

(or is it?)