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THE DEVIL COMES TO ANGELOVSK
12: Sanctuary
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Saint Cecilia's had, at one time or another, been a church, a cabaret, and a compound.

The old stone church stood on the Rusalka's northwestern shore, separated from the rest of the city, as it had for centuries. Orthodox crosses remained erected on each of the onion domes. The domes in turn spiraled down into eight white steeples, which connected to the lower-level bochka roof known to be the muse of many an Angelovsk artist. But while the exterior still bore semblance to a past era of grand princes and boyars, the inside was gutted. Cracked floors, a crumbling iconostasis looted of its most precious icons, and painted pillars pierced with bullet holes made it known Saint Cecilia had seen finer days.

Growing up around Angelovsk, Rodion had heard plenty of tales of the legends who'd commandeered Saint Cecilia's for their own benefit. They included Stetsko's partisans defending it in a days-long siege during the Great Patriotic War and Andrey Angelov's mother and father during the late twenties. It was because of those very occupation rumors that he'd gone straight through the broken window over to the staircases that lead up into the towers.

While Gleb and Kostya had split up to search the nave and crypt, he'd climbed ladder after ladder. The view of Angelovsk from the top of the towers was exquisite, but he was more interested in scouring for any minor details that looked out of place: cracks in the walls, gaps between the floorboards, variance in the tempera paint that coated and colored every centimeter of open space.

When he stumbled into a cleared-out bell chamber midway up one of the towers, Rodion found himself unsettled by its blandness. Someone had lived in the chamber; there was an old mattress strewn out over the only dry part of the floor and cobweb-covered candles gathered all around.

Rodion frisked the mattress, searching for anything firm tucked away in the cotton batting. He pursued the candles, lit one with his lighter and ran it along the wall as he looked for any variance in the stone pattern. A near-perfect crack caught his eye, and he lowered himself onto his haunches. There was white dust scattered on the floor below it. Thinking quickly, he drew his pocket knife and sliced through the cracked plaster around it. The piece of stone slid out like butter in a hot pan; the sides of it were smooth from constant grinding and it didn't weigh much because it was hollow.

He tipped it towards him and raised the lit candle. There was a cache of old knives packed inside. He pulled out one kind after: dagger, puuko, butterfly. Leftovers from the partisans' siege, perhaps?

"Kost! Gleb!" he called, coming down the ladder with the cache in hand leaning over the balcony that overlooked the nave.

His brothers swiveled around from their places among the kaleidoscope of jewel-toned frescos and raised their lights to his beaming face.

"Did you find it?" Kostya asked.

"Not yet. But look what I found in the walls." He held up some of the knives and tossed two of them into the closest row of overturned pews. "Go back to wherever you were and check the walls for super straight cracks, cracks only knives like those could cut. Some bricks may be hollow."

"The walls? All of them?" said Gleb, moving to pick up and examine the knives. "Don't you think that's a little frivolous?"

Kostya came over and took a knife for himself. "Do you have a better idea? It's the only lead we have; I'm following it to see where it goes."

The comment was enough to send them scattering across the church like marbles. Rodion returned to each of the towers, skimming his fingertips along the walls and looking down at his boots for loose plaster to fall like fresh snow.

It took another half hour of careful searching before he found a second straight crack in the stone. It was thinner than the first and high in the corner of one of the tower walls. Most people would have needed a stool to reach it and a scope to spot it. Despite his stature, Rodion had to stand on his toes and extend until he felt a strain along the tendons in his arm to carve around it. The muscle beneath his shoulder blades was aching again by the time he'd finally scratched it out of the wall and had it in his hands.

The stone was again hollowed out to conceal something inside. But instead of knives, there was a square board wrapped in frayed yellow paper. Rodion set the stone by his feet and carefully peeled away the covering, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when he met the calming eyes of Saint Svetlana. He didn't need to it take out and compare it against the copy Lev had given him; her jeweled cross and raised hand were there between the layers of warped, old paint.

Rodion left the tiny chamber and headed downstairs by way of rickety ladders and stairs, a newfound brightness in his step. His hope was contagious, and when he met Kostya and Gleb on the ground floor, he didn't even have to tell them he'd found the icon. They could see the light in his face and immediately ran over, patting him on the back and leaning over his shoulders to see Saint Svetlana for themselves.

"Good job, kid," Kostya said with a smile. "Now what happens?"

"Wait, first you have to look at the one I found in the crypt," Gleb said.

Rodion pivoted and lifted his lighter. The orange glow found the face of a second saint. This time, it was a man instead of a woman. He was curly haired, bearded, and clothed in a long scarlet and black tunic. Some sort of liturgy book was clutched in his arms, pressed over his heart.

"What is that? Greek?" said Rodion, squinting and failing to read the name inscribed in red on either side of the saint's glimmery halo.

"Maybe old church Slavonic?" Kostya offered.

"Damn it, I wish Sofya were here," said Gleb. "She used to catalog stuff like this; she could probably translate it."

Since she wasn't, they all turned back to scrutinize it some more.

"Look, some letters are the same." Kostya pointed to various symbols in the Cyrillic script. "See? That's an en, and that there looks close to an er. There are two o, a ge, maybe?"

"Maybe. But what the hell is that one?"

Rodion set his fingernail on one of two sha-shaped squiggles. All he got were two puzzled head shakes. Kostya suggested they try comparing the lettering on Gleb's icon to that of Saint Svetlana, and they did, to little avail.

"We'll figure it out later," Rodion said. "I've got to finish things now."

"Which entails what?" Kostya asked.

"I don't know. But I can't meet the Devil here. I have to go out there, on the other side of the threshold."

Rodion pointed to the double doors at the front of the church. He dropped his arm to the chime of his steel six bangles and noticed the flicker of worry flash in Kostya's dark gaze, and, for the first time, Gleb's. He moved for the exit as if to go only with Saint Svetlana.

Kostya threw out a hand and stopped him.

"No," he said sternly. "You're not going alone. We won't let you."

Rodion had no time to argue. No time to question whether the brothers before him were the same ones who had accused him of treachery and called him a sleepwalker. As of that moment, they still didn't understand his story. They didn't understand what he needed to do, or why he needed to do it, but they'd declared they intended to stand at his side for it. Such a gesture made him a little calmer, a little more confident.

"If that's really what you want to do," he said, trying to give them an out if they needed it.

"It is," Gleb assured him.

"Right. Well, come on then. Don't ask too many questions."

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Outside, dawn was breaking. An icy wind, biting and rude, roared through the crowns of the fir trees. Ahead, the Rusalka's black waters roiled like a pot about to boil over as the river seethed in the face of winter's arrival. Behind him, Rodion felt his brothers tense. The three of them came down the Saint Cecilia's stone steps and crossed through the churchyard lined with white crosses marking the graves of centuries-old dead. They stepped off the grounds and came into a clearing, a place thick with shadow and brimming with the dead damp of frozen earth.

Standing beside an ancient birch, waiting, was the Devil. A grin spread across his thin lips when he saw them, sharp teeth flashing in the dark. He straightened and swaggered over, tipping the brim of his hat in mock greeting at each of the Popov brothers.

"Three of them," he said. "All the better. I thought I was only going to get to steal one soul tonight, Rodion Maksimovich, but I suppose we can make it three."

"Or perhaps not," Rodion said, feeling both Kostya and Gleb draw closer to his side, as if meaning to protect him. He stepped forward, proving he could, and wanted, to stand on his own merit. "I have what you've been looking for, and I'm willing to give it to you, free of further conflict, if you're willing to amend our deal."

Rodion pulled out the copy Lev had given him and held it out as proof.

"I always knew I liked you," said the Devil. He laughed wryly and took the copy, tapping it into the center of his glove as he gazed down upon Saint Svetlana's shining face. "Yes, I remember declaring to Shutka Luciferovna you were one of the smart ones. One of the negotiators!"

"Are you open to the idea of negotiation now?"

"If it is true you have an icon of Svetlana of Samaria, I will entertain it."

"I do," Rodion said, trying to keep his face as unreadable as possible. "And I can give it to you if you null our deal and agree to leave Angelovsk, for good, without me, without taking my soul."

"What has changed? You do not wish to pursue paradise any more?"

"I wasn't finished. You'll also tell me what you've done with Shutka Luciferovna. She's been missing since I escaped from, well, you know where."

The Devil raised his chin. "Ah, still chasing the cat, are you? True paradise lies with her? Well, let us call her here, shall we? In fact, let us call all our friends to bear witness."

It was then that the wind rose. The canopy of gray clouds overhead blew in front of the moon, bringing more shadow than ever before to the clearing. It snaked through the ring of birch trees like a river, Lyubasha and Lev leaping out of it as it splashed up against papery bark.

Shutka came last. She came bound, her wrists lashed together by the silver bangles on her wrists that had been threaded through one another. There was blood trickling from her split lip, gashes running ragged beneath the sheer sleeves of her dress. Her pale skin was slick with red, her green eyes no longer calm but swollen with fear.

"Good God," Gleb said when he saw her, his voice a mere fraction of its usual strength.

Rodion made no such reply. He froze, paralyzed by the fear of making the wrong move, as the Levithan and Lyubasha picked Shutka up by her arms and dragged her forth, throwing her face first into the black earth beside the Devil's feet.

"Do you still wish to negotiate, Rodion Maksimovich?"

"Only if you agree, here and now, to stop punishing her for my misdeeds."

The Devil tipped his head. "She is my servant. Worse than that now, actually. She is a traitor. I should have sent her to the bottom rung of Hell the very first time she tried to assist one of you mortal misfits. I thought to myself, a curse should placate a girl like that. Nobody wants to be a cat. But what a fool I was. What a fool we all were to think she was so meek, so set on being human."

"That's why you should spare her: you've already committed injustice against her by underestimating her."

Shutka lifted her head. "Rodion, he–"

"Silence!"

The Devil swatted Shutka's cheek with the tip of his cane. Kostya's grip latched onto Rodion's upper arm as if preparing to drag him out range from such a madman. Yet Rodion broke free seconds after to approach the Devil, to look him straight in his miscolored eyes.

He extended his hand in acknowledgment of their new deal. "The icon for the rehabilitation of Shutka Luciferovna; the annulment of our original deal and all its conditions; and your leave from Angelovsk."

"Very well."

As the Devil's gloved hand clasped Rodion's restless fingers, something sinister shifted and a lick of darkness entered his face. He waited patiently for Rodion to fetch the icon from Gleb and hand it over. The second its linden board touched his fingertips, a smirk pulled up one side of his sharp face.

"Thank you, Rodion Maksimovich. Truly," he said, voice hard and grating. "I would have never been able to recover a powerful enough icon to bind Svetlana Abdullayeva without your help, let alone that of her patron saint."

Understanding struck Rodion like a bolt of God-ordained lightning. Why had he believed the Devil's newest deal didn't have a catch like all the others? Because he'd compromised and because they had witnesses? They'd never really compromised. It was all just another trick, a setup, a deception played by the Devil, only now Rodion had four tasks and two deals worth of experience to know better.

In an act of desperation, Rodion tried to rush the Devil. Gleb and Kostya heaved him back, restrained him with grabbing hands and barricading arms.

"We had a deal, Lucifer Chernov!" Rodion shouted from between them.

"A deal to not punish, not to refrain from binding her to her other form," the Devil replied, turning his back on Rodion. He held out the icon of Saint Svetlana to his mistress. "Bind her, moya milaya. Let us finally rid ourselves of such a nuisance."

Rodion knew the instant he made his mistake. He'd known it might come to this, the Devil finding another way to make him suffer. He should have been more skeptical of Lev's help and rightfully assumed he was still working for the Devil, that he always had been. Instead, in that moment of threat, when he should have felt only relief it wasn't him being condemned and thought only of how naïve he'd been, he ripped the second icon from Gleb's hands, jerked his brother aside, and threw himself at the Devil.

"No! No, take me instead!"

The Devil lifted a tempted hand. Lyubasha's fingertips grazed the icon of Saint Svetlana, but she did not get ahold of it.

"Rodya, no," Shutka whispered. "It's alright."

"It's really not," he said, and whipped around, taking the image of her eyes with him and drawing the strength from them needed to calmly address the Devil. "I'm the one you want. I'm the one you should punish, not her. I told you she had nothing to do with it; she's not guilty of defying you more than I am. I broke your terms. I willingly cheated. And now I beg of you: leave her and take me."

The Devil bent over on his cane, doubled over in scattered laughter. "You beg of me?"

"What else can I do? You have heard my plea and seen my heart's desire. All I want is peace and protection for Svetlana Abdullayeva and I'm willing to give myself for it. Her life is worth saving. Mine is not. It never was."

"Enough of your pleading." He handed the icon to Lyubasha. "Bind the girl."

Lyubasha dipped her head and obediently raised the icon above Shutka's bowed head as if preparing to extract something dark and twisted from Saint Svetlana's image and force it into Shutka's body, crippling and crushing her until she was forced to submit, permanently, to the demands of her other form.

But no such darkness ever came.

Instead, the shadows seemed to burn away, chased from the clearing by the golden light that started spilling out from the second icon. The trickle turned to a flood, and soon it was as if the sun had risen above the ring of birch trees and was only shining into the clearing, subjecting its black earth to a sky's worth of white, burning light.

Fearing blindness or burns, Rodion ran to Shutka and took her in his arms. He shielded her body with his, pressed his face to her shoulder, and squeezed his eyes shut. They were still clutching one another, sheltering from the miraculous light, when the Devil and his entourage turned and raced into the forest in search of any remaining shadows.

somehow all of my second-to-last chapters seem to end on cliffhangers but i'm not complaining?

i was so worried about this chapter not working or not carrying its weight but i think overall that's just my imposter and the sleep deprivation talking. seriously, this novella has sucked all the life and energy out of me in these past couple of days but i wouldn't trade my time working to develop the second half and the character arcs for anything else. it's be a grind, but it's be an enlightening one for sure! i've definitely been getting the true onc experience lol.

now, as you go into the final chapter, i'll leave you with a quote by sonya marmeladova from "crime & punishment" that should probably be the epigraph for this whole novella: "suffer and expiate your sin by it. that is what you must do."

as always, thank you for supporting my stories! votes, comments, and library/reading list adds are much appreciated.

happy reading and writing! ♡♡

35.082/20.000
milestone no. 3 ✓