This_Fatal_Kiss_-_Alicia

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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
A Note to the Reader
Pronunciation Guide
1 The Drowned Maiden
2 The Land of the Living
3 Hide-and-Seek
4 The Witch’s Grandson
5 The Taste of Kindness
6 Songs Sung to the Moon
7 Lost Souls
8 Looking for Love
9 A Deal with the Devil
10 The Unclean Dead
11 The Boy Called Aleksey
12 A Graveyard Picnic
13 Bathhouse Premonitions
14 A Guest in the House Is a God in the House
15 Makeover
16 The Food of The Gods
17 Church Candles
18 Petals Red as Blood

19 The Master of the House
20 Your Type
21 Playing Cupid
22 Give the Devil a Body
23 No Rest for the Wicked
24 Mixed Blessings
25 The Palace in the Deep
26 Thorns
27 Those Who Haunt the Earth
28 Being Human
29 Revelations
30 Knew You Were Trouble
31 Saint John’s Eve
32 Fire, Water, and Love
33 Temptation
34 Betrayed with a Kiss
35 Flowers That Bloom in the Dark
36 Bies
37 Rusałki
38 Heaven-Sent
39 The World Beneath the Waters
40 The Water Goblin
41 Fading
42 Confession
43 No More Secrets
44 Monsters and Miracles
45 Epilogue

Acknowledgments
About the Author
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Published by Peachtree Teen
An imprint of PEACHTREE PUBLISHING COMPANY INC.
1700 Chattahoochee Avenue
Atlanta, Georgia 30318-2112
PeachtreeBooks.com
Text © 2024 by Alicia Jasinska
Jacket illustration © 2024 by Andie Lugtu
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic,
mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations
in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Edited by Jonah Heller
Composition by Six Red Marbles
Design by Lily Steele
Printed in July 2024 at Sheridan, Chelsea, MI, USA.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition
ISBN: 978-1-68263-736-4
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Jasinska, Alicia, author.
Title: This fatal kiss / Alicia Jasinska.
Description: Atlanta, Georgia : Peachtree Teen, 2024. | Audience: Ages 14
and Up. | Audience: Grades 10–12. | Summary: Cursed to haunt the river
where she drowned, Gisela, a water nymph longing for humanity, strikes
a deal with Kazik, a spirit-hunter losing his magic, to help her gain a
mortal’s kiss, but complications arise when both fall for Aleksey, an
enigmatic young man with ties to Gisela’s past.

A NOTE TO THE READER
IN SLAVIC FOLKLORE, a rusałka is a female water spirit or nymph. Stories
vary, but most describe these creatures as the restless spirits of young
maidens who died violent and tragic deaths in or by a lake, river, or body of
water. Sometimes malicious and sometimes playful, they are famous for
bewitching mortals with their beauty and dragging them into the depths.
As such, while lighthearted for the most part, this story does contain
brief depictions of fantasy violence and death, drowning and near
drowning, abusive relationships, a history of sexual assault, physical
assault, struggles with sexual identity, and suicidal ideation.
Readers who may be sensitive to these elements please take note.
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PRONUNCIATION GUIDE
CHARACTERS
Aleksey – ah-LEHK-see
Babcia – bahp-CHAH
Gisela – gee-ZEH-lah
Kazik – KAH-zheek
Leszek – LEH-shehk
Wojciech – VOY-chyeh
PLACES
Leśna Woda – LESH-nah VOHD-ah
SPIRITS
bannik / banniki (bathhouse spirit) – BAHN-neek / BAHN-neek-kee
bies / biesy (forest demon) – BEE-es / BEE-esey
czart / czarty (devil) – CHART / CHART-ey
domowik / domowiki (house spirit) – doh-MOH-veek / doh-MOH-vee-kee
latawiec / latawce (air demon) – lah-TAH-vyets / lah-TAHV-tse
leszy (forest spirit) – LEH-shee
ognik / ogniki (fire spirits) – OG-neek / OG-nee-kee
rusałka/ rusałki (water nymph) – roo-SOW-ka / roo-SOW-kee
skrzat / skrzaty (gnome) – SKSHAT / SKSHA-tey

utopiec / utopce (drowner) – oo-TOH-pyets / oo-TOHP-tse
wiła / wiły (nymph) – VEE-wah / VEE-wee
wodnik / wodniki (water goblin) – VOHD-neek / VOHD-nee-kee
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1
THE DROWNED MAIDEN
GISELA
“YOU’RE SNEAKING OFF RATHER early today,” Wojciech called out.
“It’s not even dusk yet.”
Gisela’s steps faltered. A wash of rainbow light poured through the
Crystal Palace’s domed ceiling, rippling over the floor to shine a watery
spotlight on the elegant figure making his way down a monumental flight of
steps toward her.
For a brief disorientating second, Gisela thought she might be staring
into a mirror. Wojciech’s green-black hair and hooded wine-red eyes could
have been a reflection of her own. Only, his skin was darker, a warm clay
brown next to her ghostly blue-green complexion. His lips were carmine,
where hers were tinged violet. She usually preferred it when the water
goblin took human form—his true form was honestly quite terrifying. But
this new guise was just creepy.
“You’re looking awfully youthful, Grandfather. You’re not feeling self-
conscious about your age again, are you? You can be honest with me.
You’re only at least a thousand years old.”
Wojciech, who currently didn’t appear to be a day over twenty, pinned
her with a flat, unimpressed look. A soft chime-like tinkling, the noise a
spoon made when it tapped against a teacup, filled the air like a warning.
Gisela glanced over her shoulder at the giant pillar in the center of the
palace atrium. The glittering monstrosity shot to the ceiling and was so
wide around its base that even a half dozen water nymphs couldn’t have
touched hands if they’d stretched their arms around it. A honeycomb of

shelves cut into its surface, and on those shelves rested thousands and
thousands of seemingly innocuous teacups upturned upon their saucers.
“May I remind you, child,” Wojciech said, his voice low and melodic,
“that growing old is an accomplishment. I’ve outlived civilizations,
survived more than you could imagine.”
The ethereal tinkling increased in volume, the drowned souls he’d
trapped inside each teacup pushing against the walls of their tiny porcelain
prisons. Only the Sea Tsar himself was said to have a grander collection of
human souls.
Wojciech reached the ground floor of the atrium. “If you’re going out,
take Tamara with you. Don’t make me ask you twice.”
“What? Why?” Gisela whined.
A second figure appeared at the top of the stairs: a girl with soft
chestnut-brown curls and anxious red eyes; her skin had the same ghostly
pallor as Gisela’s.
The new girl.
Gisela’s gaze darted back to Wojciech, her eyebrows pinching together
in a silent plea.
Wojciech’s smile was sharklike, full of unreasonably sharp teeth. Even
in this handsome human form, he maintained a few monstrous traits. “This
is Tamara’s first time celebrating Green Week with us. Show her where the
humans leave their offerings. Get to know each other. I think the two of you
might have a lot in common.”
Gisela doubted it. Saints, she didn’t want to be stuck playing nursemaid
for somebody who was new to all this. Perhaps she shouldn’t have joked
about Wojciech needing dentures—or maybe this was punishment for
accidentally smashing one of his precious teacups and setting a soul free?
Or it was another one of his games. You never could tell.
Tamara came down the stairs and paused, shifting her weight from foot
to foot, twisting her fingers in the ghost-white fabric of her flowy dress. She
rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms as though she were anxious or
cold. The air was always cooler down here in the depths of the river, in
Wojciech’s realm, and strangely wet, as though you were constantly
walking through a mist.
As a mortal child, Gisela’s favorite bedtime tales had been about the
wodniki—the water goblins, the old river gods, the keepers of the drowned

—who lived in grand underwater palaces carved from crystal and gold. Not
that she’d ever admit as much to Wojciech.
You’ll know the water goblin by his dripping clothes, by the sodden
squelching of his boots, and by the wet footprints he leaves behind, her
Great-Aunt Zela had told her. If you ever visit the old country, darling,
when you cross a river, you must carry breadcrumbs in your pocket and say
a prayer so as to avoid meeting with him. He can drown you on dry land so
long as he has even a spoonful of water.
Gisela’s skirt billowed about her knees, free from the bonds of gravity
that governed the living world. It hadn’t been so very long ago that she’d
been the new girl here, waking in a strange and unfamiliar place, in this
palace built upon the riverbed. When Wojciech told her that her mortal life
was over, that she’d never turn seventeen nor grow old nor see any of the
people she loved ever again, she’d almost despaired.
She’d wanted so badly to go home.
She still wanted to go home, was determined to, which was why she
didn’t have time for this.
“Can’t one of the drowners do it?” she asked, already knowing the
answer. “Or Yulia. Can’t Yulia show her around? She’s good at that. I’m
busy. I have things to do.” She shot Tamara an apologetic glance.
“Yulia’s already on the surface,” Wojciech said. “She snuck off earlier,
muttering something about honey cake.”
Gisela cursed. Every spring during Green Week, the local townsfolk
honored the rusałki—water nymphs, like her and Yulia and Tamara. They
left shiny baubles and trinkets by the riverbanks, strung gifts from the
branches of the trees in the forest: garlands of bright flowers, hair ribbons
dyed eye-catching colors, and necklaces of glossy beads. They’d even leave
offerings of food: eggs and sweet grain puddings, honey cakes and handfuls
of sugary berries. They were bribes, prizes left out to placate hungry ghosts.
People hoped that if they appeased the water nymphs, they wouldn’t
bewitch and harm their loved ones.
Competition for such offerings was fierce. There were only so many
treats to go around, and no matter how many years you spent haunting the
deep, how accustomed you grew to the water goblin’s feasts of catfish and
eel, you never quite forgot the taste of human food, of home.
If Yulia ate all the honey cake, Gisela was going to make sure she

drowned in the river.
Again.
“Oh, and Gisela?” Wojciech drew a handkerchief from a pocket of his
emerald-green suit and began polishing a teacup he’d selected from one of
the pillar’s little nooks. “Make sure you tell Tamara what will happen to her
if she strays too far from my river. I want to avoid trouble this week. Keep
an eye out for our resident exorcist. He’s been overzealous in his duties
lately. So overzealous, I can’t help but wonder if somebody has been
provoking him.”
“Whoever could that be?” Gisela said, trying for innocence and not quite
succeeding.
The teacups on the shelves rattled ominously. The sudden sharp glint in
Wojciech’s eyes was a reminder of just who she was dealing with.
Maybe it was better to go along with what he wanted for now.
“Fine, fine. I’ll take her with me. But are you sure you don’t want her to
stay behind and help you with the polishing? I mean, should you really be
doing all the housework at your age?”
Wojciech’s lip twitched.
Gisela quickly grabbed Tamara by the wrist. “We’ll see you later, then!
Don’t break a hip!”
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2
THE LAND OF THE LIVING
GISELA
A SINKING SUN HALOED the scene as Gisela and Tamara emerged
from the river, rising from the water below a deserted stone footbridge as if
it were a portal to another world. Gisela helped Tamara clamber onto the
bridge beside her. Lazy clouds floated overhead, tossed by a balmy breeze.
Gisela fished a compact out of the pockets of her white slip dress and
started dabbing powder and rouge on her cheeks to disguise the deathly
pallor of her skin. Lipstick would hide the purple of her lips. She couldn’t
do much about the unnatural color of her eyes, but soon it would be dark
enough that most people wouldn’t notice unless they looked closely.
Tamara watched curiously, wringing water from her dress. “What did the
water goblin mean when he said to tell me what will happen if I stray too
far from the river?”
“Have you ever seen a frog that’s been trapped indoors for days?” Gisela
had. She’d found a dead frog in the library at her school once. Its body had
shriveled into a sad little dried-out husk. “It’s like that. You’ll dry out and
die.”
There wasn’t any point in sugarcoating it. Tamara would discover the
truth for herself soon enough—the same way Gisela had when she’d tried to
leave, determined to find a way home to her family. She’d barely made it
past the old forest shrine at the edge of town before the dryness hit her
throat and her lips began to crack, her parched skin demanding she turn
back.
They couldn’t leave this place even if they tried.

Gisela finished painting her lips a sweet strawberry red. “We can’t stray
far from where we died. And it’s important to stay hydrated. Leave your
hair wet,” she instructed, when Tamara started to twist water out of the
strands. “Don’t worry. People will just think you’ve come from visiting one
of the bathhouses.” She offered the other girl her powder and lipstick. “Are
you from around here? Or did you just—” Gisela slid a finger across her
throat.
Tamara shook her head. “I was told I could find work as a maid here. I
wanted to get out of the city. It was supposed to be a fresh start. But I—I
fell in love with somebody I shouldn’t have. He made me a lot of promises,
and like a fool, I believed him. He wasn’t a good person, and he has an
awful temper. . . .”
Gisela grimaced at the unpleasant implication.
In any case, it made sense Tamara had thought she’d find work here as a
maid. Leśna Woda was a famous and fashionable tourist destination. Tens
of thousands of visitors came and went throughout the year. The dreamy
scenery and miraculous powers of the town’s blessed waters, its magical hot
springs, had drawn people here for centuries: commoners and the cream of
society, as well as the cultural elite—poets and artists and emperors and
queens. It was one of the oldest spa towns on the mainland.
Gisela herself was not a local. Her father had taken their family on a trip
abroad. He was always doing business in faraway places. Most of the time,
he left Gisela and her little brother behind, but this time, this one time, he
actually listened when she’d begged to accompany him. She promised they
wouldn’t interrupt his work nor wander off nor cause any kind of trouble,
though Gisela suspected he gave in simply because she had a vague
understanding of the language spoken here. She’d picked it up from Great-
Aunt Zela. Her father had been keen to use her as a translator.
“I’m not from around here either. I’m from Caldella.”
“The witches’ island?” Tamara said, wide-eyed.
Gisela smirked. “Relax. I’m not a witch, I promise. I’ve been here for
almost a whole year now. I know the place like the back of my hand.” It
occurred to her that it would be easier to simply abandon Tamara here—she
must already know her way around. Gisela could simply tell her where to
find the offerings the humans left out. But if Wojciech found out . . .
Gisela didn’t want to deal with that.

She led Tamara across the footbridge. The streets of the town rose
around them. Gisela’s mood lifted. As always, the charming old-world
architecture made her feel like she’d traveled back in time or stepped into
the pages of a story. Leśna Woda looked like a place where a fairy tale
began.
The meandering cobblestoned lanes were shaded by leafy trees, while
the grand bathhouses were ringed by lush parks and gardens filled with
ornamental ponds and burbling fountains. A gust of wind blew, showering
blush-pink petals across their path. Because it was Green Week, everything
was adorned with greenery. A profusion of wildflowers and fragrant herbs
decorated every shop front, every window, every doorway leading into a
hundred-year-old guesthouse. The honeyed scent of roses laced the air with
sweetness. It was as though the whole town were in bloom.
“You know Villa Lilia, right?” Gisela pointed at a distant rooftop. There
were five main springs running through the town, and each bathhouse drew
from a different one. Drinking or bathing in Villa Lilia’s waters would
enhance your beauty and leave your skin shimmering like stardust.
“Most of the bathhouses are heavily warded so spirits can’t enter, but
Villa Lilia’s owner doesn’t mind if one or two of us sneak in so long as we
don’t snack on any humans. Oh, and those spires, the church over there—
avoid it.”
“Because of the exorcist?” Tamara asked. “Is he really dangerous?”
“He’s more of a pest than anything. Don’t worry. He’s probably off
working toward sainthood somewhere.” Gisela pulled Tamara to her side,
leaving space for an elderly dark-skinned man with a walking stick to
shuffle past.
The streets were growing increasingly busy as they ventured closer to
the heart of town; tourists and locals alike were meandering toward the
night market in the main square: Girls in airy sundresses with ribbons
braided through their hair and lace trim on their socks. Boys dressed in
crisp button-down shirts and suspenders. Happy couples with their heads
bent close together.
The air was full of chatter in a multitude of languages. The mainland
was a continent made up of countless countries and little kingdoms, so
many that they all blurred together in Gisela’s head. Her gaze lingered on a
family stopped outside a souvenir shop. The parents were busy picking

through racks of whimsical watercolor picture postcards, while the children,
a little boy and girl, whispered and giggled and pointed at something on
display.
Memories hit her like a wave, threatening to sweep her under. Her heart
squeezed.
“It’s not the worst place in the world to haunt,” she said after a pause.
Tamara gave a considering look. “Do you mean that? Yulia told me
you’re trying to cheat death, become human again so you can go home. Is
that true?”
Yulia.
Of course, Yulia had said something. She couldn’t keep her stupid mouth
shut. She’d been acting all weird and standoffish ever since Wojciech had
admitted there was a way for a water nymph to regain her humanity. Yulia
hated the idea. She didn’t seem to care about the home she’d left behind,
whereas Gisela desperately wanted to get back to hers. After all, she’d have
to be a true monster, wouldn’t she, to not want to return to her family?
She wished she knew why Yulia was so willing to let go of the people
who’d raised her, but another part of her was too afraid to ask.
“Is there really a way to become human again?” Tamara asked.
Gisela chewed her bottom lip. Was this why Wojciech had insisted they
visit the surface together? Was this what he’d meant when he’d said they
had something in common? The other water nymphs didn’t seem to feel the
pull toward the mortal world that Gisela did.
“It’s simple.” Or at least it had sounded simple when Wojciech shared
the secret. It had turned out to be much harder in practice. “All you have to
do is get a human to kiss you.”
“Kiss you?” Tamara echoed in confusion.
Gisela nodded. Rusałki were maidens who had met untimely and violent
ends. They were cursed to haunt the waterways in which they’d drowned,
bound to live as restless spirits, unless one of two things happened.
The first was if their death was avenged. If they revenged themselves on
those who had wronged them and resolved the lingering grudge that had
caused them to become a spirit in the first place, they could move on to the
afterlife—which was what Yulia had suggested Gisela do if she hated being
a water nymph so much. Which she didn’t. The whole being-an-undead-
spirit thing was so not the point. The point was Gisela was angry. She