Page 14 of One For my Enemy

“I’m glad to hear it,” Yaga said. “And Dima?”

“What about Dima?” Marya’s eyes fluttered open. “I already told you what happened.”

Yaga watched her closely, and then, finding nothing to arouse suspicion, “Then Mashenka, I expect you to tell Sasha the news in the morning.”

“Me?” Marya was less surprised than she was troubled. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Yaga said, turning slowly. “She listens to you,” she added, half-beckoning for the gracelessness of argument, which they both knew she wouldn’t get. In response, Marya simply hardened the way she’d been taught; the way she’d been bred.

My daughters are diamonds,as Yaga so often said.Nothing is more beautiful. Nothing shines brighter. And most importantly, nothing will break them.

“Yes, Mama,” Marya promised, nodding once. “I’ll tell Sasha what she has to do.”

I. 10

(Disquietude.)

Lev rarely used his cell phone. He rarely needed it, seeing as one or both of his brothers was nearly always at his side, but for once, he was very glad to have one. He bit a smile into his palm again, tasting Sasha’s kiss one more time, and then dug for the phone in his pocket, hoping to prove to himself she hadn’t been a dream.

He wiped a few fallen flakes of precipitation from the screen, squinting as the bright white contact page illuminated itself against the dark, foggy night, manifesting on the screen like magic.

Immediately, though, Lev felt a brush of concern that processed in stages; a blink of disbelief, then a shake of his head, then a chill of disquietude, followed by a sensation of utter disembowelment.

Sasha Antonova,the phone said; clear as day, even as he suddenly hoped hehaddreamt it.

“Oh, fuck,” Lev Fedorov whispered, staring blankly at the screen.

THE STAGING

THE FEDOROVS

The WAREHOUSE of KOSCHEI the DEATHLESS:A warehouse, unassuming from the outside, filled with treasures within. Warded and locked, always. Here, Koschei keeps his most precious belongings; for example, this is where Dimitri Fedorov sleeps while he sleeps at Marya Antonova’s hands, above the little storefront that so few are privileged to enter.

The APARTMENT of DIMITRI FEDOROV:Sometimes Dimitri Fedorov is slightly less unconscious. When he is, he lives in a spacious loft, befitting his princely attributes. There is only one room for privacy: his bedroom. It is the only room with a door. Outside of that, the space is open. He prefers to see everything; to observe his kingdom with a sweeping glance.

The APARTMENT of ROMAN and LEV FEDOROV:Roman and Dimitri, as unalike as night and day, were quick to part with one another upon reaching an age when they could do so. Lev, however, prefers time spent in the company of his brothers, and finds Roman easy to live with. Their apartment is split-level, permitting them to occupy different spheres within the same orbit. They cannot agree on a design theme, so there is none.

The HOUSE of LAZAR FEDOROV:Sometimes Koschei is not Koschei. When he is not, he comes to his house. It is the same house his wife once occupied, along with his now-grown sons. Not much has changed inside his house for decades, only it’s empty now. Such is the case when time goes by: Emptiness.

THE ANTONOVAS

The HOUSE of BABA YAGA:While her three eldest daughters have moved away, Baba Yaga’s house is still home to her young ones. Alexandra, Yelena, Galina, and Liliya still live here under their mother’s watchful eye, though the house is different than it was when they were children. Several doors within the house are so securely shut the daughters have rarely or never seen them opened. Baba Yaga’s bedroom is one of these places; her daughters, outside of her eldest, have each been inside it less than three times during their lifetimes.

The HOUSE of MARYA ANTONOVA:Here, the woman called Marya Antonova lives with her husband, Stas Maksimov. They moved in when she was still quite young, only twenty. Stas dreams of little footsteps in the corridors, imagines laughter ringing from the high ceilings back down to his joyful ears. Marya merely hears threats pounding from the walls at night, creeping in from the violent streets. Marya Antonova doesn’t sleep particularly well, either here or otherwise.

BABA YAGA’S ARTISAN APOTHECARY:The shop where the younger Antonovas work, and a front for their mother’s less public business. The store, like the Antonovas themselves, wears a prettily clever face.

NEW YORK UNIVERSITY:As far as Sasha’s concerned, this is her place. As for the others, they could be persuaded either way.

ACT II: FACE OF HEAVEN

“… Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine,

That all the world will be in love with night,

And pay no worship to the garish Sun.”

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