Page 152 of One For my Enemy

Much of the later bits, everything aside from Marya’s letter, was relayed to Lev Fedorov in retrospect by the man who introduced himself as Brynmor Attaway, an attorney apparently nicknamed The Bridge.

“I was Marya Antonova’s attorney in the event of her death,” Bryn explained to Lev, adding, “She stipulated in her will to leave you this.”

‘This’ was an envelope full of cash, to which a note had been pinned.

Solnyshko,the note said.The plan was always that the sun would rise.

“Thank you,” Lev said to The Bridge, a bit perplexed. He noted that beside him, however, Sasha was pretending not to know their unexpected visitor. It seemed to be a bout of pretense shared between both parties until Bryn turned to her.

“Rusalka,” he said, nodding to her. “I think maybe we won’t be seeing each other again.”

“Don’t be stupid, Bridge,” Sasha replied. “We’re friends.”

“I don’t have friends,” said The Bridge.

“Seems unlikely,” Lev remarked.

“Where’d you find this guy?” The Bridge asked Sasha, gesturing skeptically to Lev, and she shrugged.

“Picked him up at a bar,” she said.

The Bridge smiled. “Well, see you,” he said. “Or not. We’ll see.”

Then he tipped his hat, disappearing into the air.

“Oh,” Lev said, startled. “I didn’t know he was a witch.”

“He’s… a long story,” Sasha demurred, rising to her feet and joining Lev, pausing to brush her lips against his cheek. “So,” she said. “How are you holding up?”

“Fairly well, I think,” Lev said. “Your sister repaired me nicely. Almost no odd creaks.”

“Not what I meant, Lev,” Sasha grumbled, and he smiled faintly.

“With the fact that my brother is gone, you mean?” he asked. “The world feels different. A little less bright. But I think I understand what he chose.”

She said nothing. He cleared his throat, tilting his head down to look at her.

“So,” Lev said. “Don’t you have a shift at the store in a few minutes?”

“Yes,” she said. “As do you.”

“Actually, I can’t tonight. I mean, for one thing, I’m independently wealthy and don’t need to work,” he informed her playfully, holding up the envelope from Marya as Sasha swatted it away with a roll of her eyes, “but for another, I thought I’d pay a visit to the Witches’ Boroughs. See what they’re doing about my brother’s vacant seat.”

“Ah. Okay, then.” Sasha kissed him lightly, stepping back to grab her keys. “I’ll see you tonight after work. Bye, Eric,” she called over her shoulder, and in answer, Eric raised a fork, not looking up from the television.

“Later, Sasha,” he said.

“Hey,” Lev said, catching her arm before she left. “Maybe I can come by for fifteen minutes? When I’m done with the Boroughs.”

Her lips quirked. “Sure. Fifteen. No more, no less.”

“Ouch, Sasha,” he whispered, sliding an arm around her waist and kissing her swiftly. “Text me if you get bored?”

“Yes.” She bit lightly on his lip. “Now let me go, Fedorov. I’ve got things to do.”

He grudgingly released her, watching her slip out the front door.

For a while, Lev had been disappointed his brother hadn’t left anything for him. No message, no final words. According to Roman, Dimitri hadn’t said anything to any of them before he died, and for a while, Lev had been consumed by the idea that perhaps their brother had left something behind. A meaningful token, possibly. Maybe a letter. He had searched and searched through all his brothers’ things, and he knew Sasha had done the same for her sister. In the end, though, they’d overturned their siblings’ homes for nothing. Neither Marya nor Dimitri had been particularly sentimental, or so it seemed.

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