Page 11 of One For my Enemy

“God, you’re infuriating. Hold still,” he instructed, and reached brusquely for her hands, blowing across the tops of her knuckles. “There,” he said, abruptly releasing her as Sasha, who hadn’t noticed until that precise moment that she’d forgotten her gloves at the bar, felt a rapid tingling in her fingers, warmth immediately alighting through them.

Ah, she thought dizzily. So, that’s that, then.

She wondered if she should have been surprised, or maybe would have been if she were a little less drunk; she remembered, too, that whoever he was, hehadgotten a drink fairly quickly, and that was hardly what she’d come to understand of Manhattan bartenders. Clearly, the man was either a witch or a hell of a lay.

“Now you can walk as long and as thanklessly as you want,” the witch from the bar said, jarring her out of her thoughts. “Have a nice night, Sasha, it’s been an absolutejoy—”

“I can do that too, you know,” Sasha informed him stubbornly, conjuring a flare of sparks in her palm. “See?” she prompted, watching his eyes widen. “I told you, I can take care of mys-”

“Jesus, what are you—Come on,” he growled, ushering her around the corner and out of sight from the lingering patrons outside the bar’s busy doorway. “You do know that’s not very subtle, right?”

“I’m just saying,” Sasha said, shoving him away. “I would have taken care of Eric myself, you know. Could have turned him into a goat, really, if I’d been so inclined.”

“Right, yes, an equally subtle choice.” The man (boy? He looked her age, but carried himself much more forcefully) shook his head and was something like half-laughing, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards at what seemed to be completely against his will. “A goat, though, really? Something smaller, I would think. Something to crush underfoot, like a bug.”

“Well, you took that to a dark place,” Sasha informed him, swaying slightly. “Anything to sober up?” she asked hopefully, grimacing. “I’ve never had to use a spell like that before.”

“Nothing I’ve got on me,” he said, looking mildly regretful, which she thought was sort of nice. Sympathetic, at least. “I’m Lev, by the way.”

“Sasha,” she supplied, giving him a bleary-eyed glance. With the moonlight behind him, Lev’s face was partially obscured, and she tried to recall what she’d seen of it in the bar: the dark eyes, the cynical shape of his mouth, the motion of his brow, and the hair she would have thought was black if not for having seen it change in the light, shifting with the shadows. “So. You’re a witch, then?”

“Not quite as blatantly as you, but yes,” Lev confirmed, and shivered. “Seriously, it’s cold. Let me walk you home, or to the train. Whatever.”

Men, honestly. “I don’t need you t-”

“I know you don’t,” Lev cut in, groaning. “You’ve made that very clear, you don’t need me and I’m sure the suffragettes are all very proud, but I can’t let you stand out here. Call it chivalry.” At that, she grimaced, irritated. “Do you live far?”

“Yes,” Sasha said simply, pivoting to walk away. “Bye, Lev,” she called over her shoulder, squinting into the dark for a moment before propelling herself forward. She got halfway to the end of the block before she heard a loud growl rip through the night, followed by the sound of half-running footsteps.

“Listen, I don’t know why, but I can’t let you leave, okay?” Lev insisted, materializing breathlessly at her elbow. “Just… let me assuage my conscience and come with you for a bit, would you? I have shit to do back there anyway,” he added, jerking his head over his shoulder to reference the bar they’d just left. “So it’ll only be for a few blocks.”

“Meeting someone or something?” Sasha asked, and Lev scoffed, his attention cutting askance.

“Is that your way of asking me if I have a girlfriend?”

“No.”Men,honestly. “Gross.”

“Gross?” Lev echoed. “That’s—I don’t know what that is,” he remarked, half to himself. “Inaccurate, I hope, but certainly rude, at the very least.”

“Oh, shut up. I’m just—” She shrugged. “Not interested.”

“Not interested?” Lev replied doubtfully, and Sasha rolled her eyes.

“Are you really just going to repeat things I say all night?”

“I might have to,” Lev retorted, “if they continue to be so hurtful.”

“Why, areyouinterested?”

“No, I’m not,” Lev insisted, “but, you know. I’d appreciate being given the time to decide.”

Sasha couldn’t determine if that was a very odd thing to say or not, but either way, she concluded that he seemed to mean it. Satisfied, she shrugged, offering up a tangent instead.

“So, what were you doing back there? Alone,” she noted, sparing him a telling glance, and his mouth quirked again, a smile working its way out against his will.

“Is it so strange to be alone?”

“Bars,” Sasha informed him, “are hardly the ideal locations for solitude.”

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