Page 1 of One For my Enemy

THE PROLOGUE

Many things are not what they appear to be. Some things, though, try harder.

Baba Yaga’s Artisan Apothecary was a small store in Lower Manhattan that had excellent (mostly female) Yelp reviews and an appealing, enticing storefront. The sign, itself a bit of a marvel in that it wasnotan elegantly back-lit sans serif, carried with it a fanciful sense of whimsy, not unlike the brightly-colored bath bombs and luxury serums inside. The words ‘Baba Yaga’ were written in sprawling script over the carved shape of a mortar and pestle, in an effort to mimic the Old World character herself.

In this case, to say the store was not what it appeared was an understatement.

I just love it here,one of the Yelp reviews exclaimed.The products are all wonderful. The store itself is small and its products change regularly, but all of them are excellent. Duane Reade has more if you’re looking for the typical drugstore products, but if you’re looking for the perfect handmade scented candle or a unique gift for a friend or coworker, this would be the place to go.

The hair and nails supplements made my pitiful strands twice as long in less than a year!one reviewer crooned.I swear, this place is magic!

Customer service is lovely, which is such a rarity in Manhattan,one reviewer contributed.I’ve never met the owner but her daughters (one or two of which are usually around to answer questions) are just the most beautiful and helpful young women you’ll ever meet.

The store is never very full,one reviewer commented blithely,which is odd, considering it seems to do fairly well…

This store is an absolute gem,said another,and a well-kept secret.

And itwasa secret.

A secret within a secret, in fact.

Elsewhere, southeast of Yaga’s apothecary on Bowery, there was an antique furniture store called Koschei’s. This store, unlike Baba Yaga’s, was by appointment only.

The storefront always looks so cool, but the place is never open,one reviewer complained, giving the store three stars.On a whim, I tried calling to arrange a time to see one of the items in the window but couldn’t get in touch with anyone for weeks. Finally, a young guy (one of the owner’s sons, I believe) brought me in for about twenty minutes, but almost everything in the store was already reserved for private clients. That’s fine, obviously, but still, it would have been nice to know in advance. I fell in love with a small vintage chest but was told it wasn’t for sale.

REALLY EXPENSIVE,contributed another reviewer.You’re better off going to Ikea or CB2.

This store is sort of creepy-looking,another reviewer added.There always seem to be weirdos moving things in and out of it, too. All the stuff looks really cool, but the store itself could use a facelift.

It’s almost like they don’t want customers,groused a more recent review.

And they were right; Koschei did not want customers.

At least, not the kind of customer who was looking for him on Yelp.

ACT I: MADNESS MOST DISCREET

“Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;

Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes;

Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears.

What is it else? A madness most discreet,

A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.”

Romeo to Benvolio,

Romeo and Juliet(1.1.181–185)

I. 1

(Enter the Fedorov Sons.)

The Fedorov sons had a habit of standing like the points of an isosceles triangle.

At the furthest point forward there was Dimitri, the eldest, who was the uncontested heir; the crown prince who’d spent a lifetime serving a dynasty of commerce and fortune. He typically stood with his chin raised, the weight of his invisible crown borne aloft, and had a habit of rolling his shoulders back and baring his chest, unthreatened. After all, who would threaten him? None who wished to live a long life, that was for certain. The line of Dimitri’s neck was steady and unflinching, having never possessed a reason to turn warily over his shoulder. Dimitri Fedorov fixed his gaze on the enemy and let the world carry on at his back.

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