Nick stopped. He sensed the increasing tension, and apparently the dog did too—he felt it gradually tightening its grip again. He decided to slow down and try again. “You have me at a disadvantage,” he said. “Usually when I fight with a woman she doesn’t have three huge animals ready to rip out my throat.”

“Too bad for them,” she replied. “Whenever I fight with a man I find they come in handy.”

“I wonder if we could start over. I would really appreciate the chance to talk to you for a few minutes—just a friendly conversation, witch-to-mortal. After that, if you want me to go, I will.”

“You’re in no position to bargain,” she said.

“Please? It’s a little uncomfortable down here. Plus your dog is drooling down my neck, which is easily one of the grossest things I’ve ever experienced—and believe me, I have a very high threshold for ‘gross.’”

She hesitated.

“I even brought you a pizza—as a peace offering.”

She looked at the open box.

“I got the Witch Supreme,” Nick said. “Eye of newt with extra bat wings.”

She smiled a little—then she saw the three slices of pizza lying in the dirt. “Were you trying to bribe my dogs?”

“I told them it was for you. They threatened me. It got ugly.”

She smiled a little more.

“That smile looks good on you,” Nick said.

“Well, don’t get used to it.” She snapped her fingers, then closed her fist and opened it again; the dog immediately released Nick’s throat and returned to its sitting position.

Nick sat up and wiped his neck with both hands, then looked at them.

“Were you expecting blood?” the witch asked.

“Frankly, yes. Extraordinary—an animal with that much power yet is able to exercise that kind of control. Did you train these animals yourself ?”

“You said you wanted to talk—so talk.”

“Is there someplace we can go and sit down?”

“You’re sitting down now.”

“You’re not making this easy.”

“Is there some reason I should?”

“No,” Nick said, “I suppose there isn’t.” He got up from the ground and dusted himself off. “I’m Dr. Nick Polchak. I’d offer you my hand, but I’m afraid it might get bitten off.”

He waited, but she didn’t respond.

“I didn’t get your name.”

“I didn’t give it.”

“Am I supposed to keep calling you ‘Witch’? I tried that with a woman once and it ended our relationship.”

She paused. “Alena Savard.”

“Alena,” he said. “That’s a perfectly good name.”

“Who said it wasn’t?”

“The way you kept resisting, I thought maybe it was ‘Wanda’ or ‘Glendora’—you know, something really embarrassing for a witch.”

She didn’t reply.