He looked at her, eyes tired. “You’re not going to let me go, are you?”
“No. Like I said, I don’t forgive.” Nita picked up a scalpel from her pocket. “And I don’t forget.”
She brought the blade down.
Twenty-Six
KOVIT STOPPED BY BRIEFLY, and she sent him away to find them dinner while she dealt with the body. She needed time, time to think, to contemplate her next steps. To internalize what she’d learned.
She also needed time to be alone, just her and her scalpel and the body, to appreciate the peace of dissection, the calm and the clear-headedness she could only truly achieve when she was elbow-deep in a chest cavity.
Before she dissected, she knew she needed to verify some of the things Andrej had said.
She turned to Google. The Wikipedia page for Nadezhda Novikova informed Nita that she was still alive, but hadn’t been seen in public for the past twenty years, which fit with the story.
The internet at large was full of conspiracy theories—she saw a number referencing how young she looked twenty years ago at age sixty, and how many people thought she was some sort of unnatural that had gone into hiding. There were also some that claimed she’d been murdered and INHUP covered it up, which Nita didn’t like. The closer people’s stories were to internet conspiracy theories, the less she trusted them.
She switched tactics, realizing she might actually know what Adair’s photo was from now. She searched for INHUP founders’ images and scrolled through blurry photos from sixty years ago, trying to find—there.
Nita pulled up the photo, the same one Adair had shown her. Except this time the other faces weren’t blurred out.
Andrej stood in the middle, grinning, an arm casually wrapped over Nadezhda Novikova’s shoulders. There were half a dozen people Nita didn’t recognize. And one she did.
At the top corner of the photo, Nita’s mother toasted the photographer with a glass of champagne. Her smile was wide and bright and perfectly happy. It transformed her face, made her look less like her mother and more like . . . more like Nita.
Nita shuddered. That was a terrible thought.
But here it was. Photographic evidence that both of them had at one time been part of INHUP. That her vicious, murderous mother might actually be at the head of the organization Nita was trying to destroy.
Nita had always known her mother had contacts in INHUP. She’d assumed they were bribed or threatened or whatever. But she’d never expected this.
She put her phone away, put her dissection gloves on, and did what she did when her mind couldn’t process things, when she was stressed and needed to work through her pain.
She dissected.
She’d cut Andrej’s head off to ensure his death—no easy feat with nothing but a scalpel and brute strength. It had also made quite the messy splatter, she was glad she’d put the plastic down as a precautionary measure.
It was always best to be extra sure with vampires. So she made a Y incision, peeled back the skin, and cracked open the rib cage so she could pull out his heart. It was shriveled and black, like a giant raisin, and it smelled like it had been dead for a hundred years.
Death confirmed, she began carefully removing the organs, one at a time, gloved fingers slicked with blood. Her fingers slid against the interior flesh of the chest cavity as she hollowed it out, careful and slow.
Nita immersed herself in the calm methodical act of taking a person apart piece by piece, lining up the organs by her side, their smooth surfaces slick with blood. Time lost meaning as she let all her pain at her mother’s betrayal slide away into the perfect serenity of dissection.
When she was done, when the body was all taken apart and packaged up in sealed plastic bags for disposal and there was nothing left to do, she rose and cracked her back, working off the stiffness in her body. Smiling slightly, feeling calmer and more grounded, she went to the bathroom, washed her hands, stepped into the shower, and washed her whole body, the blood rinsing away in a pink pool before disappearing down the drain.
She put on the new clothes she’d prepared, left her hair in a towel as she put her bloody clothes in another sealed bag—more evidence to be disposed of—and went back into the main room.
She pulled out her phone and texted Kovit. All done. You can come up now so we can start disposal.
Then she took one of the bottles of red wine she’d bought, poured about half into the sink, and filled the empty space with blood she’d collected from Andrej. Vampire blood went bad notoriously fast, and alcohol worked as an excellent preservative. People had been mixing blood and wine for centuries. It kept the blood fresh, it was an inconspicuous way to transport it, and it improved the taste.
Nita corked the bottle and swished it around so that it was nice and mixed before she opened the bottle and took a long drink.
A knock on the door made her pause, and she went over and peered through the eyehole, then opened it. Kovit slipped inside, shoulders tight, nervous expression on his face. But when he peered in and saw there was no sign of the body, only bags, he relaxed and smiled.
“Find out what you needed to know?”
“Yes.” Nita took another swig of the blood wine.
Kovit raised an eyebrow. “Is that blood? Are you literally drinking the blood of your enemies now?”
“Yes.” She passed him the bottle. “Want some?”
“Yes.” He took a long swig.
“Good?” she asked.
“Terrible.” He wiped his mouth and handed the bottle back. “Who knew immortality would taste so bad?”
She grinned as she sipped it. “Nothing comes for free.”
He rolled his eyes and snatched it back to take another drink.
She sat down on a chair and looked up at the lights as he drank. Her head felt a little muzzy from the alcohol, but she could feel the blood working on her body, slowing her age. She focused in, internally watching what the vampire blood cells did to her body, seeing if she could replicate it. Could she simulate the effects of the blood and make herself immortal?
She studied the chemical composition and decided, yes, she probably could. Maybe not immortal, but she could slow her aging a lot.
And combined with her healing power . . .
She wondered how long she could live. She wondered how long her mother had lived.
“So, did you find out anything interesting?” Kovit asked.
She nodded. “My mother is one of the heads of INHUP.”
He stared at her, lips still bloody from the wine. “What?”
“She’s probably the one who expedited your reveal.” Nita’s voice was soft. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s hers. And I would have been revealed anyway, and that would have had nothing to do with you.”
She let out a breath. “Nonetheless, I’m sorry.”
He sat next to her, his body close, so close, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder in a half hug. She leaned into it, grief bubbling up softly.
“It’s her fault my location was outed online in Toronto.” Nita’s voice trembled.
Kovit squeezed her shoulder tighter. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m going to kill her,” Nita whispered, looking up at Kovit, the alcohol giving her the ability to say the words she couldn’t even bear to think when sober.
“Are you sure?” Kovit’s words were gentle. “She’s your mother.”
“I don’t care.” Nita clenched her jaw. “She’s trying to control me, and if she can’t, she might even kill me. I wouldn’t let Reyes keep me in a cage, why would I let her?”
Kovit was silent at that, probably thinking about Henry, and how hard a decision that had been for him.
“It’s not like you and Henry,” Nita whispered. “This isn’t a hard decision.”
Nita was lying. Not just because this was her mother, and she knew her mother loved her, even if that love was warped beyond all reason into something dark and terrible.
But because Nita was absolutely terrified of going against her mother. A lifetime of ingrained fear rested in her soul, and she didn’t have the slightest idea how she would ever overcome it.
When Nita was a child, she’d misused her power, not understanding how it worked. Too many hospital trips later, her mother decided to teach Nita how to use her ability properly. Nita read a book on human biology, learned more than any child should ever know about the chemical processes that occurred in her body, and her mother quizzed her.
Then the practical part began.
Sometimes her mother would break Nita’s bones, cracking her wrist in one, two, three places. Sometimes she’d pulverize Nita’s hand. Sometimes she’d cut Nita, her knife sliding along Nita’s skin and the blood dripping onto the carpet, and Nita would be expected to heal it with her ability, or suffer for months letting it heal naturally.
At the time, she thought this was perfectly normal. After all, how could she use her ability if she didn’t learn and practice? Only now, with the benefit of age and hindsight, did Nita understand that it hadn’t just been about teaching—it had been about making her afraid.
She pushed the thought away, and all the other ones that came after it, a lifetime of memories that built on that fear. Dead animal bodies in her bed, Nita’s dreams getting crushed the way her hand had been.
She didn’t want to think about it now, didn’t want to face the monster her mother had always been. Because at her core, Nita truly had believed her mother loved her.
But maybe the truth was that her mother had never loved Nita. She’d loved the high she got controlling Nita.
“It can’t be easy, going against your mother.” Kovit’s voice brought her out of the past and into the present. “It won’t be easy.”
He was right, he was always right.
Nita took another swig of wine. “No. It won’t.”
You’ll never win against her, a small part of her mind whispered, and no matter how much she told it to shut up, it kept coming back.
Kovit tilted her head up to face him. “I can do it, if you want. I don’t mind.”
For a moment, Nita wanted to say yes. She wanted to leave her mother in a room and let Kovit deal with her. To not face the problem, to just let Kovit do what he did best and bask in her freedom afterward.
But she didn’t think Kovit could contain her mother. She didn’t think he had any better chance of taking her down than Nita did. And she’d never forgive herself if she let Kovit try to solve her problems and he died for it.
She sighed softly, regret coloring her voice. “Thank you. But I need to do it myself.”
“I understand.” His voice was gentle.
And he did, she knew that. And she loved that he accepted her choice, he didn’t press. He’d be there if she needed him, and that was everything she wanted.
But as she leaned against him, her mind continued running in terrified circles, unable to contemplate a single scenario where she faced her mother and won.
Twenty-Seven
IT WAS ALMOST DAWN by the time they finished getting rid of Andrej’s body. Nita didn’t have a proper refrigeration unit to store all the body parts, and selling them would take time and tools she didn’t have. So she just threw the pieces, wrapped in plastic bags, into one of the many massive trash bins in the city. The trash compacter would come around that evening and deal with it.
The blood wine she kept. Easier to store, easier to transport, and better benefits.
Kovit checked his phone occasionally on the way back, and she thought he was checking for updates on the DUL, but when she asked, he admitted he was just reading group chat messages from his online friend group.
“They’ve decided to kick Gold and me out,” he admitted softly.
“I’m sorry.” Nita’s voice was gentle. “I know how much they meant to you.”
He shrugged, but she could see the pain in his eyes. “It’s okay. I never expected . . . They’re good people. I knew, when the news came out, that I would lose them.”
“It doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
“No,” he whispered. A sad, slightly amused smile crossed his face. “I guess Gold didn’t think it through, though. She’s having an online meltdown that they’re kicking her out too. I told the group what happened in Toronto. I guess Gold didn’t realize that spying and trying to bring me back to a torture cage would maaaaaybe horrify the others.”
Nita sighed, a sound part amused and part exasperated. The more she thought about Gold, the more she began to feel like she might finally understand the angry, vicious daughter of a mob boss.
“I think Gold is in severe denial,” Nita finally said.
Kovit tilted his head. “About?”
“Herself.” Nita’s gaze shifted to her hands. “I suspect she’s done and seen a lot of bad things, and she can’t square the things she’s done with the way she views herself. So focusing on zannies, on unnaturals, on making them evil, she can at least believe she’s the better person, even if she’s not good.”
Nita licked her lips. “If she accepts that you’re as human as she, then she loses that slim moral high ground, and she has to face her own monstrosity.” Nita sighed, lost for a moment in her own bloody past. “Losing that moral high ground means taking responsibility for what you’ve done, for what you’ve been avoiding thinking about. And that’s hard.”
Kovit blinked, hesitating a little. “I’ve never thought of it like that.” He considered. “I think . . . I think you’re right. I think she clings to the idea that she’s at least not as bad as me, that in this one thing she’s better, to avoid facing what kind of person she’s become over the years.”
Nita nodded. She could understand that. She had a lot of experience avoiding the truth of her own crimes. Facing her own guilt had been hard, but she didn’t regret it.
“Maybe this rejection will force her to face it,” Nita mused.
“Maybe,” Kovit whispered, but she could tell he was trying not to hope too hard.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts.
By the time they returned to the apartment, it was full-on morning, and Nita and Kovit were both exhausted from all the body dumping and carting crates around. Nita opened the door and was greeted with the buzz of the local news programming. Fabricio had managed to wiggle far enough to reach the television remote and was watching the news.
Nita scowled. “What are you doing?”
Fabricio gave her a steady look. “Watching INHUP defend putting Kovit on the list.”
Kovit darted forward so he could see the screen. “Wait, what?”
The announcer onscreen was speaking in Spanish, and Kovit made a frustrated sound. “What’s he saying?”
Nita closed the door behind her and listened closer. “They’ve moved past the INHUP stuff and are on to some sort of financial analysis.”
Kovit pulled out his phone and started googling, and Nita peered over his shoulder.
One of INHUP’s directors, a tall man in his forties, had made an official statement. Kovit clicked the video and turned up the volume.
“. . . While we acknowledge that the one-week mandatory verification period wasn’t respected, this was because we found it unnecessary due to overwhelming evidence against the zannie in question.” The man assessed the crowd as cameras flashed and the INHUP logo towered over him in the background. “We were unaware of any relationship with the agent in the photos, but have suspended her pending an investigation, the results of which we will make public after the inquiry.”
“What is this overwhelming evidence?” called a voice from the crowd of reporters. “Can we see it?”
“At this time it is classified.”
“Why?”
“The videos all involve graphic scenes of torture as performed by a minor. Our legal department is working on the legalities of releasing one or two to the public, and we hope that we can allay your suspicions shortly.”
/> The man waved at the reporters and then walked offstage, and the video ended.
“Can they release the videos?” He looked at Nita nervously.
“Probably,” Nita admitted. “But we can counter this.”
Fabricio interrupted them. “Can you counter the testimony of one of Kovit’s victims who’s come forward?”
Both of them turned around to face Fabricio. Nita stared at him. “Victims?”
“The pink-haired girl. I saw her on television earlier.” Fabricio shrugged. “She’s making quite a fuss.”
Mirella. Mirella was on television.
“Thanks, we’ll look at that now.” Nita smiled tightly at Fabricio and then dragged Kovit into the bedroom, closing the door behind them so that Fabricio couldn’t snoop on what happened next.
Nita clicked through the news links on her phone until she found the one she wanted. It was titled Woman Comes Forward Claiming to Be Zannie Victim.
Nita hesitated, eyes flicking to Kovit as her finger hovered over the Play button. His jaw was tight, and he nodded sharply. “Play it.”
She did. Mirella came onscreen, her long pink hair tied back into a professional bun, her left eye covered by a black patch like a pirate. Her skin was gray and contrasted starkly with her too-pink eye. High cheekbones and a square face made her determined look seem more steely and hard as she spoke. Nita clicked the subtitle button beneath the video so that Kovit could see the translation, since he didn’t speak Spanish.
“I want to clarify, for all those people doubting that this man is a zannie. He absolutely is, and he’s absolutely the monster your nightmares are made of. He was one of my jailers in el Mercado de la Muerte, and he abused his power frequently to torture me whenever he was bored.” Her eyes were hard. “If you see him, don’t hesitate. Kill him.”
The video ended there, and both Nita and Kovit were silent afterward. Nita had always assumed that Kovit had hurt Mirella more than just the one time Reyes had asked him to, but hearing Mirella actually say it, putting words to the monstrosity she hadn’t dared quite imagine made Nita feel nauseous and a little lightheaded.
When Villains Rise Page 18