“Tell me what you know about Tácunan Law,” Nita said finally. The way Gold had said Fabricio’s family’s company made Nita worried. Like an order from them was as good as done. Like nothing anyone did could change the fate Tácunan Law decided.
“Not much.” Kovit considered. “I just know it makes sure monsters don’t get in trouble with the law. Offshore accounts. Legal shenanigans. Investigation coverups. The occasional witness silencing. But mostly money stuff. Money tells a lot of stories, and powerful people’s money trails can destroy them. Tácunan Law is kind of like Switzerland, you know? No one wants to attack it, because the whole world keeps their money there and you’d make a lot of enemies. And no one wants to piss them off, because they can leak incriminating finances to the authorities.”
They sounded like someone Nita didn’t want to mess with.
Unfortunately, they messed with her first.
Fabricio was using his father’s reputation to shield himself and kill Nita. If Nita could somehow shatter that reputation . . . No. Steal that reputation for herself . . .
Kovit sat down beside her. “Nita.”
“Yes?”
“The woman who chased you.” He folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them.
“What about her?”
“I know her.” He swallowed and met her eyes. “She’s part of the Family I worked for.”
Twenty
“SHIT.” IT REALLY WAS the only response Nita could think of. “Did she see you?”
“I don’t know.” He ran his hands through his hair, fisting them before lowering them to his sides. “I don’t know.”
“Fuck.” Nita closed her eyes. Everything she’d heard about this Family made her very sure she didn’t want them knowing Kovit was here.
Kovit sucked in a breath. “They can’t possibly know we’re working together.”
“No,” Nita agreed. But if they found out Kovit was here, it would look damn convenient that they were both in the same city. “Tell me about Gold. What are we up against?”
“Marigold is the daughter of the head of the Family.” He grimaced. “You remember the story about tricking a vampire into the sunlight just because she hated him? That was Gold. She’s got a reputation.”
Nita frowned. Not good.
“The Family has branches in multiple cities, so we only met last year. She was transferred to my branch to learn the ropes away from her father.”
“Are you”—Nita chose her words carefully—“on good terms?”
Kovit shrugged. “Not really. She doesn’t like me. But it’s not personal, if that’s what you’re asking. She just dislikes zannies.”
“Seems to be common.” Nita’s voice was dry.
Kovit rolled his eyes. “Very.” He sighed. “She was friends with Matt. Before the Family decided to kill him.”
“What did she think of that decision?”
“She was pretty angry. But not even she had the power to save Matt. Not after . . .” Kovit trailed off. “Well. Not after everything.”
Nita raised her eyebrows.
“I’m not so much worried about Gold,” Kovit admitted, deftly changing the direction of the conversation. “I’m more worried about her boss, the head of my chapter of the Family. Henry. If he finds out I’m alive . . .” He ran his hands through his hair. “He started phishing, you know, a few days after the market burned down. Casually emailing me to ask how I was. I nearly responded the first time before I realized if I answered he’d know I was alive. And that was why he was emailing. To figure out if I survived.” He glanced at her. “Obviously I haven’t answered any of his messages.”
“Of course.” Nita hesitated. “Were you close?”
Kovit stared at the ceiling. “Yeah. He’s the man who recruited me for the Family. He got me settled in the States. He brought me food.”
“He picked who you tortured.”
“Yes.” His eyes flicked to her and away. “He fed me. He took care of me. He was basically my guardian after my mother died.”
Nita folded her hands on her lap. “I got the sense your relationship didn’t end well.”
“No.” Kovit was quiet for a moment. “Henry’s the one who ordered me to torture Matt. I said no. I’d never said no before, and he . . .” Kovit swallowed, and his lashes fluttered softly. “He was angry. He locked me in a room alone and told me if I didn’t eat who he told me to, I didn’t eat.”
“Sounds like a nice guy.” Nita snorted.
Kovit laughed, sharp and bitter. “He’s used to getting his way. After a day, I told him I agreed, but when he led me to Matt, I helped him escape instead. Henry didn’t take it well.”
“Didn’t take it well how?”
“He wanted me to be punished the same way anyone else who defied the Family was.”
“Which was?”
“Me, of course.” His smile was sharp and thin. “I dealt out all the punishments.”
Of course. Nita frowned. “He wanted you to torture yourself?”
His gaze shuttered. “No. He wanted to torture me.”
Nita stared.
“He knew all about my mother. What she’d done to me.” Kovit’s jaw tightened, and he blinked and looked away so she couldn’t see his dark eyes.
Henry had been like an adoptive father to Kovit. And just like his previous parent, he’d wanted to torture Kovit. Nita could taste the stomach acid in her mouth from her fight.
Kovit cleared his throat, and his voice was steady. “For-tunately, the head of the Family disagreed. Gold’s father. He sent me off to South America.”
Nita nodded. She didn’t know what to say.
“Henry used to be the torturer for the Family, until they decided they wanted the reputation boost of a zannie. Before I met him, I never knew regular humans could be as addicted to torture as a zannie.” Kovit’s voice was distant. “He supervised all my sessions growing up.”
Kovit closed his eyes, and a dreamy smile crossed his face. “We had a lot of good times. He’s so inventive. He used to call me an artist.”
Nita’s hands balled into fists. Something fearful and nauseous and unhappy slid along the back of her throat and scraped at the flesh, making her want to cough or gag or swallow.
She wanted to run away from Kovit.
She wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and hold him close.
She said, “I imagine that meant a lot to you as a kid. Being praised for something everyone else saw as monstrous.”
“Of course it did. There’s no child in this world that doesn’t appreciate being praised for something they like doing.”
Nita thought of her dissection table, her craving to take people apart. Some of her earliest memories were of her mother and father standing in an autopsy room, Nita on a stool so she could see the body. They’d take it apart, her father’s gentle voice guiding and teaching, her mother’s smile flashing approval when she’d done something well.
If she’d had a different life, would she still obsess over cutting people open?