“It looks promising,” Nita said.
Kovit sighed. “Yeah, but will it actually do anything?”
Nita shrugged. “Time will tell.”
He reached over and clicked one of the links. “What’s that?”
The article popped up. It was titled Video of Man Beating Child Zannie Leads to Arrest of Multiple Members of Major East Coast Criminal Family.
“Holy shit.” Kovit leaned forward, eyes wide as he skimmed the article. “They arrested a bunch of members of the Family because they ID’ed Henry from the video.”
They scrolled through the article until they got to the bottom and stopped. The reporters had managed to get a sound bite from Gold when she was trying to post bail for the rest of the Family. It looked like she hadn’t been arrested with them. Yet.
“Miss Pullman! Miss Pullman!” called a reporter. “What do you say to the claims that your father was grooming you to take over his criminal organizations?”
“Alleged criminal organizations.” Gold’s tone was frosty, and it was clear that was the end of that topic.
“What do you think of the allegations of coercion and abuse he’s facing for forcing a zannie to torture people?” another reporter piped up.
Nita expected Gold to say what she always did: a zannie is a zannie, it likes torturing people, there’s no coercion involved, or something equally dismissive.
But instead, Gold lowered her eyes, and for a brief moment, she looked infinitely sad. Her voice was steady when she finally answered, “I think that’s an issue for the courts to decide.”
“But surely you have an opinion on the accusations?”
Gold gave them a bitter smile. “No. I’ve been forced to face a lot of hard truths recently. I don’t know what I think anymore. But I know I’m not the right person to pass judgment.”
The reporters tried to ask more questions, but Gold turned and walked away.
Nita and Kovit both stared at the screen, eyes wide.
“Did she just . . . admit she was wrong?” Nita asked.
“Maybe.” Kovit’s finger hovered over the replay button. “I wonder if something finally got through to her. If having our internet friends kick her out and call her as much a monster as me finally made her face all those things she’d been ignoring.”
Nita considered. She found it hard to believe a friendship breakdown could be the final thing that forced Gold to face herself and see her hatred for Kovit as what it truly was—misdirected self-hatred. But then again, Nita had never really had many friends. Maybe they did have that much power.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Kovit nodded, and his expression was soft and a little sad. “I hope she figures things out.”
“Even if she does, I doubt she’ll want to be friends with you again,” Nita cautioned.
“That’s okay.” He gave her a slight grin. “As long as she’s not hell-bent on murdering me, I’ll count it as a victory.”
Nita snorted, but she was secretly relieved for the same reason. She hadn’t wanted to have to arrange an “accident” for Gold in the future, and she’d been worried she’d need to if the girl continued to try and take down Kovit.
“I’m sorry, though. I know you wanted to fix it, to be friends again,” Nita said gently.
He turned to face her, and suddenly they were nose to nose, and he smiled a little. She was so close she could see the shadows cast by his eyelashes across his cheeks.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, and squeezed her hand. “I lost her. But I gained you.”
For a moment, the urge to lean forward and press her lips against his was impossibly strong. To show him that he meant the world to her, that she was always on his side.
Instead, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his. It was warm, and they were so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body.
“Nita . . .” he whispered, eyes searching hers.
“Shhhhh,” she murmured. “I’ve been thinking about us. About what I want. About what I feel. About what we are.”
His eyes were nervous, fear and longing all tangled together in an expression that made her heart tighten. “And?”
“And you mean the world to me,” she whispered. “And you were right. Kissing, romance, sex, all of that. I don’t really want it. But I do want you. I want this.” She waved her hand at him, the room, everything. “I want to lie here with you, talking. I want to curl up next to you while you sleep. I want to rest my head on your chest when I feel bad, and I want to lean my shoulder against yours just to feel you there.”
He stared at her a long moment, the soft lines of his mouth curling into a slight smile, his sharp eyebrows drawn, his dark eyes on her. Something shifted in his expression, but she couldn’t read what it meant.
She gave him a nervous smile. “Say something.”
He looked at her, those beautiful black eyes soft. “I’ve been thinking too. About what I want. About who I am. About who you are to me. And I still don’t know that I’ve figured it all out yet. Maybe I never will, not completely. But I think, before, I was scared about how it would go wrong. About how everything I didn’t know and didn’t understand yet could end up making things between us worse. That was flawed logic—it won’t go wrong as long as we talk about things, as long as we work together and communicate what we want.”
Nita agreed. “I think we’ve been doing a good job of that lately.”
“We have.”
He leaned forward then, slowly, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body tight against his own, and all her muscles relaxed, because sometimes you didn’t need words to understand, and Nita cuddled up against the warmth of his chest, pressing her face into the rumpled fabric of his T-shirt.
His hands were wrapped around her back, and he turned his face into her hair and whispered softly, “What you said, about touching, about supporting, about being near.” He swallowed heavily and tightened his grip on her, fingers warm and gentle on her back. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”
She smiled into him, her head on his heart so she could hear it beating a soothing rhythm, her uncertainty fading as she took his words and held them close. She knew exactly what they were to each other, and she didn’t need a word for it. They were themselves, terrible, vicious, and united, and they understood each other and what they each wanted, and that was all that mattered.
They lay like that, a perfect tableau, both smiling as they whispered to each other until they drifted off into warm dreams.
Thirty-Six
THE NEXT MORNING, Nita rose and showered so she could go out and find them breakfast. Kovit, who was essentially trapped in the hotel room, lay in bed, his hair mussed and his eyes bright, drinking vampire blood wine from the bottle while he read through comments on the videos of him. Every once in a while he’d mutter something along the lines of “that’s not anatomically possible, asshole.” She’d tried to get him out of the comments section, but it was no use, so she left him to it.
She made her way outside. The day was too hot, like every other day, and the streets buzzed with excitement. Whispered conversations swirled around her.
“—they still haven’t caught that zannie yet—”
“—heard there’s talk about suspending the DUL—”
“—all bullshit to me—”
Nita went to a pizzeria across the way and sat just outside while they made her pizza. Pizza for breakfast was the sort of quality lifestyle independence afforded her, and she enjoyed taking advantage of it.
“Hello, Anita.”
Nita froze, her whole body turning to a small, frightened statue at the sound of that voice. She turned, slowly, like she was in a horror movie, until she faced the person behind her.
Her mother.
Her mother, who was trying to kill Kovit. Trying to take Nita back, control her life. Who’d sicced the black market on Nita. Who’d murdered her own best friend.
Her mother’s hair hung l
oose, just touching her shoulders, the red so vivid against the black that it looked more like fresh blood than hair dye. Her eyeshadow was dark blue, as was her lipstick, a blue that almost looked black. She looked like a gothic mermaid, not the kind that sang in Disney movies, but the kind that stole your voice by ripping your vocal cords out with her bare hands.
“Anita, darling.” Her mother grinned, thin and sharkish. “How are you?”
Nita opened and closed her mouth like a fish, before managing a choked “Why are you here?”
“Now, now, is that any way to speak to your mother?” Her mother was smiling, but Nita could see the mockery just under the surface.
Nita didn’t know how to respond. So she just remained silent.
Her mother’s smile widened. “I heard about the mob that ran through the city yesterday, hunting a zannie. Pity they couldn’t get him.”
Nita’s breathing was harsh and sharp, and her heart was loud in her ears. Something bad was about to happen. She could feel it, deep inside. Worse than the dact incident, worse than when Nita had freed Fabricio, worse than anything her mother had ever done to her before.
“Please,” Nita whispered, her voice soft.
“Please?” Her mother laughed. “Please what? Please fix what that incompetent mob couldn’t accomplish?”
“Please leave him alone,” Nita whispered.
“Oh, darling,” Her mother tut-tutted. “It’s too late for that.”
Nita’s eyes drifted across the street to the hotel. Too late?
She needed to get back to Kovit. Now.
Her mother’s hand reached across and grabbed Nita’s shoulder. “You’re not thinking of running off without me, are you?”
Nita swallowed, part of her wondering if she could break her mother’s iron hold, the rest of her knowing it was impossible.
Her mother slid an arm around Nita’s shoulders. Nita kept her back straight and tried to lean away as she was yanked close to her mother. “Why don’t we go up and visit him together?”
“Let go.” Nita tried to make her voice firm, but it came out as a squeak of terror.
Her mother held on tighter. “I don’t think so.”
They walked back across the street, Nita’s steps stumbling and awkward as they entered the hotel and boarded the elevator.
“You know, Nita,” her mother said, shaking her head, “I tried to be nice. I tried to give you a little bit of freedom so you could understand why coming home was important. But you just kept running off on your own and talking about not coming back. It was terribly rude.”
Nita didn’t say anything, her throat too choked with fear, her mind too occupied running through escape plans, each more elaborate and doomed to failure than the last.
“You’ve led me on a merry chase, but it’s time for it to end.” Her mother’s voice was hard.
The words were out of Nita’s mouth before she could stop herself. “And if I don’t fall in line, you’ll kill me like you did Nadya?”
Her mother raised her eyebrows. “Well, someone’s been talking to people.”
“You didn’t answer me.”
“If you’re smart and see the wisdom in coming home, I won’t have to resort to drastic measures.” Her mother’s tone was steady, but Nita could hear the anger underneath. “Nadya was too corrupted by her time with that monster. But you’re younger, you’ve been influenced less. I’m sure it won’t come to that.”
Nita couldn’t help the small, hysterical laugh that bubbled up.
Her mother was delusional. Absolutely, completely delusional. She was so lost in her own world, so focused on controlling every piece of the people around her, that she made up these elaborate reasons why no one would come back to her. She couldn’t acknowledge that no one ever wanted to be under someone else’s control—especially not someone like her mother.
“What’s so funny?” her mother asked.
Nita just shook her head, fear bubbling in her chest. “So, what? Are you going to shoot Kovit?”
“Nonsense.” Her mother smiled as the elevator dinged on their floor. “I have something much more illuminating in mind.”
Her mother dragged Nita down the hall and stopped not in front of Nita’s room, but the room next door. She shoved Nita inside roughly. The moment they crossed the threshold, her mother drove a knife into the back of Nita’s neck.
Nita opened her mouth to cry out, but she was completely paralyzed. The knife had gone between the C1 and C2 vertebrae, where Nita had stabbed Andrej, except her mother had pushed the knife right through her voice box, effectively muting Nita.
She collapsed bonelessly to the floor, completely powerless, and her mother stepped over her limp body. “I can’t have you trying to run off now,” her mother commented, pulling up a chair to face the wall. “I prepared a show especially for you, and it would be a shame for you to miss it.”
Nita tried to open her mouth, to say something, but only a thin line of drool trickled out. She focused her body, trying to heal the damage, but the knife was still wedged in there, blocking her from healing it.
The irony that she’d used the exact same tactic on Andrej wasn’t lost on Nita.
Her mother hauled Nita up onto the chair facing the wall. She flicked on the television, and to Nita’s horror, it showed her and Kovit’s room. There must be hotel security cameras in each room, and her mother had hacked the feed.
Kovit lay sprawled on the bed, scrolling through his phone, completely oblivious.
Someone knocked on the door.
Kovit looked up. “Nita? Is that you?”
A beat of silence passed before a voice whispered, “No. It’s me.”
Kovit blinked, clearly startled, then rose and walked to the door and opened it.
His sister stood on the other side. She wore plain clothes, a T-shirt and jeans rather than the impeccable business suit Nita had last seen her in. Which made sense, since Nita was pretty sure INHUP had fired her.
Her mother leaned forward, and whispered in Nita’s ear, “You have no idea how much fun I had setting this up.”
A chill whispered down Nita’s damaged spine, and tears of frustration pooled at the corners of her eyes. Something terrible was about to happen, and she was powerless to stop it.
“Pat!” Kovit smiled hesitantly as his sister stepped in and he closed the door behind her. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
Patchaya’s hands were curled into fists, and she whispered softly, “You killed him, didn’t you?”
Kovit frowned, his eyes concerned. “Killed who?”
“Bran. You killed him.”
Kovit didn’t look any more enlightened. “Who’s Bran?”
She whirled on him, her eyes watering, rage in her voice. “Don’t fuck with me! I spoke to Agent Quispe. The moment you went up on the DUL, she came forward and identified you as one of the kidnappers! She said you were the one in the driver’s seat, that she saw you right before someone tranquilized her. You kidnapped Fabricio, Quispe, and Bran, and Bran is the only one who hasn’t reappeared.”
Kovit’s eyes widened, and he whispered, “Pat—”
“Don’t you ‘Pat’ me!” she shrieked, voice rising. “He was my best friend! We went through basic training together, we’d known each other for years! He was the only one I ever told about you, he would have helped get rid of the DUL! He would have been on our side! And you—you—”
Her voice broke, and she burst into tears, as though she’d been bottling up all her pain and fear and anger and grief and it had exploded out in a wave of sobs, choking on her own emotion.
Kovit looked stricken, and he took a step back. “I didn’t know. Pat, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry? You’re sorry?!” Patchaya stepped forward, hands gesturing wildly. “You’re sorry about what, Kovit? What did you do to him?”
Kovit looked away. “You really don’t want to know.”
Patchaya flinched like he’d slapped her. “Oh, God. You—I
didn’t—oh, God.”
“Pat—” He took a step toward her.
“Don’t come near me!” she snarled, and suddenly her gun was in the air, and Kovit froze. “Stay back!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Kovit’s voice was soft, and Nita knew he was remembering the way he’d made that INHUP agent scream. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” Her voice was suddenly flat, and Nita’s skin prickled. It was not a good tone. “You’re not ‘sorry.’ You don’t regret your actions. The only thing you regret is that I found out.”
Kovit blanched.
Patchaya took a step forward. “You don’t feel bad for what Bran went through, what you put Bran through. You don’t feel bad for what I’ve gone through, the loss of a friend, the grief at knowing his final hours must have been horrific. No.” Her voice turned vicious. “You feel bad that you have to face consequences for it. You feel bad because now you have to look me in the eye and admit what you’ve done.”
“I’m sor—”
Patchaya interrupted, her voice calm, so calm. “No, Kovit. You’re not.”
In the silence that followed, Nita’s mother curled her fingers over Nita’s shoulder and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Here it comes.”
Nita didn’t want it to come. Because she could already see where this was going to go.
“You’re a monster, Kovit,” Patchaya said evenly. “I’d hoped, I’d really hoped, that you wouldn’t end up one. That you’d be able to maintain control, that you wouldn’t give in to your violent urges and become a serial killer like every other zannie.”
“I’m not a serial killer,” Kovit said, voice soft. “I haven’t lost control. I’m still me. Just . . . just a little darker.”
Patchaya’s laugh was bitter and sharp. “Kovit, you’re deluded if you think you’re in control. Do you think control means you pick who you hurt? Because that’s not control. Control is when you don’t hurt anyone, when you resist the violence within. Control isn’t just picking your victim.”
When Villains Rise Page 24
