NITA TOOK A DEEP BREATH of fresh air when she exited the police station. It smelled a little muggy and full of grass and spring things. Also car exhaust. But mostly, freshness and freedom. Nita swallowed, her body shaking a little at the sheer relief at being out of that room. It reminded her too much of her cage in Death Market.
Her mother took her wrist. “Come on, let’s get a little distance.”
Nita nodded and followed.
They wove down the street, between groups of pedestrians and up another road. A park loomed ahead, with large, budding trees sweeping over small benches with nameplates. Nita and her mother walked up the hill and into the park, weaving down densely covered paths and into a private glen. A bench dedicated to someone who died twenty years ago perched in one corner, and a picnic table in another.
Nita collapsed onto the picnic table with a sigh. She let herself breathe. She was out. She was free. They couldn’t catch her, they had nothing on her.
Her mother sat down across from her. “You okay?”
Nita nodded. She didn’t think her mother had asked her that before. Ever. She wondered if it was a trap of some kind. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just been a long day.”
“So I’ve heard. Kidnapping an INHUP agent this morning, were you?”
Nita sighed and rubbed her temples. “Yeah.”
Her mother laughed, full and free, and gave Nita an admiring smile. “I’d expect nothing less of my daughter.”
A small flash of pride swelled in Nita before she pushed it down. It was a trick. A manipulation. Besides, she didn’t want to be the kind of person her mother admired. Did she?
Her chest tightened. She kind of did. Even if that meant being the kind of person who kidnapped INHUP agents and murdered black market dealers in cold blood. That praise meant a lot.
“Thanks,” Nita said, trying to change the subject, “for getting me out of there.”
“I did nothing.” Her mother’s hair caught the light as she tilted her head toward Nita. “You could have walked out of there anytime. They had nothing on you. You just needed to get up and leave. They couldn’t have stopped you.”
Nita looked away. “They got in my head.”
“I do recall your father and I tried to warn you about that.”
Nita’s throat tightened at the mention of her father. She missed him.
“That’s what they do.” Her mother waved it away. “They almost never have evidence for something. They make an art of manipulating confessions out of people, whether the person did it or not.”
Nita raised her eyebrows. “I did do it.”
Her mother laughed. “Oh, I know.” Her smile fell slightly. “But the mental tricks work just as well on the innocent. You know how many people confess to crimes they didn’t commit?”
Nita stared at her mother for a long moment, at the tightness of her mouth and the way her eyes stared into the distance. Nita had read the news as much as anyone else, and she knew there were lots of places with high populations of innocent people in prison. But there was something in the way her mother said it that made Nita think she wasn’t talking about statistics in the paper.
“No.” Nita’s voice was soft.
Her mother snorted, the sudden sadness gone as if it had never been. “Never trust that the police have your best interests in mind.”
Nita nodded. She’d been raised to be afraid of the police, because her family were criminals. She’d always known her mother’s fear was more than just that, but she’d assumed her mother had been raised somewhere dangerous, where money talked louder than crimes, skin color made you guilty by default, or being an unnatural was a death sentence. Not that Nita had any idea where her mother came from—she had dozens of passports with different names from different countries. Nita didn’t even know her mother’s real name.
But for the first time, Nita felt like she understood something else about her mother’s hatred. She could see that, buried somewhere in her life, her mother had a story, and the police were its villains.
“Okay.” Nita met her mother’s eyes, wishing she could press for details, but knowing there was no point. She’d never answer. “I understand.”
A brief smile crossed her mother’s face. “Good girl.”
She reached over and ruffled the top of Nita’s head, like she was petting a dog. Nita wriggled away.
Her mother leaned her chin on her hands. “Well, I’d say you’ve proven yourself the past few days. Murdering your enemies was a lovely touch, and that notice on the black market as Scalpel has certainly started some conversations.” Her mother grinned. “I also took the liberty of starting a discussion pointing out flaws in the video of you healing, so maybe in time we can get it discredited.”
Nita blinked. “Thanks.”
“Of course.”
Nita swallowed, eyes searching her mother’s. “You’re not mad at me?”
Her mother raised her eyebrows. “For what?”
“For leaving, causing a mess, and needing you to rescue me from the police—”
Her mother took Nita’s face in her hands. “Nita, I’ve never been prouder of you.”
Nita’s throat choked up. Words wouldn’t come out.
“You’ve done so well on your own. For years, I’ve been so scared something would happen. That a careless movement would expose you to the world and they’d descend on you.” Her mother sighed. “I might have been a bit overprotective, but I love you, and I was scared for you. You were always so squeamish, never wanting to see people die. And those dacts! You couldn’t even stand animals dying, I was sure the market would eat you alive.”
Her hands fell from Nita’s face, and her eyes shone. “Now look at you. I never needed to worry. When the going got tough, you got tougher!”
Her mother slapped her on the shoulder, and Nita jerked forward from the force. “What?”
“You’ve done amazing!” Her mother’s eyes were soft. “I see now that you never needed me to be that clingy and protective. It must have been stifling, I’m not surprised you were resentful.”
“I wasn’t—”
Her mother snorted. “You were. I didn’t realize how much until you left me the other day.”
Nita swallowed. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Nonsense. You needed to prove yourself. I get it.” Her mother looked up at the sky, at something far away. “I think all teenagers go through that phase.”
Nita bowed her head. “I guess.”
Suddenly Nita’s hand was warm, and she looked up to see her mother’s hand covering it. “Just remember home is waiting for you if you want to come back. Your dissection table is ready.”
Nita opened her mouth, but no words came out. She’d been so wrong about her mother, always assuming the worst, always shying away from her controlling influence. Always doubting, looking for any excuse to vilify her.
“Thanks.” Nita choked, the words barely coming from her tight throat.
Her mother smiled. “Of course. I’m your mother. I love you. Anything you want, just ask.”
Nita nearly asked her if she could come home now. She could have someone else deal with the market, someone else keep her safe. Nita could curl up in her bed and sleep, dissect to her heart’s content. It would be so easy. So simple.
There wasn’t anything holding her back. She’d proven she could work on her own. She’d murdered her enemies. There was only Fabricio left, and he was probably long gone. Her mother could help her track him down.
It wasn’t like anyone in the outside world was waiting. Kovit was gone.
Nita’s eyes watered at that memory. She hadn’t even begun to examine the snarled, tangled mess of emotions around that.
Nita let out a deep breath.
“I have a question.” Nita’s voice shook a little.
“What?”
She raised her eyes and met her mother’s gaze. “What do you know about Dad’s murder and the vampire?”
Her mother’s face immediately shuttered. “Nita—”
Nita sighed. “That’s what I thought.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Then explain.”
Her mother shook her head.
Nita nodded and rose from her bench. “Thanks, Mom. For getting me out of the station. For being here for me.” She brushed a leaf from her pants. “I’ll keep in touch. Visit. But I still have things to do.”
Going home was the easy choice. And the easy choice was almost never the right one, in Nita’s experience. The easy choice was hiding, letting other people make decisions for her.
Nita didn’t want that.
As much as her mother said she cared, as much as her words meant to Nita, her mother was still the same person. The person who had started some sort of turf war with Fabricio’s father, who wouldn’t reveal what she knew about her father’s killer. The person who’d terrorized Nita for so many years, who haunted her nightmares. Kind words didn’t erase facts.
Besides, Nita had things to do.
Fabricio was still on the loose, and she wanted to handle him herself. It wasn’t that she needed to prove herself to her mother. She just didn’t want her mother fixing it. Nita wanted to handle him her own way.
After she’d handled Fabricio, she would deal with Zebra-stripes. Her father’s murderer wouldn’t escape justice, no matter what Nita had to do.
And when all of the blood she needed to spill was spilt, when her vengeance was complete and her enemies were ashes, she wanted to live.
She wanted to build her own life. A life where she went to school. A life where she knew more people than just her mother. A life where, if Kovit came back, she could see him without fear he’d be murdered when her mom came home. Because her mother could never ever know about Kovit.
Her mother squeezed her hand. “I’m always here if you need me.”
Nita nodded, still unable to say anything. Her eyes burned with tears, and she didn’t know why.
Finally, she whispered, “I love you, Mom.”
Her mother rose and embraced her. “I love you too, Nita.”
Nita sank into the warmth of the embrace for a long moment before she finally pulled away with a shaky breath. She nodded at her mother, lost for words, then quietly turned and walked away.