Shifting in her seat, crossing one leg beneath her, she said, “Well you’re smart, obviously.”
“Not an assumption—I’ve told you of my schooling.”
That was true enough. “You speak at least five languages.”
“Why five?”
“Well …” Luna thought on how best to answer that. “English, for one.”
“Does that really count?”
“It should,” Luna said with a laugh, remembering how hard she had found it to learn the language. “Welsh, obviously. There was that man that came to see you a couple of weeks ago—I think he was Italian? Spanish, for another, and French.”
His smile said he was impressed. “Your observation skills are serving you well. All true, but I also speak Swedish, Russian, and Gaelic, though only when I’m in the mood.”
“How did you learn all of them?” she asked.
He regaled her with stories, one where he spent weeks in a Mexican jungle, hunting down an arms dealer that had thought to escape into the forest—it hadn’t ended well for the dealer. Another where he was in Spain setting up contracts with people known only as The Family.
She didn’t think she could ever get tired of hearing him speak, the smooth, lulling cadence, or the way the tales were embellished with details that she hadn’t asked for, but liked to hear all the same.
She liked him.
“Pyotr was one of my first assignments in the Lotus Society, and despite finishing the job mostly unscathed, I still had to remain in the country for another two months before I could be extracted. A local man had been all too willing to teach me the language should I pay him to keep his mouth shut.”
“How many did you do before you retired? Assignments, I mean.”
“One-hundred and thirty-six.”
Luna blinked. “That’s … wow.”
He shrugged. “It’s merely a number. Others have done far more.”
“Was it hard in the beginning?”
“No,” he said without hesitation. “Does that surprise you?”
“A little.”
Kit seemed genuinely curious now. “Why?”
“You’re taking someone’s life. I can’t imagine that was easy for someone as young as you were.”
“When you’ve already experienced trauma, it no longer matters. Many often find freedom in vindication. This is not me saying that it’s easy, or that everything will be the same once you take a life, but the payoff was worth it—at least to me. It was like being reborn.”
She thought of the wings on his back. “Did you choose your name, or was it given to you?”
“It was given.”
“Fang and the Wild Bunch too?”
“Yes.”
“And the Kingmaker?”
Kit lost his smile. “Believe me, no one would call him that if they had a choice—his was self-appointed.”
“Will I get a name?”
“In due time.”
“How does that work exactly?”
“That’s a question you’ll need to ask one of the Den, I’m afraid. I don’t know how their process works.”
Luna kind of hoped it would be something memorable—something that stuck out amongst the sea of others there were.
“But enough of that,” Kit said as he passed her the iPad. “You have work to do.”
Accepting it from him, she settled in to read all about Kit’s target for the night.
By the time they were landing, Luna was sure that she could recite back every detail of that file if Kit were to ask.
She had grown rather used to the black SUVs that were always parked near the chateau, but as she stepped off the plane, shielding her eyes with her hand, there was another car just off in the distance—one that had her staring in open admiration.
It sat close to the ground, and looked as if it were better suited for a race track than at a hangar. Painted a light shade of cream, the car was pristine, with darkened windows that prevented anyone from seeing inside.
Luna might not have known what kind of car it was exactly, but she could guess it was very expensive—but seeing Kit’s chateau, she wasn’t surprised.
Kit handled their bags before walking her over to the car and opened the passenger door for her.
The leather was the same shade of cream as the exterior, and Luna was almost afraid to touch anything with how pristine everything looked—as though the car had been made and delivered minutes before they landed.
Glancing over at the steering wheel, she tried to make sense of the logo—what looked like a backward E and a B—but it was unfamiliar.
Once Kit was next to her, dawning a pair of opaque sunglasses, she asked, “What kind of car is this?”
He smiled at her as he started the car up, the low purr of the engine sounding. “Bugatti Veyron. Do you like it?”
Like was a bit of an understatement. “It’s a surprise, I guess.”
“Oh?”
“I thought you would drive something more … I don’t know, classic?”
“And what does classic mean to you, Luna?” There was a slight smile on his lips as he looked back to the road, his hand wrapping around the gear shift.