“It’s not about paying. It’s just something I can’t do.” Adair gave her a bitter smile. “If I had that kind of power, my life would be a lot easier. But even I have my limits.”

“Ah.” It had been worth a try.

He sighed and rose. Diana, who’d been standing off to the side, rushed to help him up. “I am willing to make you another offer, if you actually manage to steal Tácunan Law’s information.”

She blinked. “What offer?”

“You’re still looking for your father’s killer, right?” Adair stumbled over to the counter with some effort. Diana reached out to help him, but he brushed her hand aside. He came back to the table with a printout of a picture.

The picture had Zebra-stripes in it.

Nita’s eyes widened. “This is . . .”

“Is that him? The vampire you’re looking for?”

“Yes.” The picture had been blurred—it was a group shot, but all the other faces in it were blacked out. All the people were wearing semiprofessional clothes, but the style made her think older. She didn’t know her fashion styles well, but shoulder pads were the . . . seventies? Eighties?

Zebra-stripes was smiling in the photo, a normal, almost human smile, his white-and-brown-striped hair parted to one side as he draped his arm over the shoulder of one of the blacked-out people.

Adair smiled slightly. “So that is him? Interesting.”

“Who are the other people?” Nita asked.

Adair just continued smiling.

She sighed. “What’s the price?”

“This one has . . . a lot of interesting information. The price will be high. You won’t be able to pay it without getting something from Tácunan Law.”

“I see.” Nita considered the picture a moment before she met Adair’s eyes. “Well, I know how much everyone will want that information. And if—when—I succeed, I’ll have a lot of it. So since we’re talking business, I’d like to hire you for something else too.”

Adair raised his eyebrows. “Confident in your success, aren’t you?”

Nita shrugged. “People who don’t believe in their own plans never succeed.”

“Indeed.” He tapped a claw on the table. “What do you want, then?”

“I want you to find someone reliable to alter the video of me healing online to make it look like it’s a fake. Or even someone respected in the black market circles to point out things in the video that make it look like a fake.”

“You want to discredit the video?” he mused, and nodded slowly. “I know someone. The video is already up, altering it now would look suspicious. But he’s considered an expert in the field. If he said it was fake and pointed out why, his word would carry weight.”

“And you can make him say it’s fake.”

“For a price.”