Archive of Our Own

When the hands had first grabbed him, he thought it was a ghost. Not Jordie, funnily enough, but the supposed ‘ Shadow of Yotsuya’ , she who haunted the streets of the West Stave. Nothing more than a phantom, a rumor to pass around the bars late at night, but it was one that stuck with Kaz regardless. 

They say the Shadow of Yotsuya was a vengeful one. A broken body, soaked red and sickening as she had sat upon her throne of discarded crates in the Menagerie’s back alley. A haunting image she had supposedly made, her dead eyes staring at the heavens as if she would tear them from the sky for what had been done to her. Tortured to death, the wretched prey of the worst kind of monsters that lurked in the Barrel, and the men who had done it to her hadn’t even the courtesy to preserve her modesty. To leave any part of her untouched. They made a hideous mess of her, disfiguring her body almost beyond recognition. And yet, it was not the news of her death that had been a rumor. In fact, she had already been identified before the night was over. 

Her name had been Oiwa Tamiya, and she had worked at the Menagerie for the past three years. She was seventeen years old when she died. Thick black hair cropped in a short bob, olive skin, and a conspiratorial smile that made everyone feel just a tad special. Blessed, in some way, because she had smiled at you and let you in on her own little secret. Kaz had met her once, she had given him a sweet bite of funnel cake as they exchanged messages for their respective higher ups. A kind girl, although one with a terrible bluff. No, the death of Oiwa was not what had spread like wildfire across the city. 

It was the deaths of the men who had killed her that had stirred up fear. Each of them had started reporting sightings of Oiwa in the weeks after her death, begging Tante Heleen to reign in her property. To command the girl to remove this curse that had been placed on them. But she really was dead, and Tante Heleen had no control over her at that point. When the first bastard had been murdered in his apartment, bled out and bent into an unholy shape, the whispers had started. ‘His door had been locked’ , people had whispered, ‘there were no signs of entry or exit’ . And ‘no human hands could have crushed him like that. It could only have been a ghost. ’ By the third man massacred, the legend had been born. The corpse of Oiwa Tamiya had been cast into deep waters, and the Shadow of Yotsuya had surfaced like a baptism. Yotsuya, not Tamiya, had been her moniker. According to the rumors, that was the word for ‘evil’ in her native tongue. According to Nina, who heard the story once arriving in Ketterdam and actually spoke bits of Oiwa’s language, it just translated to the name of the alley she had died in. Regardless, the name had stuck. 

Kaz had been only fourteen when the Shadow of Yotsuya first surfaced in the Barrel. He tried to focus on his work in the Slat, omitting himself from the idle gossip the Dregs traded about Oiwa’s hauntings; however, the stories they had told about what had happened to her that night had practically chased him up the stairs with fear. He could not stomach the thought of a fate such as hers. In a moment of weakness he had wanted to ask Jordie if she could find him without ever knowing where to look, if ghosts could have the knowledge to do so. He had wanted to keep the candles lit to chase away the dark. He had wanted to cling to his mother’s skirts and let her soothe him to sleep, tell him that ghosts were not real and that the Saints would protect him from whatever may be coming his way. Instead, he had buried himself in his covers and stood watch until the sun rose, unable to bear the thought of Oiwa’s hands on him in the dead of the night. 

He knew she would come for him. They always did. 

A ‘soothsayer’, his mum had called it. One of those scamming types that’d read fortunes or commune with the spirits. She had told him he was making up stories, that their elderly neighbor had already passed and there was no way Kaz could have gotten permission to use his wagon. She had scoffed when he showed her that he could bend the spoons at breakfast. Floating pebbles in the air was merely a trick of the wind. His mom was a skeptic, through and through. But Jordie had said differently. He had believed Kaz, told him about his theories on ghosts and spiritualists and the afterlife. Had found the whole idea fascinating, something that those Grisha in the Little Palace should spend more time researching. Kaz wished they would, if only to explain to him why he was the way he was. 

Jordie had said the correct word to describe Kaz’s gift would be extrasensory , a psychic ability of sorts. According to him it was an unnamed branch of the Corporalki schooling of Grisha. He was not a soothsayer, and certainly not a scammer. Because it was the truth. Kaz could see and commune with the dead as easily as the living. He could move things with his mind. Sometimes, if he was holding onto someone's possession, he could see where they were and what they were doing at that moment. He had even occasionally had dreams that came true in the waking world. These compiled into senses that Kaz had, but Jordie did not. His secret ‘sixth sense’, as his brother would say. Kaz never told him, but he had dreamed a lot of Jordie, and hands all over him, grasping him and dragging him down into a watery grave. Kaz had never quite understood what it meant at the time. 

His neighbor had been the first ghost Kaz had seen. Kaz hadn’t even known the old fellow was dead until a week after meeting him for the first time. As such, his ghost had not frightened a young Kaz in the slightest. The next spirit had been the mayor’s son. His head had been crushed in a carriage accident. For a week that headless body trotted behind Kaz, trying to get him to acknowledge him. Kaz had thrown up twice before he finally could bear the sight of the ghastly spirit. But he got over it, he helped the boy move onto wherever ghosts went next. He was truly a nice boy, it was not his fault to have been maimed the way he had been. Kaz had learned at that moment to stop fearing the gnarly sights of death, not if he could help the spirits instead. After that it had been the seamstress’s daughter who caught a fatal case of hypothermia, then the old lady down the road who passed in her sleep. His cousin, who had been shot during a hunting accident. Stray cats, slow doves, and any other sweet spirit that came to him for brief moments of attention were welcomed with open arms. Kaz and Jordie had been in awe of it all, documenting as much as they could about the paranormal and about Kaz’s powers. They had built up a reputation within the spirit world as helpful souls.

But when the next ghost had been Jordie , the sight of it nearly drove Kaz mad. He couldn’t even tell if Jordie had been truly dead until well after he had been dumped with the rest of the corpses at the Reaper’s Barge. Until the hands of hundreds of ghosts pushed him up from the depths of their rotting flesh, begging him to leave. To escape. To live. Until Jordie had coached him how to make it across the water, how to pull himself from the churning waves and onto the hard ground of Ketterdam’s shore. Until he had turned and saw Jordie’s corpse next to him, separate from where he had been speaking from moments ago. Until he had realized just what exactly Jordie had told him to cling to in an effort to keep his head above water. 

That day, Kaz had no longer thought his ‘gift’ was a novelty. He dashed the thought of it against the stones. If this was what he was good for he did not want it. It was also the last time he knew he had seen the real ghost of Jordie, and not whatever his mind conjured up at his darkest moments. 

He hadn’t seen the Shadow of Yotsuya while he was awake, neither her corpse nor the supposed hauntings she would instigate. It was hard to search for a specific ghost at any given time, and harder still in a densely populated place like Ketterdam. Even so, he could picture her in painful clarity, down to the warped snarl of lips that had once smiled so nicely. Kaz knew already that no story told in the Slat could quite compare to the sight of her, and was proven right months later when she visited him as he slept. A shadow of his own rage, his own pain. Face twisted into something inhuman, unrecognizable to the naked eye. They had no need to share words with each other, for a horrible understanding stood between them both. Hollow beings filled themselves with whatever they could get a hold of, and they were both so very hollow in the wake of what they had been through. He could have helped her, in a way. Find her a spot to be put to rest, burn her clothes and set her free. And she could have been a valuable asset, a spectral eyes and ears of Ketterdam. And yet she had not lingered. Kaz had not wanted her to. Instead it seemed that she had been content to wander the city, as most of the ghosts tended to. They were aware of Kaz, gave him bits of information if they were so inclined, and in turn he tended to their memorials. That was it, though. They did not help him, and he did not help them. 

So when he felt the cold hands around his throat, he had assumed the Shadow of Yotsuya had finally descended upon the Barrel to take vengeance for herself. To wreak havoc on those who sustained themselves off of the system that destroyed her, and wipe it clean. He was a tad offended that she’d start with him , in lieu of the more deserving bastards at her disposal, but quickly shook the thought away. Because he was making eye contact with her, as he struggled, and she was worried. She was worried for him. He could see her standing across the alleyway, at the other end from where Kaz was being attacked. 

It seemed that though they were cold these hands were human. And if they were human, that meant that they could bleed.  

“You’re not the merchling,” The voice crooned from behind him, “Or the sharpshooter. The boss said we needed the merchling or the sharpshooter. But, actually, I think you’ll do nicely. Won’t you, cripple?”

Kaz thrust his elbow back, slamming it into the side of his attacker. The man groaned in pain, his grip loosening for a moment, and Kaz was gone. He wrenched himself forward, twisting out of the hands at his neck. In the time the bastard had wasted fumbling for his grasp Kaz had already turned, punching soundly at the man’s soft underbelly. He did not stop for a moment, the hands of the damned still brushing against his skin, and he used that fear to fuel his ruthlessness. He punched and kicked and bit and bled until he could no longer breathe. Until he had knocked the man against the stone ground enough times to render him motionless. 

Two more pairs of hands shot out from behind him, restraining him even as he snarled in rage. The bastard who had spoken, who had initially touched him, was dead on the cobblestone. Bleeding out from where his nose had smashed into his skull. Kaz could not bring himself to care, to feel sorry even for a moment. 

He struggled as those hands pushed him to his knees. As a man strode around to his line of sight. He would not break, he would not fold. They would have to kill him before they could try. 

“Tsk, tsk. You all never learn. To capture your prey, you must understand your prey, not provoke them,” The man said smoothly, stepping over the corpse of his dead companion. He tilted his head, gazing at Kaz as a collector gazes at the next bug they’d like to pin to the wall, “I wanted to snap up her sharpshooter instead, he would have been a beauty to work with. I suppose that you will do, though, Mr. Brekker. As unremarkable as you are, you will do.”

Kaz struggled against the hold he was in, eyes burning as he glared up at the man standing before him. He knew deep in his gut that this man was dangerous, and he would not relent even for a moment, “I’ve killed men more threatening than you - ”

A hand slapped up blindly from behind him, a belated attempt to cover his mouth. Kaz sunk his teeth into the offending hand and crunched down until coppery blood filled his mouth. He heard a scream, viciously satisfied as he tore through flesh and muscle. The other man hit him hard in the jaw, bashing him repeatedly until he finally let go.  

“Oh ho ho, and the dog’s got a bite to him,” Their leader grinned. “I look forward to ripping those teeth from your skull, Brekker, and seeing if that bite still stings.”

He bent down until he was eye-level with Kaz, green eyes cold and meticulous. His hands moved forward with exaggerated movements, as if he wanted Kaz to see just how helpless he is as the rag drew close to his face. Immediately, Kaz held his breath. He knew it was futile but he wanted to remain conscious as long as possible. The man shook his head, as if disappointed in his reaction, but jammed the rag hard in his face anyway. He smothered Kaz with the sharp smell of chloroform. 

As Kaz slowly felt himself lose consciousness, he saw Oiwa watching him from the other end of the alley. Her face was unreadable, but it wasn’t like Kaz was at his prime at the moment. Whatever she was or wasn’t trying to express to him was lost as he faded to black. Belatedly, he realized that she had been holding his cane. He must have dropped it during the struggle. 

When he awoke next, he was tied down to a chair. The thick rope tying him was done with expert care, he could not bend far enough to get his hands around the material. He could not reach the slight give of the knots, and would have a hard time breaking himself free because of it. They had tied down his ankles to the legs of the chair as well, keeping him snug against the seat. 

Taking stock of his surroundings, he was most likely still in Ketterdam. The moon was still in the sky, albeit slightly further down. Time had passed, but no more than a few hours. And he could see the moon, the entirety of the city stretching out from the view of the window. So he was high up, in a building at the edge of the city it seemed. Large glass panes spanned the walls, ornate and elegant as they let in the natural light of the moon. These were the kind of windows found in an estate home. So, the bastard was either rich himself or connected to someone wealthy. The room was empty, otherwise, save for sheets spread out under where he sat. It looked like they were planning to torture him, then. 

Though the room was empty, it did not stay so for long. Most likely a heartrender was on call, able to notify whoever captured him when Kaz awoke. He was barely able to get his wits about him before the door at the front of the room opened. It was the man from before, the one with the green eyes and the cruel grin. 

“Glad to see you’re finally awake,” He said jovially, clasping his hands together as if he were about to give a presentation of sorts. “I’m sure you have questions?”

“I want my cane back,” Kaz pursed his lips, “Otherwise, you can fuck right off.”

“And why would I give a man his weapon of choice if the point is to render him helpless,” the man tilted his head to the side, studying Kaz in a way that made his lungs burn from trying not to whimper, “I’m sure you’ll manage in the meantime.”

“Whatever you want from me, I won’t comply,” Kaz tilted his head up, glaring with every bit of confidence he could muster, “You’d have an easier time chipping away at concrete.”

“Point taken,” the man nodded sagely, “But I don’t want anything from you . An artist does not want from his canvas. A sculpture does not want from their marble.”

Kaz faltered, dread pooling in his gut. This man was slowly sounding less sane by the moment. A bastard could be bought. A hitman could be persuaded. But a killer could never be touched, never reasoned with. And the worst killer of all was a killer who did so for no reason. 

“What do you want then?” Kaz asked after a moment. “If I’m the means to the end, what is the end exactly?”

“Well, Nina Zenik, really,” The man shrugged. “The unofficial fourth Grisha Triumvirate member.”

“So you captured me to get to Nina Zenik?” Kaz asked, taken off guard, “What on earth made you think I would have any leverage over her?”

“I don’t need leverage over her, I need her to see me. ” The man shouted suddenly, the jarring loudness of his tone causing Kaz to tense up, “I need them all to see me, see my work and understand just how brilliant I really am. The canvas is the canvas but I am its master. I am a talented Grisha! I deserve a spot by their side! I deserve my rightful place to worship the Dragon Queen of Ravka, to kiss Sankta Zoya’s hand and kneel before those of my ilk! I deserve the same level of splendor that Nina Zenik has with those at the top. And you, well, you know her. She will recognize exactly who my canvas is. If that doesn’t get the message through to her, I don’t know what will.”

Kaz raised an eyebrow, “So, what, you flunked out of Grisha school? Got your feelings hurt? I fail to see how that’s a living Saint’s problem.”

The crack of a fist at his cheek was expected, but it still hurt. It seemed he had tugged quite the reaction out of his captor. 

“I will enjoy this, Brekker. I promise you that.” The man said darkly. “You will be dripping by the time I’m done with you, and I will enjoy every moment of it. Die knowing that your death will be a blazing footnote in the story of my induction to the Triumvirate, my journey to Saintdom . Now, shall we begin, then?”

The man strode away from him suddenly, walking back towards the door he came from. He rapped his knuckles against the door twice, and it opened to reveal two girls pushing a large cart, with a third girl trailing behind them. They did not look at Kaz as they wheeled the thing into the room, the squeak of the metal the only sound taking up space around them. It rattled to a stop in front of him, a collection of liquids clinking against one another as they collided for a moment. Needles and knives glinted up at him, tools prepped to carve and lacerate. 

Kaz felt his body shiver in apprehension as mentally prepared himself for the pain that was to come. He was a hollow boy, but he was human. Flesh and bone. And humans, unlike ghosts, can bleed. 

Over the course of the night, Kaz had been systematically eroded down. Decayed at, chipped away like a statue. Each carve of the knife, each needle prick against his skin sent him deeper. Took more of him, until he was worried he was running out of anything left to give. His blood pooled around him, staining the sheet red below. It dripped down his arms and legs, warm and wet against his skin. His shirt had been unbuttoned and ripped open, to leave ample room for the man to carve thick wounds into his chest and arms. He tried to get a clearer look at his injuries, but his eyes were too bleary to comprehend how serious they may or may not have been. Something pumped through his veins, a cloying black drug that had been injected into him at the start of this mess. It kept his blood thick and slow, drawing out the process by keeping him from dying too quickly. Dark red welled up against his skin like rubies on a satin dress, and yet he felt nothing at the sight of it. Worse than the numbness, the drug left his mind floating above it all. High as a fucking kite, as Jesper would say. If he was not careful, he would lose that threadbare control he had over himself. He was cloudy, unfocused, trapped in that sweet syrup Nina loved to drown her breakfast in. 

He liked Nina. She was beautiful, silvery and elegant and so damned bright. She made Inej smile so happily, so warmly in a way Kaz had never seen her smile before. Kaz wondered if he’d ever be able to make Inej smile like that. Probably not. It was best to leave being something holy to those who could taste it, to those sweet girls he loved so much. 

He felt the seam of his skin split apart at his hip, eyes vacant as he watched the metal slide through without so much as a flinch. By now, he could no longer feel his body. Which was a shame, he had wanted to get to enjoy Jesper’s hug at least one more time before he died. Jesper was very tactile, he would gather the crew into his arms and hold them close. Like he treasured them, like they mattered . Kaz wanted to matter, he wanted it so desperately. He wanted Jesper to hold him like he was worth something. 

He wondered if Matthais would ever hold him too, and put those warm palms against Kaz’s skin. It would feel nice, in another life. If Kaz had been someone that could be touched without leaving behind those ghostly hands that tormented him. He didn’t want to haunt Matthias any more than the poor boy had already been haunted. 

Wylan had said that trauma ebbs and flows with time. That one day, Kaz may not leave that trail of filth behind whenever he brushes his hands against something. That his skin would not hold the weight of the Barge within him forever. He was getting better, according to Wylan, and was making progress with his fear of skinship. If that is true, and he would shed the weight of his mistakes, Kaz hopes Wylan would wait long enough so Kaz could finally touch his cheek. He wanted to feel how wide that grin stretched, and commit those dips in his cheek to memory. 

Alas, he would most likely die here. Despite frequent attempts to loosen the ropes around him, he remained bound. His heart was pumping sluggishly, the rhythmic beat of it jumping in his throat as he swallowed. Kaz wondered what school of Grisha his torturer even belonged to, as nothing he was doing seemed related to the small sciences. Maybe, like Jordie, he was convinced they should broaden the horizons of what was deemed a ‘small science’, and he was branching into other topics considered taboo. Or maybe he was just fucking crazy, and there was no real explanation to what he was doing. Kaz was growing too tired to care. 

He hoped that if Jordie knew what was happening, he’d at least get to find out exactly how Kaz’s gift worked out of this whole mess. If this man was going to chip away at every part of Kaz, maybe he’d expose the part of him that held those strange abilities. Kaz would be okay with that, he wanted to know how his power worked as well. He was tired of only understanding the fringes of his abilities. After he had lost control the first time in an attempt to gauge what he was capable of, he had crushed his psychic ability down within him and kept it under strict lock and key. He could not risk to toy with something he did not know. The only thing he could not temper was his sight, and no matter how hard he tried he could not stop himself from seeing ghosts.  

 Twice already he had thought he’d seen Oiwa in the shadows of the room. Her silk uniform from the Menagerie had been very distinct, and even if it was in tatters upon her ghost Kaz could still recognize the bright colors from a distance. He had sworn he caught sight of her. 

But that was nonsense. She was not here. If she had been here, that would have meant she was crossing over that fragile understanding they had together. She was admitting that Kaz needed help. Needed her help. And that she needed him too. Neither of them were willing to admit something as vulnerable as that. 

“He is growing frenzied, Kaz,” A voice whispered from his side, the cold puff of air raising the hairs on the back of Kaz’s neck. “Your chance for escape is almost here.”

“Can’t espa.. escape,” Kaz muttered deliriously, “I don' have hands.”

“Yes you can,” She said fiercely, “You can and you need to, while you still have life in you. Get your hands free, you need to get the door unlocked and a weapon to defend yourself with.”

Suddenly, Kaz felt the ropes around him loosen. Cut by an unseen force. “I will help you Brekker, just focus on getting out of here.”

Kaz chuckled to himself, feeling his skin warp and twist as he wiggled back and forth. It felt as if he was tingling, as if he was perpetually downing a burning mouthful of gin and it echoed through him like a wave. He felt floating, weightless and yet so top heavy as he tried to get himself out of the ropes. 

The man in front of him was talking loudly now, making gestures with his hands as his face turned more and more red. Kaz was tired of letting him talk. He was making Oiwa frown, and he liked Oiwa. She gave him funnel cake. 

Kaz flopped his head to the side, gazing at the cart that was between him and the man. He thought it would look better in the wall, actually. He squinted his eyebrows, and it moved. The cart slammed into the wall with a loud ‘crack’, the force of it shattering the plaster. Deep splintering cracks spread from the center of the impact. An audible drip of wet could be heard, blood spurting around the cart in a halo of red. It seemed he had forgotten to avoid hitting the man who was torturing him as he pushed the cart with his mind. The cart had gone through the man’s face, cleaving him in two and pinning him against the metal as it lodged itself into the wall. 

Such a ‘powerful’ Grisha he had made. He couldn’t even withstand a kid who bent spoons and talked to ghosts. 

He turned to Oiwa, a loopy smile on his lips, “I din’t need my hands anyway.”

“Kaz what did he do to you?” She whispered, horrified, “Saints, what the fuck did he do to you?” 

“He stuc a needle in me,” Kaz pouted, rubbing at his skin. Blood smeared, warm and greasy, against his fingers. He didn’t like that, he didn't like the feeling of it on his skin. He whined to himself as he tried to wipe it off. “He stuc it in my arm and now I feel like shit”

“Do you know what was in the needle?” She crouched down until she could make eye contact with Kaz, “Did he say anything about it?”

Kaz shrugged, leaning to one side as a fresh wave of tingles ran down his spine, “Said it was stuff to make me high, which is no good because I don' control my powers when I’m high. Bent all the spoons in mum's kitchen, made a mess of the room. She said I was bad for that.”

“Alright, well I need you to use your power now to get yourself out of here,” Oiwa said sternly, her voice big and gruff. She sounded like Jordie did when he was trying to use his ‘big brother’ voice to get Kaz to behave. He wanted to tease her about it, but it was nice to hear after so many years alone. 

“Are you sure?” Kaz pouted, “You won’ tell my mum, right?”

“I won’t tell, I promise,” Oiwa said truthfully. 

He stood up on wobbling legs, satisfied with her answer. He was curious why one leg felt heavier than the other, painful and brittle as it held his weight. He couldn’t remember what had done that. He had a bird, though, that he remembered he walked with to keep him upright. Kaz staggered forward as if each step was requiring his full attention. Saints, that guy had really dosed Kaz up with something strong. 

“Wheres m’bird?” He asked, rubbing a hand over his face, “I walk better w’my bird.”

“Your cane?” Oiwa frowned, “I had it with me up until I got to this room. It’s somewhere in the hallway, we’ll pick it up as we leave.”

“I don’ walk good otherwise,” Kaz shook his head, “You’re gonna think I’m slow.”

“I won’t mind, if you just keep moving.” 

Kaz was skeptical, but continued to trudge towards the exit without argument. He wanted to see his Crows. Wanted to pet their hair, wanted to cozy up to them and take a nice nap. Wanted to be loved. He couldn’t do that until he was in the Silver Six though, and that was far away. 

He reached the door and paused. There were people standing at the other end of the hallway. The girls, from before, and two burly men as well. One man was much larger than the other, larger than Matthias even. They were speaking rapidly, and though they were speaking a language he knew, Kaz for the life of him couldn't register the words they were saying. He turned his head back to Oiwa and gestured vaguely at the problem. 

“There’s people,” He whispered loudly, “They’re lookin’ at me.”

Oiwa’s hand darted forward to grab his collar, yanking him to the side as the door frame shattered behind him. He was being shot at. The big man was holding a gun, it seemed. Kaz wrinkled his nose. He wasn't a good aim if he couldn’t hit Kaz with one shot. Not like his Jesper could. 

“Okay kid, deal with the fucking gun first, yeah?” Oiwa grumbled, “And then we can focus on the people.”

He poked his head back out, catching sight of the revolver in the man’s hand. It was of a similar shape to Jesper’s pistols, but not quite the same. Still, Kaz was sure that the gun was assembled similarly at a basic level. He pictured exactly how the gun was dismantled, thinking back to those quickfire Zemini fingers and how they’d coax the gun apart with ease. He ducked back behind the doorway for a moment as another staccato pop of gunfire echoed in his ears. Oiwa was right, the gun was a problem. He’d most likely have to use his powers to get out of this. He should warn them, first, in case he loses control though. It’s what Inej would do. It’s the kind thing. 

“I will kill you, if you don’ stand down now,” Kaz shouted. He heard the people down the hall quiet for a moment, before they all started shouting and screaming at the same time. Kaz scowled. He wanted to see what the fuss was about, but first he had to get rid of the gun. He poked his head back out to see down the hallway, gaze landing on the revolver.
As if touched by those same phantom fingers Kaz could picture so clearly, the gun in the man’s hand splintered apart. Disassembling before his eyes. The man shrieked loudly, throwing the bits to the floor as if they had burned him. Kaz then moved further into the hallway now that he did not have to fear being shot. He spotted his cane in the other man’s hands. 

“Tha’s mine,” He slurred, reaching out his hand. The man gasped as the cane was wrenched out of his hold, the pommel rushing forward to meet Kaz’s palm as if it was made for him. Well, actually, it was made for him. His cane had been commissioned exactly to his desires. It felt nice to have it back in his grasp again. He hummed to himself, pleased. 

“Oiwa,” Kaz said, tilting his head to the side. He rested his cane on the floor with a loud ‘thunk’, leaning against it heavily. He could feel the stardust still caught in his mind shift with the weight of the movement, “Don’ hurt those girls, yeah? My gut is saying they’re nice, like you are.”

She nodded, and her body twisted with a sickening snap as she turned to lunge for the men in his way. It was as if the shadows were vibrating as the angry spirit shrieked, her voice piercing and loud. Kaz could feel the reverberations of it vibrating in his bone marrow. She tore through the men before her, visceral and vengeful, proving right every bit of those horror stories he had heard years ago. She was horrifying in the way she crushed them. She turned them into something unrecognizable.  Neither man had time to scream, not even inhale a gasp as they were mangled to pieces at the Shadow of Yotsuya’s hands. Kaz watched on, enthralled and a tad dazed. 

It was over in that same haunting way it had started. The walls buzzed with the energy they still held, blood pooling across the hardwood floor. Oiwa had not hesitated a moment, as efficient as anyone in the Stave learned to be. Kaz was impressed with her work. If she were still alive, he’d surely hire her. 

“I think I am going to throw up, now,” Kaz blinked slowly. He turned then, to do just as he said. The stardust in his brain was finally starting to curdle, to burn and ache as it spread down his body. His skin was regaining awareness of the brutality it had suffered through, and his joints ached something fierce. He was using up whatever he had left faster than he could replenish it, it seemed. 

“P-please don’t kill us,” A trembling voice spoke up from down the hallway. The girls, right. They were still here. He looked up, his gaze meeting theirs. The trio stood at the end of the hallway together, and they looked close alike. Kaz figured they were siblings, or at the very least related. The tallest stood to the side, brown hair cropped short to her skull, framing her oval face and bronze skin. The middling one had much darker hair, plaited in twin braids that stood out against her tanned complexion. She clung to the other girl, who looked the youngest of the three, as they both trembled. They all shared the same almond eye shapes, as well, and the curves of their noses were almost identical to each other. Related, for sure. 

“I won’, don’ worry,” He slurred out, wiping at his lips, “Are any of you hurt?”

“N-No, we’re fine,” The youngest said weakly. “Are… are you going to be okay?”

“Prob’ly not,” Kaz shrugged, “but I really only care about finding a fizzy soda right now.” 

“Jaya could get you some,” The tallest girl said quickly, tugging nervously at her skirts. “If you ask her, nicely. And if you promise you won’t hurt them.”

“I promise I won’t hurt any of you,” He nodded truthfully at the girl who had spoken, before turning to the other two, “Which one of you is Jaya? She says you’re the one with soda.”

Both girls screamed loudly, the youngest lifting her hands up and quickly drawing the proper Heartrender positions to induce sleep. Kaz was out like a light, unconscious before he even hit the ground. The girl had a quick draw, much better than those brutish men. Kaz liked her already. 

When he awoke next, he blearily registered that he was lying down. The plush give of a mattress cradled his back, and a blanket had been pulled up to his chest. He tilted his head to the side as far as he could without agitating his body, and as his gaze focused he realized he must have been in a guest room of sorts. It was much smaller than the original room he had been in, but it had not been stripped of all possessions. An antique wardrobe sat at the wall, with a mirror resting on top of it. Small treasures and knicknacks lined the space the dresser top provided, arranged with the care of someone who did not have much. The bed he sat on rested against one side of the room, parallel facing the door. Though the room was by no means pauper, it did not hold the ornate detailing of the rest of the house. This must have been a servant’s quarters, Kaz mused to himself. Oiwa had long since dispersed back to the West Stave, using up whatever energy she had taking care of those men, last night. 

He turned his head to the side, glimpsing the girl who had rendered him unconscious on a chair beside his bed. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, shoes hanging over the lip of the chair as she rested her heels on the seat. By Kaz’s estimate she wasn’t much into her teens, thirteen at most. She was the Heartrender, if he remembered correctly. Her eldest sister stood behind her, biting her fingernails nervously. She looked to be around eighteen herself. They were all around Kaz’s age or younger, at the very least. Old enough to need to hold a job, and young enough to be desperate for one. Exactly the kind of prey a crazy man would snatch off the streets to employ for whatever he needed. 

They were lucky then, that Kaz too was a crazy man. He could already tell that he’d be offering them a job by the end of the week, if not sooner. He had a soft-spot for people who could knock him out. 

“You’re awake!” She squeaked out suddenly, scrambling to sit up proper. “Howah! I uh.. I didn’t think you’d wake up so soon!”

Kaz blinked a couple times, “I think I’m going to throw up again.”

“Oh! Oh, Ghezen, okay!” She launched herself to the side, grabbing a large metal bowl and handing it over, “He-here, do it in here!”

Kaz grasped the bowl with both hands, lurching forward as he dry-heaved into it. His whole body screamed in protest as he did. Saints, he felt like shit . Thick gauze had been wrapped around his torso and arms, bound tight at his chest. Even so, the weeping sting of his wounds made themselves known. They burned with every move he made, though they were already much less severe than before. It looked like the worst of his injuries had been healed while he was unconscious. 

“I don’t think the drugs are out of your system, yet, but you should be better than before,” the girl wrung her hands together, as if looking for something to do to keep herself occupied. She would not meet Kaz’s gaze.

Kaz nodded slowly, “Right. Thank you, for the bucket. And.. for healing my wounds.”

“Jaya did most of the doctor work, I just sped up the process a bit,” The girl tilted her head to the side, “I’m not a Healer, so I had to guess on how to do most of it. You look okay now, though, so I couldn’t have done too bad a job.”

“I feel better, yes,” Kaz wiped his lips clean, “What’s your name?”

She pursed her lips, as if expecting him to have already known it, “.. My name is Kishori. How did you know my sister’s name, if you don’t know mine? Are you reading our minds?”

Kaz’s lips twitched with a hint of a smile, “I can do a lot of things, but no, I can’t read minds. Your sister had mentioned it, back before.”

“Jaya hadn’t said anything, though,” Kishori scowled, “Neither of us did.”

“I mean your older sister,” Kaz lifted his gaze to look at the older girl standing behind Kishori, “The one who’s with you both.”

Kishori gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth in shock. Her older sister frowned, face hardening as she realized Kaz was addressing her now. Kaz was quickly piecing together that the girl with them must be dead already. A ghost, one that was very much invested in keeping her living siblings alive and well. 

The ghost shook her head sadly, “It’s no use, they can’t see me. Haven’t been able to since I got out of the basement.”

“Is she here now?” Kishori trembled out, gaze darting around frantically, “Can you see her?”

“Dark hair, tall, tan skin,” Kaz paused for a moment. “She looks very similar to you and Jaya. But older, sterner. Definitely making the same face my Wraith makes when she’s trying to hide how worried she is about something. A mother hen, for sure.”

“Yeah… that’s Waynoka, then,” Kishori said softly, “That’s my big sister.”

Waynoka’s lips trembled, and she wrapped her arms around herself tightly as if to stop from trying to reach out to Kishori. She nodded though, and looked at Kaz with melancholy eyes. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Waynoka whispered. 

“So you can see her, but I can’t. What does that mean?” Kishori asked, “Is.. Is she…?”

“I can see ghosts,” Kaz said bluntly, but not unkindly, “So yes, it means she’s dead. I’m assuming you had thought she was missing up until now?”

Kishori nodded slowly, eyes welling up with tears, “Awhile ago, a few months at least, I let one of Mr. Verzamelaar’s victims escape. He was just a boy, he didn’t deserve to become… whatever those things in the basement are. I broke the rules, I let him go. Waynoka took the fall for me, pretended she had been the one to do it. Mr. Verzamelaar was upset to say the least. He took her away for punishment and we never saw her again. Not even a… not even a grave or a body. She was just gone . It was easier to hope that she was missing… then to accept that she’s… y’know…”

“I do,” Kaz nodded, “I know exactly what you mean. I am sorry for your loss.”

“He took me downstairs, once he resigned himself to the fact that we couldn’t track down his freed victim,” Waynoka added sadly, “That’s when he killed me, and… and did his experiments with what was left. You’ll find my body in the basement, with the other servants who were punished. D-don’t tell them that, though! I don’t want them to see what happened to me. I don’t think I ever want them to see that.”

Looking closer, Kaz could understand what she meant. Sometimes, if a body became too mangled to hold corporeal shape, a spirit reverted back to its last sense of self. The last time they had felt whole. Waynoka had that same fuzzy quality to her, as if Kaz was viewing her through someone else's gaze. Kaz did not want to imagine what had been done to her corpse, if she had to revert to this. 

It hit him suddenly, that her fate would have been his as well had Oiwa not intervened. He was lucky to be alive. 

“C… Can she hear me? My sister?” Kishori asked softly. She finally looked at Kaz proper, her sweet brown eyes spilling over with tears. “Will she hear me if I apologize?”

“Yes, she can hear you,” Kaz said softly. He reached out with shaking fingers, nudging Kishori’s chin to the side. The press of her skin felt vile against Kaz’s fingertips, but he pushed through. He tapped her cheek, tilting her head up until she was looking directly at where Waynoka stood. 

“And now, you’re looking at her,” Kaz added, quickly drawing his hand back into his lap. The water lapped at his skin, filled his mouth with salty brine, but he felt good. Solid, in that moment. He was happy to give the sisters this chance. 

Waynoka shuddered, tears spilling over her hands as she kept her mouth covered. She looked at her younger sister with so much love, so much heartbreak. She murmured to herself, “Oh, my little dak-shi, I miss you so much.” 

“I-I’m sorry, Way-nii,” Kishoni warbled, rubbing at her tear stained cheeks, “I’m so sorry he did what he did to you. I’m sorry you had to take care of me, pay for my mistake. I’m sorry I never got to say goodbye.”

“No, never apologize dak-shi,” Waynoka shook her head rapidly, “I would do it all over again, because I am built to protect you. I will always protect you. I love you so much.”

Kishori looked at Kaz expectantly, “I-Is she saying anything back?”

“She wants you to stop blaming yourself for her fate,” Kaz said thickly, “She does not regret protecting you. She loves you, and she misses you.”

A fresh wave of tears overtook Kishori as she turned back to roughly where Waynoka was standing. “I love you, too. I love you a lot, okay? I think of you all the time, and I won’t stop thinking of you ever. I promise. You’re the best big sister I could have had. Jaya says so too, we both agree on it. Isn’t that funny? We both agree on something.”

Waynoka laughed wetly, “Maman never thought the day would come. But you two have to be strong now. Be good to each other. Take care of each other, and don’t give your sister too much grief, eh? She’s trying her best.”

Kaz translated, a sweet pang of grief burning in his chest as Kishori laughed through her tears. He wished he could have had a moment like this with Jordie. A moment of peace, and of closure. But even if Kaz could stomach the idea of tracking down Jordie’s ghost, he was afraid. Afraid that unlike Waynoka, Jordie would be angry. Appalled at what Kaz had become. Kaz had spent years apart from his brother, and at this point he no longer knew if Jordie would recognize him. What he had turned into. He didn’t know if he wanted Jordie to recognize him now. 

A knock at the door shook him from his thoughts, and Kishori scrambled to dry her cheeks of tears. 

“I have his soda,” Jaya called out, nudging the door open with her foot as she hefted a large silver tray into the room. A glass of fizzing dark cola sat upon it, as well as two glasses of juice and more bandages. “Oh, he’s awake already. Fuck, I told you to let me know when he’d wake up, Kishori!”

“He literally just woke up. I would have called for you but you were already on your way,” Kishori grumbled, crossing her arms. 

“And what if in that time that asgina in his shadow had already chewed you up and spit you out, huh? What would you have me do, then?”

“He was letting me talk to Waynoka,” Kishori said seriously. “He said she’s here with us right now.”

“And you believed him?” Jaya set the tray down with a loud ‘clank’ against the wardrobe. “He’s a spirit-talker, he could be plotting with the Shadow of Yotsuya to eat you whole as we speak.” 

“The Shadow of Yotsuya was a vegetarian,” Kaz snarked, “But the Butcher’s Blade on the East Stave loves to chew up his victims. He prefers them stubborn and skeptical, too, I hear.”

Jaya made a face, crossing her arms. “You should knock him out again, Ki. Make him sleep until we figure out what to do next.”

“Nope,” Kishori said, her lips popping out exaggeratingly on the ‘p’, “You’re overreacting. He’s not plotting, I would have heard his whispers. I’ve been here the whole time, and he’s only thrown up so far. That, and let me talk to Way-nii.”

“S.. She’s really gone, then?” Jaya said, her scowl softening into a frown. “She’s really dead?”

Kishori nodded, eyes growing dim with grief. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s really dead.”

Jaya’s eyes flitted around the room quickly, as if she’d catch sight of her sister standing before them. “Is.. Is she still here now?”

Waynoka huffed, tugging at her own skirts. “I am, and you two are insufferable.”

“Yeah, she’s still here,” Kaz said, “Can I have my drink now?”

Jaya handed him the cold glass of cola. The sweet dark taste of it felt wonderful as it washed the salty brine out of his mouth. When he was young, his mum had always set aside a soda for him when they managed to travel into the city for groceries. Not only was it his favorite treat, but it helped soothe his head whenever it would ache. She knew that, because she always had a sense about her, to pick up on the small things her boys seemed to love. Kaz hoped that he had that sense too, he wanted to be like her in that way. As he grew older, he realized that the strain of his powers were what caused his headaches, and would try to ease that pain with fizzy drinks when he could. To preserve a piece of his childhood that remained untouched by grief. Plus, the carbonation made his nose tingle, and he liked that feeling. 

“Could you.. could you show her?” Kishori asked weakly, “Let Jaya talk directly to her, like you did for me?”

Kaz nodded, taking another brief swig of his drink before setting the glass to the side. He waved Jaya closer, gritting his teeth as he prepared himself. The touch of her skin was warmer than her sisters, but still it felt like death against his palm. Jaya hesitated, skittish and still untrusting of Kaz, but allowed her head to be guided until her gaze met Waynoka’s. Kaz removed his touch as if it burned him, but the lap of the water at his skin was not too great to withstand.

“She’s looking at you now,” Kaz said swiftly, “And now you’re looking at her, too.”

“Oh.. O-Okay,” Jaya swallowed, “I… I don’t really know what to say now. But, I’m sorry Way-nii. I’m sorry that we were here at all, in this fucking nightmare of a house. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be brave for you. I miss you a lot, and I’m trying my hardest to be just like you now that you’re gone. I really want you to be proud of me. I love you, yeah? Did she get all that?”

Kaz nodded, watching as Waynoka burst into a fresh wave of tears. He raised his hand to prevent Jaya and Kishori from interrupting, wordlessly gesturing that they needed to give their spectral sister a moment to collect herself. 

“I.. I really want her to know that I am so proud of her already. Okay? I’m so proud of her. And I love her, and I miss her, and I’ll be watching over her, cheering her on the whole time. She’s smart, and brave, and she’ll make Maman proud. Make all of us proud. But.. But make it sound prettier than that,” Waynoka said wetly, rubbing at her face. “Make me sound like I’m not as broken up as I really am. I want them to remember me strong and happy.”

Kaz pursed his lips at that. “I’m not good at being strong or happy.”

“Well, then try harder!” Waynoka retorted, but she was smiling through her tears. “Pretend that you’re me, and say what I would say. I’ll have you know that I was very strong and happy when I was alive, so you need to do me justice when you translate.”

“Your sister is teasing me now,” Kaz said, turning to look at Jaya, “But she misses you too. A lot, actually. She says that she is watching over you both, and she will always be thinking of you. And that you do not need to worry, because she is very much proud of who you are now. She looks forward to continuing to be proud of what you will become. And she says that…That your ‘maman’, if I’m saying that right, she will be proud of you too. Your sister says that she loves you, too, and to remember that you are smart and brave no matter how you may feel.”

Jaya nodded, wiping the tears from her cheek. She sucked in a deep breath, schooling her emotions into something far less vulnerable. “Right. Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind, going forward.”

Waynoka pursed her lips, “Aye, yeesh. Showing emotions won’t kill you, Jaya.”

“I beg to differ,” Kaz shook his head, reaching back out for another drink of soda, “Showing emotion is the devil, actually, and you could not pay me to do it.”

Jaya nodded, “I’m assuming you’re responding to Waynoka but I agree with you anyway, spirit-talker.”

Waynoka rolled her eyes in annoyance, but she could not fight the smile creeping on her face. Kaz grinned, despite the pain arcing through him as he did. “You’d make a fine Mercher, with that attitude.”

“Is that what you are? A Mercher?” Jaya tilted her head. Her eyes were barbed as she stared at Kaz, but it held no sting. She was not the kind of monster to do any real damage, not like Kaz could. 

“I’m a businessman, actually,” Kaz shook his head. “And I’m offended that you could think of me as anything other than a businessman.”

“You threw a Grisha-steel cart through my old employer. Through him,” Jaya clicked her tongue, “Forgive me for not seeing the ‘tact’ in that business decision.”

“How much do you know about his victims, anyway? The kind of research he does, how he picks a target, things like that.”

“Nothing, really. We didn’t even know your name until his goons screamed it last night,” Kishori shrugged, “We mainly serve as housekeepers. Do the laundry, cook and clean, tend to injuries or sickness if it befalls someone in the manor. He keeps, or I mean he kept, everything else very close to his chest. Sometimes he would make use of my powers, but he never let me see the full extent of what was going on. He spent most of his time in his study or his basement workspace, both of which we’re banned from. And any research he may do would be locked up tight in there. We weren’t supposed to be the ones at his side last night, actually, but his underling never came back to the estate so I guess he was short-staffed.”

“I’m going to break into those rooms then. I want to know exactly how he found me, and why he ‘settled’ for me. That could mean any number of things, and I need to find out if I should worry for the safety of the rest of my crew. I’m sure he kept extensive records of his decisions, especially if he was trying to document a rise to Sainthood, so there must be something here that could give me the information I need. And if he only locks his study, that would most likely be where he kept it. Forgive me for assuming, but I bet any associates he would have would not be introduced to his staff,” Kishori and Jaya nodded, and Kaz continued, “so in that case I’d like to get my hands on some sort of record of who he’s been in contact with. Would one of you be able to show me where his study is?”

“You really shouldn’t walk around just yet,” Jaya shook her head, “You were moments from death only a few hours ago.”

“And yet, I did not die,” Kaz tugged at his bandages as if to prove a point, “So I will continue moving, then.”

“Why would you need to go to the basement, though, if you think all the information you need would be in the study?” Kishori scratched her cheek lightly, “The basement is his laboratory, and… and he’d only take people down there for punishment. It’s not a good place to be.”

“We know now that Waynoka, and a majority of his previous staff, are dead,” Kaz paused to finish off the last of his cola, savoring the sweet carbonation for a moment, “And Waynoka confirmed that she was killed here, on the estate grounds. If we want to lay the spirits here to rest, your sister included, I need to have access to a way to purify them.”

“Purify? What do you mean?” Kishori’s lip wobbled, “Way-nii is here with us. She’s watching over us, you said. Why is that a bad thing?”

“She’s trapped here,” Kaz shook his head, “In this mansion. When you two leave for a new job she cannot follow, not in the way you want her to. She could physically move with you, hover over you and watch you grow. But she will always be here . She would never really get to leave. It’s why the Shadow of Yotsuya isn’t here now, with us. Oiwa, if you remember her spirit from last night. She died in the West Stave, and expended all her energy getting here to rescue me. She must have faded back while I was unconscious. She’s no longer anywhere near us”

“So, by ‘purifying’ her, you want to release Waynoka from the mansion,” Jaya said slowly, “You just want to let her go free, right? It wouldn’t destroy her?”

“Precisely,” Kaz sat up properly, feeling his body protest with sharp pain as he did, “She and the other spirits deserve to move onto the afterlife, and watch over their loved ones from there. Waynoka will be waiting to be reunited with you both once the time is right, it’s the kindest thing you could do for her now to let her rest. Otherwise she’d become an actual haunting; the kind that stalks, and hurts, and kills. Even the purest of spirits decay with time, and we will not condemn your sister to a fate like that.”

Both of the girls nodded, accepting his answer. They looked at each other for a moment, a silent argument flitting between them, before Jaya spoke.

“We’ll take you to the study, and the basement. We want to help you release Waynoka from here, so she can leave like we can.”

“You’ll show me to the doors and then start packing, actually,” Kaz shook his head, “The easiest way to purify a place like this is to burn it down in its entirety. Let the house turn to ash, destroy every vile thing that had happened within these walls. I happen to know a fantastic arsonist, actually, so I don’t need help. But you have possessions I am sure you want to keep protected from the blaze, so while I investigate the study you two should gather your things.”

“O-Oh,” Kishori blinked in surprise, “I thought you’d have to do a ritual, or something.”

Kaz grinned, “I am a businessman first and foremost, and I prefer the solutions with the quickest returns.”

“Can we at least have a few days to secure a new place to live, first?” Jaya frowned, “I don’t want to be out on the streets any longer than we have to be.”

“No need. You can come work for me at the Silver Six , we have room to board you both,” Kaz shifted his weight until he was able to twist to the side, untucking his legs from the blankets and moving to the side of the bed. The cold wood floor was shocking against his bare feet, but it served to jar him further awake. “I’d like to get rid of all the evidence that any of this happened as soon as we can, lest the Stadwatch start poking their nose around.”

“You’re joking, right?” Kishori chuckled. 

Kaz raised his eyebrow condescendingly, “Do I look like I’m one for jokes?”

“Yeah, you look like a fucking clown,” Jaya snarked, “There’s no way in hell you’re hiring us.”

“Oh, forgive me I wasn’t aware there was another psychopath you’d prefer to work for.” Kaz said. He set his glass on the side table, frowning at the clink of the ice against the empty cup. He was still thirsty.

“Okay, but why would you hire us?” Jaya asked skeptically, “You don’t even know us. We work for the guy who tortured you.”

“I have a gut feeling you’re both only minor nuisances, at best. Call it a ‘sixth sense’ for judging character. The people I trust most in my life threaten to kill me regularly, they say it ‘keeps me humble’ or something like that, so I’m sure whatever you two are capable of will pale in comparison” Kaz smirked. Kishori giggled at that, but Jaya still looked unconvinced. 

His gaze flickered to his hands, thinking for a moment. He was telling the truth. It wasn’t a deep pull in his gut, not like when he had met his Crows, but the sweet hum of ‘good’ still buzzed within those two. He sensed that these two girls were cut from a good cloth, and that while he may not trust them fully he knew they held no malice in them. Not like their boss had. He also knew they’d end up with Inej’s fate, or worse - Oiwa’s, if he didn’t take them in. He swallowed, before admitting, “I haven’t regretted trusting those friends of mine. My intuition was spot on with the lot of them. And the one time I didn’t trust my gut, my brother died because of it. So, fine. I have openings, and you both need work. The only logical conclusion would be for me to hire you two.”

“... And you promise you won’t sic’ your asgina on us if we make a mistake?” Jaya tilted her head, eyeing him warily, “I don’t want to end up a fleshy pile of ick on the floor because I made your tea too hot.”

“I won’t promise to not be monstrous,” Kaz looked her in the eye, “I am not a good person and I do not do good things. I am as much that demon you saw last night as I am here now, and you would be working for him as well as me. We are one and the same. To add, I know some incredibly important people, and they always seem to drag me into their messes. You will be in danger at times if you work for me, but I will never ‘sic’ a spirit on you. Ignoring that most ghosts are too bossy to obey orders, I do not own them. I do not puppet them. The Shadow of Yotsuya helped me of her own volition. Even if I wanted to coerce a spirit to harm you, which would be a huge waste of my own time and effort, it would not work. So, yes, I promise. You will not be punished for your mistakes as long as you learn from them, and never punished with something like that.” 

Jaya swallowed, mulling over his words. She was a smart girl, still taking the time to  weigh her options and negotiate the terms of their agreement before accepting something she needed anyway. A shrewd thinker, and apparently good at piecing him back together. She’d make a good Dreg, once she learns a few more tricks of the trade. 

“Alright, we’ll work for you,” Jaya shrugged, “Even though you’re scary as hell.”

“You didn’t even ask if I agreed,” Kishori scowled up at her sister, “What if I was going to say no?”

“You’re like eleven, you don’t get a say in the decision,” Jaya said haughty. 

Kishori made a noise of protest, “Bitch, I’m thirteen!” 

“Oh, shit, okay. You’re right, that totally changes everything,” Jaya rolled her eyes, “Obviously, being thirteen means you can make the big decisions on how we’re going to pay for food and shelter.”

“Sure, because being sixteen is so much better?” Kishori retorted.

Kaz cleared his throat loudly, tapping the side of his glass with his knuckles. “Both of you are still children, actually. So, if you’re going to bicker at each other any longer, at least spare your elder a refill. And mayhaps a fresh change of clothes, too.”

“Right, yeah, I could get that for you,” Jaya said, cheeks heating with embarrassment at being chastised. She moved to the doorway but paused when Kishori spoke up. 

“Are you going to make us cut our hair when we come to work for you?” she said softly. Kaz could see she was restraining herself from tugging at her black tresses as she spoke. Trying not to reveal her tell. Already, she was learning the lessons of the Barrel, it seemed. She looked like she was preparing herself for the worst. Kaz knew that in some cultures, hair was considered sacred. It was a great sin to cut it, usually done as a punishment or to show deep sorrow. As that context sunk in, Waynoka’s chopped short hair left Kaz with a bitter taste in his mouth. A punishment, indeed. In that moment it was not Kishori but Inej standing before him, lamenting on how much of her culture had been pried from her grasp at the Menagerie. The things they made her do to break her spirit, and how much of her beliefs she had to part with to survive. 

“No,” Kaz said, voice hardened with truth, “I will never make you give up a part of yourself. Not to me, and not to anyone. And you have my permission to use your powers on whoever disagrees with that, understood?”

Kishori blinked up at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. As if he had given her permission to keep a treasured possession and not a basic right, “Understood. Thank you, sir.”

“Call me ‘sir’ again, and a certain sharpshooter of mine will never let you live it down,” Kaz warned, but he was smiling despite himself, “He’ll tease you for ages. Just ‘boss’ is fine. I’m only a few years older than you, anyways.”

“Right… Boss ,” Kishori grinned, a big toothy thing that made Kaz’s heart warm. Disgusting. Kaz hated children, he decided. 

After redressing his wounds and pouring him another round of soda, Jaya was quick to give him a change of clothes. A clean gray button-down shirt and dark burgundy trousers that fit him loosely. Most likely they were clothes from the men who grabbed him. He was swimming in the fabric, but it was better than trying to put back on his old clothes. They were tattered and caked in blood, so he chose to throw them away when he saw the state they were in. Luckily, the girls had not disposed of his belongings yet, so he was able to keep his gloves and coat. He had felt like he could finally breathe now that his gloves were back on. His coat was draped around his shoulders as he hobbled up the steps, a reassuring weight against him. Wool and dry, with the lingering scent of the Six on its collar. 

Kaz didn’t bother to study the aesthetics of the mansion as he moved through it. Before the night was over it’d be up in flames, anyway. If Mr. Verzamelaar had been a Mercher, or mayhaps a crime lord, Kaz would have noted every fine detail presented before him as part of his inspection. Those types always hid their tells in plain sight. However, Verzamelaar wasn’t a Mercher or anything close to it. He was a killer, a self-proclaimed ‘artist’ and experimentalist. One of those eccentric types. Kaz did not want to waste his time picking apart the brain of a madman. He had work to do. 

The door to the study hadn’t been difficult to crack. One of the simple ones, a change key lock. The kind that is opened by any key so long that they come from the set made for the lock; however, the selected key is the only one which will open the lock until a change is deliberately made. So, Verzamelaar had acquaintances. People within his network that he wanted to give access to, but not close enough that he wanted that access unrestricted. Good to know. The lock clicked with ease under Kaz’s tricky touch, and before him opened the den of his torturer. 

It was surprisingly boring. Kaz expected more from a lair of a blooming Saint. Whatever was decorating the walls was lost under the thick mahogany bookcases, wall to wall and stuffed full to bursting with books. Papers were scattered across the floor, but none of them looked worth picking up at first glance. There was a rolltop desk at the far end of the room, tucked to the side with a view out the window. A high-backed chair, emerald and velvet, sat askew next to the desk. Two wooden chairs were propped against the bookcases, most likely an afterthought and not a conscious effort to house guests. Whoever Verzamelaar worked with he was not close to. 

The rhythmic ‘thunk’ of his cane was all that echoed in the room as he made his way to that roll top desk. Jaya had given him detailed instructions of the layout of the house but he let her resume packing in lieu of walking him to the study. His leg was aching something fierce and he’d rather pull out his own teeth than have an audience right now. Not when he was still trying to wrap his head around the events of the past 24 hours. And his wounds were still crying out with pain as well. He was having a hard time staying standing. Besides, he thought best when he was alone. Or, that is, as alone as one could be with five pesky Crows squawking in his ears almost constantly. 

Speaking of, Inej would be wondering where he is soon. He always meets her at the streetside falafel stand for breakfast. According to Kishori it was already approaching noon by now. If he was lucky, he’d have about three more hours to wrap up this little escapade before Matthias’d be able to sniff him out. The less those five know about what happened here, the better. 

He ruffled through the desk with no care for how he placed things. Verzamelaar was already dead, so Kaz wasn’t worried about getting caught. It seemed though that his torturer was a smart man, despite his insanity, and none of his easily accessible documents held any real importance. Bank statements, work letters, pay stubs. He was a broker at the Exchange, and a durast, it seemed. Why a durast would be interested in human experimentation was beyond Kaz. To each their own, or whatever the saying was. In the narrow front drawer though was what he had been after. A ledger, a list of targets. Potential victims, based on what Kaz was gathering from the frantically scrawled notes at the side of each name. 

His sweet Inej was at the top of the list. Verzamelaar had been ‘bewitched’ by her Suli skin and lithe body. Kaz wished briefly that he hadn’t smashed Verzamelaar so quickly the night before. That fucker deserved a much slower, more painful end. According to the ledger though, Inej was too hard to pin down. They could never track where she’d be, and any attempt to follow her resulted in his men quickly losing sight of her. She was too hard to snatch off the streets. He had given up on obtaining her for his collection.

Under her was Jesper. Kaz had expected that, based on how his captor had been talking the night he had been taken. Jesper was beautiful, Kaz understood the appeal, but according to the ledger Verzamelaar was mostly interested in the fact that Jesper was a good aim. He wanted to spend extra time working on the sharpshooter’s hands. It seemed that he had no clue Jesper was a Grisha, which was good. His intel on the Crows so far has all been benign. Surface level. 

More names were listed under Inej and Jesper, names that Kaz only knew in passing. A Tidal Councilman, several business owners along the East and West Stave. Tante Heleen, oddly enough, though she had not been listed as a candidate for whatever project Verzamelaar had in store to ‘show off’ to Nina. He caught sight of Wylan’s name under hers, but little was written next to it. Not even a last name. Only that he knew who Nina was, had ties to the Merchant Council, and that he had fair skin. Good. Even if Van Eck senior was rotting away in jail already, the less people who knew about Wylan’s past the better. 

Kaz’s name was at the bottom of the list. He tilted the ledger up to get a better look at it. 

Brekker, Kaz (M) - sallow complexion, pale skin. ugly face, but good body shape. broken canvas (refer to medium #12, avoid the right leg). seems isolated, mediocre, acquainted with N. alone from the hours of 01800 to 02400. easy target. candidate 04 for N Sainthood Project. last resort.  

It seemed that his captor had been getting desperate. That ‘last resort’ line had been crossed out, as if he had lowered his standards in an attempt to meet a self-imposed deadline. Kaz shrugged, putting the ledger in one of his deep coat pockets. It wouldn’t hurt to investigate the ledger further. What was the deadline for , though, he wondered. Why was he in a rush now of all times? And, if he was so desperate to prove something to Nina, why had he not done more research on the Crows? Matthias wasn’t even on this list, and Wylan was much lower than he should have been. It was starting to look like Verzamelaar hadn’t actually known Nina at all, and had been operating solely on guesswork. 

Also, this talk of medium #12 intrigued Kaz. What about it would correlate to his disability? If it was inputted in such a way as this, it must have been referring to notes of his research. Which means he kept notes of his research, then. Journal entries, or something like it. A database that Kaz could snoop through to get a better idea of what was going on. But after a few more sweeps through the desk it seemed that those notes were not here. Hopefully they’d be in the basement, then. 

There was no record of who he was communicating with, as well. Whoever he was associated with did not correspond with him through letters, it seemed. Most likely they’d meet in person. Kaz would have to do some digging around the Exchange where Mr. Verzamelaar had worked. 

Satisfied he had exhausted everything of interest in the study, Kaz slowly made his way back downstairs to the main floor. His chest was stinging fiercely, the bandages feeling sappy and damp against his skin. At some point before they left, he should change them again. But right now he wanted to keep his promise to Waynoka, and investigate the basement alone. If his gut was right, he would not like what he finds down there, and he didn’t want to subject children to a sight like that. He’d try to keep things brief. 

The smell of rotting flesh assaulted him as soon as he pried the door to the basement open. It had no lock, and seemed to remain closed only on an honor system that the staff would be too scared to venture in. Verzamelaar must have felt like he had nothing to hide when it came to his work. Kaz steeled himself and carefully made his way downstairs. 

The steps were steep, and Kaz had to take them slowly to keep his balance. With each foot forward the stench grew thicker and thicker. By the time he had reached the bottom he had admitted defeat, and covered his lower face with his hand in an effort to block out the smell. 

Immediately, he understood why Waynoka had not wanted her sisters to come down here. Why the staff avoid the basement so staunchly. 

Waynoka’s corpse sat upon an operating table. The only reason Kaz could tell it was her was the familiar pattern of her skirts, for her face had been split open. A porcelain mask had been lodged flush to her skull, the wispy strays of her black hair framing the mask. Her body had been pried open, and putrid ferns sprouted from her exposed ribs. Sickly sweet smelling flowers sprouted along her torso, tearing holes through whatever skin had remained in the way. The ivory white of her ribs stood out against the lush green flora. It was a sickening sight to behold. 

Propped up to the side wall was another corpse, thick iron sprouting out of each joint and welding him to the ground. His face had been covered with a similar mask, this one dark and wrought iron to match his pseudo limbs. Thick bulbous tubers and plants grew out of his chest, leafy and coated in blood. 

There were other bodies, each just as sickening as the last, as Kaz stepped further into the basement. One was tied up to the ceiling with wires, red-stained hanging ivy spewing out of her guts. This one’s face had been cast in marble, and her hair hung around it in a matted halo of blonde. Another body had been pinned to the wall like an insect, bright yellow daffodils spanning up his chest and into his throat. A mask of plated gold obscured his face, and his hands and feet had been plated in gold as well. More bodies scattered around the workspace but Kaz did not know if he had the stomach to look at them closer.

 Already a theme was revealing itself. Each victim was given a mask to obscure their face, and each body had been disfigured not just for pleasure but to make way for organic material. Whatever he had been experimenting with, it had not been for the sake of expanding a small science. 

Kaz slipped for a moment, teetering for balance as he thrust out his cane to keep him steady. The walls and floor were tiled, and they were slick with filth. Blood stained almost every surface, and what was not coated in flaky rust or dried blood had a tar-like substance on it. It appeared that Verzamelaar had not cared to keep his workspace clean. 

He bent down slowly to get a better look at the substance he had slipped on. It looked similar to what he had been injected with the night before, but congealed. It was inky, matte black in color, with a bittersweet smell to it. He knew he should gather a sample, try to investigate what it was to a further extent, but he loathed the thought of touching it. 

Instead, he inched past the examining table to poke around the workspace more. There were several cabinets filled with oddities and specimens, and a large metal chest that had been glued firmly shut with dried flaking blood. The counterspaces had been littered with sharp tools and medical equipment, cluttered to the point of obscuring the ink-stained papers underneath. No sign of a journal or lab report, not even an open space to write notes down on. If anything the basement seemed more like an artist’s studio, or mayhaps a butcher’s block, than an actual place for research. Kaz had little hope of finding those notes now. He’d have to give up on figuring out what medium #12 had referred to. 

He quickly made his way back to the operating table, taking in the sight of Waynoka once more. 

“I’m sorry that you had to suffer through this,” Kaz murmured. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a compact fire-starter bundle. Fire had always been the most universal way to deal with malicious spirits that he knew of, and when he had first met Wylan he had requested that the chemist give him something that would aid in starting a fire quickly. He had wanted a viable way to defend himself at the time, but now he was grateful for a different reason. Now he could lay Waynoka to rest without hassle.

He placed the bundle in the cavernous expanse of her open chest, brushing against those ferns and flowers as he did. He wanted to release all the spirits here, sure, but he had to do this for Waynoka. He had to make sure she could move on, he felt the desire to lay her to rest deep in his heart. If not for her own sake, then because he could not do the same for his brother. 

“Thank you, Kaz,” A sweet voice said from beside him. He turned to see Waynoka’s spirit standing beside him. She looked happier, fuller than she had before. Like she had settled her affairs. Like she was ready to move on. “Thank you for letting us all escape. It’s sweet of you to care.”

“Don’t thank me for this of all things,” Kaz shook his head, “This was a terrible fate, one that none of you deserved.”

“You’re right,” she nodded thoughtfully, “None of us deserved this fate. None of us .”

Kaz could understand what she was implying, but he chose to ignore it. He would address whatever was festering inside him at a later time, once he had settled all of this nonsense and ensured that Oiwa was laid to rest as well. 

“At least let me thank you for letting me say goodbye to my sisters, then,” Waynoka smiled and added, “I won’t tell anyone that you were soft, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

Kaz smiled ruefully at that, “Fine. You’re welcome, or whatever.”

She laughed, and for a moment Kaz could picture what she must have been like while she had been alive. Strong and happy, just like she had said. The kind of girl who would have kept her sisters in line with gentle guidance and a firm glare. The kind of girl who had a deep sense of morality and kindness. A sweet soul, like Jordie had been. What a fine big sister she must have made. He wanted to keep that idea of her in his memories, and not the corpse that she had become. 

He tugged a small tin of matches from his coat collar. The spark caught easily, and soon the corpse of Waynoka was engulfed in flames. Kaz quickly moved towards the exit as the fire spread. Almost supernaturally so, the fire spread, as if it too wanted to burn away the horrors that had happened. For a moment, he swore he heard a collective sigh of relief echoing around him. The smoke chased away the putrid rotten smell as Kaz made his way back upstairs, and though it was harder to breathe for a moment he relished the burn in his chest. Already he could feel the shift in the air, the very walls of the mansion feeling lighter as if it could tell it was being set free. 

Jaya and Kishori had been waiting for him by the front entrance, and scrambled to pick up their bags when they saw the smoke drifting out of the basement doorway. He ushered them along, pace quick and efficient as they left the mansion. There was nothing left for them there now, and none of them looked back as the estate burned. Kaz explained as they walked that he still had business to attend to, and he’d meet them at the Silver Six when he had finished up his work. In the meantime they were to look for Inej, Anika, or Rottie, specifically in that order, to help them get settled.

Kaz parted ways with them as they approached the heart of Ketterdam. Fire alarms blared as the Stadwatch rushed past. They must have caught sight of the smoke. He grinned to himself, winking at Jaya and Kishori. They’d be okay. He was glad to know that they’d be okay. Then he turned to head to the West Stave like nothing happened. Like he wasn’t afraid of what he saw down in the basement. Like he’s not in terrible pain. He couldn't afford to dwell on any of that, not when he had work to do.