Chapter Text
Buffalo, New York
2016
The fog that blanketed the city was thick and heavy, making it easy for Inej to slip unnoticed into the crowd of people meandering along the downtown streets. The abundance of bars and nightclubs in the neighbourhood always attracted a lot of people this late at night, whether they were university students partying for the fun of it, business workers celebrating a promotion at work, or the gang members that regularly flocked to the area to assert their claim over the territory.
Inej pulled her hood lower over her face, keeping her eyes on the gang loitering outside one of the more popular sports bars. Even from her position on the other side of the road, she could hear their raucous laughter as they playfully shoved each other, coming dangerously close to knocking passerby into oncoming traffic. She couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying, but from the crude hand gestures the speaker, a short guy with close-cropped blonde hair, was making, she had a pretty good idea what the topic was.
When the blonde man detached himself from the group, dropping his cigarette onto the ground and saluting his friends, Inej crossed the road and silently followed him into the dark alley. A few people were heading in the opposite direction and walked right by Inej, but she’d mastered the skill of going undetected long ago and no one seemed to notice her presence. She continued trailing the man as he took a turn out of the alley and headed south down the busy street, eventually approaching a small house indistinguishable from its neighbours.
The man yanked his key from his jeans pocket, and with fumbling hands fitted it into the lock. Inej swung herself over the iron-wrought railing and onto the porch, landing lightly on her feet. Before the man could twist the front door open, she hooked an arm around his neck and pressed her knife firmly against his pulse point.
He struggled to free himself from her hold and Inej dug her blade in a little harder, drawing a bead of blood.
“Unless you want me to slit your throat right here, stop moving,” she said lowly.
He went limp in her arms. “What do you want? Money? You can have my wallet, it’s in my back pocket.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Please don’t kill me,” he babbled on, not seeming to hear her. “I can’t – I have a wife. My daughters –”
Fury burned inside her and she jerked his head back, ignoring his strangled cry. “Don’t lie to me,” she snarled. “You don’t have a wife nor a daughter, Devan Simmons.”
His mouth fell open. “How do you know my name?”
“The same way I know you’ve been human trafficking for five years. Those women in your house aren’t your family, they’re just slaves to you. A way for you to earn a tidy profit while lying to your real family about starting your own marketing business.”
Simmons stared at her in shock, and Inej could see the moment the clues connected in his brain.
“You’re the Wraith,” he breathed. “They warned me about you when I moved to this city, but I though you were just a myth.”
“Well, a myth is about to haul you to the police station,” said Inej. “Every human whose life you’ve stolen will be free, while you get to rot in jail.”
“Wait, no!” said Simmons, his panic evident, and he redoubled his efforts in trying to break free.
Inej drove her elbow into his forehead and Simmons crumpled to the ground. It would be a tough task to carry his unconscious body all the way to the closest station three miles away, but she knew the city like the back of her hand and could easily visualize the path she’d have to take to avoid anyone spotting her along the way.
She slid her knife back into its sheath on her belt and was preparing to sling Simmons over her shoulder when someone behind her called out, “Don’t bother.”
Quick as a flash, Inej pulled out the knife strapped to her left forearm and pointed it at the newcomer, who was strolling up the path to the house and seemingly unconcerned that she was holding a weapon. He stopped several feet away from her and leaned on his walking stick, regarding her with inscrutable dark eyes.
“I took the liberty of contacting the police,” the stranger rasped. “Devan Simmons will be in their custody before he wakes up.”
“You called the police here?” she hissed as loudly as she dared without disturbing the neighbours. “How did you even know – I can’t be here when they show up!”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said the stranger. “We’ll be long gone by the time they get here.”
His hand came up, aiming a pistol at the space between her eyes. Before Inej could throw her knife at him, a bright flash of light burst from his gun and she was out cold.
Niagara Falls, Canada
2016
Jesper walked out of the casino feeling lighter than he’d had in ages. He’d gone there to celebrate his latest success and for the first time in weeks, he’d won more than he’d spent. It was nowhere near enough to pay off the massive debts he still owed, but it was a start. A good start.
Whistling merrily, he hailed a taxi and climbed into the vehicle, giving the driver his address. As the man nodded and peeled out of the parking lot, Jesper’s cell phone rang.
Without bothering to check the call display, he picked it up and said cheerfully, “I just had the best night ever and I’m –”
“I’m glad to hear you enjoyed your night of gambling, Fahey,” said the familiar sleek voice. “I’ve got another mark for you in the morning.”
“Whoa, hold on!” said Jesper indignantly. “You can’t give me another project tomorrow, I just finished one this afternoon!”
“I’m not contractually obliged to give you three to five business days before assigning you another target, you know.”
“But you usually give me some time off anyway.”
“Fahey, I’ve got a backlog of cases and they’re piling up. I can’t afford to let you waste a couple days at the casino while I field calls from agitated clients.”
“Celene –”
“Can I count on you, or do I have to hire another assassin?”
Jesper hesitated for only a brief second before answering reluctantly, “You can count on me.”
“Good.” Celene didn’t sound surprised by his response. He knew that she knew he relied on the substantial income he earned from his kills. Without Celene’s employment, he’d be a dead man. “I’ll send you a text at eight A.M. tomorrow with the details.”
She hung up and Jesper had to resist the urge to throw his phone out the window.
“That your boss at work?” the driver asked. “Sounds like you have a difficult job.”
Jesper laughed but it sounded hollow, even to his ears. “You have no idea.”
When the driver dropped him off at his hotel ten minutes later, Jesper trudged inside, most of his good mood having dissipated with Celene’s unexpected phone call. The two kids in the elevator with him took one look at the scowl on his face and hurried off at the next floor.
Normally he would have felt inclined to go after the children and apologize for unintentionally scaring them, but Jesper was still shaken by the fact that he was being sent into the field again. He’d expected to have a few days to relax, maybe stop by the casino a couple more times, see the famous waterfalls, explore the town like he was a regular tourist and not the person who’d just assassinated the region’s well-liked MP.
Heaving a drawn-out sigh, he arrived at his room door and swiped his keycard through the slot. Absentmindedly pushing the door open, he flicked on the light switch and the room immediately became bathed in a soft incandescent glow, illuminating a boy around his age sitting in the armchair.
Jesper froze.
“Hello,” the stranger said, still casually reclined in his seat as if Jesper were the intruder and not the other way around. “You took your time. I expected you six minutes ago.”
“I – how did you get in?”
“I scaled eight stories and climbed in through the window.”
Jesper gaped at him. “Really?”
“No,” the boy said, rolling his eyes. “I nicked a keycard.”
“Oh. Uh, that makes more sense. And – who are you?” asked Jesper, slowly reaching a hand behind him for the revolver hidden at his waistband. Working for Celene meant he’d acquired his fair share of enemies; it wasn’t the first time someone had tried to kill him, though breaking into his hotel room and having a deceptively pleasant conversation was something new.
The boy’s eyes narrowed at the movement and he stood up, brandishing a pistol Jesper had somehow missed in his gloved hands.
“You’ll learn that information very soon,” he said calmly.
The last thing Jesper saw was the faint smirk on the boy’s pale face before the world turned white.
Riga, Latvia
2016
Screams of terror greeted Nina when she strode into the bank, the people already crouching on the ground and covering their heads at the sight of her. It was part flattering and part insulting that her unique red-and-black costume was so recognizable to the port’s inhabitants that their first instinct was to hide from her, even if the gesture was futile.
The lone security guard standing near the ATMs sprinted towards her, already firing in her direction. Nina raised her arms in one fluid motion, sensing the blood thrumming under his skin, the quick beating of his heart. Dropping his pulse, she watched with forced impassiveness as he toppled to the floor.
She spun around and grinned from behind her red domino mask. “If you all stay still, exactly as you are right now, no one will get hurt,” she said, her filtered voice ringing clearly around the room.
Nina surveyed the occupants of the room, most of whom had stopped shrieking and were staring at her with huge, terrified eyes, before walking up to the bank teller cowering behind the counter. He flinched when she lifted her hand and pointed at him.
“A thousand euros,” she ordered. “Now.”
The teller’s face paled and he nodded quickly, reaching for somewhere under the desk and coming up with a handful of bills. Nina pocketed them with a wink.
“Thank you all for your cooperation!” she trilled, casually waving and strolling out the side door. As soon as she was outside, however, she broke into a run and dashed for the trees bordering the perimeter of the bank. Someone had probably already called the police, and it would only be a few minutes before there were officers swarming the property.
In the safety of the small forest, she stripped out of her outfit and changed into a simple T-shirt and jeans before running. Nina kept a steady pace, the exercise familiar to her after a year of similar experiences, and emerged from the trees about two miles from the bank. Smoothing out her clothes and hair, she adopted a smile and joined the throng of people lining up outside the coffee shop for their afternoon caffeine fix.
Nina bought a latte and her favourite custard danish, picking the seat closest to the window. As she ate, several police cruisers whizzed down the street, sirens blaring, and she tried to look just as startled at the noise as the other patrons. But when one of the shop’s employees turned on the TV and the channel was discussing the city’s third bank robbery in as many months, Nina couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer and quickly finished eating before stalking out of the coffee shop.
The sick feeling in her stomach worsened when the bus she hopped on drove past the bank, where the police were already marking the area with yellow crime tape and shooing away the reporters clamoured on the sidewalk. Nina averted her eyes from the crime scene and took several deep breaths, her hands on her lap clenched into fists. The old man sitting beside her gave her a concerned look, and Nina forced another smile to appease his worry.
When she got off at the stop closest to her apartment, Nina threw her latte in the garbage and collapsed onto the nearest bench. Fortunately, it was a quiet street, mostly deserted since the building’s residents were all at work, and the silence allowed her to close her eyes and relax for a bit.
Until someone nearby said suddenly, “I wouldn’t do that in this neighbourhood. There’s been five shootings here in the past month.”
Nina jerked, her eyes flying open and settling on the dark-haired boy a few paces away. She had no idea how he’d gotten so close without her hearing him, especially considering the cane he was using to walk towards her.
“I appreciate the concern,” she said. “But I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can,” he replied. “I’ve seen the security footage of the heists you’ve pulled off. Some are rather impressive.”
“…What are you talking about?”
“They call you the Heartrender, don’t they? The media always comes up with such stupid names for lawbreakers. Though in this case, your is quite accurate.”
Nina glanced down at her purse, half expecting to see her costume poking out of the top, but it was stowed safely out of sight. She looked up at the boy through her eyelashes, batting them a little to deepen the effect. “I don’t know who told you I’m the Heartrender, but I’m not her,” she said sweetly. “Do you think I’m as pretty as she is?”
The boy shot her an unimpressed look and stepped closer, which is when Nina noticed the pistol he held in his free hand.
Alarmed, she raised her hands, but he moved faster than she expected and grabbed both her wrists, forcing them down. The gun was shoved in her face and she instinctively squeezed her eyes shut.
An explosion of white light seared her eyelids, overloading her senses, and Nina fainted.
Amsterdam, The Netherlands
2016
“Excuse me? Madam Visser?”
Wylan’s boss broke away from her conversation with her colleague and frowned down at him. “What do you want, Wallace?”
“Uh, my name’s Wylan, actually, and I have a question about this week’s pay. I seem to be fifty euros short?”
Madam Visser tilted her head, regarding Wylan like he was an idiot. It was a look he was unfortunately accustomed to. “Is that a problem?”
“Well –”
“If it is, you should have brought it up when you received the letter, not right after you’re paid.”
Wylan froze. “Letter? There was a letter?”
Her are-you-stupid look intensified. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I mailed everyone a letter two weeks ago informing them that their wages were being cut.”
“I – I didn’t know that,” Wylan stammered. “I mean, I never read that letter.”
“Hmm.” She lowered her glasses, pinning him with a stern glare. Wylan swallowed and stared back at her, doing his best to convey his innocence. He hadn’t really lied; it was true that he’d never read the letter.
“Very well,” she said finally. “I believe you. But next time, check your mailbox before accusing me of dropping your pay without warning, Wyatt.”
“My name is Wylan –”
Madam Visser turned away from him and resumed her conversation with her colleague.
Huffing out an exasperated breath, Wylan slung his bag over one shoulder and headed outside. Not for the first time he contemplated quitting his job, but he knew the chances of him finding another one were slim. He had no connections, no other work experience, and the unemployment rate was at an all-time high. Even with his now-reduced pay he should still be able to cover his rent and food costs without having to seek out another job.
He didn’t even mind his job all that much. Madam Visser was strict but usually fair, and while working for a pyrotechnics company and utilizing his passable chemistry knowledge had never exactly been his dream job, it was challenging enough that he was never bored, yet never to difficult that he struggled to keep up with everyone else.
Wylan stopped by the deli on his way home, buying a dutch hussar’s salad for dinner and carefully placing it into his bag before continuing on his way. Night was beginning to fall, along with a light drizzle of rain that pattered against the sidewalk like a crescendo of musical notes. Wylan shivered, tightening the blue scarf around his neck in an effort to keep out the chill.
“Hey, kid!”
Wylan groaned and turned around, prepared to inform whoever was hailing him that he was sixteen and therefore not a kid, and came face-to-face with a knife.
He yelped and stumbled back, but someone was already behind him and they gripped Wylan’s arms, holding him in place. The boy holding the knife waved the utensil in the air, dangerously close to Wylan’s nose.
“Empty your pockets,” he growled.
“I would, but your friend here isn’t letting me move,” said Wylan, somewhat surprised to hear his voice steady despite his internal screaming. “Mind telling him to back off?”
The boy looked like he’d rather stab him and be done with it, but he nodded and Wylan felt the hold on his arms loosen.
“Don’t even think about trying to run,” the boy said, prodding Wylan’s chin with the knife.
Wylan nodded and slowly reached a hand into his pocket, his fingers brushing the zipper of his wallet. In spite of the boy’s warning, he briefly considered making a run for it. If he tackled the one without the knife, he might be strong enough to knock him over and that might startle the other boy long enough for him to get away.
That was two too many mights for Wylan to be confident in his plan. He sighed, carefully pulling several euro banknotes out of his wallet pocket. The boy grabbed them from his hands and Wylan winced as he crushed the notes in his fist.
“The rest,” he said.
“Sorry?”
“I can see the outline of your wallet in your pocket, idiot. The rest of your money, now.”
“I…” He couldn’t afford to give away his entire week’s earnings. His landlord had made it very clear that if Wylan ever failed to pay the rent, he’d be kicked out onto the street. “I can’t –”
A gunshot rang out, and the boy with the knife dropped to the ground.
“What the –”
A second gunshot. Wylan felt the bullet fly past his ear, and the person behind him fell with an audible thump.
For a moment Wylan stood still, certain he’d just imagined the last few seconds. Then he took in the two prone forms lying on the ground, slowly getting drenched by the rain, and he gasped and staggered away from them. A red stain was spreading on both of the boys’ left shoulders, seeping through their thin jackets.
“The shots weren’t fatal. If I was shooting to kill, they’d be dead already. They’ll be fine. As long as someone finds them in time.”
“Oh, okay.” Wylan turned to thank his saviour, only to be confronted with the barrel of a gun.
He barely had time to think oh, not again before he was knocked unconscious.
~*~
When he heard the sounds of stirring, Kaz set aside his tablet and looked over to where he’d dragged the four bodies of his potential future crew. Inej was the first to sit up, frowning as she took in her surroundings. Jesper’s eyes opened next and he automatically reached for his revolvers, muttering a curse when he found them missing.
“Where are we?” groaned Nina, struggling to free herself from the rope Kaz had used to bind her wrists together.
“I have no id –” Wylan scrambled to his feet and glanced out the bridge’s viewports, blanching at the sight of the swirling green and yellow streaks indicative of the temporal zone. “Never mind. I know where we are.”
Inej joined Wylan’s side, following his gaze out the viewport. Confusion flashed across her face. “You do? What is that?”
“That is the temporal zone,” said Kaz, and everyone spun to face him. “We’re currently in a space between time that time travellers such as myself use to voyage throughout the different time periods.”
His words were met with stunned looks.
“You’re a time traveller, and you brought us to a space between time without our consent?” Jesper said incredulously. His fingers flexed at his sides. “And you took my guns, I’m assuming?”
“I removed everyone’s weapons while you were unconscious, hence why Nina’s hands are tied,” said Kaz. “I’ll give them back under the condition that none of you try to kill me before I have a chance to speak and explain everything. As for your abductions, it was the only way for me to talk to all of you at once.”
“I promise not to stop your heart, even if you deserve it for kidnapping us,” Nina grumbled, thrusting out her hands. “Now untie me.”
Kaz glanced at her, assessing the sincerity of her response, before deciding that trying to reason with her while she was bound like a prisoner would be futile and crossed the room to untie her. After he’d undone Nina’s ropes, he reached into his black jacket and produced Jesper’s twin revolvers and the half dozen knives he’d picked off Inej.
“How the hell do you fit all of those on you?” Jesper asked wonderingly as Inej took back her knives. He cradled his own guns lovingly before tucking them at his belt.
She offered him a small smile. “It’s a secret.”
Nina rubbed her wrists, where the rope had chafed into her pale skin. “I, for one, would really like that explanation now. A name would be nice, too.”
“My name is Kaz Brekker,” said Kaz, seeing no reason to beat around the bush. “As I said earlier, I’m a time traveller, but I’m more commonly referred to as a time pirate. And I brought you all here because I’m asking for your help with a mission of mine.”