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Kaz was about to peel away his gloves when someone knocked on the door.
He covered the jug of clean water he was going to use to wash his hands with. Ketterdam was not a warm city, but this summer had been brutal. Kaz found himself sweating over the most menial tasks and his new leather gloves didn’t help in that regard.
Still, they were undoubtedly the best pair he’d ever had. Slick and expertly made, with tiny fissures at the fingertips perfect for gripping. He was able to perform every single one of his tricks in those gloves. They had been expensive, yes, but they were worth every kruge. Kaz even enjoyed the shimmering black lines that traced over the fingers. Flashy, but not exaggeratedly so. Good for making an impression.
Besides, the gloves weren’t just a part of the legend he was building. Kaz had heard the rumors and he had encouraged them by neither denying nor confirming any explanation for his ever-present gloves. The truth was that they were indispensable. His one concession to his weakness, the one comfort he couldn’t go without. If people were willing to give them a more ruthless reason to exist, all the better.
“Yes?” Kaz said when the knocking died out and he moved to his desk.
“It’s me,” Poppy’s soft voice came from the other side of the door. “I come bearing gifts.”
“Then, bear the gifts.”
Once the permission was granted, Poppy Cox entered without a second of hesitation. Kaz had always appreciated her manners. Some people said Poppy was too gentle for the Barrel, too delicate, but Kaz saw something else. The first time they met was during a job. Kaz was working as a pickpocket and Poppy performed on the stage. She was good enough that it was easy for Kaz to hit dozens of pockets in a single night unnoticed. All eyes were on the stage.
He split the night’s results with Poppy. It was fair. Kaz was on his way to be an excellent thief, but he wasn’t as smooth as the older pickpockets of the Barrel just yet. The singer made for a great distraction as well as a prime training ground.
Tears formed in Poppy’s eyes when Kaz handed her share. Apparently, she wasn’t being paid to perform, it was all in the hopes of future gigs.
Kaz shrugged. “You help with the job, you get a share.”
“I wouldn’t have expected that from you, Dirtyhands,” Poppy said, wiping away the tears that were ruining her makeup. “But I guess I should know better than to believe rumors on the street.”
After that, Poppy always let Kaz know whenever she had a gig. The more famous Poppy got, the more profitable the night was for both of them. Kaz got to practice, to perfect his sleight of hand, ways to be sure his marks only learned they were robbed when it was too late. Poppy got to have dinner. And then fabrics for the costumes she stitched together. Accessories. Even some singing lessons. Together, they made an unlikely but successful partnership.
At least, so far.
Poppy closed the door of Kaz’s office behind them. She was wearing a corset, which was the only thing keeping her loose silk blouse in place since Poppy had refused to button it at all. The ebony skin of her shoulders and arms was entirely on display. She seemed fresh despite the summer heat. Kaz was almost jealous.
“I know it took me a little longer than what we’ve agreed, but that’s because you’ve decided to change the cut last minute. Anywho, wait until you see it before-” the excitement on Poppy’s angular face turned to surprise and she covered her gaping mouth at the sight of Kaz. “Kaz Brekker, what happened to you?”
Kaz shrugged. There had been a bit of a hurdle the night before, but that was nothing Kaz hadn’t expected. The Crow Club was too new, too untested. Every scum in the Barrel that had been kicked out of the other gambling houses was checking it out, trying to shape it to their bidding. They thought that a gambling house run by a boy, not yet eighteen years old, would be the perfect place to mark their territory.
They were wrong. Kaz had no qualms in throwing the trash out himself. He had no choice, either. He had bouncers working for him, big men eager to break bones. But Kaz knew he had to be the scariest person in the room. Otherwise, these big men would turn on him too.
So, he had been. Last night’s troublemaker had gotten a punch on Kaz’s face, but he had also lost an eye for it. When Kaz was done with him, the man was begging for mercy. Kaz didn’t give it to him. He just kept punching.
Big Bolliger, Kaz’s meanest bouncer, had watched in silence. When Kaz finally deemed to stop, the big man nodded in approval. “I’ll take it from here, Boss.”
It was the first time anyone had ever called Kaz “boss”. He figured he liked it. Kaz had woken up with an ugly bruise on his left cheek and the feeling that there would be no trouble on the gambling floor that night.
“So uncivilized this partner of mine,” Poppy nagged with a huff. Kaz supposed he had earned that. They had little in common and Kaz doubted they would ever become friends, but he was grateful for Poppy. Without her, Kaz would’ve never had the funds to buy the old, decadent building they now stood in. Much less renovate it and turn it into the Crow Club.
A crippled thief with no place to die and an unknown diva with no stage to perform. Their unlikely partnership kept feeding Kaz’s growing reputation for making the unlikely possible.
“You said something about a gift,” Kaz said before Poppy got it into her head to fuss over him. She had a habit of acting like Kaz’s older sister that shouldn’t be encouraged.
“Here,” Poppy sai, not bothering to keep the excitement off of her voice. “It came out gorgeous. It might even distract from that ugly bruise.” She laid down a beautifully cut black coat on Kaz’s desk. It was magnificent, the type of coat a proper merch would wear. Kaz resisted the urge to touch the fabric, but let a smile curl on his lips.
Poppy snorted at that. She crossed her arms, hips popping to the side. “Go on. I want to make sure it fits that scrawny torso of yours.”
Kaz stripped off the jacket he had on and put his new coat on. It hugged him exactly right, a perfect fit. Looking at himself in the mirror, Kaz thought he might even look older now, a man instead of a boy playing at being a boss. But the piece was more than just style. Wherever Kaz’s fingers touched, there was a hidden pocket. He had counted at least eight when Poppy cleared her throat, expectantly.
“This coat was worth the wait,” Kaz finally said, “and the money I paid for it.”
“I told you it would be.” Poppy’s smugness painted her face brighter than the heavy makeup she was wearing. “Turn around. One day my fabulous taste is going to rub on you, but we’re not quite there yet. Let me style you.”
“I’m not one of your dressing dolls, Poppy,” Kaz protested, but he knew there was no point. He had an important meeting that night and Poppy would make sure he was looking his best. That was her way to contribute. Poppy hated the boring meetings that running a business entailed, so she left it all for Kaz to handle. She was in charge of the daily activities: drinks and food, decoration, and entertainment.
That last one was usually Poppy herself, draped in silks and singing on the small stage they built together. Not exactly the type of act Kaz would choose to host, but Poppy was slowly growing a faithful following. Good. She would need it if the night went according to plan.
“My dolls are pretty. You are a mess, Kaz Brekker.” Poppy selected a pocket clock as well as three pins for Kaz’s lapel. Enough time spent together had taught Poppy to hand them to Kaz instead of trying to put them on him herself. “I could do something about your face, though. Some powder and the bruise would be gone. As good as Grisha tailoring.”
“Touch my face, Poppy. Do it.”
Poppy narrowed her eyes. “On second thought, I think I want to keep all my fingers unbroken.”
“Smart choice.”
“Cute.” Poppy schooled her features into disinterest, which never quite worked. Kaz wondered what she wanted. “Who do you have on the staff tonight?”
Oh. That. “Big Bolliger, Specht, Muzzen, Keeg. The usual.”
“And minding the door?”
There were more skillful ways to ask what Poppy wanted to know. Kaz didn’t understand her obsession with the new hire. Jesper Fahey was Kaz’s age, Zemini born and always ready to get in trouble. He had a fast mouth and even faster pistols. But he had no self-control when it came to games of chance. Kaz had watched Jesper go into debt with every gambling house in the Barrel. And yet, he had also survived every creditor that had come to collect.
Kaz guessed Poppy’s infatuation made sense, in a way. Jesper was charming, clever, and prone to bad decisions. He was dangerous; to others and to himself. And he reminded Kaz too much of someone else. The night Kaz saw Jesper be jumped on the street by two of Pekka Rollins’ men, he hadn’t stopped to think. He just threw himself into the brawl. Kaz and Jesper came out in one piece and Jesper had stayed by Kaz’s side ever since.
Turns out, Jesper was also loyal. Yet another way he reminded Kaz of… Kaz shook his head. “Jesper will be guarding my office during the meeting.”
“Which means he will be watching my performance.” Poppy smiled and turned to the door. “Better go get ready, then. I’m so late already. Good thing my face is almost done.”
Kaz took off his new coat before he started to sweat on it. Summer nights were cool in Ketterdam and the sun was just done setting. Soon enough, Kaz wouldn’t be cooking alive in his own clothes. “There will be no performance tonight. You have to attend this meeting.”
“That is not what we agreed to do,” Poppy said, crossing her arms. “I take care of the entertainment, you take care of- ”
“Of everything else.” Kaz raised his chin, looking Poppy in the eye. Poppy was still a little taller than him, though the difference had been greater a year ago. He wondered if that was why Poppy had begun to wear high heels all the time. “And I usually do, but tonight the meeting is about the Crow Club’s shares. Which both of us own. If we start investing in…” Kaz’s voice trailed away and he let his irritation color his face. Poppy was making a show of staring at her nails. Fine, be like that. “I can triple the club’s revenue tonight, but I need you to be there to sign the documents.”
“Can’t you sign them?” Poppy asked, clearly as annoyed as Kaz. But for the wrong reasons.
“Not in your name. You don’t have to be here for the entire meeting, but you have to be able to show up as soon as we close the deal. We’re a new business, we need to stay in the merchs’ good graces. That means we don’t keep their clerks waiting when they come all the way to the Barrel.”
“I won’t be able to stop my performance at a moment’s notice, Dirtyhands.” Poppy was frustrated now. These days, she only used Kaz’s street name when she was out of arguments. “Come on, just sign it for me. Lawyers do it all the time.”
“Am I a lawyer, Poppy?”
“No. You’re a counterfeiter and con man - more like a con boy - who convinced the city hall official there was a fungus infestation in this building so we could buy it for half the price.” Poppy rolled her eyes. “Come on. There has to be a document I can sign that makes you able to sign things for me.”
Kaz made a show of sighing. “Do you mean a proxy?”
“Yes! Let’s do that.”
“Fine,” Kaz said and opened one of his drawers. He took out some papers and a pen. “I have a blank document I stole from city hall that I can forge a copy out of. Give me thirty minutes and I’ll have it ready for you to sign.”
“Thirty minutes? No way. I’ll just sign the blank one and you can steal another template tomorrow. It takes time and care to put on my costumes.” Poppy grabbed the papers from Kaz’s hand and signed them. She didn’t even stop to read the name of the document.
A good thing. Because if she had, Poppy would’ve seen it said ‘transfer of authority’. And that she was signing away all of her shares of the Crow Club for Kaz to deal with as he saw fit.
Kaz wondered if he should feel bad and what it said about him that he didn’t.
Three hours later, though, whatever moral dilemma Kaz still had vanished from his mind. The clerk from the city hall was gone, the new ownership papers for the Crow Club with him. It was done. The club was now entirely Kaz’s. Poppy would get money for her shares, but now Kaz officially owned a gambling house he could shape however he wanted.
Next step, a harbor. Gambling and stealing from pigeons were lucrative, but Ketterdam’s real money came in through the docks. It was a cash cow and Kaz wanted a piece of that action.
“Shall we toast to your new acquisition, Mr. Brekker?” Gert Verent said, already pouring two glasses of Kaz’s brandy. An elusive little man with the smile of a rat, Verent was the only city lawyer that did business with gang leaders. He made sure of it, so then he could ask for whatever price he deemed fit.
Kaz exchanged a look with Big Bolliger. The bouncer had insisted on staying for the meeting, so Kaz had let him. He supposed a silent giant standing at the wall was as good a show of strength as any.
“Sure,” Kaz said and accepted the glass Verent offered him. “Thank you for your service, Mr. Verent.”
“It was a pleasure. This kind of business usually goes awry much faster. I don’t know how you managed to get your partner to sign that transfer of authority, but it sure made things run smoother.” Verent finished his glass. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to make a trip to the Barrel worth the trouble.”
Kaz forced himself to match Verent’s lustful smile with a smirk. Disgusting old man. “I’ll walk you out.”
Ignoring the curious look Verent gave to his bad leg, Kaz stood up and went to the door. Jesper was waiting, clearly bored. He smiled at the sight of Kaz, but kept his mouth shut. Jesper knew how to act when it mattered. He would unleash a torrent of questions when he and Kaz were alone and not before that.
Verent stopped in front of the staircase that led to the gambling floor. He surveyed the Crow’s Club. “This is an unusually well-decorated club, Mr. Brekker. I don’t think my wife would much mind if I brought her here. It looks like one of the dining halls where she and her friends go for their book club.”
It really did. Most gambling houses in the Barrel were tacky places, dark and obnoxiously decorated. They fit right in the kind of debauchery that was expected to happen inside of them. The Crow’s Club was well-lit, with huge windows and small tables distributed all around the floor. Everything was new, fashionable. Tasteful, even.
“It was all Poppy’s design,” Kaz said, finding his former partner on the stage. Poppy was finishing one of her numbers, an elaborate dance routine on top of her singing. She winked at Kaz when their gaze met. Kaz ignored her.
“Oh,” Verent said, also finding Poppy in the crowd and not bothering to hide the disgust from his voice. Kaz imagined throwing him from the stairs. It wouldn’t kill him, they weren’t high enough. It wasn’t worth the effort. “Well, I suppose he does have good taste.”
Or maybe it was. Kaz threw a warning look at Jesper, who had a hand on a pistol, and then looked back at Verent. “She is going to murder me once I’m done redecorating.”
Verent looked at Kaz, surprised.
Kaz met his gaze. “Can’t have a gambling house that looks like a lady’s dining hall.” The stage would be the first thing to go, along with the huge windows. Kaz didn’t want his clients to be able to keep track of time while gambling their money away.
Verent laughed. “Send word whenever you’re in need of a lawyer, Mr. Brekker. I feel we shall be meeting again very soon.” He climbed down the stairs. Kaz threw Big Bolliger a glance and the bouncer followed, making sure the lawyer would not stop to enjoy his visit to the Barrel at Kaz’s club.
Kaz waited until Verent was out of the Crow’s Club to sigh heavily. He needed to punch something. Or get drunk. He was the sole owner of the Crow Club. He did it. That was all that mattered. He was now that much closer to getting everything he wanted. Money, power. Revenge.
“So?” Jesper asked and Kaz could feel his excitement as Jesper stopped by his side. “Did it work?”
“Yes,” Kaz said and didn’t hide a smile at Jesper’s little whoop.
“How are we celebrating?”
“By making money. I spent a lot tonight.” Kaz walked back to his office, knowing Jesper would follow him. “But first, this.”
He poured away the brandy Verent had served him and scooped out a much better vintage he kept hidden. Kaz poured a glass for Jesper and himself. They drank and went for a second round for good measure as they discussed what changes Kaz would make to the club.
Jesper was still giggling when Kaz shoved a small trunk full of money in his hands. “Wait. What is this?” he asked, confused but hanging on to it.
“Tell Poppy what happened. These are her shares.”
Jesper’s jaw dropped. “Why me?!”
Kaz arched an eyebrow. “Because I said so.” Also, because Poppy is sweet on you and that might soften the blow. “Do you want to be a part of this gang or not, Jesper?”
“Saints, okay. No need for the ultimatums.” Jesper hugged the trunk and walked to the door, but he stopped before crossing it. “You know, what you did tonight was pretty ruthless.” Kaz watched Jesper, not sure what to make of that. But then, Jesper smiled. “I hope I never find myself on the other side of that black heart of yours. Good night, Boss.”
“Good night, Jesper,” Kaz said, but it was barely a whisper. He had been too surprised to properly speak as he realized he hoped for that too.
Kaz poured himself a third shot and gulped it down. What a strange night. And hot too.