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It was nearly two days after Jordie died that Kaz was finally able to sleep again.
After pulling himself from the harbor, he forced himself to keep moving. Kaz wandered the streets, never settling for more than a few moments at a time. He found that if he kept moving, kept calculating his next move, kept outrunning the Stadwatch - then he didn’t have the time to think about everything that had happened. The sirens, the bodies, the water against his legs. None of it even had the chance of flashing across his mind if he was searching for his next meal or a pocket he might be able to pick.
But it was only so long before his body began to ache and his mind began to fog with fatigue. He didn’t want to stop, but if he didn’t, then he’d be vulnerable. That was the last thing he could afford now. He knew it was smarter to find somewhere he could sleep without the Stadwatch or other denizens of the Barrel before he collapsed with exhaustion.
So Kaz made his way past the fringes of West Stave and toward the Warehouse district. He had seen the rows of massive buildings before, not far from where he emerged from the harbor. Kaz kept his head down and his collar pulled up above his ears as he fought against the push of men and women in dirty clothes heading home from work. The entire time his teeth chattered - images of rotted skin flashing across his mind with every brush of a limb against him.If he had been more awake, he might have fled, but he barely had the energy to keep his eyes open.
With his gaze glued to the ground, Kaz didn’t notice the man in his path until he had been knocked to the street. He looked up, dumbfounded, to find the man reaching to grab the front of his shirt. As he hauled Kaz to his feet, the stranger shouted at him. Except, Kaz couldn’t hear a thing over the blood rushing to his ears. He didn’t hear it when the man demanded an apology, or when his body hit the piles of trash in the nearby alley. He certainly didn’t hear the sound of the man’s rough skin on his cheek as he was struck across the face. But he felt it.
The man’s temper was short, and he was quick to leave Kaz frozen in the alley. He couldn’t get his limbs to move, all he could do was watch the crowds of workers pass by and try to push away the sensation of skin against his.
Gathering the dregs strength and energy he had left, Kaz scoured through the surrounding discard until he came up with a piece of brick large enough to break the first-floor window of the bordering warehouse that seemed to have been abandoned in the past year or so. The hum of the passing crowds was loud enough to shelter the crash from the Stadwatch, and Kaz crawled in without a problem.
Once inside, Kaz curled up between some dusty crates, back pressed to the wall and an old tarp pulled over his body to fend off the cool harbor air. He hated how small he felt - how insignificant he felt in the city. Jordie had promised him the world, now he had nothing. Kaz knew he had to change that, but now, he needed to rest.
Within moments of shutting his eyes, Kaz was asleep. He thought he’d sleep easily - his body too tired to produce any nightmares.
He was wrong.
Jordie’s voice came from the darkness, filling Kaz’s mind. For a moment, Kaz thought it was real, he was certain that Jordie was alive and whispering in his ear. Then Kaz wondered if he had died as well, and Jordie was pulling him towards the afterlife. But neither was true - the nightmare was far worse than either of those things. Jordie’s soft voice turned hoarse, and suddenly he was making that horrid sound he had made during the last few days of his life. From the darkness came the coolness of the water, and Kaz realized he was drowning. Water filled his lungs, and he sunk like a stone. When Kaz looked toward the surface, he saw a knot of bodies - legs, arms, and torsos all amassed into an island above his head. Kaz began to fight, kicking with his small legs towards the sky. As he got closer, he realized two things: that all the bodies were Jordie, and that even if he managed to swim to the top, he’d never be able to surface. The bodies — Jordie’s bodies — had him trapped under the water. Forever.
Kaz woke gasping for air and dripping with sweat. On the floor of the abandoned warehouse, he tried to pull himself together, but he couldn’t get Jordie’s voice out of his mind. Outside, it was still dark, so Kaz rolled over and curled up even tighter. Part of him wondered if it was worth it to try and fall asleep again, knowing what awaited him when he closed his eyes. Would he ever be able to sleep again without a reminder of everything he had lost?
The rest of the night he spent trembling on the ground, jolting himself awake anytime his eyes threatened to close. As the sun rose over the city, he finally rubbed his eyes and rose from the ground. Hoping to get out of the Warehouse district before the streets crowded with workers, he rushed to pull his meager belongings together. He didn’t want a repeat of the night before.
Out on the street, Kaz shielded his eyes from the rising sun and looked up at the building he had climbed out of. An advertisement for some machinery had been painted on the bricks ages ago - the colors had long faded and the words were barely legible. All Kaz could make out was Brekker. He blinked and read the signed again - mind whirling before he came to a realization.
Kaz Rietveld would not survive the streets of Ketterdam - he had crippling nightmares and listened to his brother’s beckoning in the dark.
Kaz Brekker would be better.
Kaz Brekker wouldn’t let those memories haunt him.
Kaz stood across the Kelstraat from Filip, watching as his battered deck of cards danced back and forth between his hands. Any pigeon passing by would the movement was impressive, graceful. From a dozen paces away, Kaz could mark each hesitation and error Filip was making - no one could make cards move the way Kaz did. Still, Kaz knew from his time running these cones that the tricks didn’t need to be perfect, just enticing enough to draw a crowd.
The day was unusually bright, the sun high in the sky and beating down on the city. It wasn’t often Keterrdam saw days like this, and the streets were busy with people trying to enjoy the bout of good weather. Still, Kaz had managed to tuck away in a shadow, keeping himself out of sight.
He watched as a couple of kids gathered around Filip, fascinated by his tricks. The older boy couldn’t be older than twelve, and his younger sister had to be about nine. They were dressed nicely - too nicely to be the children of factory laborers, but not nicely enough to be the children of rich merchers. Filip stretched out his hand, offering a prize if they chose the correct card. The children began to argue in hushed voices. THe scene was eerily familiar, and Kaz had to wonder if they had come from the country the same way he and Jordie had. How long had it been since he and Jordie were doing the same thing? Six years? Six years was too many. How many others had fallen for the same tricks that he and Jordie had? How many had died? How many had been reborn like him?
The windup key in Kaz’s hands rolled across his gloved knuckles before disappearing into his palm. It was an unconscious effort, a simple sleight of hand he’d learned as a child. The magicians on East Stave had fascinated him when he was younger. While Jordie searched for work, Kaz searched for more ways to make coins disappear from his hands. He’d make Jordie watch each and every trick he learned, hoping to impress his older brother.
Those disappearing tricks became reappearing tricks. He’d make a pen reappear from behind his brother’s ear. He made a monster reappear from the harbor when just a boy had gone in.
Those simple magic tricks became more, they became a way for Kaz to survive. He could empty a wallet without the owner knowing any better before spending the cash on a meal to fend off his hunger another day. He would shuffle cards in a way that made it impossible for anyone but him to wind the round, catching the attention of floor managers at the gambling halls. He devoted his time to solving the unsolvable, and when he finally overcame one challenge, he moved on to the next one. Each harder than the last.
Filip was just another problem that needed to be solved, a block in the road to Kaz’s final goal. He wanted to watch Rollin’s plan unravel, and it all started with Filip. He would be the first, a warning to the others who had taken part in tearing Kaz’s life apart.
Kaz stared down Filip one final time before disappearing into the shadows, shoving the windup key into his pocket.
Kaz pressed his forehead against the wall, letting the dirty tile cool the burning panic that had risen to his skin. The pounding at the door had stopped, Kaz wasn’t sure when, but his head still ached with the pounding of his heart as he tried to slow his breathing.
He let his eyes flutter shut, Imogen’s smile immediately flashing across his mind before Kaz forced his eyes open once more. He had done this all for her, hadn’t he? He had been so foolishly desperate for something real, something normal. He had put himself and his gang at risk, but most importantly the reputation he had spent so much time building. He had failed a job because of his desperation, so now he was curled up on the bathroom floor of the Slat trying not to think about how his brother’s decomposing flesh had felt underneath his fingers all those years ago.
He remembered it far too well. Once, Kaz had hoped he might forget that day, that maybe it’d blur away and leave a gap in his memory. But that hadn’t been the case. He could still clearly smell the rot in the salt air and taste the blood on his lips.
Kaz retched, hands gripping the edges of the toilet with white knuckles. His entire body shook with fatigue, his head pounding from exhaustion. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes.
He was a fool to ever think he could pull his broken pieces together. He was the worst kind of food to ever think he could overcome his past. No, if he ever wanted things to change, then he’d have to deal with Pekka. Until he paid for what he did, Kaz would have to live with his suffering. He’d pull on his gloves and keep them on, he’d be the first to throw a punch and the last man standing, and he wouldn’t let things like desire cloud his mind and distract him from what really mattered.
Once Rollins paid, Kaz would be free.
In a moment of stillness, Kaz looked up and found Inej’s eyes in the dark. Of course, she’d ignored what he’d said. Of course, she had followed him.
Of course, she knew exactly what he needed - what he wanted.
Kaz’s breath was hoarse through his cracked ribs, his eye was swelling, and his blood was thick in his mouth. Just moments ago, Kaz’s mind had been locked into the fight. There hadn’t been any space for distraction - it was only his anger and his fists. Now, time seemed to slow and his mind seemed to be stuck on Inej.
How could someone like her ever care about someone like him? It was a question that had been haunting his mind the past few days. She should have let him die, she should have let him destroy himself. That’s what he was doing, wasn’t it? The grudges, the bitterness, his past. It was all eating him from the inside out, turning into nothing more than a husk of a man.
But Inej made him feel more than just anger and hate. She made him feel. She made him see that there was something inside of him that was worth salvaging, some beating heart between all those layers of rot and decay. And if Kaz didn’t save it for her sake, then he needed to save it for his own. Maybe he could be something better than what he was. Maybe there was more to this life than revenge.
Her wide brown eyes locked onto his, acknowledgment passing between them. He thought back to their shared moment in the bathroom. He imagined the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips and felt something other than disgust. Kaz took a deep breath.
He knew what he had to do now - not just for himself, but for Inej.
Kaz arrived early to the docks, his eyes glued to The Wraith as he waited for Inej. He needed the time. He needed the silence.
A breeze blew off the harbor, cooling Kaz’s skin. His hands, so used to the warmth of his gloves, were unfamiliar with the sensation of fresh air between his fingers. He flexed his fingers on the head of his cane and pulled at the hem of his jacket. The sensations anchored him, reminding him of the world around him instead of the past. Dare he say he felt hopeful.
He would make things right - he was sure of it. The Wraith was proof. He’d learn to face his past instead of running from it; he’d control his memories instead of letting them control him. He didn’t need his bitter rage to fuel him anymore. He would be the man Inej wanted. He would be the man he knew he needed to be.