Better The Devil You Know (Zoya Nazyalensky)

One

The crow club was busier than usual. Rain always attracted more pigeons in their foolish hope that a gambling den could offer them protection. Maybe it could from the elements, but from ketterdam itself? If the canals of the barrel were the arteries of the city then its clubs were the veins that led to its heart; money. No other heart belonged to kerch apart from the malleable metal of poker chips and kruge. Stiletto clicks slice through the hubbub of brawling and insults; exquisitely searing melody. Cardinal waves cascade across the floor and flow upwards to encase the petite figure of Ileska Vieder. Silence trailed her, servant following mistress, each patron praying to ghezen that the devil had not come to claim them. Fortunately for them, her interest was purely on the crows today,  having heard of a whisper about a high expedient job from one of her street cats (Prejio, a favourite of hers due to her loyalty and sarcastic temperament). Right now, Prejio was shadowing her, just as a precaution (and to keep the sugar ridden thirteen year old from boredom.) She smiles graciously at Inej, simultaneously gulping down the vodka shot proffered to her, nose scrunching in pleasure at its welcome fire.

Two years, Inej has known the girl now. Whether she was considered a friend by the assassin was a mystery for the saints. The closest the Suli had ever gotten to know her had been on their third reconnaissance. She had allowed Inej to tail her in the job of gathering and concealing information.  Teaching her the code of the rooftops: how to seduce them and slip into their shadows.

"What brings you here?" The question was innocuous in itself - a gentle probe to elicit further conversation. Really, what she meant was: Can I expect to see my boss alive by the end of the day - who is the unlucky victim this time?

It was a smile that was too perfect to be reassuring; clipped molars protecting her tongue, which could trip threats off like blood trapped between those pristine white sentinels.

"Brekker invited me." She flashes a thick sliver of card, embellished with a silver crow in the topmost corner - it surveils Inej from its higher position snootily. "It seems he has some manners after all."

Coughing out a dry laugh that scratches against the tenderness of her vocal chords, all the employee can do is nod collaboratively.

"Maybe," she concedes. Or maybe he remains too scared of you to risk your ire once again. This would never be uttered within hearing range of her boss, however.

"Anything to get into your good books, Panthertine."

Knowing Kaz, that would not be the true motive but, also knowing Kaz (albeit on a surface level, no one truly knew him), presuming to question his actions was futile and an expectation of loss of limb. Inej liked her limbs just as they were, wasn't a worthy 'investment' without them.

Aurelian clouds soaked themselves from the surroundings into the skin of the summoner. Entering the room as though bleaching colour from the customers around them; transforming a brewtap into a hunting ground. Inej offered the girl a tight smile as she made towards the door, a smile that softened slightly when it was reflected back at her. Ileska's mood was impossible to predict at the best of times.

"Do you have to go?"

Ghafa didn't know how she did it, honest to the saints as she was her mother's daughter. Ileska and Kaz insisted they were nothing the same; one could be (just about) persuaded into some form of moral argument, the other priced money above all - one enjoyed doing the dirty work, the other only engaged when he trusted no one else. But ultimately: they were two sides of the same kruge. Ileska had charm she could pour upon like oil in contrast to kaz's rough orders, and yet they both intimidated, both rubbed up others with their irascible habits. Being a leader was to not be liked outside of whatever small family you could gather for yourself, and honestly, the suli did not envy them for it. She nodded.

"May the saints be with you, Ileska,"

The two young women skirted a bow between them, the air tingling with what they left unspoken - the warmth they wished to express yet had been beaten out of each in their own way. It was enough, each conversation - each acknowledgement of their own existence against the odds- stored in the banks of her brain, pasted down with a love stronger than glue.

"I'll need them - my patience cannot deal with a pretentious bastard today."

Inej failed to point out that the junior teen never had the patience to deal with the bastard because no one did. Not even herself some days.

Hearing the wraith pad off into the shadows, black velvet gloves slid from her fingers onto the sticky bar top - Ileska tried not to cringe in disgust.

"You should hire a better cleaner, Mr Brekker," she drawled imperious, having heard the thick thud of his cane the moment it entered the room.

"Devil" a terse and reluctant nod from that heavy head of a boy grown too soon, garroted and twisted into the shade of a man more dead than alive. Dirty hands thrummed his talons against his stick, the pause a silent way of inviting her to his office without having to lose his pride at engaging in such pleasantries.

"And what do you have for me today?"

Always the same. Behemoth versus behemoth and neither would back down; pride was the backbone of any good enterprise, and the two never let themselves forget it.

Brekker took the crook of a slight elbow extended towards him, curving like the neck of filigree swans - deceptively sharp in their roughshod coating.

"I presume you have heard the mumbling of a million kruge being offered in return for safe passage across the fold?" Brekker didn't know why he was even framing it as a question.

The feline bows her head at him, the very picture of a delighted lady partaking in pleasant teatime conversation.

"Indeed I have - interesting, is it not?" There is a jacket of glee enveloping her interest - another day, another puzzle for the barrel cat.

"I have some ideas." A curt, meagre offering of his already paltry information. Just because they had an understanding did not mean civility was required.

Pearly teeth snap open and shut in a base attempt at a smile.

"I would hope so."

Kaz Brekker rued the day he ever met the girl. If one of her knives didn't kill him, then her endless reserve of smiles, the teen shuddered, certainly would. He gritted his teeth. Why did he agree not to kill her? It really was hard to remember why he ever thought this partnership would work.

"If you don't want to know them, then by all means, please leave. You'd be doing my migraine a favour, claws." The cloud over the girl's eyes at his disdainful nickname did ease some of his bloodlust. It had to be said.

"Did Crow Boy wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" Her words lisped in a mocking parody of his voice. "You wouldn't have wasted good card only to turn me away. What do you want?"

Gesturing to the upstairs parlour holding his office like she owned the place, the cat of Ketterdam beckoned him to follow her.

One day, he would get to wipe that infuriating smile off of her face.