Natasha Van Doren is a shadow summoner. She bides her time and resides in darkness, feared and esteemed by Ketterdam's civilians, a ghost . She cons Kaz Brekker into joining a heist he can't refuse and with thirty million kruge on the line, the crow...
" Keep up with that smile, and I might just hold your hand, "
- N.V.D
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THE WALK BACK HOME FELT SHAMEFUL.
Her skin writhed with the ghost of Van Eck's fingertips, her clothes prickling against her skin. Her blades no longer felt like the protective hug she had known for so long. They bruised and cramped her thighs and arms. Their hilts stabbed her with contempt.
She stole a shawl from a repository on the harbour. Parting with her blouse by tossing it into the dingy depths of Ketterdam's sewer system. Natasha clipped the metal clasp around her neck, allowing the sheep wool to alleviate the ache in her skin.
She felt shameful.
Stupid even.
She wandered further down the alleyways, careless about who would see her. The darkness burned within her body, fighting to burst out her skin. Her veins darkened as she curled her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her palms.
All her life, she had been told her powers were a shame. Her teachers. Her friends. Lies had formed around the Van Doren family name, hurling them all to hell.
It had taken a gamble with the devil for Natasha to wander into Ketterdam's harbour.
A complete game of chance.
She certainly wasn't fond of being dragged back down there by a mercher.
Killing Van Eck was a concept. Natasha could deliberate a thousand ways to butcher him without laying a single hand upon his body. She toyed with the notion in her mind, almost offended by the grin gliding across her lips. Kaz Brekker influenced her.
She loitered her feet across the ground, the horrified timbre of her mother echoing within her cerebrum. Don't drag your feet - you aren't crippled. Mrs Van Doren's voice mimicked, pulsating in Natasha's ears.
Natasha tossed her braids across her shoulder, allowing them to swing behind her back. Her heart yearned for home, though she had never found it. Natasha wanted a long shower, scouring her skin with carbolic until she was red.
Maybe then her mother's voice would disappear. Drowning her problems and waiting for them to float back was easy. Exterminating them for good wasn't.
Despite her desire, she knew there was no home for her in Ketterdam.
Natasha maintained a queue of safe houses across the capital, though none ever counted as a home. So she made up her mind and began to move. Her feet carried her away from the residential district and shifted towards the beating heart of Ketterdam, more directly, The Slat.
Natasha hadn't visited in what felt like years. Back then, the establishments were anything but pleasant. Natasha doubted it had seen any renovations since. The lots melted in the swamps they had been built on, swaying side by side like drunken soldiers.
