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...
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"WAKE UP, JORDIE,"
Kaz Rietveld's broken voice was enough to shatter bullets. His hair was damp - plastered to the sides of his sunken cheeks. His honey brown eyes reduced into sticky rotten pits, filled with misery. His legs kicked aimlessly in the water, throat raw from screaming.
He sunk his head against Jordie's bloated belly, blisters and bruises withering beneath his heavy touch. He let out a mournful moan, hollowing into the bleary night. The wind whistled taunts into his ear, the moon smirking behind the eclipse of the shadows.
"Wake up," he pleaded with the burning stars, wishing that one would fall out the sky and swallow him whole. Kaz had never been religious, but he pressed his lips together and prayed until dawn. He prayed for his brother, for his life, for a future. He prayed for a tomorrow.
Tomorrow came and then the next tomorrow after that. Days bled into sleepless nights and those nights bled into painful mornings. Kaz kicked and kicked until his legs went numb, the harbour a fingertips stretch away.
Jordie was cold against him, his skin, a puckered yellow. Kaz tilted across the waters, nearly capsizing himself. "You can sleep now," He said grimly. He pushed his fingers against his swollen eyelids, cupping a hand against Jordie forehead. "You can sleep,"
He was glad he had been able to save Jordie the horrors of the Reapers Barge. As the days passed, so did the number of bodies. Bloodied limps, trailing intestines, it littered the water, until it was a murky brown.
The rotten spongy smell of vegetables and skin burnt at his nostrils, until it was painful to breathe. Kaz chocked out a strangled breathe of air, scrambling to catch hold of Jordie's waist. He hugged his brother's body close, chest heaving with empty sobs.
He could see Ketterdam's harbour, the moored ships and the occasional dancing troupe. He could hear their laughter flutter towards him, bellows of conversation. Kaz turned his head, raised his arms as high as he could. They didn't see him.
Kaz Rietveld slipped in and out conscience, his mind a tangle of memories. Sleep came rare and valuable, but even then, his dreams a twisted mess of horrors. He imagined tall grass and dark monsters, evil whispers and powerful villains.
One day he dreamt of Dream Jordie and Dream Kaz. He could smell the apples of his da's farm, the bitter taste of horseradish in the air. He'd seen his ma working in the kitchen, cooking apples and cinnamon in copper pots. She'd smile with rouge lips and blow kisses through the open window.
Dream Jordie was sat at the dinner table, scratching away with broken pencils. He waved up at Kaz, a boyish grin sparkling in his brown eyes. He wore shorts and brown tunic, hair swept back behind his ears. Ma drew Dream Jordie to her side, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.
