CHAPTER SIX
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KIRA LANTSOV WAS A MYSTERY he would like to never uncover. For Kaz Brekker wasn't keen on finding out the reason why she affected him so.

Faith had been a word long erased from his vocabulary until she showed up. The skies were empty for him, but he'd find that the reason why was his Saint wasn't there, she was beside him. His Saint. Since when did Kaz Brekker believe in saints? Since when did he worship a saint like she was gold?

Someday, when you crave something other than revenge—when you find a reason to live that doesn't revolve around destroying Pekka Rollins—I'll be here...

But he had already, hadn't he?

He'd find something—someone—he craved more than revenge. And he hated himself for it. He was losing focus and judgment over some silly feeling inside a heart that wasn't even beating in his chest. Dirtyhands was heartless. He didn't feel regret, remorse, or anything that could train him away from getting revenge for Jordie.

Brick by brick.

But Pekka Rollins was getting more powerful, more bricks for him to destroy, and Kaz was getting distracted by a sin-covered saint.

He'd held her hand, gripping it tight, when they were in the wagon off to Hellgate. At that moment, holding her hand had saved him from the nightmares as if she was pulling him out of the gelid waters from his past trying to drown him. Her touch had diverted his attention from the bodies sitting around him.

Don't go soft on me now, Dirtyhands, she had said. And he had released her hand. Because he knew she believed he was more powerful than he was damaged, and at that moment he believed her.

But he was jaded. Damaged goods, if he could even call himself good. Kira wasn't trying to fix him, she loved Dirtyhands, but neither he nor Kaz needed her love. Not when he was trying to focus his head on shattering Pekka's empire and the hold the man had over his head every time Jordie's name made an appearance in his mind. He didn't need it. But what if he craved it?

"Looks, Pekka made a move on more than just the Crow Club while we were away," he said, distracting himself from his thoughts as he flipped through the papers he'd brought to the cemetery of Black Veil. "He bought out all of Fifth Harbor.'

Jesper scoffed behind him. "You know, Inej took some serious damage and Kira a hell of a beating. The novice nearly lost his head and the Heartrender took a bullet, but no worries. At least you're on top of Pekka's corporate holdings."

Kaz clenched his jaw. Everyone knew the risks and no one was dead. "You don't take down a lion by cutting off his tail."

"You've been on safari when?" asked Jesper incredulously. "We're putting our lives on the line—"

"I thought you preferred it that way," Kaz snapped as he turned to look at Jesper.

"Are they gonna be okay?" asked Wylan and Kaz turned further to find Nina standing in the room.

"I wouldn't call myself the most proficient Healer, but they weren't hurt badly. They won't be permanent residents here."

"Not yet anyway," said Jesper darkly.

"Technically, no one gets buried here anymore," said Wylan. "When the firepox plague hit years ago, so many people died that the crematoriums all got backed up—" Kaz turned his back on them, closing his eyes, his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth might shatter. He was in the Reaper's Barge again, floating amongst cold, bloated corpses, "—so they had to float all the dead bodies in the harbor—"

"That's enough!" he shouted. Taking a deep breath he grabbed a paper and handed it to Jesper, ignoring the outburst he just had.

"Appelbroek?"

"Pekka has a glass factory there, but there are no sandpits in Appelbroek. So cartage fees would kill all of his profits. Find out what he's really up to." He turned to Wylan with a sneer. "If you want to help, instead of spurting useless historical facts, go with Jesper."

It seemed Dirtyhands had made an appearance because Jesper and Wylan did not waste time to get out of the crypt and away from him.

"Not that you asked, but consider grounding your Whisperer and Wraith for a couple of hours at the least. I always wanted to be a Healer, doesn't mean I'm any good. Inej could've been worse off if it wasn't for Kira, but she's still badly hurt. And Kira had her ribs broken and—"

"If I need you again, I'll let you know," Kaz interrupted her. He had enough reasons already to want to kill Pekka Rollins, knowing about Kira and Inej's injuries would only make the list bigger.

Nina raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms in front of her and Kaz wanted to roll his eyes. He decided to go with the distraction approach and tell the Heartrender what she really wanted to hear.

"All the guards who work the fights at Hellgate are loyal to Pekka and on his payroll. All but one," he told her.

"The fights?"

"Hellshow. It's exactly as you'd imagine. Find a guard named Hiemstra. He has a port-wine stain across his brow. He'll get a message to your Fjerdan."

"Can we trust him?"

"We can trust he doesn't want Pekka to know what I have on him. What you did tonight made you a Crow. Keep a low profile. You'll be in Pekka's sights now."

•••

As much as Kaz wanted to think about the silver platter he would buy to put Pekka Rollin's head on or the next plot to make sure they survived in the Barrel, how to get the Stadwatch off their backs... Nearly every part of his brain was clouded with pictures of her. He could only think about her. And he needed that to stop.

Against his better judgment, Kaz made his way to the room next door and frowned when he only found Kira, standing over a table. Her back was turned to him, and she must've thought she was alone because she reached over to take her shirt off. Kaz's eyes widened and he turned around. He knocked on the wall. "Are you decent?" he asked.

Kira let out a surprised laugh. "Not morally."

Kaz rolled his eyes and turned around again. This time Kira had no shirt on, only bandages wrapped around her torso, and even then Kaz could see the purple yellowed blemishes peeking out of them, over her pale skin. "You said you were decent."

"No, I didn't," Kira replied. She peered over her shoulder with a smile, one that stood out between bandages and bruises as her eyes were lit up by the sunlight sneaking through the window. "Inej left already. She's been gathering intel on Pekka's assassin. Her bladesmith supplies him with bone-cutters and fillet knives—he's clearly unhinged. His name is Mogens and I'm surprised I haven't heard of him..."

"Where's Inej now?"

"She's gone to kill him," Kira replied simply. "I got her his address this morning. She didn't let me do it myself. Says she will be the one to make sure she wouldn't be dragged back to the Menagerie."

"I won't let that happen," Kaz found himself saying. Kira rose an eyebrow at him, as she fully turned to him, and his jaw clenched at the sight of the wounds on the skin of her stomach.

"As much as you'd like to think of yourself as omnipotent, Kaz, you're not." She shook her head. "We were ambushed. Inej is right, you are gambling with our lives and we deserve to know the reason."

"Whatever happened to waiting?" questioned Kaz, and Kira rolled her eyes.

"I'm not particularly patient, Kaz." She sighed and turned back to the table, opening a little metal pot that sat there. She dipped her fingers inside and started applying a green paste to the bruises on the side of her stomach.

Kaz had heard Inej praying to her Saints countless times, asking the skies for help, to ease away her sorrows. Kaz never had saints to look up to. But Kira was standing right there, covered in purple blemishes, her golden hair in locks down her back. The words had left his lips before he could even think about what he was saying. "Pekka Rollins killed my brother."

Kira stilled for half a second, and when she turned to face him, Kaz was expecting something in her face that would make him push him away, pity was on the list, he didn't need her pity or her sympathy. But the look on Kira's face was one of understanding, of resolution. She nodded. "Brick by brick. We'll destroy him."

Kaz was silent for a few moments as Kira turned around again. She didn't press him for more, she didn't ask for explanations, for anything at all. Tell her. Tell her everything. But he couldn't. Not now. It was unnecessary to tell her anything more because she didn't need anything more. Kaz, instead, changed the subject. "The Heartrender said you needed to rest."

Kira snorted. "Fragile little things the Second Army Grishas. Inej has seen worse. I've been worse or did you forget Kribirsk?"

"What happened at the Emerald Palace? Your job was to be quiet and listen." The last thing he wanted to talk about was Kribirsk and how she had nearly died in his arms.

"Pekka's office was useless. So I decided to get myself caught," she said promptly as she hissed when her hands brushed against her ribs, slathering the purple bruises in the green mixture. "This thing smells disgusting," Kira muttered, "Inej and I stopped by the Fighting Pit before coming here. Eira didn't have time to heal us but he gave us this for the bruises."

Kaz didn't know what possessed him to move forward, stepping behind her. Kira's sharp intake of breath was audible and she stilled in front of him, her shoulders tensing up. Kaz ignored her, as he carefully took off his leather gloves, before picking up the little pot. It did smell unpleasant.

"Kaz," Kira whispered, "What are you doing?"

I don't know. Kaz breathed in deeply. He wanted to fight the demons clawing at him ready to drag him back down, taste the feeling of craving something other than revenge. Perhaps he could have both. But he needed her to stay alive in his head, he could feel the warmth of her body even if he wasn't touching her, but he needed to hear her... "Keep talking."

Kira gasped when his fingers grazed over a bruise on her back, barely touching, enough to apply the green paste. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes opened as he focused on the task, on her voice, on her ragged breathing and the blush covering her neck, instead of pictures of her cold lifeless body.

"Who's Eira?"

Kira looked over her shoulder and smiled the softer smile he had seen on her face since he met her. In that split second, the ghosts vanished, her smile was his lifeline, as it always had been. And then she turned to the wall, and sighed, her eyes fluttering close as he dragged his fingers down her spine. "I met Eira a couple of years ago... I was nearly passed out on the street, bleeding, after a particularly bad encounter with a member of one of the gangs—"

"Did you kill him?"

Kira waved him off. "Yeah. How do you think I was alive? Anyway, I was in a pretty rough place, and this little kid offered to heal me in exchange for some food. I took Eira to the Fighting Pit the next day, and got him a job as a Healer."

"That's not morally indecent of you."

Kira shrugged as Kaz took his hands away from her warm skin, before reaching for more green paste. Alive, alive, alive. She was alive. "I told you I helped a kid out after killing a man, Kaz. I may have a soft spot for Eira but don't go looking for decency where there's none. You can't ridicule me for caring."

"Caring makes you weak," he found himself saying as he touched her skin with unfamiliar tenderness, as he made sure her bruises were covered and tried to desperately keep Jordie and the Reaper's Barge out of his mind. Alive, alive, alive, she was alive, he repeated in his head like a mantra.

"It makes you selfish," argued Kira, as Kaz finished his task.

He set the pot down. Step back. He did not step back. He stood there listening as their breaths mingled together, the rhythm of them alone in the room. The sickness was there, the need to run, the need for something else too. Instead, he gripped the edge of the table caging her in. He wasn't touching her, but Kira swallowed, tilting her head to the side.

"Loving someone makes you selfish," she whispered, her eyes meeting his. "I would let the world burn in a second to save someone I love."

Kira turned her head to the wall, her eyes fluttering close, her lashes fanning over her cheeks, and her lips parted slightly. Before he even knew what he intended, he lowered his head. She drew in a sharp breath. His lips hovered just above the skin between her shoulder and neck. He waited. He waited for her to tell him to stop, to tell him to go away.

"You're selfish when you care, Kaz," she whispered instead. "You didn't save me in Kribirsk for me. You saved me because you couldn't bear to watch me die. Because part of you still yearns to feel the worst kind of vulnerability: love."

Kaz closed his eyes tightly, his breaths fanning against her skin, as he fought against everything inside him. The ghosts. The sickness. The pain. The feelings. "I'm nothing but a heartless bastard," he whispered against her skin, and Kira's head tilted to her side, allowing her golden locks to sliding down her back, baring more of her skin to him. "Don't go looking for decency where you won't find it."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Dirtyhands," she whispered as a reply.

He lowered his head further, the barest graze of his lips against her skin. Alive, alive, alive—

Loud coughing from behind them brought them both back to reality and Kaz took three steps back, slipping on his gloves as he put as much distance between them as he could. He ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the beads of sweat on the back of his neck, and the feeling he'd felt with Kira so close to him, the ghosts so far away. He looked over to see Nina standing in the doorway, her arm's crossed, an amused smile on her face.

He turned to Kira again. Their eyes met instantly, and Kira's lips parted to say something, something that would probably leave her lips without a care for the company they had now, and whatever it was Kaz wouldn't allow himself to listen. "What's the safest way from here back to the Slat?"

Kira closed her eyes in annoyance but sighed. She opened them again as she picked up her shirt, throwing it over her head, not caring if it got stuck on the paste on her bruises. "Rozenstraat onto Buysberg. Why?"

"We need some new blood," was all he said as he left the room.

But his efforts to not listen to whatever crude remark Kira was surely about to make—to mask whatever connection they'd had, whatever weakness they had bared to each other—were in vain. As he was about to leave the crypt he heard her hissing to the Heartrender.

"You cockblocker, Nina Zenik!"

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