"...all ended with her eyes, hell, purgatory, paradise."
Book one: She's no angel, he's no saint.
Book two: Half my soul.
Book three: Dark paradise.
Book four: Tattered wings.
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Ketterdam was back to all its glitz and glory, it was like the plague never happened. Especially in the Barrel, the energy felt contagious—the street vendors hawking paper cones full of sizzling meat and syrupy stacks of waffles, magicians daring passers by to try their luck, drunken tourists outfitted as the characters from the Komedie Brute and smooth limbed creatures of impossible beauty, bodies clad in bare scraps of silk, cheekbones dusted with glitter, luring the lonely or the curious across one of the many bridges to the pleasure houses of West Stave. The sheer amount of money passing through this place, the endless tide of people—there was nothing like it anywhere.
She pushed through the crowd of people, she'd never considered the Barrel her home—until, she joined the Dregs. She'd found a home and a place of belonging with them, in short, she'd found her purpose in life; the fire that fuels her soul.
As the Slat came into view, she looked up at that attic. The window of the attic was wide open, it had always been that way as long as she could remember only at times when there was a storm or heavy rain, it remained shut. She pulled down her sleeves as she walked into the Slat, at this time of the day it was mostly empty as the Dregs were running around with their busy schedules. She had been so used to the noises, that at this hour of the day it was weird to enter the Slat—it seemed almost quite.
Keeg walked right past her holding a large crate, he seemed so occupied with his work that he didn't even acknowledge her presence. She gazed to the direction of Haskell's old office room, which now—Kaz Brekker had made his new office and where he takes all important Dregs business. He still kept his old room at the attic, which was stacked up with more crates and papers than it used to be. But now he spends his nights at the Crow Club, which had become the largest and the most popular gambling den in the Barrel.
The Crow Club has been luring in pigeons from all corners, the business ran round the clock and it had popularised the Dregs to an extent that none of the barrel gangs had ever been. The Dregs were all very proud and they all had Dirtyhands to thank for, he'd kept his word, he'd kept his promise and he'd been a better leader than Haskell ever could—they'll knew it but now they had accepted him, deeply and loyally.
Back then when Kaz had fought his own gang to show who really was in charge of the Dregs, many had resented him—if only they'd not listened to the old man Per Haskell, they'd have never been in that mess from the start and some of them would have still have their teeths and Gorka would not be needing a cane.
Now she climbed up the wooden stairs into Inej's old bedroom—she'd taken that place after Inej moved out of Ketterdam after her indenture was paid off. It was small with a narrow bed, a shelf for her stuffs and a little window to look out at but at least she had her own room and privacy. She'd painted the room in bright orange, because she liked the Barrel flash and it brings more colours to the room.
