𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖜 𝖔𝖋 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖒 . Kaz Brekker

3. God, was it satisfying

The first dose

"I want my gold, goddammit!" Frederich Havemeyer slammed his large hands unto the wood of his desk table, seething and angry. "I want my fucking gold!"

His accountant sat trembling before him. The younger man had come only to deliver the news to the Councilman; his ship carrying golden wares and treasures from Shu Han had been ransacked by a barrel gang he did not yet know the name of.

They'd stolen items worth hundreds of thousand of kruge before the stadwatch had managed to arrive and even then, they couldn't apprehend them.

He was set into a dark pit of anger when he heard the news, rage spilling out of him in painful heaps. And this wasn't even the first time, not even the second.

"My money is being bled from me by Barrel rats!"

But Councilman Havemeyer's accountant was a shrewd and cunning man. Even while trembling in fear, he was still thinking up crooked ways to get his employer his money back.

"Sir," the accountant spoke up, "they did not collect all of the parem."

Havemeyer turned to glare at his accountant, "What is left of that drug is barely three kilograms," Havemeyer picked up the report of what was left in his ship and crossed his desk to stand directly above his accountant, "It is not an adequate fraction of everything that was supposed to get to me! So why the fuck are you telling me of it!"

"There have been tales of grisha on parem who were able to turn silver into gold, sir. Real silver into real gold, even metal." The accountant cleared the lump in his throat, "Your youngest, sir, she is grisha, is she not?"

Havemeyer quieted down and narrowed his eyes at the man seated below him, "What are you saying?"

"There is silverware on that ship. We can buy even metal and have your daughter consume the parem and turn it to gold."

Frederich walked over to his chair and sat back down. He considered the idea, played with. Shari Havemeyer was a fabrikator after all. He leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin. There was no point in letting her abilities go to waste.

Besides, a grisha needed to use their abilities to nurture themselves, didn't they?

"Bring silverware and metal. Come back tonight."

••

Shari Havemeyer wasn't allowed in her father's study. Neither was her sister. It wasn't a place for women, it wasn't a place for young girls who were meant to be pursuing a degree at the University. She respected her father, feared him a little.

Shari had never stepped foot in her father's study.

Not until today.

It was most peculiar. She was alone in her room, studying for school when a maid knocked on her door.

"Your father requests your presence in his study, Miss Havemeyer."

Shari froze with the book in her hand. She turned to look at the maid, eyes wide in disbelief, "His study?"

"Yes, Miss Havemeyer." The woman nodded.

Shari turned back to her book. She closed it and stood, shock still coursing through her. A slover of fear seeped into her veins, curling round her chest and squeezing her stomach so she was uncomfortable as she walked down the hall to her father's study.

She inhaled deeply as her fingers met the cold of the handle. Pushing the door open, her father and his accountant sat before her, surrounded by a myriad of metal and silver. Her brows narrowed.

"Good evening, father. Good evening, sir." She nodded at the two men as she stood waiting by the door.

"Come in, Shari." Her father called to her, fiddling with a fairly large bag on the table before him, "Lock the door behind you please."

That sliver of fear grew into a thick cord, securing its hold on her stomach, tightening and tightening and tightening to an almost painful feeling.

But despite it all, she was the youngest Havemeyer daughter, intelligent and respectful, not docile but still polite when need be. She obeyed her father and locked the door behind her.

"Come closer and sit down, Shari." Her father said and then gave a look to his accountant.

The man stood from his seat and pulled it out for the younger girl. Shari, despite her discomfort sat in it and turned to look at her father.

"My ships have been hijacked several times by a barrel gang. This time they've stolen gold worth a few hundred thousand." Her father began.

He wasn't looking at her. His attention was focused on the bag infront of him.

Shari turned to look at her father's accountant who had migrated to the door. Goosebumps erupted on her flesh and her leg shook. She needed to get out of here.

"Do you know, Shari, about a thing called parem?" His eyes lifted to state into hers.

Shari nodded slowly, "They've talked about it a little at the University."

"What does it do?"

Shari swallowed the lump in her throat, "It enhances a grisha's abilities."

Her father nodded once, "They've bled my gold from me, Shari," He opened up the bag and dipped his hand into it, bringing up and fistful of some sort of powder.

"You're going to bleed a little more for me."

Shari shrunk into her chair, "It's said to be dangerous, father. Parem is addictive and the more you take, the more the grisha's health deteriorates."

Her father picked up a bar of silver from his table and held it out to her, "Turn this into gold, Shari."

"Father, I can't." She already knew the limit to her abilities, the principles of The Small Science. She cannot make or create.

So her father grabbed her shaking hand and poured a handful of parem unto it, "Take this Shari," a sort of menace seeped into his voice, "Turn everything in this toom to gold, Shari!"

Her eyes glossed over, and the tears broke free, running down her cheeks and unto her chest. She shook her head frantically, the powder falling from her shaking hands.

"I can't, please."

"MAKE ME GOLD, SHARI HAVEMEYER!"

"Father, please."

"Do not call me your father if you cannot bring back my gold!" Frederich Havemeyer angrily slammed his hands on his desk and stood from his chair.

He walked over to his youngest daughter, blinded by rage and greed and gripped her hair in his hands, "You will bleed me gold! You will do as I say!"

He slammed her head forward so it made contact with her hand and in her moment of shock, Shari gasped, sniffing in the parem.

That was the first dose, and oh was it lovely! That high, the fucking high that she would die for! Her pupils dilated and raw power coursed through her whole body, overpowering the fear, the discomfort.

"Make me gold."

And she did. Everything silver in the room, everything metal. She could feel the atoms reforming, could feel the substance changing. She was aware if every bit of transmutation that was taking place in that room.

And God, was it satisfying.