The Fox and The Crow [Kaz Brekker]

chapter 1

Italics - Sign Language

Soft footsteps sounded along the ground of the alleyway as a girl passed through, a large object covered in tarp under one arm. A fox-like grin was plastered on her face and she fought the urge to whistle in glee. She almost skipped when she came upon her stop and tossed the object up to a figure in the open window on the second floor. She did a two finger salute to the figure before walking to the front of what was known to everyone as the Crow Club.

She tipped her black hat to Jesper Fahey as she entered, clicking her tongue as a sign of hello. She almost winced as the smell of alcohol, sweat, wood, and smoke hit her. Jesper let out a quiet chuckle as she passed, making a beeline straight for the stairs to the boss' office.

The boss of the Crow Club. Kaz Brekker. The Bastard of the Barrel. Dirtyhands. The only person this fox-like girl would ever listen to. Her one and only.

She made a rhythmic knock on the door before coming in, shutting the door behind her. Inej Ghafa smiled at her as she took a look at the painting that the girl had lifted for their boss. It was a DeKappel. A Ravka landscape painting.

"Daemon. Another present?" Kaz barely looked up from the papers on his desk.

Daemon snapped her fingers twice to grab his attention before signing, "Thought you might like it. I can sell it if you don't."

Daemon. No last name. A girl only 17 years of age. No one knew where she came from exactly. All they knew was that one day Kaz Brekker brought her in and she stayed by his side ever since. Didn't speak a word either. The only person to hear her sultry voice was Kaz himself, and even then it had only been whispers. Other than that, she spoke in hand signs. Signs that only three people were well-versed in. The only three people she trusted.

Inej showed the painting to Kaz and his face showed no emotion. It rarely ever did. But Daemon saw it in his eyes all the time. And this time, he was impressed. Kaz quite liked paintings. Well, Daemon thought he did. He did have paintings hung up on his walls. And they always seemed clean. Most of his stuff was though, so she really didn't have anything to go on.

"Hang it up with the others," Kaz finally decided with a sigh.

He would never have the heart to sell anything Daemon got for him on her own will. Ever since he took her in as his 'investment', she would give small presents to him. Well...small at first. Little trinkets, pieces of jewelry, and paintings. It was her way of saying thank you, he figured. She was much like a cat, dropping gifts at his feet with a swishing tail and a happy meow before scampering away with a jolly trot.

Daemon let out a small squeak of excitement, hopping a little in her spot.

Inej ruffled her curly hair fondly, "I'll do it."

Daemon hopped over to Kaz' desk and sat at the edge of it, slipping her hat off to fiddle with it. She shrugged her shoulders, adjusting her oversized white dress shirt that was only held in place by a fitted black vest. The shirt was clearly a man's. In truth, Daemon had nicked it off Kaz because it smelled like him, and he didn't have the heart to take it back from her. There were little comforts Daemon had in life, so she found her happiness in him. When she felt anything, she came to him. She stood by his side and basked in his presence. And over the 3 years he had known Daemon, he had come to accept that fact and perhaps he even liked it. He'd never admit it though.

Daemon hummed lowly, so quiet that only Kaz caught the tune. It was one she repeated over and over and it didn't seem finished. Only a small piece of her childhood. Daemon had heard it from a woman she assumed was her mother, but she was only 5 years old at the time she last saw her, so she couldn't be sure.

Daemon didn't know much of her childhood. She only got pictures here and there in her mind, but they quickly faded when she found herself back in reality. The only thing she really remembers is that Kaz Brekker saved her from slave traders 4 years ago when she was only 13 years old. She had been traded from place to place many times over. Each of her owners had died under 'mysterious circumstances'. Daemon faintly recalls snapping their necks, stabbing them, strangling one with bedsheets, cutting out a tongue or two. Her memory was a bit fuzzy on those parts, but she always came to covered in blood and shaking like a leaf. When Kaz bought her out, she came with a warning label attached to her. Danger. But he saw his golden ticket. Something special lied in her eyes.

Kaz tapped his finger on the table as a quiet way to get her attention. Daemon hated loud noises. They made her agitated. She could go quite quickly from calm and playful to angry and dangerous. Daemon was unpredictable.

Daemon tilted her head back so she was looking at Kaz upside down. Her brows were raised in inquisition. She didn't talk, so she showed her emotions perfectly on her face with dramatic expressions.

"Go deal at the tables. They've been missing your expertise."

Daemon hmmed and slid off the table. She rolled her sleeves up before holding out a hand to him. Kaz pulled a cloth from his pocket. It was stained and tattered, but it held meaning for the two who knew what it was. Daemon took the cloth, catching the scent of frankincense oils, lavender, and a hint of lemon, and placed a brief kiss on it before tossing it back to him. It was something the two did often. Kaz had a cloth and Daemon had a necklace hidden beneath her shirt. With those two things on hand, the two were never truly apart.

Jesper and Inej often wondered about it. Inej theorized that it was some form of affection. Kaz hated physical contact due to his past and Daemon respected that, just as he respected that she didn't talk. The closest they got was light clothed brushes and when Daemon would whisper in his ear. Jesper suspected the two were secretly seeing each other. And he was right. It was something of the sort. They clearly cared for each other beyond the boundary of friendship, but neither cared to mention it or clarify. It was just an unspoken truth.

Kaz brushed his glove covered thumb over the place that Daemon had kissed before tucking the cloth back into his pocket. Daemon gave a last wave to Inej before making her way back into the club. Daemon had found herself to be quite good at dealing cards and watching tables. She liked the fast pace. She liked the environment. It was lively.

Daemon. The Fox of the Barrel. The Dealer. A force to be reckoned with. An Ace card. And the protagonist of this story.