Drowning (Kaz Brekker)

viii - A Sister

KAZ BREKKER WAS FUCKING TIRED. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. His body ached with exhaustion, his mind fought to stay sharp, his leg screamed with every movement. He'd give anything to sit in one of those plush chairs and take his weight off his feet, but he knew the moment he let himself relax his body would simply give out.

Everything had gone to shit. Everything. He didn't have his money. Asra was leaving. Half his crew was leaving. Pekka Rollins and Van Eck had teamed up. His crew was battered and bruised around him in Colm Fahey's room in the Geldrenner Hotel.

Inej, bandaged with torn up towels in five different places, was perched in an armchair. Kuwei was sat on the floor at her feet. Jesper was sprawled out on a settee, Wylan on in the armchair beside him. Nina and Matthias was curled up beside each other on the sofa. Colm sat at the table in the corner, a brandy and coffee beside him. He'd ordered coffee and waffles for all of them, but Kaz didn't eat. He stood by the window, leg screaming in protest, watching the street below. He couldn't believe himself, but he was looking for that spot of red on the street, coming closer. Asra was yet to arrive. He wasn't even sure she would.

I might never see her again. The thought hit Kaz like a punch to the stomach. He braced himself on his cane and kept watching. He'd see her again. He had to, though he wasn't sure why. He'd long since stopped trying to guess at her.

"What exactly happened to you?" Jesper asked Inej.

"I made a new acquaintance." She said simply.

There was a knock at the door. Everyone tensed. Kaz went to check when he heard talking from the other side. He couldn't make out the words, but then the door flew open and everyone was suddenly on their feet with a weapon in their hands.

A Zemeni woman strolled into the room, looking about as if she owned the place. She wore a red dress down to her knees, grey gloves that covered her arms and tights the same colour along with military issued boots up to her knees. Her hair was braided down her back. She was grinning.

Asra stood in the doorway, looking ready to kill someone. "You... you rashkue." She hissed. Kaz didn't know what language that was.

The Zemeni woman scowled at her. "I do not knock." She said, tilting her chin up slightly.

Asra sighed in exasperation. Her shirt was almost soaked through with blood, torn and ripped in multiple places. Her knuckles were bloody. The Zemeni woman was no better, though the colour of her dress made it hard to tell where she'd bled. She didn't seem to be affected by her injuries, not that Kaz could see any. Asra didn't seem to be in pain either, physically.

"Are you alright?" Inej asked.

"Who's this?" Jesper added.

Asra pushed the door closed behind her and swept a lazy hand towards the woman. "Everyone -"

"So this is the band who broke into the Ice Court!" The Zemeni woman said cheerfully. "They're not much, are they?"

"Again, we haven't had the best week." She looked ready to throttle someone, if only for a minute of quiet.

The woman hummed, looking over each of them slowly while Asra offered a tired, tense, comforting smile. Hesitantly, each of them lowered their weapons. Kaz didn't, especially not when the woman's eyes settled on him. Her grin widened, twisted. She started towards him.

"So this is the Brekker boy,"

Asra followed her, eyes wide, body a loaded gun. "Sister," her voice was low, warning, underlaied with just a slight frantic terror.