'It is very difficult to make ones way in this city without being wicked at one time or another, when the cities way is so wicked to begin with.'
Or in which: Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason - but his little sister was the closest thing to it.
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The celebrations throughout the club that night were rampant and never ending, it seemed.
Violet had retreated to the office in which herself and her brother both shared, mainly because their bedrooms were separated by a single wall and both doors lead to the main shared attic. In that sat the desk he frequented, along with their safe and various stolen paintings decorating the walls. The chair by the window was where she resided most days, curled up with a book or watching the congregation of birds that frequented the roof tiles beyond the glass.
With the noise and bustling from below sending aches through her skull, she had found herself a book she had nicked from the Library on the outskirts of the University District - and although Jesper had first asked her how the hell do you steal from a library of all places - she had quickly found out that they only let students take out their books. It had been disappointing, but she had quickly found a way around it.
So every week she acquired a new book to pique her interest and added it to her ever growing collection in her room. Her book shelf had them stacked in all sorts of directions to the point she had began piling them up on the top just to save space.
She was a girl who delighted in forms of escape when times were tough, or when boredom struck; reading books was one of them. Running for her life was another. And being a member of the Dregs and sister of Kaz Brekker, both were just as frequent on all days ending with a 'y.'
Although it was a hindrance most days, Violet remembered every passage of every book she'd ever read. Every title, every author, every line of poetry and unique fact. It slotted away in the back of her mind, locked away until something of relevance came up and suddenly the drawers opened. Her memory had often been to their advantage - her ability to pick up on subtle details that would later come in handy was useful - but on days where she felt like forgetting, it became a curse.
Kaz's brain was wired a similar way, but what set them apart was his was mainly for numbers and patterns.
He was a stickler for them, which was why when Violet got to the halfway mark in her book, she began to get a sinking feeling in her gut.
Because Kaz didn't like joining in celebrations on a good day, so he should have been back scrawling across paperwork by now like usual, but he wasn't.
Violet gnawed on the sleeve bundled at her wrist and peered down at the darkened streets below for any sign of his looming figure. When another Five minutes ticked by and she realised she was reading the same passage over and over and getting nowhere because she was too busy listening out for the comforting tap of his cane.
Unable to stop worrying, her teeth began working through the lace at her sleeve as she abandoned her book on the windowledge and slipped her boots back on by the door.
The noise increasing in volume made her want to cover her ears like a child and with the anxiety gnawing at her, she felt like she'd suddenly been taken back to when she was one.
