𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 — dekapple

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 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁 was positively alight with the sound of jingling coins, sloshing beverages and haughty laughter. Men and women tried their hands at the gambling tables, others perched upon the sticky seats that lined the mahogany bar.

 The lights above the tables cast a golden glow throughout the club. The smell of rum and whisky burnt within the air and the excited flicker of cards was prominent. Aleksa surveyed the scene with eyes ablaze.

 A drink was settled in her hand, the cool glass sending a shiver down her spine as condensation beaded on the crystal. She brought it to glossed lips, sighing as the sour flavour of cherry and the bitter burn of alcohol coated her tongue.

 It was busy nights like those — when the regulars swindled the new pigeons — that Aleksa loved most. She knew the regular patrons well; Akim was a tall man, thin in his build with wiry ginger hair standing in a tuft upon his round head. He was soft-spoken yet knew the tables unlike anyone else. His cheer rang out, and like so many others, he raised a glass in Aleksa's direction.

 She beamed, her pearly teeth on full display as she tipped her head towards him and rose her bubbling beverage into the air.

 Then there was Dimitri, the biggest and burliest of their patrons. He had deemed Aleksa as his good luck charm the very day she'd snuck from the Slat and made her name known within the club. Whenever he saw her, that snarl on his thin lips withered, his furrowed brows parted and he grinned with a golden tooth on display. He'd scoop her up and bellow 'There she is! My good luck charm!'

 She had made a name for herself with these people. They respected her. It had taken time to build her reputation, especially when she couldn't call upon the shadows to assist her — she didn't quite like the idea of being hauled back to the Little Palace against her will.

 Her reputation had been built one step at a time, brick by brick; she had shown her face without Kaz Brekker by her side, she had made people adore her and wish for her company, but she had shown people that her charm was not an invitation to take what was not their own.

 It'd been a few weeks after she'd officially joined the Dregs when a man — Viktor — had reached out his grubby fingers and glided them over her chest without an ounce of guilt, and without a shred of subtlety. Aleksa hadn't stilled, she hadn't dwelled in the shock — she did as she had been taught; she fought.

 Her palm had shot upwards and collided with his nose, a sickening crack ringing out. There had been a beat, and then blood had poured from him and a yell of pain and embarrassment had spurted from his blood-slick mouth.

 He had tried to recoil as he cupped his nose with a calloused hand, but Aleksa wasn't quite done. Her eyes seemed to darken as she stalked forward, head cocked to the side. Embarrassment was the best way to knock a man off his pedestal. Destroy the ego.

 She had spread her arms wide and made his actions known to every single person within the club, "If you touch me, or anybody else, without invitation ever again, I will carve off your fingers and feed them to you whilst your pregnant wife watches you choke."

 It had been safe to say that the man had never returned.

 Kaz and Jesper had watched everything unfold, and when Jesper had asked Kaz if they should intervene, Kaz had shaken his head. Aleksa had needed to solve the problem herself, she couldn't be coddled and babied within the Barrel. She, and every other Barrel dweller, needed to be able to walk the streets alone when nothing but the moon was hung in the sky.

 Though he never uttered such thoughts, Kaz had watched Aleksa from the moment she had joined them. She was crude, she could be loud and far too charming for her own good. But Aleksa was not just a bubble of cheer that drew customers in. She studied people just as he did. She watched to see what comments of hers would garner a grin, and she would steer the wheel of the conversation. She'd remember orders and place them herself to seem as though paying particular attention to special little people.

 But that was all a ploy to get more people, more men, into the palm of her hand like a bundle of black chess pieces ready to be moved to her will.

 He would see her bright grin crumble and curl into a malicious sneer whenever dirty comments would fall from drunken lips. She had come back to the Slat on more than one occasion with fresh cuts marring her knuckles. She was no stranger to a fight.

 So when Jesper had started forwards, Kaz's cane had shot out and prevented his sharpshooter from moving. He'd nodded his head towards their newest member. That was when Aleksa had struck, and Jesper had laughed.

 Aleksa took another sip of her drink, savouring the sweet and bitter cherry as she kept her eyes on Jesper's table. The Zemeni sharpshooter had become quite the friend to the Shadow Summoner, like another brother she had never wished for, but accepted graciously.

 He was nothing like Aleksander. Whilst her brother was hard lines and cold edges, a spark of warmth meant just for her, Jesper was a light. He seemingly bounced everywhere with boundless energy. His fingers were always twitching as though seeking a gun or a deck of cards. But his need to gamble, and his incessant terrible luck always made Aleksa worry for him.

 Her favourite sharpshooter had a single foot perched against the edge of the musty table, leaning back in his chair with a grin wide on his face.

 She could hear the chatter of his table clearly, for it was only at the bottom of the small set of steps.

 A rotund man sat opposite Jesper, pale and sweaty skin shining beneath the yellow glow of the lamplight. He procured a pouch from his pocket and tossed it to the croupier, "You take Zemeni coin, yes?" The pouch jingled as the dealer caught it within his hand, smoke billowing from the cigar dangling between his lips.

 "Let me see that." Called Jesper as his dark eyes narrowed at the pouch. His fingers curled around the bag of coins the moment it collided with his palm. Jesper stared at the man who had procured them, "The Lucky Nine casino up the back has had trouble with counterfeit coin lately."

 Aleksa sighed and slouched in her seat. Jesper was, no doubt, going to make a scene. Now, did that mean she would step up and stop him? No. Of course not. She wasn't his mother nor his handler, if he wished to suffer a glare and perhaps even a whack of the cane from Kaz, he could carry on. Aleksa furrowed her brows, a few cane strikes might actually scare him from the tables... Then she shook her head. Nothing could part Jesper and gambling, they were a couple of star-crossed lovers.

 Jesper swiped a coin from the pouch, he didn't even need to look as he twisted it between two long fingers, "Heavy, but brittle."

 The man laughed, though the flush on his cheeks was spreading further, "Oh, come on, now. I've been here for hours! My money is good, no?"

 "Zemeni coin can take a bullet. But a knockoff..." Jesper trailed off and then he winked and tossed the coin into the air. A shing! rang out, followed swiftly by a heavy BANG! as Jesper shot one of his prized pistols.

 Aleksa remained steady as the gunshot rang out, though there was a tidal wave of ducking heads throughout the club. Everything went silent, and though she couldn't see it, Aleksa heard the coin spinning on its side before landing limp on the table.

 "Busted." Jesper drawled out, swinging his gun back into its holster with a self-satisfied grin.

 As ever, the man who had watched his coin get carved by a bullet jumped to his feet and pleaded his case. Nobody cared to listen, and two of the bouncers jumped at the chance to haul him out.

 Aleksa snorted into her drink as the man stumbled. Her cerulean coloured eyes drifted over the tables once more, until they landed on a very particular person that is. He was made up of sharp features and incredibly harsh edges. A dangerous glint in his bitter-coffee eyes shone beneath the dull lights, his hands were covered in black leather and curled around the head of his cane. Kaz, as per usual, looked ready to frighten a very small child or a very large man.

 His cane tapped against the wooden floor, growing ever closer to Jesper as the Zemeni boy greedily grabbed at the table, only for the cane to smack his fingers away.

 Jesper's eyes trailed the length of the cane, up the black shrouded arm and to the pale, almost gaunt face of Kaz Brekker. He did not look happy... Then again, when did he? Jesper thought.

 Kaz clicked his tongue, tutting at the sharpshooter as though he were scolding a child, "No loud noises at the table, Jesper." His voice lowered to a mocking whisper as he leaned closer, "You'll scare off the pigeons."

 Jesper cleared his throat, at least having the decency to look a little put out of place, "Wouldn't want that, boss."

 "Shouldn't you be on the door?"

 "Yeah, right away, boss."

 Kaz regarded him once more, a dark brow growing closer to his hairline. He threw his cane into the other hand and carried on as though nothing had happened.

 Aleksa couldn't help the curl of her lips as her eyes followed him over the rim of her cherry-scented glass. She followed Kaz with her eyes as he slowly approached the bar, his limp far less noticeable this evening. Rotty trailed behind him like a puppy on a leash and Aleksa jumped up, ice cubes clattering against her glass as she sipped once more and made her way closer.

 "What do you want, Rotty?" Kaz asked as Aleksa joined his side, a crooked grin on her lips as she theatrically rose her glass to him. He rolled his eyes, yet nodded to her nonetheless.

 "Alright, Aleksa?" Rotty greeted as he loitered behind Kaz, he blossomed at the grin he received and Kaz couldn't help but think the man a fool. Just as he did with every man that fell to their knees over Aleksa's fluttering eyelashes, "Right, so, someone stole a DeKappel from a march's private residence last night."

 Kaz glanced at the woman by his side, the sweet scent of cherry biting at his senses as he watched her grin at Rotty's words, "Is that so?"

 "It's a painting. A landscape of Ravka. The Fold. Oil on parchment."

 "I know who DeKappel is."

 Of course, you do. Thought Aleksa, because we stole that very painting just days ago.

 Rotty wasn't deterred by Kaz's bored voice — they were all very used to it already — so he plunged on. He happily took the empty glass from Aleksa's hands and watched as she chewed on the vibrant red cherry that had been bobbing in her drink, "Uh... Oh, well, he doesn't do nudes, so I never heard of him."

 "Tasteful, Rotty." Aleksa drawled as she flicked the cherry pit at his forehead. 

 Rotty was a nice enough man; he perpetually stunk of whiskey and sweat and often made some... strange comments about their patrons, but he never touched what he wasn't permitted to — though Aleksa knew he certainly wanted to. She had caught the stares directed to herself but never worried. She wouldn't be forgiving if he reached out, and neither would Kaz.

 Kaz paused in his steps and faced Rotty, his dull brown eyes showed nothing of his thoughts and he simply shrugged a single shoulder, "Get on with it, Rotty."

 Rotty's forehead was slick with sweat and he reached into his coat pocket. He fumbled around for a moment and Aleksa could see Kaz deflate as a bored sigh parted his thinned lips. Then, after a prolonged minute, Rotty swiped up a piece of paper and unfolded its crumpled edges, showing it to the pair in front of him.

 It was a beautiful picture, really, even if it captured the wall of shadows that was The Fold. There was a rolling field of lime green grass, hints of white at the tips where the sun hit the blades and bounced from dew-drops. A gravel path tore through and trailed up a hill where a tall birch tree stood. The sun was slipping and the sky had a golden hue to it.

 "Worth something like ten thousand Kruge." A shine erupted within Rotty's dark eyes. He was hungry for Kruge just like every other person surrounding them. Just like Kaz. But this man didn't have the capabilities or resources to procure a team, find the painting and reap the rewards. He hoped Kaz would find it and he'd be praised for finding the job. It was like clockwork with the Dregs.

 Kaz turned away and surveyed the pigeons flocking about within the Crow Club. They tittered around like brainless birds whilst a handful of crows stood idle by watching them roost.

 "The thief had to get past four roving guards, high fences, padlocked doors, and a security system designed by one of them Grisha witches."

 Aleksa bristled, "Frabrikator."

 "Whatever," Rotty responded and it was in moments like that where Aleksa was reminded that just three people in all of Ketterdam knew she was a Grisha. A Shadow Summoner.

 It pained her that she couldn't display her powers whenever she liked, that she couldn't rouse the shadows from sleep and watch them drown out the light. She would never act on foolish whims and desires and suddenly wake the sleeping shadows just for fun, but the urge was there.

 She wondered if all Grisha felt the way she did whenever they'd pass something that their fingertips could manipulate. She felt a tug on her gut whenever she passed by a dark corner or shaded street... like it was calling to her, begging for her to play with them just like she had when she was a child.

 But Aleksa did not want to get shipped off to the Little Palace, and nor did she want to suffer at the hands of people who would associate her with the Black Heretic.

 "The point is," Rotty continued, unaware that he'd lost Aleksa's attention and most of Kaz's, "Either it was a group effort or a ghost."

 "Why does this concern me?" Said Kaz as he faced Rotty once more, his eyes trailing over the man. He had entertained the conversation for the sake of keeping an appearance of being... As innocent as Kaz Brekker could possibly be.

 Aleksa wanted to snort. It had everything to do with Kaz, and herself. They were the ones who had pinched the painting and hung it high above Kaz's desk like a trophy. It had been a spur of the moment heist, one that Aleksa had heard a bunch of old fellows chatting about over a cup of coffee.

 She'd reported to Kaz after staking out the very building that kept the painting from prying eyes and with a grin she had simply said, "I can get us inside."

 She had, and now the painting was theirs to do with as they pleased.

 "I've got a buyer lined up." So Aleksa was right, Rotty had weaved his part to play in his silly little plan. Bless him. "Legit money. So, uh... If you hear a whisper..." Rotty clicked his tongue, eyes darting between blue and brown.

 Kaz sniffed, and once again cherry filled his senses. He drummed his hands against the golden crow that sat proudly atop his cane and leaned forward, keeping a fair distance between himself and Rotty, "Who can hear a whisper in here?"

 Aleksa didn't wait for Kaz to fall in line with her before she started walking forth again, eyes catching those of their regulars. She beamed at them, her shoulders hiking higher as she did, "A shame about that lovely painting, hm?"

 "I'm sure those daring thieves will get caught." Kaz hummed, "Then we can all rest easy."

 "Oh..." Aleksa mockingly sighed as she looked up to Kaz, watching the way his dark hair glinted beneath the dull orange light, "I don't think they will."

 Then she grinned, and Kaz couldn't stop the corner of his mouth from quirking up.

 Aleksa brushed a hand through her hair as a light swell of laughter bubbled on her tongue; it was always a treat to act so horribly clueless when in reality, they knew every move of the game.

 "Shall I do the numbers again?" Aleksa offered. It was less of a question and more of a statement though, for Aleksa would often find herself seated behind Kaz's desk, rosy cheeks glowing as a candle flickered nearby.

 She quite enjoyed the peaceful silence of Kaz's office after a long day of boisterous laughter and cheers or woeful cries of loss throughout the gambling den.

 Behind her, Kaz stayed silent. He knew well enough that Aleksa's bouncing feet were already carrying her towards the curling staircase towards his office; on many occasions — when he couldn't find the girl prowling the club for a new target to lure into her bed — he'd find her hunched over the papers on his desk trying to make heads or tails of the words and numbers.

 She was good. He had to give her that, and his workload had been cut to the point where he could spare the time for those petty little heists between the bigger ones. The DeKapple had been such a very last minute decision, but even Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel couldn't find it within himself to say no to the Shadow Summoner.

 "I'll take your silence as a yes?" She threw over her shoulder, smiling at him as though he had offered her the sun... Or as she'd probably prefer, the moon.

 "If I told you no?"

 "You never tell me no." She frowned, a pretty pout on her lips before she winked, "Don't think you'd have it in you."

 And then she left him in the dust. Pearl painted fingertips curled around the creaky bannister as she hopped up the stairs, clunky boots banging on each and every step. He could hear Dimitri's bellowing voice call out to her, offering his goodbye.

 And as ever, Kaz Brekker was reminded that Aleksa could have anybody in the palm of her hands within seconds.

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10-01-2022

hope you all enjoyed this chapter! don't forget to leave some comments telling me what you thought etc (again, my stories now require a certain amount of comments for me to consider posting the next part!)

i'd love to hear your thoughts on Aleksa and her personality, as well as the small snippet i showed you of Aleksa's and Kaz's relationship so far. see you next time, ily <3