Chapter Text
There was a body on the steps of the Crow Club. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence, given the nature of the owner and the Club’s questionable location, but the state of the body did give Jesper pause. Glistening viscera, so deep in the fading dark that it was almost black, poured from a deep cavern carved into the man’s chest, ribs broken open like angel wings. The corpse was mottled blue and grey, only a trickle of blood left in him, and still, Jesper had to swallow hard to stop his fangs protruding into his lower lip, had to lean against the wall of the alley behind him and focus on the scratch of the concrete to stop the hunger overwhelming him. Saints, he was always hungry. Even ten years on, a full decade after Kaz had changed him, he still felt that insatiable, burning hunger in his gut, in his empty veins, in his dead heart. The presence of a body was not unusual, but the shameless gore, the theatrics, the staging, the timing of it all – that was unusual. Whether they killed for food or killed for power, the Dregs always cleaned up their messes and disposed of corpses in their entirety. They never left them on display, and they always finished the job before dawn.
“We need to tell Kaz.” With a start, Jesper span. Inej had landed silently in the darkened passage, dark gaze flitting between Jesper and the body.
“This wasn’t us, was it?” Jesper asked, surveying the scene once more. Ten years with Kaz, with Inej, with the Dregs, and Jesper was still hungry and still confused.
“Someone is sending us a message.”
“Who? Nobody in Kerch is stupid enough to try this.”
Inej shrugged delicately, pulling her hood up to shield her face. “Perhaps somebody who isn’t from Kerch.”
“One of us? Or one of them?” It had taken years for Jesper to feel comfortable drawing the distinction between what he was and what humans were. At seventeen, he was barely comfortable with being Grisha, let alone a monster, an immortal with eternity stretching before him. But over ten years of being revered, of being feared, of growing stronger with age rather than withered and weak, that had changed.
“There’s no blood, Jesper. It has to be someone like us.”
“Another vampire? In Ketterdam?” He couldn’t help the spark of anticipation that lit in his chest. Someone new. Someone different.
“Don’t get too excited,” Inej chided, tone knowing. “It doesn’t look like a friendly visit.”
_
“What do you think, Kaz?”
The question came from Inej, a specter by the doorway. The three of them were in Kaz’s office, a sparse, dark room on the top floor of the Slat. The sun was up, the blinds and curtains tightly pulled, mortal life creeping by outside without them. Jesper was pacing (even in death, he’d never been able to burn off his energy), twisting and turning a piece of metal in his hands, feeling it heat and shift and solidify in turn. It had been a bullet at some point. Now it was an outlet for his powers, only stronger since he’d turned, but harder to repress.
“We wait on the coroner’s report for the cause of death.”
“Do we need to? His intestines were touching the pavement, I feel like his cause of death was quite obvious.” Jesper said, turning in a small circle to face the pair.
“Or whoever put him there wants it to seem obvious. Wants to paint us as monsters.”
“Which…wouldn’t be wrong, would it? Not saying I agree with the action, but if the mysterious killer wants to out us as monsters, this seems like overkill. Pun not intended.”
Kaz rolled his eyes, managing without a word to remind Jesper of the gulfs between them. A gulf in years, a gulf in knowledge, a gulf in restraint. Jesper wondered how long it took Kaz to control his hunger. Probably not a decade.
“The coroner will bring the report to us soon. If we need to make any amendments, it will need to be done today.”
“Amendments?” Jesper frowned, stretching molten metal between his fingers, twisting it into a coil.
“The blood, Jes. We need to cover up the loss of blood.” Inej answered his silent question, smiling at him gently.
“Right. Then what? If it’s another vampire, what do we do? Invite them over for cake and a cup of B positive?”
“We destroy them, Jesper. We break them apart piece by undead piece.”
Jesper’s endless pacing paused as he considered Kaz’s words. He’d known in theory that they were killable, that even immortals could be destroyed if you knew their weaknesses. But the thought of doing it brought the reality into painful relief. It had never occurred to him that Kaz would know how. But of course, Kaz knew how.
His next question was interrupted by a faint, timorous knock at the door. The rapid pulsing of a heart was audible through the thick oak, the flourishing blossom of capillaries capturing Jesper’s attention entirely, canines nicking at the inside of his mouth.
“Jesper.” Kaz snapped, bringing the room back into focus abruptly. The door was open, an uneasy, jittery Pim standing in the archway clutching an envelope, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Without a word, Inej plucked the papers from a shaking hand, offered Pim a murmured thank you, and closed the door again firmly. She deferred to Kaz, as they always did, crossing the room to place the papers on his desk.
They watched, Jesper impatient, Inej pensive, as Kaz sliced the cream envelope open, sliding out the report with gloved fingers and unfolding it. For a tense moment, his expression remained blank. As dark, empty eyes scanned the page, Jesper noticed the faintest tension in their creases, the slightest clench of a jaw, the tightening of leather-clad fingers on the edges of the page. Kaz turned his gaze to Inej.
“Drowned. In salt water.” A silence passed between them, Jesper once again shut firmly out of the conversation they held with their eyes.
“Before or after he was drained?” Inej asked, voice barely audible.
“Does that matter?” Jesper asked, tone edging on desperation, begging to be included. Kaz ignored him.
“Before. Drowned within an inch, drained as he died.”
“You think it’s him?” Inej asked, hand fluttering to one of the knives at her hip.
“I think ignoring the possibility would be naïve.”
“After this long? Why would he come back now?”
“Who?!” Jesper demanded, stalking over to insert himself halfway between them. Kaz shot him a dark look, frustrated and frustrating.
“An old friend.” Clenching his fists, metal discarded, Jesper glared.
“If someone’s after us and you know who, I have a right to know, Kaz.” He felt a hand on his arm, Inej trying to calm his temper.
“His name is Wylan. He’s… like us.”
“Wylan?” Jesper’s gaze bounced between the pair, brimming with confusion. Kaz tapped his finger on the report thoughtfully.
“Wylan Van Eck.”