Chapter 9
Analise’s neck was stiff and her throat dry as paper. Where was she? Light from the window illuminated a small table and dresser; the patterned rug was worn in places, as if the owner of this room liked to pace.
The previous night slammed into her brain with the force of a runaway carriage.
The attack in the alley flashed into her mind, leaving her palms sweaty and her head spinning.
She’d killed a man, and she was so tired, a drawback of using magic she didn’t know how to control, but where the fuck was she?
Her gaze fell on the bed. Ezra Tarrenfire, that was right.
He slept on his stomach, arms flung out, face buried in the pillow.
The bedclothes were tangled around his hips, leaving his back exposed.
She swallowed, her eyes moving up the length of his spine, over the broad sweep of his shoulders and the nape of his neck.
Her cheeks heated at a flash of memory.
Her fingers, woven through that white-blond hair.
Analise got to her feet. She put her coat on and bent to collect her boots. What he was doing in her morgue was a mystery for another day because her only objective was sneaking out before he woke up.
Keeping her eyes on him, she backed carefully towards the door.
It wouldn’t open.
She jiggled the brass knob as much as she dared, but it wouldn’t budge. Desperate, Analise tucked her boots beneath her arm and put her back to the sleeping man, tugging on the door with both hands.
‘Come on, come on,’ she hissed under her breath.
‘Definitely not one for goodbyes,’ a low, husky voice drawled. ‘You’ll need these.’
Analise spun around to find Ezra, on his back now, dangling a set of brass keys from one hand, the other tucked casually beneath his head. His smile was crooked.
‘Let me out,’ she demanded.
He shook his head.
She grit her teeth. ‘Give me those keys!’
The corners of his lips twitched, like this was one big game to him. He waved the keys at her and when she didn’t move, ‘No? Okay, then.’ He went to put them beneath the pillow.
Analise dropped her boots and launched herself at him.
She landed across his chest as he shoved the keys out of her reach, catching both her wrists in strong hands.
He held her steady as she struggled, his expression amused, and when she twisted her head to try and sink her teeth into his forearm, he flipped them over.
Pinned beneath him, Analise couldn’t move.
His lingering warmth on the mattress pressed against her back.
Their faces were inches apart, his breath on her face, the heat of his bare chest sinking through her clothes.
‘You fucking bastard!’
‘Insulting my parents, that’s lovely,’ Ezra retorted. ‘They were married, if you must know.’ Up close, his eyes looked like the sky had collided with a patch of grass. Beautiful, she thought, cheeks heating.
‘You can’t keep me here.’
‘I’ll definitely have fun trying,’ he murmured.
Someone knocked on the door and they both froze. She opened her mouth to scream, and Ezra slammed his hand over it, releasing her wrist. Her fingers wound through his hair and tugged, hard, forcing his head away from her. He gave her a wicked smile.
‘Doesn’t bother me—I don’t mind pain.’
She bit the fingers pressed against her mouth. He yanked his hand away.
‘I’ll pull more than your hair next time.’
‘Please do,’ he whispered, winking.
‘Ez, unlock the bloody door!’ a muffled, male voice called, knocking again. ‘Are you in there? Ezra!’
Ezra released her, backing away from the bed, but not moving any further. Mutinous tears pricked Analise’s eyes. She blinked furiously, determined not to let the bastard see her cry, or see any weakness from her at all. He was looking at her with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
The knocking continued. ‘Ezra, for fuck’s sake!’
‘Okay, okay,’ Ezra called back. When he approached the bed, Analise jerked away from him, but he slipped his hand beneath the pillow and retrieved the keys. He strolled to the door, glancing smugly at her over his shoulder.
When the lock clicked, a tall man pushed into the room, face flustered. Analise made a noise of frustration as she tried to untangle herself from the bedclothes.
‘Oh,’ the man said. ‘Sorry, Ez, I …’ He cleared his throat, his eyes narrowing as he swept them over her. ‘Wait. Who’s this?’
‘His prisoner,’ she cut in furiously, ripping the last of the sheets away as Ezra shut the door. ‘Arrest him, or something.’ The emblem on the man’s coat—a crested sun, a version of the royal sigil—meant he was Gendarme. Fear nipped at her but she pushed it away.
‘A natural redhead,’ Ezra said.
The Gendarme shot Ezra a puzzled look, before turning back to Analise and clearing his throat. ‘I’m glad I found you, Ms Delarosa. You’re being followed. Your landlord raised the alarm when you didn’t return home last night.’
Analise sucked in a sharp breath. That was a lie—her landlord didn’t give a shit about his tenants, but how did this man know her name? Her heart was pounding so loud she was certain both men could hear it. Her muscles tensed, ready to run.
The Gendarme mistook her silence for fear. ‘We’ve been watching someone, and it seems like he’s got his eye on you. He’s known to us, and he’s dangerous.’ He flashed a brief, reassuring smile. ‘I’m Jem.’
Analise’s instinct was to tell him he was wrong, to laugh, but she found she couldn’t do any of those things. Jem narrowed his eyes slightly at her lack of reaction to his news.
‘Why is he following me?’ she whispered, reaching up to cover her mouth in faux distress, hoping it was convincing. Jem didn’t mention the Familiar specifically, but who else could he be talking about?
Ezra had found himself a shirt and was in the process of buttoning it.
‘We’re still looking into it. I’ll take you to one of our safe houses,’ Jem said.
Analise shook her head. ‘Thank you, but I’m going home.’
‘It isn’t safe,’ Jem protested as she got up to find her boots.
‘Then I’ll go somewhere else.’
‘But—’
She put her hands on her hips, her irritation rising, despite the situation—she was trapped in a room with a member of the fucking Gendarme. ‘You think I’ve survived in the Credges by accident?’
Ezra leant against the door, arms folded. ‘Someone broke into her workplace last night.’ Analise shot him a murderous glare. ‘And those marks on her throat? I didn’t do that.’
She held her breath as Jem stepped closer to inspect the marks.
‘He’s already taken care of.’ She spoke without thinking. For a moment, she felt those fingers around her neck again, and her magic tingled, wanting to be released. She thought she saw Ezra narrow his eyes, but when she looked, his expression was composed.
Jem wasn’t done with his questions. ‘By taken care of …’
‘He won’t bother me again. He didn’t appreciate being hit by a woman and if that’s a crime, arrest me.’
Jem smiled. ‘It’s not a crime, but it would be criminal of me to let a lady walk out of here unprotected.’
There was no way out of this predicament, so Analise decided to play along. She’d run when she had the chance. ‘Fine. Can we just go then?’
This time, Ezra did narrow his eyes at her.
‘What?’ she asked. ‘First you act like you’re worried about my safety, and now that I’ve agreed you’ve changed your mind?’
‘I thought you’d argue for longer, to be honest.’
‘You think you know me well enough to make assumptions about my behaviour?’ She sat on the edge of the bed to pull her boots on, avoiding looking at either of them. Fear pricked the back of her neck and her fingers trembled, but Ezra’s chuckle made her grind her teeth.
‘Not a bit, but you’re such a ray of sunshine, I expected—’
Jem cleared his throat. ‘Ezra will be staying with you, Analise.’
Ezra looked as horrified as she felt. ‘I will?’
‘Fucking fantastic,’ Analise muttered.
Morning fog kissed the cobblestones. Scowling, Analise pulled her coat closer to her body. Jem and Ezra walked either side of her like guards. They passed busy shops, crossing the road at the tannery, heading past the emporium. She had no idea where Jem was taking her.
The fog lifted, and the sun came out, casting the slums and all its grimy glory in stark relief. Mud and horse shit slicked the streets, rubbish littered the pavement, and beggars were already about, dented bowls held between scrawny fingers.
Analise was taking a stroll through the Credges with a member of the Gendarme— possibly Unseen—and whoever or whatever Ezra was.
Her eyes slid to his face; she looked away before he noticed, her fists clenching in her pockets as she went over the previous night and what she’d seen in the dead woman’s mind——a demon.
What else would she have seen if Ezra hadn’t tumbled through her door?
She couldn’t imagine who broke into the morgue, unless it was the other man who accosted her. She shivered, touching her throat, then paused. Ezra had been corpse-pale and panicked when he arrived. Who was chasing him?
As the streets became busier, Jem moved ahead, leaving Ezra to walk with Analise.
If she even thought about running, he’d have his hand around her arm instantly, and even if she broke free, where would she go?
He knew where she lived. He knew where she worked.
Lira’s pub would be closed, and Analise realised she had no idea where her friend actually lived.
She'd never heard any talk of the Gendarme having a safe house. The idea of one in the Credges was laughable. She patted her hip, forgetting her blade was on her kitchen table. Directing her scowl at the side of Ezra’s head, Analise considered all the places she’d stab him if she could.
As though sensing her ire, he glanced at her, his blue-green eyes twinkling.
‘Glad you find it amusing,’ she muttered.
He gripped her arm suddenly, hauling her out of the way of a group of men. She crashed into his chest, her nose pressed against his collarbone. She froze, then jerked away.
‘Don’t touch me,’ she hissed, straightening her coat. Her fingers were tingling.
His eyebrows lifted but he said nothing.
Jem was waiting for them at the corner of a narrow street lined with matching doors and windows. A curtain twitched as they passed; Analise caught a glimpse of an old woman peering at them. Jem stopped at the last townhouse in the row.
‘Here we are.’
There was something strange about the door.
It seemed to move, the edges blurring the longer Analise looked at it.
Magic, she realised, watching Jem take a vial from his pocket.
Whatever he was doing he kept hidden from them, but Analise caught the faint smell of chemicals—sulphur, ammonium, like the ones they used in the morgue.
Inside, the small foyer was dark, the air stale.
A set of timber stairs led to the second storey, threadbare carpet running along their centre.
The kitchen was tiny, with a wooden table beneath a dust-smeared window, and off to the side was a parlour with a battered lounge, a faded rug, a bookshelf and an unlit fireplace.
It was obvious no one had been in this house in a long time.
Analise gave Jem a hateful look, stomping into the parlour to the bookcase.
She found some penny dreadfuls, old leather-bound novels, and a yellowing suffragette pamphlet.
A folded newspaper sat beneath a layer of dust. Analise pulled it free, blowing the dust away.
The paper was five years old. Blackwood had been made head of the Church.
An unregistered death witch was publicly executed in the Old Bailey, and an alchemist had finally discovered how to keep the lights on without having to continually burn fuel.
Analise stared at the headline about the witch. That could be her, if she didn’t play this right.
Ezra and Jem were in the kitchen, talking in low voices.
Analise couldn’t understand why Jem brought her here.
She was certain it wasn’t common for the Gendarme to offer personal protection, especially not to people from the Credges, and that made her suspicious.
When people acted in ways that were not expected, it always meant they wanted something.
And how did a gangster's lackey come to be on such friendly terms with a Gendarme?
‘Well,’ she announced, returning to the kitchen, ‘I’m going to go and look upstairs and see if there’s a window high enough I can throw myself out of.
’ Analise hurried away, pausing on the small landing to collect her thoughts.
A night or two, surely that would be it, then she could go home.
She squared her shoulders and went exploring.
There was a room for washing, with a tub big enough to sit in, and a wash stand and privy. At least it was indoors, she supposed.
She eased open the other door and froze. One bed in the whole house.
Sighing, she went back to the kitchen.
‘There’s only one bed,’ she announced.
Ezra grinned. ‘I hope you don’t snore.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding.’
‘Would you rather the floor?’
‘I’d rather wet cobblestones at the end of the darkest alley in the Credges,’ she shot back, making him look at her in a way that said, liar. Analise stomped back to the parlour. There was a lumpy cushion and a coverlet hanging over the armrest of the lounge.
She plonked herself down pointedly. All she had to do was sleep on it.
Ezra, leaning against the door frame, lifted a shoulder. ‘You’ll change your mind.’
His smile was too smug for her liking.