Chapter 15 #2
Analise didn’t really have a choice. Until a week ago, she’d never heard of the Order of the Dawn, and now, her life was in their hands.
She pushed the Order from her mind. She’d tackle it later, when she could focus on something other than the horrible swooping sensation in her stomach.
It felt like a flock of birds had taken up residence and were slowly shredding her insides with razor-sharp beaks.
‘You knew who he was, that night in your pub, when we … you knew.’
‘I’ve known Ezra for years,’ Lira admitted. ‘I couldn’t tell you who he was, and you have to believe that I wanted to, I truly did. I thought of a million things to say that would stop you walking out of the pub with him, but I couldn’t bring myself to say any of them.’
Analise sniffed. ‘Why not?’
‘If I’d known what would come of it, I would have.’
‘Tell him not to come up here,’ Analise warned.
Lira nodded, and after she left, Analise crawled under the blankets fully clothed.
She bit her lip until she was convinced she wouldn’t cry, overwhelmed with a fierce longing to return to the convent.
It was her safe place, she realised suddenly, the place she was most familiar with in the world.
She thought about the women she’d lived with.
No one ever expected her to become a Sister.
She considered it, but only briefly. Once she realised she wasn’t like anyone else, it was obvious a spiritual path wasn’t for her.
Her magic made her different, and she was fiercely aware of it.
The stronger it became, the more Analise distanced herself from everyone.
Death lived in her veins, and she worried she was a danger to the nuns, who cared for her so kindly. It was easier to be alone in a city full of people. Easier to be a face in a crowd and nothing more.
Human beings, Analise thought, were mass-produced things, churned out of the factories that spewed filth into the river, each one a carbon copy of the other, filled with the same base instincts and desires.
It wasn’t until she bothered to interact with anyone that she began to see how wrong she was.
Coming from a world where everyone was indistinguishable from the person next to them, a world of soft silence and devotion, Analise had no true experience of people and the uniqueness of them.
That wasn’t to say that the nuns she grew up with were devoid of individuality.
The Sisters didn’t wear their hearts on their sleeves or their emotions stamped on their faces.
Serenity was as much of a mask as biting sarcasm and terrible jokes.
She drifted to sleep at some point, waking with a terrible emptiness clawing at her stomach. She was thirsty but had already decided she’d rather die from dehydration than go downstairs and risk running into Ezra.
The witch-hound.
Bitter anger sat in the back of her throat, and each time she swallowed it reminded her of what happened between them.
It reminded her of how foolish she’d been.
Analise was determined to remain where she was until Lira returned, but she was desperate for the privy, so she collected her knife and snuck to the bathroom, not bothering with a light. She relieved herself quickly and rushed back out into the hall, running headfirst into something firm, and warm.
Gasping, she leapt backwards.
Ezra had been carrying a lantern; it lay at his feet, blazing with light. He bent and set it right, but didn’t pick it up. Analise watched him as he stood, fear crawling through her. His face was shadowed, but there was enough light that she could see his throat work as he swallowed.
‘I was … it doesn’t matter,’ he said softly.
Her laugh was hollow. ‘You’re right. It doesn’t matter. You don’t matter, and I don’t know who I am angrier at—you, for your lies, or me, for being foolish enough to believe them.’
Ezra’s hair hung across his forehead; irritated, he pushed it away and at the movement, Analise shot forward, senses screaming.
He was taller than she was, stronger, but it didn’t stop her shoving the blade of the knife against his throat.
His eyes widened, before he backed away.
She followed, only stopping when was pressed against the wall.
Her other hand snaked out, caught his wrist and pinned his arm against the wall.
She could kill him, in more ways than one. It would be retribution for the terrible things he’d done, for the lives he destroyed. Even if he managed to avoid the blade, he wouldn’t be able to avoid her magic.
‘Let me explain,’ Ezra began, but she shook her head furiously, keeping her hand steady.
‘I let you in. I told you things I’ve never told anybody, and you’ve thrown that back in my face,’ Analise seethed. ‘I trusted you! You made me feel … you made me feel special. Wanted. And now I don’t feel any of those things—I feel like a fool.’
‘You are wanted.’
‘Don’t. Don’t say that. I wish I’d never met you. I wish that I’d never gone to Lira’s pub that night because then I’d never have even laid eyes on you. I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No, you’re not sorry. You’re a hateful fucking liar, Ezra,’ she spat.
‘I deserve that,’ he said, voice rough. His Adam’s apple pulsed against the blade pressed into his skin.
‘If Jem had never told you about the Order, would you have handed me over to the Church in an attempt to, I don’t know …
what was in it for you? How about this—if you’d never left the Unseen, then gone home with me, would you have tried to stop them when they finally came for me, or would you have been the one to lead them there? ’ Analise asked.
Ezra’s voice was tight, and he made no move to get away from her. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Right.’ She hadn’t expected a different answer, but it still hurt.
‘What do you want me to say? If I say no, you won’t believe me, and if I say yes, I’m confirming what you think of me,’ Ezra argued. ‘I’m not who and what I used to be. You asked why I don’t wear an amulet. I’m already in Hell, Analise. How much worse could it get?’
‘Do you want to find out?’ she snarled, digging her nails into his wrist.
Ezra’s expression was tight. ‘Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.’
‘How did I not know who you were?’ she demanded.
‘Your name—I knew that. Everyone knew it. Every hedge witch and spell-caster, every charms seller and bone dealer. We all knew it. But your face? How is it I didn’t know what you looked like?
Why did no one …’ She trailed off as realisation dawned. Horrified, Analise backed away.
‘Nobody who ever saw my face got the chance to talk about it,’ Ezra mumbled. He wouldn’t look at her.
She stared at him. This man’s skills, his power, or whatever it was, had led to countless arrests, countless people vanishing from the streets and fury swirled through her blood, making her fingers tingle with magic. ‘Death witches didn’t kill people,’ she snarled. ‘But your lot did.’
He looked like she’d slapped him.
‘You hunted my kind,’ Analise hissed.
‘You don’t understand,’ he said, voice rising. ‘We were taught you were dangerous. That you could not be trusted. We were taught that your magic wasn’t safe, that people weren’t safe, and it was our job—my job—to look after people.’
There was a tight sort of pride in his expression that made her want to hurt him.
‘But you’re not what I was taught you were,’ he said.
Ezra took a step closer, not caring that she still gripped the knife.
Analise reached out and caught his wrist again, yanking him towards her.
She dug the tip of the blade into the skin under his chin, forcing his head back to expose the line of his throat.
She wanted him vulnerable, as unsettled as she was feeling.
Her magic rose like a dark snake at her call.
It flowed out of her and tunnelled through him, picking at his life force, not enough to kill him, but enough that the warning was clear.
He huffed a soft, regretful laugh and relaxed in her grip. ‘Do it. If you’re to be the death of me, so be it. I won’t fight you, Analise, because I deserve it.’
‘No matter how much you hate yourself, Ezra, it can’t be more than I do.’