Chapter 20
Ezra set the teapot down, rubbing his temples as a glowering Jem swept into the kitchen. ‘I guess making you breakfast won’t change the way your face looks, will it?’
‘How could you be so stupid?’ Jem seethed.
They’d already had this argument, which was less of an argument and more Jem shouting at Ezra and Analise once they got back to the club and now, their windows were locked.
‘I wasn’t thinking,’ Ezra mumbled.
‘You were, but you were thinking with the wrong head,’ Jem snapped. ‘Did you believe helping her break out and wander the streets of London while you’re marked by the Devil would make her somehow forgive you, Ez?’
‘No,’ Ezra said. ‘She was going out that window with or without my help. Was I supposed to let her go alone?’
‘You were supposed to stop her,’ Jem said, sinking into a seat. ‘And no, making me breakfast will not make me any less angry at you, but I am hungry—so I’ll take three eggs.’
‘Three? Tobias making you work for it?’
Jem gave him a foul look, which didn’t abate until a plate of eggs was sitting in front of him. ‘I swear, this is one of the only things you’re good at.’
‘I knew it—you only want me for my cooking.’
Jem looked up from his plate, expression tight, and sighed. ‘Are you sleeping with her?’
‘No.’
‘But you would, if she wanted you?’
‘Are you my mother now?’ Ezra growled. His mouth was suddenly dry. He could feel her beneath him, see the look in her eye as he pressed himself closer to her and his stomach tightened.
‘I’m your friend and I don’t want to see you get hurt,’ Jem said gently. ‘Just … be careful.’ He pushed his plate away and stood. ‘Lira and Analise are meeting us there.’
‘Where exactly?’ Ezra made himself breathe. He could do this, whatever it was. He could see her and not think about the previous morning or how she made his blood heat. She hated him. If he just reminded himself of that, everything would be fine.
‘The basement.’
Ezra frowned. ‘Why aren’t you at work?’
‘I took the day off.’
Jem never took the day off. In all the years Ezra had known him, his friend never skipped work, or school. If anything, that reminded Ezra of the seriousness of the situation. Mollified, he followed Jem to the basement.
Analise and Lira were indeed waiting, the latter wearing a cheerful expression and the former looking like she’d rather be anywhere else.
Dressed in his customary head to toe black, Jem was like an oversized bird of prey.
He jumped onto the platform and positioned himself in the centre as the door at the top of the stairs opened and another black-clad figure descended.
Ezra’s stomach dropped, familiar fear causing his muscles to stiffen and his nerves to fray.
Tobias’ eyes cut to his, dark and filled with loathing. Ezra swallowed, watching the man who had been given the task of dragging him back to face Izellan, the Unseen’s senior officer. Tobias Marth, Jem’s lover and a member of the Order of the Dawn.
From the look on his face, Ezra wasn’t sure which hat the man was wearing right now.
Neither was Tobias, it seemed. He seemed to war with himself, the emotions playing across his face, before he made his way over to Jem, who introduced him to Analise while Ezra tried to calm his racing heart.
Was Tobias armed? Ezra was fast, but he wasn’t bullet fast. If the bastard wanted to shoot him, he could—and Tobias never missed.
Jem said something to Tobias, too low for anyone else to hear. Ezra snuck a look at Analise, whose expression was carefully composed. She met his gaze, then looked away.
Two people in the same place who didn’t like him and who both wanted to kill him, for different reasons. Tobias scowled at him from beneath his moustache.
What Ezra would give for a hit of opium right now.
‘Maddog has given us the use of this space for as long as we need,’ Jem announced.
‘You call your uncle Maddog?’ Analise asked.
‘It was a nickname we gave him as kids; it kind of stuck,’ Lira answered.
‘We’re training.’ Jem removed his coat, tossing it to Tobias, who folded it neatly over his arm. Tobias gave Ezra the sort of look that told him if circumstances were different, Ezra would be on his way back to face the Gendarme, whether he liked it or not.
‘Ez,’ Jem called. ‘You’re up.’
Ezra could feel Analise watching him as he joined Jem on the platform.
Before he could even breathe, Jem had him in a headlock.
‘I thought you were good at this?’ A low chuckle, un-Jem like, and Ezra knew how this was going to go. He was about to be punished.
He jammed his elbow into Jem’s ribs, spinning to sweep his leg out when he was released. Jem stumbled, and Ezra took advantage of his friend's lack of balance, driving a fist towards Jem’s chest. Jem deflected, making a grab for Ezra’s wrist.
Dancing out of the way, Ezra pushed the hair from his eyes. He could feel the anticipation kicking up a notch, that desire to be hurt taking hold. But this wasn’t fight night—there was no roaring crowd, no Hernan, no money exchanging hands.
This was Ezra and Jem back in the Gendarme’s training yard, fresh-faced and eager young men.
Jem’s lips curled into a smile.
Ezra smiled back. ‘Like the good old days?’
Jem nodded. ‘First blood.’
In the background, Lira mumbled something that sounded like ‘idiots.’ Ezra snuck a glance. Lira was rolling a smoke, Tobias was wearing his most annoyed expression, and Analise was glaring at the floor.
Ezra removed his shirt and tossed it away. Jem did the same, then shifted his feet, found his centre and dropped his weight onto the front foot.
‘I don't recall you having that many muscles,’ Ezra commented. Jem had always been lean and lithe, but now there was extra bulk to his frame. ‘Been working out? I’m sure someone is pleased,’ he added, nodding in Tobias’ direction.
‘Are you stalling?’ Jem demanded, rolling his shoulders.
‘Letting you have a moment where your face is in one piece.’
Training with the Gendarme was different to being in the boxing ring.
The most Ezra ever did to prepare for a fight in Maddog’s basement was to stretch his muscles.
Practice wasn’t needed, he was better than anyone he’d fought.
That behemoth of a man who’d flattened him wouldn’t have won if Ezra hadn’t been distracted by a woman wearing a skull as a face.
As he and Jem circled each other, assessing and planning how to attack, Ezra wondered what over a year away from Gendarme training might mean. Were his reflexes still sharp? Jem’s face was as cool and composed as always, no hint of what he was going to do there.
Ezra’s gaze flickered to Analise. He wondered what she was thinking, whether she was assessing him as much as Jem was.
He’d gone with her the other night because she needed him to, even if she didn’t say it, and considering what happened, he was glad he’d been there, even if Familiars scared the life out of him.
Waking with her body pressed against his was the sweetest torture.
Maybe he should have let her slap him—it might have made them both feel better.
The nasty words they’d shared in his room had been floating around his head.
He’d meant them, but hadn’t meant to make it seem like it was her fault.
Jem’s fist moved towards Ezra’s face, snapping him out of his thoughts. He sidestepped, feeling the rush of air as Jem’s knuckles slid past his cheek. Ezra paused, took a steady breath, reminded himself this was more calculated than the ring, and then moved.
Quickly, he and Jem fell back into their old routine.
Strike, deflect, counterstrike. Fists, feet, and elbows.
It was like a dance, each move precisely executed, precisely blocked.
Jem slipped beneath Ezra’s arms and sank a fist into his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs.
Ezra managed a punch to Jem’s stomach in retaliation, before Jem’s movements became slicker, faster, and Ezra found he couldn’t keep up.
Jem’s fist connected with his face, knuckles against his nose. Ezra stumbled, but remained on his feet. He shook the pain away and corrected his stance.
‘Ez,’ Jem said, not lowering his guard. ‘First blood.’
Startled, Ezra touched his nose. His fingers came away smeared with red. ‘Huh.’
Jem was smiling as he let his fists fall.
‘You enjoyed that.’
‘Enjoyed beating you? Yeah, I did.’ Jem retrieved his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat off his face and torso. Ezra did the same, his chest heaving from exertion, a dull throb in the middle of his face. Jem turned to him. ‘You’re rusty, Ez.’
‘Cheers.’
‘I mean it. If you’re going to come with us when we hunt, you need to get yourself back to where you used to be,’ Jem said. In the background, Tobias groaned. That was motivation enough for Ezra, who nodded.
‘Consider it done.’
Tobias was going to be harder to win over than Analise. He jumped down from the platform, his shirt around his neck. She’d stopped looking at the floor; now, her eyes were tracing the curve of Ezra’s muscles—muscles he apparently needed to harden. Her cheeks flushed.
‘Enjoy the show?’ he asked.
She nodded, surprising him. ‘I think the best part was when Jem punched you in the face.’
For the next two mornings, Ezra was hauled from bed and dragged to the basement by Jem; on the third day, to Ezra’s annoyance, Tobias was waiting for them.
‘Oh, you’ve brought me something I can smash for breakfast.’ He chuckled, slinging an arm around Jem’s shoulders casually. ‘I know he’s your pet, but am I allowed to hurt him, just a little bit?’
‘Fuck off, Tobias,’ Ezra growled. ‘It’s too early for your shit.’
Tobias removed his arm from Jem’s shoulders, gesturing to the ring, blue eyes hard. ‘You’ve been away from the Gendarme too long, Ezra. Don’t you remember those chilly mornings in the training yard?’
‘I remember kicking your arse,’ Ezra said. ‘I remember—’