Chapter 20 #2
He broke off mid-sentence as Analise and Lira entered the basement. Analise was wearing the same skin-tight, black outfit as Lira, obviously designed for movement, but where the dark-haired demon hunter was all muscle and lithe limbs, the soft curves of Analise’s body were on display.
‘Fuck me,’ Ezra breathed.
‘I thought you said you’d be professional. Put your tongue back in your head,’ Jem scolded.
‘I plan on putting my tongue somewhere, but I can assure you, it isn’t in my head.’
Jem sighed. ‘I’d love to know how many times you’ve been slapped, Ez.’
‘It’s not as many as you might think.’ Ezra watched Analise run her hands over herself self-consciously.
‘He pays them to suffer his shit,’ Tobias put in.
‘And how much do you pay Jem?’ Ezra asked, while Jem groaned and muttered under his breath.
Tobias’ moustache twitched. ‘I pay him with my tongue.’
As he strutted away, Jem chuckled. ‘You walked into that one.’
‘Yes, I did. I don’t recall him having a sense of humour.’
‘He’s not as terrible as you think,’ Jem said with uncharacteristic fondness.
Ezra raised his eyebrows.
‘Would I bother with him if he was?’
‘To be honest, I’ve always thought you were a glutton for punishment,’ Ezra said, shrugging.
‘You’re right—I put up with your shit, don’t I?’ Jem shot back, then called Analise and Lira over. Ezra enjoyed watching the way Analise’s hips swayed as she walked. Her hair was tied back, a braid sneaking over her shoulder.
‘Tobias says we’re not sparring,’ she growled, gesturing at her clothes—ribbons of glimmering red wove around her hands. ‘I wore this for nothing?’
Ezra absolutely disagreed.
‘Later,’ Jem told her as she gave Ezra such a dark look, he wondered if she could read his thoughts. ‘I thought you might like to learn how to use a pistol.’
‘Great plan,’ Ezra muttered. ‘Teach the woman who can’t stand me to shoot things.’
The Order had another room for target practice, and Ezra followed the others underground, down the dark hallway and into a long room, whitewashed like the meeting room.
At the far end were targets, shaped like a man, reminiscent of the sort they used in Gendarme training.
On a table along one wall was an array of pistols.
Ezra picked one up, curious at the rush of comfort holding it brought. He hadn’t held a gun since running away from the Gendarme. His stomach rolled as a memory stirred, but he pushed it aside. He wouldn’t think about Agnes now, or any of the others.
He listened with half an ear as Jem explained the pistol to Analise.
Tobias and Lira had already taken up their positions in front of the targets.
Ezra soon realised Lira was even more competitive than her brother.
She hit the target between the eyes every time, but so did Tobias, leading to them upping the stakes—who could shoot with their eyes closed, for instance.
Lira’s head was clouded in smoke, the customary cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.
Jem guided Analise to a spot away from the others. ‘Don’t worry if you don’t hit the target,’ he said. ‘I want you to get a feel for the gun.’
‘Why? I can’t imagine I’m going hunting with you,’ Analise said.
‘No, probably not, but this is a precaution,’ Jem told her. ‘These are blanks you’re shooting—there is no lead in the bullets—and the Order doesn’t carry lead bullets anyway. We carry silver.’
‘You do?’ Ezra asked, looking at Jem curiously.
‘Demons, like other things, aren’t particularly fond of silver,’ Jem explained. ‘While it won’t kill a demon, or a werewolf, it will slow them down.’
Analise nodded. ‘Why can’t I go hunting? You’re letting him,’ she added, meaning Ezra. She didn’t look at him.
‘Order members train for years before they hunt a demon, or anything supernatural,’ Jem said. ‘Ezra already knows how to handle himself. You don’t, and I won’t be the one to send you out to get killed. There may come a time when we need you, but not yet.’
Analise’s gaze shifted to Ezra, then away again as she turned her attention back to Jem, who was showing her how to load the gun, then how to hold it and stand to shoot. When he was satisfied, Jem moved away, unofficially leaving Ezra to watch Analise.
‘Your stance is wrong,’ he told her after watching her lift the gun, then lower it, lift it again, shifting her weight around.
‘I don’t care.’
‘You will when you hurt yourself with that thing. It’s only small, but it kicks. If you’re not ready for it, it will flip back and hit you in the face. Can I show you?’
She gave him a withering look, then nodded, lowering the weapon.
Ezra set his gun back on the table and approached her.
The magic around her hands was dark red now.
‘Can you put that away or something, please? I don’t want to die today.
’ He nodded at her fingers. She scowled and mumbled something under her breath, but did as he asked.
When he could no longer see a halo around her hands, he checked her grip, adjusting her fingers, then told her to straighten her spine and bend her knees, placing her feet shoulder-width apart.
He stood behind her, then pressed his fingers into her lower spine.
‘Straight,’ he mumbled.
‘I am straight.’
‘You’re not. And lock your knees,’ he ordered.
When she hissed that she had, he dropped his knee into the back of her thigh gently; she gave a startled gasp as her leg collapsed beneath her.
He slipped his arm around her waist, hauling her upright.
Grumbling, she pulled away and corrected her stance.
There was a small slice of skin visible between her hairline and the neck of her uniform.
Ezra bit his lip, letting his eyes move down her body, telling himself he was checking that she was standing properly.
He was not looking at how those fucking clothes clung to her.
He wasn’t thinking how he’d like to peel them off with his teeth.
He cleared his throat. ‘Extend your arms and raise the gun to eye level. Now, you’re going to drop your dominant foot back about ten inches.’
Lira and Tobias were finishing up, and Jem had already left. The look Lira gave Ezra was somewhere between amusement and worry. He forced his attention back to Analise, who was holding her breath.
‘Are you alright?’ he asked.
‘I’ve never held a gun before. It’s cold, and heavier than it looks,’ she said, and he realised her shoulders were shaking.
He followed the line of her arms to her hands, where the pistol was huge in her fingers.
Gently, Ezra reached around her, his fingers curling over her elbows to steady them.
A tremor ripped through her arms, and then faded away.
‘You’re going to squeeze the trigger, Analise—gently,’ he whispered. ‘It will recoil, but hold your stance, and you’ll be fine.’
She let out a breath, and nodded. He let her arms go and stepped away as she shifted her right foot back, like he’d told her. When she fired, the bullet missed the target by a mile. Analise swore.
‘I want to try again.’
She tried twice more, the bullet slamming into the concrete wall behind the target. She dropped her arms with an exasperated sigh.
‘You’ll get the hang of it,’ Ezra said.
Analise put her hands on her hips. ‘Show me then.’
‘You want a demonstration?’
She nodded.
‘Alright.’ He took a pistol from the table, loaded it, and came back to where Analise was standing.
She stepped aside for him, and he could feel her scrutinising him.
He hadn’t fired a gun in a year, but if there was ever a time to pull that skill out of his arse, it was now.
He cleared his throat, took a steady breath, held it while he lined up his shot, making sure his stance was correct.
She’d tell him if it wasn’t. On his exhale, Ezra squeezed the trigger.
The bullet tore through the air and slammed between the eyes of the target.
Analise made a noise that could have meant she was impressed, but her face when he looked was expressionless.
‘It takes practice,’ was all he said, returning the weapon to the table.
Analise took up her position once more. Ezra stood behind her, watching how she moved, concentrating more on that than the shape of her arse. This was important to her, so he’d stay and help until she was happy, or until she’d had enough of it, or him.
‘Your hips aren’t right.’ He moved closer, placing his hands on the curve of her hips. The sound of her breath catching speared through him and he couldn’t help but think of the last time his fingers caused her to make that noise.
‘Feet out,’ he managed, sliding his leg between hers and knocking his foot against one ankle, then the next. She shifted her stance, immediately straightening her spine. ‘Raise the gun,’ he told her, his mouth close to her ear. The smell of her hair was making him dizzy. ‘Line up the shot.’
She inhaled, exhaled; he could feel her tension, her nerves.
‘Relax, Analise,’ Ezra murmured. His hands remained on her hips to steady her. ‘I’ve got you.’
He hadn’t meant to say that, but the closeness of her was overwhelming.
He could smell soap from the bath, and the faint scent of perfume.
He stood a head taller than her, the slim line of her shoulder dwarfed by his, but despite that, each curve of her fit neatly against him, like she’d been carved into existence for that purpose.
The thought made his mouth go dry.
His fingers tightened on her hips, a gentle squeeze. Her breath seized. Tension flowed through her. ‘Relax,’ he told her again. ‘Look down the barrel, and when you’re ready, squeeze the trigger. There’s no rush.’
A tiny nod of her head to show she understood. She unlocked her knees, shifted her weight, and when she fired, the sound made them both jolt. The recoil took her by surprise, more than before; she stumbled back, colliding with his chest. ‘Shit,’ she hissed.
His arms slid around her instinctively. Her head was tucked beneath his chin; strands of her hair tickled his jaw. Analise’s breathing was heavy, fast, and he could feel the pounding of her heart through her back.
‘I missed—again.’
‘Doesn’t matter.’ Ezra was still holding her against him and slowly, he let his arms drop away. His fingers curled; his hands wanted to keep touching her, to feel the heat of her skin against his. ‘Go again.’
This time, she was more confident. Her stance was good, and her aim improved. She emptied the chamber, shot after shot, until a bullet slammed into the target’s shoulder.
‘I hit it!’ Analise turned to him, beaming, but when he grinned back, the smile dropped from her face, as if she’d realised who she was smiling at. She cleared her throat. ‘I think I’ve had enough for now.’
He nodded. ‘You did well, better than most on their first try.’
How’s that for professional, Jem?
Analise returned the gun to the table. ‘Will I get to try a moving target one day?’
Ezra blinked. ‘What?’
This time, her smile was calculating. ‘How fast can you run, Ezra?’
He laughed nervously, pulling his hand through his hair.
‘You don’t need a gun, Analise. You’ve got your mouth, and let’s not forget your hands.
’ He hadn’t meant to say it, but that moment in the safe house, when she was dripping with anger and full of spiteful words, rose to the surface, pushing all other smartarse remarks out of his head.
The humour vanished from her face, and he mentally kicked himself as she visibly withdrew. She shook her head, then turned and walked away. For a moment, Ezra contemplated shooting himself in the foot for real.