Chapter 24
Maddog marched into Ezra’s room without knocking, grabbing the foot that was hanging free of the bed. He squeezed, making Ezra jolt and swear. ‘As Jem and the others, myself included, have actual lives to live, you’ve been given the task of making sure our death witch knows how to defend herself.’
Ezra sighed, blinking at the ceiling. ‘Does she know this?’
‘She does. She’s currently in the kitchen breaking things. Get up, get dressed, and let her break you instead,’ Maddog ordered.
Analise wasn’t in the kitchen, but there was a broken plate on the bench, so Ezra made his way to the basement. The lamp above the platform was lit, and standing in its halo, spine rigid, was Analise.
She watched every step he took down the stairs.
Her arms were folded, her face hard, a cloud of burnished gold rising around her. The other night on the stairs was branded on Ezra’s brain. He could still feel her flesh beneath his lips. He could taste her skin and feel her pressed against him.
She’d told him she couldn’t let herself feel anything for him, which meant she felt something.
He, on the other hand, was coming completely undone.
She was picking at threads and unravelling him from the inside out; each time she glanced at him another thread came loose.
Soon, there’d be nothing of him left. Not touching her was fast becoming the sort of pain he didn’t like.
But there wasn’t anything he could do about it.
He should never have followed her up those stairs.
He should have stayed in the bar, gotten laid, and moved on.
Instead, he’d gotten ridiculously drunk, passed out, and woken up in his bed missing a shoe.
He hadn’t seen Analise since their moment on the stairs and now …
he’d have to get on with it, he supposed.
Ezra plastered on a lazy smile.
‘I’m going to assume that look on your face is because you, like me, don’t appreciate being woken so early in the morning. We could always go back to bed, individually, or together. I’m easy.’
‘Let’s get this over with,’ Analise muttered.
He joined her in the ring, standing close enough to satisfy the craving in his blood, but not close enough that he’d touch her without thinking.
He made her stretch her muscles—she was wound so tight he thought she’d snap if she didn’t—and then came the hard part.
He took her through a simple routine, managing not to put his hands on her, using his voice to instruct her on how to pull away from an attacker, how to use her fingers, hands, elbows and knees to assist an escape, and how to use her assailant’s weight against them.
How to make a fist, balance her body evenly, punch so that she wouldn’t break her wrist or damage her fingers.
Ezra bit his lip, watching her. Her stance was wrong. She’d hurt herself.
He stood behind her, taking her by the elbow to make sure she held her arm correctly. When he put his hands on her waist to steady her, she held her breath.
‘You don’t just punch with your fists,’ he said. ‘You need to put your whole body into it.’
She nodded, and they worked at it until she was sweating. He caught her smiling to herself as her movements became faster, more confident and every time she met his eyes, his heart skipped a beat.
‘Right.’ He deflected the slow punch she aimed at him. ‘Hit me.’
Analise narrowed her eyes, calculating how to make her smaller size work in her favour.
She kept her fists in line with her elbows, fingers curled tight, nails to her palm.
She planted her feet, then lifted her fists and threw two jabs at him, one after another.
He avoided them with ease, reading her moves.
A hook followed, narrowly missing his cheek, then she aimed for his ribs, making him curl his body away from her.
He didn’t fight back, letting her move, watching as she kept her guard up between jabs.
‘You’re good at this.’
‘Not good enough,’ she bit out, frustrated. He let her land one on his ribs, then another, before catching the next punch she threw at him, closing his fingers around her wrist. Her eyes widened, so he spun her around and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his body.
Her breath hitched, then she fought him ferociously, almost knocking them both to the ground; her nails bit into his forearms as she thrashed against him. ‘Analise,’ he said, startled. ‘Analise, stop. For god’s sake, stop.’
‘Let me go,’ she hissed. He waited, but no magic rose to assault him.
‘Alright.’ Ezra relaxed his grip, thinking she’d pull away from him, punch him in the face, but she didn’t. A strangled sob escaped her, the sound burrowing inside him. Screw it. He closed his arms around her gently, and guided her back against his chest. ‘What is it?’
She took a deep breath. ‘Did you enjoy the rest of your party? Get a good night's sleep?’
The party? Ezra smiled, unable to help it. ‘It does bother you.’
‘No, you can do what you want. I’m making conversation,’ Analise said tightly.
‘Well, in that case, yes, I did enjoy my party.’
She jerked out of his arms and stalked away. He could barely believe it—she was jealous. She was halfway off the platform when he spoke again. ‘When I went back to the bar, she was gone, and I didn’t go looking for her.’
Analise froze. ‘Is that the truth?’
‘Yes,’ Ezra said. ‘I might have lied to you before, but I’m not lying to you now.’
He waited for her to say something scathing, to tell him to fuck off, but she didn’t.
Her shoulders sagged, and the tension left her spine.
When she turned to look at him, her expression was carefully composed.
He watched her throat move as she swallowed, then she surprised him by returning to her position in the middle of the ring.
‘You want to keep training?’ Ezra asked.
Analise nodded. ‘Only if you do.’
He didn’t. He wanted to kiss her so desperately it was making his head hurt.
‘If you wish,’ Ezra managed, but neither of them moved.
Slowly, he stepped closer, until he could take her hand.
She let him, so he brushed his thumb gently over the back of her knuckles.
Magic coiled around their joined hands; he held his breath, but it didn’t plunge inside him and start tearing him to pieces.
It was golden, soft and almost warm against his skin.
She watched his face closely. ‘You want me to hit you?’
‘You might like it,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘I might like it.’
Her eyebrows lifted. ‘You really like pain?’
‘Sometimes.’ His thumb made another pass over her knuckles.
Analise ripped her hand free and punched him in the face, hard.
‘Fuck,’ he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. She was holding her fist to her chest, her expression caught somewhere between pride and pain. ‘Are you alright?’
‘I’m not the one bleeding,’ she pointed out. ‘Your lip is split.’
He touched his tongue to his top lip, tasting blood. ‘How did your tiny hand manage to smack me in both the nose and the mouth?’
She ignored him, inspecting her hand. ‘I think I cut myself on your teeth.’
‘Let me see,’ Ezra demanded, forgetting his own hurt as she held out her hand for him. He took it gently, being careful with her fingers. One of her knuckles was split.
‘I’ll probably get an infection—your mouth is disgusting,’ she said.
He huffed a laugh.
She took her hand back, staring at it critically. ‘I’m going to have a reminder each day that I managed to punch Maddog Pierce’s prize boxer in the mouth.’ She smiled proudly. ‘Speaking of Maddog, did he tell you there's a meeting tonight? Father Blackwood is coming, and he wants us both there.’
‘Does he?’ Ezra jumped down from the platform, holding out his hand for Analise. She hesitated, then let him help her down. As Ezra’s thoughts shifted to the good Father, something crawled the length of his spine.
‘You I understand—you’re a demon hunter now,’ Analise said. ‘But me? I don’t feel I’ve made any sort of contribution to the Order of the Dawn. I think Jem let me join because he felt sorry for me.’
‘False sympathy isn’t Jem’s style,’ Ezra told her.
‘Father Blackwood came and saw me several days ago,’ she said, frowning. ‘He gave me a book on death magic, told me to read it.’
‘Did you?’
‘Not really. But I don’t know why he gave it to me. He said it was to help me learn about my magic … I don’t know. I don’t trust him,’ she added, her voice low, cloaked in suspicion. ‘And I don’t trust him because he hasn’t made clear what he wants from me—no one gives a gift for nothing.’
‘Ask him.’
‘I already did.’
‘No, ask him during this meeting. Put him on the spot, in front of everyone.’
‘Gendarme interrogation technique, is it?’ Analise asked, but there was no scorn in her voice, only intrigue. ‘So he’ll either answer the question, or try and deflect?’
Ezra nodded.
Ezra squirmed in his seat. They were half an hour into the meeting that Blackwood called.
So far, Blackwood had done all the talking, while Maddog looked like he wanted to disagree with everything that was said.
It felt like watching your parents have an argument that wasn’t quite an argument.
Even Tobias looked uncomfortable. They were discussing what the other groups had discovered and how many demons they’d found recently.
The Order of the Dawn had various chapters spread across the city.
It made things easier if each group kept to their section.
Maddog’s group monitored and patrolled the Devil’s Credges, while others managed Whitechapel, the East End and Canterbury Row.
They were like a pack of dogs when it came to their assigned sections.
Maddog was cross that someone from the Whitechapel group had been down on his turf.
Maddog, a member of an ancient secret society, and Maddog the gangster weren’t such different beasts when it came to the streets.