Chapter 26
Blackwood wanted Analise to use her magic to interrogate a Familiar.
Two days ago, Ezra watched her kill a rat and bring it back to life.
He hadn’t lied to her. She scared the shit out of him, but not for the reasons she thought.
Ezra followed Jem and Tobias through the back doors of the club.
The woman between them was unconscious, her head hanging towards the ground.
She was dressed in what would have once been nice clothes, but were now dirty and stained, the lace hem of her skirt shredded.
She was thin and pale, nothing but skin stretched over bone.
Ezra’s stomach twisted. Familiar or not, there was a woman trapped inside that shell, and he hadn’t been keen on hurting her; a swift hit to the side of the head was enough to knock her off balance and allow Jem to tie her wrists.
Thankfully, no one had seen them dragging her through the streets.
Though chances of anyone raising the alarm were slim.
Jem glanced over his shoulder. ‘Get Analise.’
Ezra slipped through the busy front bar, then took the stairs two at a time, hesitating before knocking on her door. She answered with a scowl, then froze. ‘Oh. You got one?’
He nodded.
She ran her hand through her hair. ‘What if this doesn’t work?’
‘What if it does?’ Ezra countered.
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded, retreating into her room.
He leant in the doorway, watching her. She was wearing a man’s shirt, shapely legs on display.
If she felt him looking, she didn’t react, lifting a pair of trousers from the floor and pulling them on.
She sat on the end of the bed to put her boots on.
She looked up at him.
‘It’ll be okay,’ he told her. ‘We’re not leaving you alone with her.’
Analise rested her hands on her thighs. Her fingers were trembling and she was pale, her breathing short and sharp.
She took a deep breath, then stood and tied her hair back.
Ezra led the way down stairs and she stuck close to him as they passed through the evening crowd.
Neither of them spoke as they went down into the bowels of the building.
The Familiar was chained to a chair in an empty room, and she was conscious.
Charles hovered in the background, his eyes pinned to the woman.
The skin hung slack on her twisted face.
Her black eyes glimmered like wet stones, and her hair was dirty and unkempt, falling to her waist. Bloodless lips stretched over a mouth of yellowed teeth.
Ezra wondered how long she’d been like this.
Analise approached her cautiously.
Tobias indicated the chain. ‘It can’t get free, don’t worry.’
Analise was trembling slightly, but doing her best to keep it hidden. Ezra moved to her side and reached for her hand without thinking. It was support, nothing more, and for a moment, she froze. He expected her to rip her hand free, but she didn’t. She squeezed.
‘Breathe,’ he told her quietly.
Pale grey shimmered around her.
Ezra could see, as he knew Analise and the others could, the woman’s true face beneath the one Asmael gave her.
Jem turned to Analise. ‘Shall we see if you can do it?’
The Familiar let out a sudden scream, straining against the chains; Analise jumped. She pressed trembling fingers to her chest, where her amulet was hidden beneath her clothes. The Familiar followed the motion of her hand.
‘A useless trinket,’ the creature said, her voice like water flowing over rocks. ‘My master is waiting.’
‘For what?’ Analise managed.
The Familiar chuckled. ‘The sun shall be darkened, and the moon will not give her light. The stars will fall, and the heavens will be shaken.’ Her eyes roamed over the others one at a time, settling back on Analise. ‘Have you come to shake the heavens, Daughter of Lilith?’
‘No, I’ve come to free you. Give you back your life.’
For a second, the woman’s face flickered and she was more human than Familiar. Then she laughed. ‘You cannot free what chooses to be.’
Analise let go of Ezra’s hand and went to stand behind the Familiar, who craned her neck trying to see her. The magical chains bit into the woman’s skin and the smell of burning flesh saturated the basement.
‘Remember your drawings,’ Charles told her softly. ‘There are many paths to travel.’
Analise took a deep breath, then placed her hands on the woman’s head.
At first, nothing happened. Then, the Familiar stiffened, the muscles in her neck straining as though she were fighting to rip herself from Analise's grasp. A fine mist, silver and gold, haloed the woman’s head. It ran the length of Analise’s arms and swirled around her. Ezra sucked in a breath.
‘What do you see?’ Jem murmured.
‘Her magic,’ Ezra whispered. ‘It’s spectacular.’
He could feel Jem watching him, but he focused on Analise, on the way her magic swelled and contracted with her breathing.
On how it slid over the Familiar’s skin, washing across her face like a golden wave.
For a moment, she was human again, her skin rosy and clear, her lips plump, a young woman, as she would have been before she gave herself to the Devil.
Something changed. Analise’s magic vanished abruptly.
‘Shit,’ she exclaimed, stepping back. ‘Shit, shit, shit!’
The Familiar was dead.
Nobody spoke for a long time, until Analise kicked the leg of the chair. ‘Fuck it. I had her, but … she didn’t want to be saved.’
‘She chose to die instead?’ Tobias asked, frowning at the dead woman, whose head was tipped back, eyes open. Charles stepped forward to inspect the body, his lined face curious as he muttered to himself.
‘I don’t know,’ Analise whispered. She put her head in her hands.
‘Ez,’ Jem touched his fingers to the pulse-point on the woman’s throat, then began to unchain her. ‘Take Analise back to her room.’
Analise didn’t lift her head from her hands as Tobias carried the dead woman from the room. Jem and Charles followed him out.
‘It was your first try,’ Ezra said gently.
Analise looked up sharply, her eyes blazing. ‘This wasn’t a rat, Ezra. It was a human being.’
‘Who made their choice,’ he reminded her. ‘That woman, or whoever she used to be, had given herself to the Devil. You heard what Jem said—they do it willingly.’
Analise sighed. ‘I know, but …’
‘Analise …’
She shook her head and left the room.
Two nights later, another Familiar was brought in, and they went through the same procedure as before, with the same result.
A body to dispose of.
‘It isn’t your fault.’ Ezra followed Analise as she stormed up the basement stairs and into a club full of people.
For a moment, she stood there, chest heaving, fists clenched.
He put his hand on her arm; she shook it off and pushed her way through the crowd, stomping behind the bar, ignoring the objection of Maddog’s staff.
She glowered at the barman who tried to stop her from snatching a bottle of whiskey.
‘Unless you want me to remove your balls, give me that bottle,’ she demanded. The man hesitated, then conceded. He wouldn’t have been able to see the magic rising from her skin but he couldn’t miss the anger.
Whiskey in hand, Analise headed for the stairs. Ezra hurried after her, catching her arm. ‘Wait.’
‘Don’t you dare tell me it isn’t my fault,’ she hissed; red mist swirled around her.
‘I’m fumbling through this. It’s like I can feel it when I’ve got them—I’m holding life and death in my hands, and it feels like it’s only a matter of deciding which one to give them, then it all goes wrong, no matter what I do. ’
Without thinking, Ezra snatched the bottle; her eyes narrowed in warning.
‘Give that back.’
‘I can speak from personal experience that it won’t help, Analise.’
She shoved him, her face screwed up – pain, regret, loathing. ‘Fine. I’ll get another one.’
Before she could walk away, Ezra pulled her back and pinned her against him, managing to hold the whiskey and both her arms by her sides. Her magic tickled his skin but didn’t force its way inside him.
‘Let me get drunk in peace!’ Analise moaned.
He shook his head. ‘Consider this my good deed for the day.’
‘You are so …’ she began, chest heaving, cheeks flushed. Her hair was half undone, red strands dangling down the back of her neck and snaking over her shoulder. Her breath brushed his face. ‘Let me deal with this my own way.’
‘Let me help.’ He released one of her arms so he could brush some hair from her cheek. She punched him in the stomach, not hard enough to wind him, but hard enough to make him restrain her again.
‘Let me go or I’ll hurt you in ways you won’t like,’ she threatened. Her eyes were glistening, and the sounds of the bar were suddenly very far away as they stood there in the shadows, pinned together, a bottle of whiskey between them.
He did as she asked, and she turned and stomped up the stairs. Fuck it. Fuck it, fuck it. He took a deep breath, then followed.
She was waiting outside his room, rigid with anger. Ezra set the bottle down; her eyes flickered to it, and then, without warning, she was in his arms, shoving him against the door as her hands tore at his shirt.
They shouldn’t do this, not when she was blazing with self-hate, but he wanted her— God, he wanted her.
He was prepared to make the mistake, suffer the consequences later.
She obviously wanted him. He took hold of her face and kissed her, hard; their teeth clashed, and her tongue swept into his mouth, making his knees weak.
Ezra fumbled the door open, letting her push him inside and tug his shirt off.
Her hands brushed his chest, and her lips were on his throat as she pressed herself so close he thought she’d crawl beneath his skin.
‘Analise,’ he whispered. ‘Is this—’
‘Shut up, Ezra.’ She kissed him again. ‘Shut up, shut up, shut up.’ She was a living flame in his arms, raging with the sort of pain he was all too familiar with.
She shoved him backwards until he tumbled onto the bed, then stripped her clothes off and climbed on top of him.
The naked weight of her, the feeling of her pressed against him, the searing heat of her skin, was torture.
She was worse than a drug. She was in his blood, and he was drowning in her.
Ezra rolled them over; she squirmed beneath him, shifting so her thighs bracketed his hips.
Her breathing was heavy, becoming a moan as he pressed himself against her.
He was so hard it was painful. Desire swept through him like a wave as she gripped his hips.
‘Is this—’
‘Shut up, Ezra.’
‘Alright, alright. I believe we have unfinished business,’ he murmured, fingers caressing her thigh. ‘Table, bed, floor … I don’t really care. I’ll take you on whichever surface you prefer, however you prefer.’
‘The bed will do,’ she whispered. Her words were the signal for them both to let go, and like rope stretched too tight, they snapped.
She reached between them and tore his trousers open, shoving them down his hips as he sank his teeth into her neck.
Angling her hips up to his, she wriggled against him, twisting her head to claim his mouth.
Her kiss was savage, her teeth nipping his bottom lip as he wound his fingers tightly in her hair, then buried himself inside her as deep as he could.
She groaned as he began to move, then dug her fingernails into him. ‘Fuck me like you mean it.’ Her foot pressed into his arse, urging him into her, and even as he complied, it wasn’t enough. ‘Harder,’ she demanded.
‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘What if I want you to hurt me?’
‘Analise …’
She stilled beneath him and sighed. ‘Either fuck me the way I tell you to, or get off me and I’ll go and find someone who will.’
Ezra sat back. There was enough light coming through the window to see the glare she was giving him.
Her hair was a tangled, red mess, her cheeks dotted with colour, chest heaving.
He recognised the feral gleam in her eye—he’d seen it enough on his own.
He understood the need to try and fill the hole inside, to direct the anger somewhere tangible.
He knew the taste of self-destruction, what it looked like, and what it felt like to be unravelling.
She was absolutely beautiful in her chaos, and he wanted nothing more than to be what she needed in this moment. He opened his mouth, but she cut across him in a low, furious voice.
‘You think you’re the first man I’ve picked up in a pub?’
‘No.’
‘You don’t get it, Ezra. Moments like these help me to forget what I am. So help me, or go away.’
She was asking him to fix her, and he wanted to, but didn’t know how.
Analise rolled her eyes and went to get off the bed.
Ezra pulled her back roughly. ‘Is this really what you want?’
‘Yes,’ she breathed.
‘Then turn around,’ he ordered.
‘Don’t you dare come before I do.’
‘I remember the rules. On your hands and knees, Analise.’
It was furious and hard, like she wanted, and he knew he wasn’t going to last, so he sat back, pulling her with him, her arse in his lap, thighs either side of his.
He let her have control, let her do what she wanted, and when she came, her whole body shook so violently it dragged him over the edge with her.
They collapsed in a sweaty heap, Ezra’s arm around her waist. His head was spinning, body buzzing, his face tucked into the curve of her spine.
Analise bucked back against him. ‘Get off me.’
He rolled onto his back as she dressed quickly, and left him staring at the ceiling.