Chapter 41
No introductions were necessary. Analise knew that alluring, beguiling smile. The perfectly sculpted cheekbones and a jaw that could cut glass. The long, supine limbs.
Just like in her dreams, the Devil was wearing a tailored white suit, so pristine he glowed.
John nudged Analise in the back, urging her forward.
She could feel his eagerness, his pride in what he’d done.
Brought her to meet the Fallen One in a lavishly furnished house with floral wallpaper in the nice part of town.
If she wasn’t so terrified, Analise would have laughed, or made a polite remark about the colour of the curtains.
Or told the Devil to get fucked.
Asmael smiled at her, a graceful curving of a beautiful mouth. ‘Analise.’
He knew her name. Dread crawled down her spine, heavy as lead, almost forcing her to her knees. She swallowed and remained silent.
Do not speak to him.
Another nudge, forced her further into the room.
Did he live here? Did the Devil go about life in London like a normal person?
Her head was spinning. The parlour was furnished with armchairs in grey and white striped fabric, a round table with ornately curved legs and chairs with burgundy cloth.
The room was dimly lit, shadows clustering in the corners.
Asmael indicated the table near the window. ‘No?’ he said when she didn’t move. ‘Perhaps you’d prefer the armchair. It’s a pity there’s no moon. I like the moon. On a clear night, light pours through that window. It’s rather beautiful. Tea?’
Analise shook her head.
He chuckled, and it sounded like music. ‘You’re wondering why you’re here. How I know your name. Why your magic didn’t work on John here, and,’ Asmael paused, that honey-toned voice momentarily arrested, ‘you’re wondering if he’ll save you.’
Analise was wondering all of those things.
He gestured to the table again. ‘Sit, please.’
It wasn’t an invitation, but an order and, as polite as it was, Analise could hear the power in his tone, the promise that if she didn’t do as he asked, he’d make her.
As she sat, a teapot and two cups on dainty saucers appeared.
The china was white, delicate, and expensive, with a floral design rimmed in gold.
She watched stupidly as Asmael poured them both a cup, shook her head at the offer of milk and sugar, unable to believe what was happening.
She was having tea with a fallen angel. Analise accepted her cup with a curt nod of thanks.
If she could keep him talking, it would give Ezra time to find her.
She’d left as many scraps of magic as she could while John led her at gunpoint through the city.
She hadn’t tried to use her magic on him, believing him when he said he’d shoot her, like he shot Lira.
Analise bit her lip, worry for her friend knotting in her stomach.
John wouldn’t have killed her, she understood that now, because this meeting between her and the Devil was carefully orchestrated. John let her believe, let the Order believe, that she saved him so this could happen.
Analise studied Asmael as much as she dared.
She could never see him clearly in her dreams, but now, she took note of the eyes, shaped like almonds, black all the way through.
The high cheekbones, perfectly sculpted jawline, strong brow and aquiline nose.
He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, but then she reminded herself he wasn’t a man at all.
He was a monster.
‘Twenty-five years ago, a man made a bargain with me,’ the Devil said, breaking the silence. ‘The price was not his life, like he assumed it would be, but yours.’
Analise nearly dropped her cup. ‘Mine?’
He nodded. ‘Your parents wanted you badly.’
She swallowed. ‘My parents … asked you …’
‘For you, yes,’ Asmael said. ‘A child is the ultimate prize, isn’t it? Obviously, they didn’t fulfil their end of the bargain.’
Analise was frozen.
Asmael smiled. ‘I’ve collected the souls of many, many people, Analise.
Physicians and lawyers, merchants, men who wanted to see their fortunes turn, women who wanted better for their families and themselves, tired of selling their bodies on the street.
But a death witch—that would be a significant prize indeed. ’
He stared at her. ‘You were to be mine. I knew what you would be. I knew where you were, obviously—first the convent, then your squalid room and the life you made for yourself while you tried not to get caught using your gift. I had John watch over you for me.’
Analise sucked in a breath. She licked her lips, her chest tight. ‘How did you know I’d be a death witch?’ She refused to believe it, but then couldn’t understand what he’d have to gain by lying.
For a moment, twin flames flared in those black eyes. ‘I made you, my dear. You are what you are because it was my power that gave you your gift.’
‘But … Lilith … she gave us our magic, not …’ Analise couldn’t finish the sentence.
Asmael smiled smugly. ‘A little bit of her magic, some of mine … an interesting combination, if I do say so myself. Of course, there might be a bit of our maker in you as well, which is to be expected, really. Life and death go hand in hand, after all, don’t they?’
Analise felt faint. The Devil made her. What the fuck did that mean? She couldn’t think about it now, and didn't know where to start. She needed to keep him talking. ‘If you knew where I was, why didn't you come for me?’
‘Because that isn’t how it works. I can’t take what I want, Analise. Bargains are made, debts are paid. That’s how I get what I want. If everyone ran around taking whatever they liked, the world would be a mess, wouldn’t it?’
‘People do run around taking whatever they like,’ she replied bitterly.
He waved her comment away. ‘Yes, yes. I get blamed for that—unfairly, I might add.’
‘You want my sympathy?’ she asked, incredulous.
‘I want your cooperation,’ Asmael said. ‘You were supposed to be brought to me. I really did think I’d found the right man for the job. Self-serving, self-destructive, selfish, willing to do whatever it took to regain his sense of purpose. That’s what he asked for, you know. I got it wrong.’
Analise’s lips curled in satisfaction. He leant forward, his expression curious. ‘I am interested to know how you did it. How did you release him from his bargain? Did you kill him?’
‘Yes.’
The Devil laughed. ‘And you brought him back. Clever girl,’ he murmured. ‘But possibly not clever enough. You’ve been so focused on me, you haven’t sensed what’s in this room with us.’
Analise hadn’t sensed anything. She opened her magic, and gasped.
The room was full of ghosts, the spirits of those whom Asmael collected. As they slowly took form, her heart sank when she recognised the man who had led her to the demon mark, the one who began this journey. His expression was sad, regretful.
Asmael set his cup down and spread his arms victoriously. ‘This is my army, Analise. These souls are bound to me. They do my bidding.’
‘They’re ghosts,’ she argued. ‘They can’t do a thing.’
‘Not yet. Not until they are returned to a body.’
Analise swallowed. Her fingers trembled; she was still holding her cup above its saucer. She set it down slowly, realising Jem was right. ‘You can’t give them that though, can you? The dead are not yours to control.’
‘No. They belong to my sister, and Lilith has vowed never to help me, siding with our Father against me—even after what he did to her. I needed the next best thing.’ He paused.
‘Someone with Lilith’s magic, one of her beloved Daughters, one with the power to send these souls on, not to the next world, but back to this one—their forms given flesh once more, as I give new life to my children—my demons.
’ His lips curled. ‘That last part is my gift to you. Do you like it? It makes you unique.’
Analise said nothing, aware of her thundering heart.
She’d never sent a soul on to the next world.
She’d tried, but it hadn’t worked and now she knew why.
She watched Asmael as closely as she could.
What did he mean about God and Lilith? What happened between them?
She gasped as her amulet suddenly tingled against her chest, slithering towards her throat like it was alive.
She made a grab for it as it slipped free of her clothes and hung in the air.
‘An interesting trinket,’ the Devil mused. ‘Interesting indeed.’
Analise’s amulet fell back against her chest and she shoved it beneath her clothes again, heart pounding. ‘What’s interesting about it?’
Asmael ignored her, examining his fingernails.
‘Lilith rules the next world. I will rule this one.’ His smile fell.
‘I was the first, did you know that? The first my Father made. He created me before her. Earth is my kingdom—He gave it to me. Then He took it back when we had our little disagreement. That’s not very fair, is it? ’
Analise didn’t know what to say. The Devil was having a tantrum. She wanted to laugh, but wasn’t brave enough. The nuns never mentioned anything about earth once belonging to Asmael. ‘You’re lying.’
‘So they say. I have many names—the Deceiver, the Father of Lies, but tell me, where would the world be without its sin? Where would humanity be without it? Where would you be without it?’
Analise licked her lips. She couldn’t answer that question, so she stayed silent, her mind sifting back through memories and pages of a book she hadn’t looked at in years.
For the apocalypse to happen, the Devil would reclaim the world of the living, using the dead to do it.
Analise exhaled sharply. ‘You said you had souls. How many?’
‘Thousands upon thousands. Some of these souls are the first I ever collected. They have been waiting a long time for a second chance at life, Analise.’
‘Even if I could do what you wanted, I won’t help you.’
Rather than grow angry, he smiled. ‘Defiant. I can’t say I’m surprised. Will you rebel against your father like I did mine?’
‘You’re not my father,’ she snapped.
He chuckled. ‘No, I’m not. And you might not have a choice,’ he said, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the polished table-top. ‘Whether it’s today or next year, your friends, those humans you’ve some to care for so much, will die and then they will belong to me.’
‘They’re not stupid—they won’t enter into bargains with you.’
‘What will they do to get you back? What would they give?’
‘Ezra—’ she began.
‘Would be on his way here and when he eventually bursts through that door, all heroics and anger, John will shoot him. Between the eyes, John,’ Asmael added. ‘I won’t let him die though—you’ll bring him back.’
Analise shook her head stubbornly.
‘No? You’d rather he died, for real, than help me?’
She nodded. That was what Ezra would want. He wouldn’t want her to bargain for his life if her own would be forfeit.
Asmael cocked his head. ‘They’re not far away. You have time to decide. If John misses, the others won’t.’
Two other Familiars stepped from the shadows in the corner of the room. Analise gasped. She’d had no idea they were there. She recognised the Familiar who had been following Ezra, but the other she’d never seen before. She pushed her cup away and stood, Asmael watching her expectantly.
She would go down fighting. She had no weapons, except what she’d been born with.
Her gift, one that he thought he understood, but death magic was Lilith’s.
The voices that sang to Analise in the cemetery slid into her head once more.
They threaded through her, filling her with conviction and courage.
Analise turned to the unknown Familiar. The man looked at her with his dead eyes, and she set her magic free.
Like with the demon in the cemetery, she didn’t need to touch him, not this time.
Death rushed for him, curling around him like a rope.
She wasn’t attempting to save him. It was death she brought, and it was swift, her magic plunging into him viciously, ripping through the pathways of his body and driving into his heart.
He dropped to the floor, and she turned on the woman.
The Familiar died in moments, which left John.
Blood dripped from Analise’s nose and her head spun. She wiped the blood away with trembling fingers. The Familiar’s eyes were furious. He raised the pistol in her direction, only to have it ripped from him by Asmael himself, who shot across the room quicker than Analise could blink.
‘Fool,’ the Devil snarled. ‘You think I want her dead?’ He grabbed John around the throat. ‘I could snap these fragile human bones like a twig.’
Analise was faster. Her magic ripped across the room and tore into John like he was made of butter. His eyes widened and he went limp in Asmael’s grip. The Devil sighed and let him fall to the floor.
‘I liked him,’ he said regretfully. In an instant, he was standing directly in front of her. ‘Let’s see what you can really do. There are three bodies in this room now,’ he reminded her, gesturing at the dead Familiars. ‘Bring them back—use them as a house for my friends here.’
He snapped his fingers and she was surrounded by ghosts.
They converged on her, their expressions torn, and she realised they, like the Familiars, were puppets.
They’d lost their free will. She could feel their chilly hands, the ice that coated their souls.
It burnt and froze her at the same time but she didn’t know how to help them, or if she could.
Analise shook her head. She wouldn’t do what he wanted, so there was only one thing left to try.
Kill the Devil.
She sent her magic towards him, driving it into that human form, searching for the heart. Her eyes widened in horror.
Asmael smiled. ‘It doesn’t beat, my beautiful death witch.’ He stepped closer. ‘Now what will you try? I’m interested.’
Analise was so cold, wrapped in ghosts, in tormented souls. Waves of emotion swamped her, threatening to pull her under.
She couldn’t do anything …
Life. The body Asmael wore had to be alive in some way. His heart did not beat, so she’d make it beat, the same way she made Ezra’s dead heart return to life.
The heart was a muscle, and the Devil’s heart needed a shock.