Chapter 43
Twenty-five years ago, a man made a bargain with me. The price was not his life, like he assumed it would be, but yours.
Analise thrashed in her sleep.
Your parents wanted you badly.
I gave you your gift.
She shot upright, gasping. It hurt to breathe.
Her chest ached, and her throat was dry, tongue thick.
Analise blinked. Another memory pressed against her mind.
Ezra! She looked around, frantic. He was sleeping beside her, the sheets tangled around his hips, his chest covered in bandages.
They wound down his arms, stopping just below his elbow.
She frowned, reaching out to touch him gently. He was warm, and his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. ‘What happened to you?’ she whispered.
The temperature of the room suddenly dropped; a cool breeze touched Analise’s cheek. She swung around. Near the window, the air rippled and slowly, something took form.
Lira.
Analise gasped.
Her friend looked at her sadly. She was wearing the clothes Analise had seen her in last, the bullet wound so fresh and terrible. Blood seeped from it.
‘Oh, Lira,’ Analise whispered, her voice choked. ‘Lira, I’m so sorry!’
Lira smiled, coming to perch on the bed before Analise. Her eyes shifted to Ezra and then, before Analise could stop her, reached out and lay her hand over Analise’s.
The first thing Analise was aware of was the aching cold.
Lira’s hand was like ice, and then, a strange humming filled Analise’s head.
She reeled back as a barrage of images hurtled through her mind in black and white.
Stripped of colour, she watched as Ezra lay her unconscious body on the bench in Charles’ lab.
She watched Charles try and restart her heart— first with his hands, and then with his battery.
When it didn't work, she felt Lira’s despair.
Analise gasped in shock. She could not only see what had happened, she could hear it.
She could barely believe it when she heard Ezra tell Charles he was full of Analise’s magic, of life. Tears rolled down her cheeks when he demanded the alchemist use him as a human conduit.
Lira’s ghostly hand squeezed hers. The vision faded and as Analise blinked, colour slowly crept back into her sight.
Mute and numb, she turned to Ezra, completely lost for words. She stared at him, touching his chest gently. He stirred but didn’t wake, his hand shifting to rest over hers.
‘Lira,’ Analise said, turning back to the ghost of her friend. ‘I can’t send you on. Asmael told me my power was different … I can’t do it.’ Even if she could, it was the last thing Analise wanted to do. ‘If I hadn't listened to John, this would never have happened.’
She’d failed John, and then she’d killed him, and Lira was dead.
‘Lira,’ she began again, but Lira shook her head. Her face screwed up and then, Analise almost passed out when she heard her friend’s voice in her head.
I am not going anywhere until that arsehole Asmael is put back in his box.
‘I shouldn’t be able to hear you.’
Lira’s expression was full of the same determination she’d worn when she was alive.
Don’t tell Jem I’m still here—not yet.
Analise nodded and Lira disappeared. Head spinning, Analise lay down, tucking her face against the curve of Ezra’s neck. She wanted to cry, but didn’t have the energy.
For the next two days, she dozed on and off, getting up to check on Ezra, looking after his wounds.
Strange, dark marks ran from his forearms to his chest, converging over his heart, before they spread out again.
They looked like lightning. Analise trailed her fingers over them gently, marvelling at them and at what he’d done for her.
‘That tickles.’
Ezra cleared his throat as Analise stared at him. ‘You’re alright,’ he said, voice raw.
She could only nod and busied herself fetching him a glass of water, holding it for him so he could drink, taking it back when he was done.
She couldn’t find the words, didn’t know the words.
Would a simple ‘thank you’ be enough? Ezra held out his hand.
She took it, kissed it, then dropped the glass and climbed onto the bed, curling up beside him.
‘You tracked me.’
‘I did.’
‘I was hoping you’d work it out.’
Ezra managed a chuckle. ‘You really don’t give me enough credit, you know,’ he murmured.
‘Thank you,’ Analise whispered.
His voice cracked when he spoke. ‘When I saw you there, on the ground, with him sitting there, so calm … I thought you were dead, like …’
‘I would have been, if it wasn’t for you. Lira told me what you did, with the battery,’ she said, shifting so she could see his face. ‘How did you know that would work?’
‘I didn’t.’ Ezra stroked her face, ran his fingers over her lips. ‘You saved my life, again.’ Then he frowned. ‘What do you mean Lira told you?’
Analise smiled sadly. ‘She’s here. She hasn’t crossed over, and she told me she won’t—not until Asmael has been dealt with.’
‘Sounds like Lira. I can’t believe she’s dead.’ He paused. ‘You tried to kill the Devil, Analise.’
Analise frowned at the memory of her magic smashing through Asmael’s human body uselessly.
There’d been nothing she could latch onto, and it wasn’t until she thought Ezra was about to die that she turned her magic into a weapon and pushed Asmael out of that body.
But it hadn’t been enough. ‘I didn’t though, did I?
Which means, he’s still out there.’ She sat up. Ezra grabbed her arm.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he demanded. There were horrible bruises around his throat.
‘I need to talk to Father Blackwood. Stay here and rest.’
‘Like fuck,’ Ezra mumbled. She helped him sit up, knowing anything she said wouldn’t stop him, and helped him into a clean shirt.
Together, they made their way slowly downstairs, and as they walked, Analise told him everything, every word Asmael said to her.
Ezra frowned when she got to the part about her magic being a gift from the Devil, but he said nothing.
Maddog was in his office. He shook his head in disbelief when he saw them, Analise’s arm around Ezra, his around her, supporting each other.
She swayed on her feet but managed to tell him she wanted to speak to Blackwood.
Analise wanted to say something about Lira, but she wasn’t sure what words would be best. The grief was so fresh on Maddog’s face that she knew anything she said would be useless.
He nodded, and ordered them back to bed, where they stayed until he came and collected them later.
They didn’t go down to the Order’s meeting room this time. They sat in the front bar, with the sun pushing through the glass. It was bright; Analise squinted against it while they waited for the others to arrive. Maddog was frowning.
‘This could have waited,’ he said eventually. ‘You two look terrible.’
Analise managed a wry smile. ‘We’re alright.’
Hernan carried over a jug of water and some glasses, and Jem and Tobias arrived soon after.
Tobias had a spectacular bruise on his face.
It travelled from his jaw to his forehead, darkening around his cheek bone.
It had faded to a blend of yellows and greens now, but it looked painful.
Analise winced, but didn’t ask how he got it.
Jem’s face was darker than she’d ever seen it, and beneath that darkness was pain.
She almost told him about Lira still being here, but stopped at the last moment.
She’d tell him when Lira gave her permission.
Analise glanced around the room. Lira was there, not far away, sitting at a table with her feet up on it, like she did in life. She was watching her brother.
Father Blackwood arrived at last, sweeping into the bar like an oversized raven, his black coat and clothes broken only by the white collar he wore.
Analise had never seen him dressed as a member of the Church before.
It changed him somehow, made her feel like what she was going to say would come easier.
She was no stranger to the Church or the word of God.
He said nothing about Lira, nor asked why Hernan was there, and Analise realised other things must have happened while she’d been unconscious.
Blackwood seated himself, and when he was ready, she told him what happened.
She kept it factual. It was easier to speak about it that way, without emotion, as if it had happened to someone else.
Blackwood frowned. ‘Asmael must have said something else,’ he pressed.
‘Back off,’ Ezra growled, his fingers tightening on Analise’s. ‘Analise nearly died—Lira did die—and all you care about is how the Devil takes his tea?’
Blackwood blinked. ‘His tea?’
Analise smothered a laugh at the look on the Father’s face. ‘Yes. We had tea. I’ve told you all I know. He wanted me to help him. I refused.’
Blackwood narrowed his eyes at her, as if she was keeping something from him. She was, but it wasn’t what he thought. Instinct told her to keep the finer details to herself.
Her parents made a deal with the Devil for her, and Asmael told her enough about Lilith that she had even more questions. She knew, instinctively, that Father Blackwood was not the one to give her the answers.
The glare Ezra was giving Blackwood was hot enough to start a fire.
‘I think his plans are obvious,’ Maddog said sharply, ‘and what we assumed, which means the end of days is approaching. What we need to decide is how we will proceed from this moment.’
Blackwood nodded, fingers stroking that strip of white at his throat. ‘Analise killed three Familiars, so we know her magic is powerful enough for that. She also killed a demon with it.’
‘No,’ Analise objected. ‘Ezra killed the demon. I have no idea if my magic would have been enough for that.’ She repressed a shudder at the memory of that moment in the cemetery and the child that was. ‘Your information is wrong. A death witch cannot free a Familiar from the Devil’s hold.’
‘Unless we went about it the wrong way,’ Blackwood argued. ‘Maybe they need to die and be resurrected, be reborn, like Ezra was.’
Analise shook her head, her temper rising. ‘I’m not going to try again.’
‘But they’re human beings,’ Father Blackwood insisted. ‘You have a duty—’
‘I have no duty to you or anyone,’ Analise snapped. ‘I joined the Order to help, and I’ve done what I can. The thing you are failing to understand about Familiars is they don’t want to be saved.’
Father Blackwood opened his mouth, but Analise cut across him furiously. ‘They have chosen to be what they are. They chose to serve the Devil—as human beings, they made that decision. You might have to accept that not everyone seeks the light and love of God, Father.’
Blackwood finally fell silent.
Across the room, Lira’s ghost was grinning. Analise sat back, exhausted. This talk, this arguing, was draining and getting them nowhere.
‘Maybe you need to get out from behind your cloth and meet the real people of this city,’ Ezra said. ‘The ones who keep the wheels turning, who make sure the rich and powerful have food on the table when they don’t have any for themselves.’
Jem nodded. ‘I agree,’ he said firmly. ‘The Church has failed those people.’
Blackwood’s mouth was a hard line. ‘The Church has always—’
‘The Church,’ Jem went on, his voice rising, ‘is the face of God on earth. You are the face of God on earth, but you are unreachable, Father Blackwood. The people of the Devil’s Credges, like the people of every blasted slum in this city, don’t want your pity, or even God’s pity.
They want your help, your humanity. The Church wears a human face, but you don’t show it to them. ’
Maddog was looking at his nephew with pride.
‘He’s right,’ he said eventually. ‘Jem’s right.
Analise is right. We can’t fight the Devil when people choose him over God.
’ He sighed. ‘The Crown made a mistake—a big one. You and I have argued about this already, Blackwood, but the time for arguing is over.’ His gaze swept over them all, coming to rest on Analise. ‘We need the Daughters of Lilith back.’
‘And where do you propose we start looking for them?’ Father Blackwood stuttered.
Maddog’s eyes shifted to Ezra.
‘Oh no,’ Ezra said, holding up his hands.
Blackwood tapped the table for emphasis. ‘Yes. Yes! This is your task, son. This is what God spared you for.’
Ezra rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t believe that bullshit for one moment. And what makes you think I could find them when no one else could?’
Blackwood chuckled. ‘You’re the great Ezra Ives. Surely, you can—’
Ezra snarled. ‘I can knock your fucking teeth in if you—’
Maddog held up his hand. ‘Ezra…’
Ezra sighed and closed his eyes for a long moment, and when he opened them, it was Analise he looked at. She nodded.
‘Alright. If I can find them, I will, but I make no promises.’