Page 42 of A City of Smoke and Demons
Ezra pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d never forget the way she looked at him in that moment: the shock that arrested her features and beneath it, like something coming to life, anger. Not the barbed looks she’d thrown at him before, but true unfiltered fury. He deserved it, every bit of it.
Jem was watching him.
‘I’m on the Devil’s most wanted list, apparently, so I’d like to do something about that,’ Ezra said.
Jem was silent for so long, Ezra's newfound sense of purpose started slipping away. Eventually, his friend nodded.
‘Me too,’ a voice snarled.
Both Jem and Ezra jolted. Analise was in the doorway, arms folded, face hard.
‘Analise—’ Jem began.
‘Listen,’ she cut in. Her voice bounced off the walls, her rage slamming into Ezra’s chest like a bullet. ‘It looks like I’m involved in this, whether I like it or not. You’re locking me up again. I’m not an idiot. I’m a death witch who can see Familiars.I don’t know what else is going on, what else you want from me, but there must be something.’
‘Very astute,’ Jem mumbled.
‘Either I’m in your little group or I’m going home and this time you won’t stop me.’ Magic coiled around her hands and when she noticed where Ezra’s eyes lay, she all but bared her teeth at him.
Jem sighed. ‘We need your magic. I had Ezra find you. Yes, Father Blackwood asked him first, but I was the one who told him to bring you back here. The Church and the Order—’ Jem stopped abruptly.
Ezra’s conversation with Blackwood that morning had made him suspicious enough. Now, Jem had nearly put his foot in something—a very un-Jem like thing to do—which caused Ezra to realise the Church and the Order were butting heads.
Analise glared at Jem. ‘If you want me to help you, you better start talking. If you want my magic—’
‘Magic you don’t have control over or know anything about,’ Jem argued.
Her expression was cold. ‘Then I’ll learn, somehow. Might be a little challenging, considering anyone who could have taught me is either dead or in hiding. So if you want my help, tomorrow you’re going to tell me all I need to know. And,’ she added, her cheeks red, ‘keep him away from me, or I might remove a part of him he needs to live.’
She stomped out.
‘Are you going to be able to work with her, Ez?’ Jem asked.
Ezra scoffed, but it lacked his usual effort. ‘Are you questioning my professionalism?’
‘I’m questioning whether you can stop looking at her for more than two seconds so you can concentrate on your new job,’ Jem replied. Then, softer, ‘she’ll forgive you, eventually.’
Ezra wasn’t sure about that.
Analise locked herself in her room in protest, before thirst, and her bladder, drove her out. Her new room was, frustratingly, next door to Ezra’s. She wondered whether God had truly forsaken her when Lira led her up the narrow stairs from the front bar and opened the door to her new home, not waiting until Analise was inside before she broke the wonderful news. So much for a place so big she wouldn't even have to see the witch-hound.
Instead of sleeping, she spent most of the night glaring at the wall that separated their rooms, not knowing if he was in there and hoping that, if he was, he could feel her rage.
He could see magic. She’d never known that, and wasn’t sure if anyone outside of the Unseen itself knew. No one ever said what made Ezra Ives such a good little witch-hound, only that he was. Once he caught your scent, that was it—it was only a matter of time before you were dangling.
Then he vanished. There were whispers of treason, of murder and sedition and all sorts of things, but no one knew anything, only that the Unseen had lost their best man. By then, though,most of the death witches had either fled the city, gone to ground somewhere, or been captured.
All except Analise. She scowled at the horrible irony of it all.
The question now, though, was what made the Unseen’s most deadly weapon pack up one day and leave? She needed to know that. Above everything, she needed to know what happened to make Ezra turn around and bite the hand that fed him.
She picked up her clothes from the floor, wrinkling her nose at a blouse she’d worn a week ago. The smell reminded her she needed a wash as well. Lira said the bathroom was down the hall, and Analise figured a quick bath was something she could do without having to ask anyone for help.
Barefoot, towel bundled under one arm and the cleanest of her clothes over the other, Analise hurried to the bathroom. Her eyes were gritty and her stomach aching, but she wasn’t sure she could eat. Maybe a piece of bread would be enough to fill the hole until she could rustle up something more substantial. Lira didn’t mention anything about meal times or if anyone cooked for them.
Head down, lip between her teeth, head churning, Analise flung the bathroom door open and stepped in. The back of her neck prickled, and her chest tightened as she lifted her head to see who she’d walked in on: Ezra, towel slung low on slender hips, torso dripping, hair wet.
The breath fled her lungs.
