Page 72 of A City of Smoke and Demons
‘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’twantto 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.’
