Page 108 of A City of Smoke and Demons
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.
