Page 47 of A City of Smoke and Demons
Ezra gave God another scowl.
He didn’t talk about Agnes to anyone, not even Jem, because how could he truly explain it? How could he expect someone else to be able to relate? Sometimes, after a night in Maddog’s boxing ring with his heart pounding and his blood on fire, Ezra wasn’t sure if his life with the Gendarme was real or not. It felt like a chapter out of place with the rest of his story. He could almost convince himself he was content with busted fists and an aching body. In that eerie, otherworldly moment before dawn, where he’d been riding the high of a victory, the events of the night before blended with the day that was to come, leaving him strangely suspended between two equally bleak realities.
That day in the convent, he wrote a name on a piece of paper, even though he knew he’d never forget it, and it was the only tangible thing he took from that unassuming room at the back of the chapel. He’d taken much more than that, though. The weight of thoughts that tried to drown him, over and over, crashing over his head and pulling him under.
The guilt. The regret and the loathing that he’d not been able to shake.
He heard the voice of the Mother Superior in his head. She’d appeared in the doorway of the chapel, and he’d blurted the whole story to her, needing to unburden himself.
‘What happened to Agnes Sutton was not your fault,’ she’d told him. ‘What could you have done about it, Ezra?’
Ezra looked up at the cross again.
‘She was my family. As far as I’m concerned, it was my fault.’
It was too early for meetings of any sort, but Jem hammered on Analise’s door while it was still dark. He was fresh-faced and clean-shaven, his dark hair neat, his Gendarme uniform pristine. He must either have the best nights' sleep in the world or didn’t need to sleep. Analise had never seen him with shadows painted beneath his eyes.
It wasn’t fair. She glimpsed her reflection when she hauled herself out of bed, Jem on the other side of the door barking at her. She looked terrible, paler than usual, her eyes flat and dull, the bags beneath them reaching halfway down her cheeks. She didn’t comb her hair, hastily tying it into a knot at the base of her skull as she threw on the first clothes she could find —a dark grey skirt and a brown and cream striped blouse. She didn’t bother with boots, traipsing down to the basement in stockinged feet. She was planning on going back to bed after this anyway.
Ezra’s door was open when Analise shuffled past, half asleep. She raised her eyebrows at Jem, hoping her expression conveyed her mood.
‘Ezra’s making tea,’ Jem said and she didn’t have the energy to tell him she didn’t care.
When Ezra joined them, he was holding a tray containing a teapot, sugar bowl, milk jug and three cups. ‘Do you know how hard it is carrying this down two sets of stairs in the dark? I’m not your butler,’ he placed the tray in front of Jem.
Analise took a small amount of satisfaction in the fact Ezra looked as ghastly as she did. His hair was messy, shadows beneath his eyes, and he’d missed a button on his shirt that was only half tucked in. His eyes flitted to her, then away again before she had time to sneer at him.
Jem spoke while he poured them tea. ‘I don’t have long before work, so try and keep up.’
Ezra threw him a dirty look then slumped into a chair, elbows on the table, his head between his hands as he massaged his temples with long fingers. Analise heard him muttering to himself for most of the night, partially the reason she was half dead. She was mortified by the fact she could hear everything through the wall they shared.
Jem slid a steaming cup in Analise’s direction, and another in Ezra’s. She took hers gratefully, curling her chilled fingers around it. Her stockings did little to keep out the chill from the meeting room floor, so she tucked her legs up, resting her chin on her knees.
‘You both know the story of the Fall, so I’ll skip the summary,’ Jem said briskly. ‘Demon activity has increased across London as well as on mainland Europe. We are taking this as a sign that the Devil is making a move.’
‘What happens if he succeeds?’ Ezra asked, lifting his head.
‘“Darkness shall cover the land,”’ Analise murmured; Jem nodded. ‘“The end of days shall be swift. The sun shall be darkened, and the moon will not give her light. The stars will fall, and the heavens will be shaken.”’
‘Sounds wonderful,’ Ezra said darkly.
‘It’s more than that, though,’ Analise said, sitting up straight. ‘The Book speaks of not just the change to the natural world but to humanity. “And men will become lovers of money, of greed and all that is unholy.”
Jem nodded. ‘And let’s not forget, “those who will turn from God and follow spirits who will fool them and tempt them.”’ He paused, rubbing his forehead, the first sign of true weariness Analise had seen from him. ‘Right now, humanity is spread out like a feast for the Devil’s pickings. There have always been those who succumbed and made deals, but now, with the state of life in this city alone—’
‘Desperate,’ Analise cut in. ‘People are desperate. They’re starving and worked to the bone, and broke. Their children are freezing. They have no hope, Jem.’
‘I thought you weren’t a people person,’ Ezra commented.
‘I’m not, but I’m not blind,’ Analise snapped.
Ezra ignored her tone. ‘So what do we do?’ he asked Jem. ‘I mean, how does the Order of the Dawn plan to stop the apocalypse? Find the Devil and kill him?’
‘Exactly,’ Jem said.
Silence filled the room.
Analise made a choking sound. ‘He’s the Devil, Jem. An angel who fell from grace. Whatever magic or power the Order thinks they have won’t be enough tokill the Devil!’
