Page 82 of A City of Smoke and Demons
I forgive you.
Please don’t make me do this.
‘But I’ve grown used to you,’ Analise said eventually. ‘You taught me to cook eggs, and you tell terrible jokes, and …’
Ezra got to his feet, and headed for the door; there, he paused. When she looked at him, he gave her a shaky smile, then left before she could say anything else.
Sleep was out of reach. Analise was certain even a bottle of Maddog’s finest wouldn’t put her under, not now. The gangster had been out when Ezra broke the news. She wondered if he knew, if Father Blackwood knew. Blackwood would want her to try, he’d like Ezra’s crazy idea.
Analise’s head hurt. Her heart hurt. She wanted to march next door and slap some sense into him, but she didn’t. He didn’t need her shouting at him right now.
How could he ask her to do this?
It was a gut-reaction to what he’d learnt, and she wanted to help. Wasn’t that why she was here? But two Familiars were dead because she didn't have a handle on what she could do. She couldn’t control her magic. Death was stronger than life, and the power in her blood wanted to kill things, not pull them from the edge of death and offer them a second chance at living.
Two minutes was an awfully short amount of time.
Analise grabbed her coat. It was the middle of the night but she needed to speak to Charles. If he thought there was a way this could truly work, she needed to know. Magic might not be enough, especially since she’d already proven herself inept. Perhaps they needed science as well. She had no idea, but being in the lab, being anywhere, would be better than pacing around her room in the dark.
She didn’t bother with a lamp. She'd been in the club long enough that she could find her way around blind. Twelve steps from the second floor to the first. Trail her fingers along the top of the bar to get her bearings. Sometimes, the street lamp outside the Canem Club would be lit, and fractured light would spill into the building through the front windows. Another twelve steps to the basement, then follow the wall straight ahead, fourteen steps down into the darkness and Charles’ lab was the second on the left.
Light shone from beneath his door. Maybe, like her, the alchemist couldn’t sleep and was digging through his books, searching for an answer. Analise pushed open the door and went in.
Charles wasn’t alone. A large man sat on a stool next to him. Charles was in his dressing gown, his feet stuffed into a pair of brown slippers. The other man was wearing a dark coat and a bowler hat, and there was something familiar in the way he held his shoulders over the bulk of his body.
Analise gasped.
The man looked up, saw her, and smiled.
At the sight of Morgan, she wanted to cry.
‘Analise,’ the mortician said tenderly, lifting himself from the stool and coming towards her. ‘I thought the Unseen finally found you—then Charles told me you were here.’
She swallowed, letting him take her hands, something she wouldn’t have done two months ago. ‘The Unseen did find me, in a way. You knew what I was?’
‘I suspected. You were too good with the dead.’
‘I thought you’d fired me. Those notes, telling me not to come in.’
He shook his head. ‘I was trying to keep you away—once the demon marks appeared and the body count was rising … I was trying to keep you safe.’
She nodded. ‘I know, but I didn’t listen.’
Morgan smiled. ‘I didn’t really expect you to. You’re too curious, too clever, too comfortable with death to stay out of it. I knew you’d find the marks, but I was hoping you’d not make the connection.’
‘I didn’t,’ Analise said. Charles was listening to them with interest. ‘You supply the Order with the bodies, I assume, considering you know about the demon marks?’
Morgan nodded. ‘The odd one here and there. Where he gets the others, I don’t know— illegally, no doubt.’
Charles grumbled something under his breath.
Analise managed a smile. ‘I should get back to bed. I wanted to ask Charles something, but it can wait.’
The alchemist beckoned her over. ‘We’re all here now, so what did you want to know?’
Analise swallowed; magic pricked her fingers. ‘I know how to stop a heart, but how do I get one going again?’
Charles’ eyebrows rose. ‘You’re going to go through with it?’
