Page 64 of A City of Smoke and Demons
Maddog came to fetch her, halting the chaotic swirl of her thoughts. Ezra’s door was closed, and they saw no one else. Everyone was probably sleeping off the night before. Analise’s stomach turned over.
‘There is someone you need to talk to,’ Maddog told her, leading her down stairs to the Order’s headquarters. They stopped outside a door, the gangster turning to her, voice low. ‘You’re going to meet Charles, our alchemist.’
Analise’s heart leapt.
‘Now, he’s a little jumpy about certain things. Most things really. He studied at the Academy of Science, and they kickedhim out for his views, so probably best not to ask about that period in his life.’
Morgan had mentioned an alchemist friend of his from time to time, but Analise never got to meet him. Alchemy was the meeting point between science and magic, a place where Analise sometimes felt she lived. Her job at the morgue had been about science really, about biology, and she’d learnt a lot about the inside of the human body. Her magic was connected to the body, to the science of it in ways she didn’t understand.
‘Charles is the best person here who can teach you more about the body. He’s been dissecting and dicing things up for years,’ Maddog said. ‘Studying the way it all works.’
Analise paused. ‘Do I need to know more about the body?’
Maddog’s eyes were soft. ‘I’m not going to pretend I haven’t noticed you’re crawling out of your skin, Analise. You had a job before this. A life. And we’ve taken you from it. This might make up for some of that.’
Analise wasn’t sure what to say. Heat kissed her cheeks, but if Maddog noticed, he didn’t comment on it and they resumed walking. He stopped in front of a nondescript door, giving her a glance over his shoulder, as if he was offering her a chance to change her mind.
‘Where do the bodies come from?’
‘Best you don’t know.’ Maddog pushed open the door. The room beyond was brightly lit, a dozen gas lamps planted along the walls like tiny suns. Charles was perched on a stool at a bench, peering into a microscope. Compared to the gangster who stood beside her, the alchemist was a small man. Mousy brown hair threaded with grey at his temples, and he was wearing a battered suit and spectacles. Behind him on another bench were glass jars filled with liquid and human organs. Analise was instantly swept up in something other than Ezra. She wandered into the room after Maddog.
Charles didn’t acknowledge them at all. ‘Phrenology, physiognomy—rubbish, if you ask me,’ he muttered. Analise and Maddog exchanged a glance. She had no idea what the alchemist was talking about.
Maddog chuckled. ‘Analise doesn’t care about your thoughts on the pseudo-sciences, old man. She’s here to learn about the body.’
‘I thought she was a mortician,’ Charles commented, looking up from his microscope. ‘Any brains in your head, girl? Or are you all magic and death and nothing else?’
She raised her eyebrows, grateful for the opportunity, and the distraction that Maddog provided her with. ‘I could dissect you and scatter your remains around the city for the dogs,’ she said casually. ‘I’d break open your rib cage, but only after running a blade from your throat to your stomach. Take out your lungs first, then your heart. After cutting it free of the pericardium, of course.’
Charles blinked, then burst out laughing. ‘Of course.’ He patted the vacant stool next to him. Analise sat, silently thanking Morgan for all the times he droned on when they would perform an autopsy on an unidentified corpse. Morgan was deeply curious about the body and how it worked. He’d shown her a textbook once, filled with incredible colour illustrations and diagrams. She’d been fascinated by the drawing of the circulatory system.
‘Why do you study the body?’ she asked Charles.
He looked at her like she was mad. ‘It’s not all about turning copper into gold, or experimenting with aether and the elements,’ he said shortly. ‘I’m an alchemist, yes, but I am also a scientist who believes that God has a purpose for us all.’
The nuns believed the same thing, and Analise had been taught there was a plan, but not what the plan was. That wasonly known by God. ‘You made the spells on the door at the safe house?’ she guessed.
‘Not spells—chemistry.’
‘The door was moving.’
‘Due to a secret combination of substances that created a mild hallucinogenic experience to anyone who looked at it, making it seem like it wasn't there at all,’ Charles explained. ‘Only those with magic or those who are clairaudient can see it.’
Analise frowned. ‘But—’
‘You’re a death witch—clairaudience is part of who you are,’ Charles said. ‘The Unseen, Ezra, is similar to you. He can’t use magic, but he can see it, like the way you see the spirit world.’
‘You’ve talked to Ezra?’
Charles nodded. ‘He had a lot of questions, but not ones that I could answer. Our generous benefactor brought him to me,’ he added, gesturing to Maddog, who was peering into one of the glass specimen jars. ‘That’s an ear, in case you’re wondering,’ Charles told him.
Maddog made a noise and stepped back.
Analise’s head was spinning. What could Ezra have possibly asked an alchemist? ‘You said I’m clairaudient. What does that mean?’
‘It means you can see and hear the other side. The world we call the paranormal, the world most ordinary people sense, but never truly experience. Now, we are going to learn about the body.’
‘I know about the body.’
