Page 16 of A City of Smoke and Demons
Ezra glanced over his shoulder. Half a block back was a man standing beneath a lamp, his face obscured by shadow. Alarm bells chimed in Ezra’s brain. The Credges wasn’t the sort of place for a casual stroll at night. He wasn’t Gendarme anymore but he could still pull it off, if only for a moment. He paused, pretending to examine the plaque on the wall of a boarding house.
Each echo of the man’s footsteps was like a punch in the darkness as they came closer; they slowed and then stopped. Ezra turned, sharp words on his tongue.
Black eyes, no visible whites. Bloodless lips and hollow cheeks, the flesh hanging free of the bones. Dark hair and skin that shone like the moon.
Panic closed its hand around Ezra’s throat. The Familiar grinned, his lips stretching further than they should, before he stepped forward.
Ezra turned and ran.
Why the fuck was he seeing these things? Jem said he shouldn’t be able to, and yet, that spectre of a man was no figment of his imagination. Fear was a writhing, twisting thing in Ezra’s gut —and beneath it was the burn of shame. He’d deal with that later, when that thing was gone and he had a moment to breathe. He raced down the next street, then another, until he found himself at the mouth of an alley with a body at his feet. A man, middle-aged, maybe. Ezra crouched beside him, frowning. There wasn’t a mark on the man—no bruises to his face or signs of strangulation. No pool of blood beneath him, either, but his body pulsed with residual magic. A dark grey cloud hung over the dead man like a fine mist, trailing away from him into the darkness.
At the end of the alley was a morgue. Light shone through the glass panelling on the door. Ezra stood; he could barely hear over the pounding of his heart. He took a deep breath and crept towards the morgue.
When he reached the door, his throat tightened—fragments of dark grey hovered around the handle like a decoration. He hesitated, but footsteps cracked along the street.
Ezra threw open the door and tumbled inside.
Magic engulfed him and for a moment, he was drenched in terror. He breathed a sigh of relief when the magic didn’t rip into him and as it cleared, he was looking at a woman with hair as red as fire. She had her back to him, hands resting on a body on ametal tray before her. Streaks of grey wrapped around her head and shoulders, snaking down her arms to curl around her hands.
Ezra backed up, bumping into a small table. The woman spun around, and for the second time that night, he felt his knees weaken. For a moment, they stared at one another, her eyes wide and horrified. Ezra’s gaze dropped to her mouth, to those lips he’d delighted in kissing, the ones that had been playing through his mind on a constant loop.
Shit, shit,shit!
His insides twisted so violently he thought he’d be sick.
Howhad he not known what she was?
Because you had other things on your mind, a little voice whispered.
He didn’t even know her name, and now,shewas Blackwood’s witch.
Fuck.
Ezra cleared his throat, but before he could speak, she edged away from him, pressing herself against the metal sinks.
‘What do you want?’ Her voice ripped across the space between them, as sharp as a weapon. She lunged for a knife that lay on the bench, holding it between them in a trembling grip.
Ezra’s head was spinning. He’d never failed to notice a magical aura before, but this woman had hidden what she was from him. Even after they left the pub, even in her room, he still hadn’t seen it. Something that might have been fear crawled over him as he looked at her, unsure of how to do this, because everything was different now.
The woman swayed. Ezra stepped towards her, and she held up the blade in warning. Her face was colorless, her breathing ragged, shadows beneath her eyes. She was looking at him like she’d never seen him before. Despite the situation, he was mildly insulted.
‘Were you really that drunk that you don’t remember me?’
She visibly cringed. ‘I remember you,’ she mumbled. ‘You left without saying goodbye.’
‘You didn’t seem the type to like mushy goodbyes.’
She glared at him as best she could. ‘Why are you here?’
‘It doesn’t matter. You should sit down,’ he said. ‘You don’t look so good.’
‘Thanks,’ she shot back darkly. ‘I’m going home.’ She took a step away from the sink, then crumpled to the floor like a piece of discarded paper.
Making sure she hadn’t smashed her skull open on the tiles, Ezra left her where she was, hurrying to the door to peer through the glass. His heart sank. The Familiar was in the alley, sniffing the air like a mongrel dog. Ezra looked around. There was nowhere to hide in this bloody place, and with her out cold, they couldn’t make a run for it.
He spied the cold boxes. That would have to do. The nearest one was empty, so he slid the body-sized tray free, then turned to the woman. There wasn’t time to be gentle; he hoisted her into his arms and dumped her on the chilly tray, sliding her in. She didn’t stir as he swung himself in after her, tucking himself beside her, praying the tray would hold their combined weight.
Ezra pulled the door to the box closed, ears straining. The cold enveloped them, sliding beneath his clothes to grab at his skin.
