Page 4 of A City of Smoke and Demons
Fuck it all to hell. There would be no saving the girl, and possibly not himself, but the Unseen couldn’t sniff out their own, and Ezra didn’t have magic. Just a fucking talent for seeing it.
‘Well?’ Tobias demanded.
Jonas glanced into the alley again, and Ezra didn’t dare breathe.
‘She’s at the end.’
More men in black coats rushed into the alley. The kid was tiny for her age, her bones protruding from skin that was stretched tight over her small frame. There was no way she could hurt any of them. There was her magic, but Ezra doubted she knew what to do with it, or even what she had lurking in her veins.
The Gendarme hauled the girl out. She was barefoot, her dress tattered and stained, and she was screeching like a feral cat. Her eyes flickered to Ezra briefly, long enough for him to see the plea, and the accusation, in them.
He didn’t move as the little death witch was dragged away. The girl’s shouts faded, blending with the passing foot traffic and noise.
Ezra stayed where he was until nightfall.
A grubby urchin, shirt too big and the knees missing from his trousers, caught Analise in the street, passing her a note from Morgan. She stared at the piece of paper, the child holding his hand out for a coin she didn’t have to give him. He flexed his fingers and she shook her head, earning a scowl. She had the night off, but she didn’t know what to do without work. Sensing someone watching her, Analise lifted her head.
Hewas on the opposite side of the street, watching her with obvious hunger, his gaze making her skin crawl and her magic tingle in her fingertips. People moved around him, ignoring him.
How could they not see the skin hanging from his face? How could they not see the grey hue to his sunken cheeks, the black eyes and the bloodless lips? Analise fingered the hilt of her blade, watching him as he watched her. A carriage thundered past, too fast for a dark street, and when it moved on, he was gone.
There was something predatory and intense in his stare.
Even after being raised by nuns, Analise didn’t want to acknowledge that she knew what haunted her.
A Familiar, a servant of Asmael, the Fallen One. He shouldn’t be here, shadowing her steps. Familiars only kept watch on those who made deals with the Devil—Analise had done no such thing, and never, not even in her most desperate, darkest moments, considered it.
Tucking the note away, she hurried towards Blackcoln Road. She needed a drink, and her fingers brushed the hilt of her blade as she walked. The knife was a gift from Morgan. It made Analise smile. The only way the man could show he cared was to give her a weapon. It had saved her, more than once. A drunkard in an alley didn’t really want to get his face slashed up.
If they knew what she was, they’d never have approached her in the first place.
A group of unionists were gathered on a street corner in a sea of hats and pin-striped jackets, and at the skin market, a pimp led a collared woman like a horse before a group of men. Blackcoln Road was always busy and as The Black Lion came into sight, the doors were flung open and a man tossed into the street, hitting the cobblestones.
‘And stay out.’ Lira appeared in the doorway; behind her was the barman, Jack, wiping his hands free of blood. The drunk climbed awkwardly to his feet, clutching his face. Blood leaked from between his fingers, staining the front of his shirt. He pointed a shaking finger at Lira and Jack, but before he could say anything, Lira raised her eyebrows and stepped outside.
Lira was slightly built, with midnight hair and eyes that sparkled golden in the darkness. She put her hands on her hips; Analise saw her fingers twitch. Lira was never without a blade— or three—and the last time this happened, Analise had ended up helping Lira and Jack dump a body in the river.
The drunk man, a factory worker judging by his boots, muttered under his breath.
‘Got something to say to me?’ Lira demanded.
‘Fuck off, bitch,’ he snarled.
Lira withdrew her switchblade and flicked it open. Behind her, Jack cracked his knuckles, grinning.
The man with the broken nose spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. Even people in the Credges weren’t sure how to deal with a woman who not only ran her own pub and dressed like a man, but who could hold her own in a knife-fight.
The night Analise met Lira, the Familiar had been following her and Analise stumbled through the first set of doors she came to. A glass of whiskey had been thrust beneath her nose, the hand holding it obviously female. A woman was safe, mostly. Analise returned to the pub often and a friendship had slowly taken root. Lira was fierce, protective, and kind. Analise had never forgotten how kind Lira was when they met. She’d never mentioned it, not knowing how.
Analise didn’t understand what made people tick, why they did the things they did. She understood on a rational level—people worked jobs they hated so they could feed themselves and keep a roof over their heads. But on a deeper level … she didn’t know. She was an outside observer, even though she was in the slums with them. She didn’t fit in and didn’t know how to change that. Analise kept telling herself that Lira was different, that one day she’d open up and share her secrets.
Fear thrummed constantly in the back of her mind. Her magic was a death sentence, and the one thing the nuns drilled into her was not to let anyone know. When the witches began being hunted down, it was more important than ever that Analise kept her secret. So she held herself apart from the world, moving through it, but not in it. She built walls around herself, much like the ones that kept her safe as she grew up, but she didn’t know how to bring these walls down.
Catching sight of Analise, Lira grinned. ‘No bodies for you tonight, promise.’ She tossed her smoke away and usheredAnalise inside. The lamps were burning low, the air thick with smoke and loud conversation. The floor was tiled, the mahogany panelling on the walls adding to the darkness, and it was mostly standing room only, with a handful of tables and chairs tucked close to the walls.
‘Something I meant to tell you,’ Lira said as Jack poured them both a drink. ‘The Gendarme has been down here. They gave the pimps a roughing up.’
‘Good.’ Analise grinned into her drink. ‘Did they come in here?’
