Convoke

Chapter 52

Ezra first ventured to the nearest city from Wileshire village. It was thirty miles away, and daunting. Ezra put his hood up and stood in the shadows of a quiet backstreet road. The hour was late, but he knew the person he had to find would still be awake.

Quietly, he moved down the street, lowering his head when he passed a human. His barbed wire tattoo was covered by black cloth, but covering it was just as much of a giveaway, showing he had something to hide.

He looked like he was up to no good, but Ezra pressed on, not meeting anyone's gaze. He missed the comfort of Wileshire village. That was something he never thought he would ever think again. He had started to loathe the place over the years.

Tom had made it feel like home again, and Ezra pursed his lips, thinking of him lying alone in his bed. He missed him already, and they had barely been apart an hour.

He shook Tom from his thought. He needed to focus, and to make sure he went in the right direction. He had spent a bit of time in the city when he was first condemned. The place was large enough to hide, and to be swallowed up in the sea of people. He couldn't cope with being around people who thought they knew him, so being around strangers was better.

Ezra grimaced at the memory of when the first angel came with soul stripper duties. She knew him, and the pity in her eyes was mortifying. Ezra had almost given in then, and asked for them to take his soul, and that he couldn't do it, he couldn't live that way.

But he had pressed on, hoping that the killer would one day be found, and he would live the life he had always meant to live.

Ezra stopped in another dark corner. He took deep breaths and thought of Tom again. I have someone to go back to. I have a home now. I will be free in a week. I'll be free.

Ezra pressed on.

He walked for miles. Each street had an uncomfortable memory from his past. The thought of going home to Tom kept them at bay.

Soon, he stopped outside a red door with a golden knocker in the middle. He chewed his bottom lip, wondering if he was doing the right thing. His gut churned as he knocked three times, and stared at the doorbell that was a little lower than his eyelevel.

"Name," a voice demanded from the speaker.

Ezra looked around. The street behind him was empty. "Ezrakhell," he said, and there was a pause. For a moment, he wondered if they would buzz him in. He almost hoped they would turn him away, until the door unlocked, and another demon greeted him with a glare.

"Inside, now," she demanded, yanking on his arm and slamming the door behind him. "You're either really brave or really goddamn stupid for returning here, Ezrakhell."

"I have a serious matter to discuss with Jevlo," Ezra said bluntly, keeping his hood over his eyes, knowing they would show his nerves.

"What is it?"

"None of your business."

She held her hands up, and her long purple plait fell over her shoulder. "Still as bitter as ever." She guided him down a poorly lit corridor with walls of dark oak and floors to match. She pulled a black curtain aside to reveal another dark room, set up to intimidate visitors.

Two brown leather chairs faced the door, leaving a big concrete floor to open up in front of them. The floor was stained, and Ezra knew it was with blood.

He had entered a dangerous place. Jevlo was a dangerous demon who manipulated humans into doing his dirty work. His network was big, and the angels would have a riot on their hands if they tried to break it apart.