Dark Hope (The Devil's Assistant)

by Smith, H. D.

  “Why does he care?”

  “No clue. Maybe he wants you as a pet.” He smiled, showing teeth.

  I snorted, trying to lighten the mood. That was a bullshit answer. Harry, the Godfather and Druid King, wouldn’t want me for a pet. He would have to bargain with the Devil for me—why would he bother?

  I shuddered at the thought of being owned by the Druid King. The druid mob in the Underworld was his enforcers, and he was more feared than they were. I’d even heard he was more feared than the Devil—not that I’d tell The Boss.

  I peered out the window. We were parked in front of a deli called Sunshine Sandwiches. I glanced around; nothing was familiar. “Where are we?”

  “You said Wylan James.”

  “Yeah and?”

  “He owns the place,” Frankie said, as if it were obvious.

  “Wait here,” I said, getting out of the car.

  The place, your average mom and pop deli, was wall-to-wall with customers. Surprisingly there seemed to be an equal number of druids, pagans, and demons. An elderly man with white hair stood hunched behind a glass wall making sandwiches. I did my best to slide past the other patrons to get closer until someone said, “Take a number.”

  I scanned for the number dispenser and took the next slip—number ninety-eight. The readout above the deli counter read forty-two. I didn’t have time to wait.

  “Wylan James,” I called over the crowd. The place went silent. “I need to speak with you in private.”

  The elderly man didn’t look up from the sandwich he was making. “Take a number.”

  A guy beside me chuckled, but he shut up when I said, “The Boss sent me.”

  The noise level dropped to almost nothing. The door behind me opened as a few customers hurried out.

  James cocked his head. “Prove it.”

  A tingling sensation ran across my mark. I held up my right arm and lowered the sleeve of my suit jacket. The mark flashed bright red for a second then disappeared. A woman near me gasped. The door opened and closed again. More customers leaving.

  James motioned for me to walk around to the back. There were a few grumbles from the crowd, but I ignored them.

  “You were supposed to be here earlier, before the lunch rush.” He motioned me toward a door at the end of the corridor. “I don’t appreciate the show. I’ve got a business to run.”

  “I got delayed.” I touched my bruised eye, but dropped my hand when he noticed. “And you wanted proof.”

  I caught the red shine of his eyes as he turned toward the door. His rigid jaw and angry scowl screamed demon. Not all demons had a red glint, but red was always a demon. Just as brown was a druid and blue was a pagan. I’d never seen any eyes with a green shine, but hazel, violet, and gold were a few of the common alternates.

  James stopped at the door. He knocked once then opened it.

  The room was dark. I coughed from the smoke that wafted out of the room. The smoke smelled of incense and mint. In the dim light, I could barely make out the fine lines that trailed from the smoldering tips of the incense sticks. I inched closer to the door, but hesitated to follow James inside. My vision adjusted a bit, and I saw a small man perched on a stool in the corner.

  “You’re late,” James reminded me. “Don’t dawdle.”

  He was right. I was late. But he knew The Boss sent me. I had to believe he wasn’t going to do anything stupid. Despite my nervousness, I entered the room.

  The air changed and my ears popped as I crossed the threshold. The man in the corner appeared to be a small, frail Asian man, but the veil I could sense hid his real form.

  He was bent over a calligraphy box drawing symbols in the sand. The symbols were similar to the ones on my mark.

  The Asian raised his head when James closed the door behind us. The Asian studied me for a moment, then tapped the box. The sand settled into a flat plane. He was a seer.

  I started to say something, but James held his index finger to his mouth.

  The seer chanted and drew new symbols in the sand. After a few seconds, he spoke. In Ancient. I had no idea what he was saying.

  James translated, “Your existence will bring about tyranny like no one has experienced in thousands of years.”

  My eyebrows lifted in shock. Was the Asian talking about me? James’s expression didn’t change, as if the words meant nothing to him. Were they supposed to mean something to me?

  The seer tapped the box and started again.

  James continued to translate. “You will cause a great divide between the realms. You will cause sons to fight their father and win.”

  Another pause while the seer reset the box. I really hope he’s not talking about me.

  “You will cause chaos. You will unleash the great destroyer. One will betray, and one will die.”

  Chaos? I’m supposed to create chaos—this is ridiculous.

  The seer tapped the box a final time. The sand cleared and he once again drew his symbols in silence. James pointed toward the door.

  Outside the room I said, “Do you really expect me to believe any of that crap?”

  “Believe what you wish, but the truth of the reading will be known to you before the moon rises again tonight.”

  I arched an eyebrow then checked my watch. It was past one. “Whatever. Just give me the package.”

  “There is no package.”

  I stared at him. The Boss wouldn’t send me for a package if there wasn’t a package. “There has to be a package. The Boss sent me down here to pick it up. I can’t go back without it.”

  “I have given you all I can. You must now go.”

  Go? Empty-handed, back to The Boss—late. Was this guy trying to get me killed?

  A cry of incoherent Ancient came from the room we’d been in. James about-faced just as the door flew open. The seer fell into his arms, screaming in Ancient.

  I shuffled out of arms reach, not sure what was happening.

  “It can’t be,” James said, eyes narrowed on me. “You’re the one? The harbinger?” His face was pinched together in disbelief. “You will save us?”

  “Save you from what?” I asked, although clearly James didn’t believe it either. Was this a new prophecy or something connected to the reading? “Harbinger of what?” Why was the seer saying this now?

  “The Ancients,” James said. “You must set right what was lost. You must—”

  I shook my head and backed toward the door. “Oh my god. You’re crazy.”

  James eased the seer to the ground. “Come, return to the room. Another reading. Please.”

  “No, stay away from me.” I continued to reverse. “I’ll tell The Boss.”

  James’s eyes widened. He shook his head. “No. Please. Come—”

  “No,” I shrieked and bolted for the exit.

  Three

  I arrived back at two—two hours late and empty handed. The Boss was pacing when I entered his office. A clearly irritated scowl on his face, he checked his watch. I stood still, trying not to appear as scared as I felt. I winced for the millionth time as I touched my eye. He glared at me, and I dropped my hand. The bastard didn’t care I was hurt.

  “What did James give you?” he snarled.

  “H-he didn’t give me anything. He said there was no package.” My voice betrayed my fear.

  I sucked in a startled breath as The Boss stopped pacing and stomped over to stand in front of me. I held my ground. Not because I wanted to. I wanted to run back to my office and hide behind my desk, but I wasn’t allowed to run from him. If I took so much as a step away, I’d regret it. He ignited the mark. Not enough to really hurt, just enough to remind me it was there.

  “What else?”

  “He translated a reading of me by a seer.”

  The Boss inched closer—towering over me. The heat from his body surrounded me. I could hear the low guttural snarl as he breathed. He smelled of burnt wood and cinnamon. He ratcheted up the heat of my mark. “Claire, am I a patient man?” he asked. />
  I shook my head.

  “Then speak.”

  The power in his voice pushed against me as if it alone could knock me down. This was the way he always treated me, but today it was different.

  No, I was different. He was angry with me because I was late. I was late because the mob didn’t treat me the same as everyone else. He protected the others, but I got nothing from him—nothing except intimidation. Something came over me. I was pissed, and maybe a bit crazy. “Do you even care that Johnny threatened my life again? I can’t go back there.”

  He sent a searing hot jolt through my arm, which immediately quelled my rebellion.

  “I’m sorry. I know there’s nothing you can do.” Or will do, is more like it. I had to stop pushing his buttons. I was being stupid. He’d send me down there every day to prove a point if I wasn’t careful.

  He dialed back the mark. “Speak.”

  I told him what the seer said, leaving out the part about being their savior, although to me it was all a load of crap.

  His stony expression gave nothing away. I wanted to leave, but I had to wait until he dismissed me. My right hand started to shake from the pain of the mark. I squeezed my fingers into a fist. His hand moved, and I flinched. I closed my eyes. I was afraid if I didn’t the fear would take over and I might try to move. To run.

  After several beats of my heart, a cool breeze brushed across my skin. He’d stepped back. I took a deep calming breath as he extinguished his mark. I un-fisted my hand and opened my eyes. I caught a glimpse of an expression I’d never seen on him before. If he weren’t the Devil, I would have described it as worried. It disappeared instantly.

  With the nod of his head, I was dismissed.

  I opened his door to leave and heard the bell for the elevator. Crap. I’d listened to my messages on the way back to the office, but had forgotten an important one until the bell reminded me. “Your ex-wife called. She said she would be coming down.”

  “Tell her I’m busy.”

  I pivoted on my heel but didn’t return to his office. “Unfortunately, she’s already here.”

  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. I took that opportunity to leave before he could take his frustration out on me.

  “What were you doing in there?” a shrill voice asked as the fourth Mrs. Pain-in-my-ass sashayed through the glass door.

  She was a silver-haired barracuda with skin so tightly stretched across her face she resembled a mannequin. She had a sleek, sophisticated style about her. The look of a woman who’d always had money. She held her head high—haughty as if she were superior to everyone else. His other ex-wives were about the same, but this one was the worst.

  I smiled sweetly, ignoring her attitude. “You can go right in.”

  She squinted her eyes into slits, then smiled as if she wasn’t a cold-hearted bitch even the Devil couldn’t stand. “You really shouldn’t let him get so rough with you, dear. Not until you get him to put a ring on it, at least.”

  My mouth fell open in disgusted shock. She winked and lightly touched the skin under her eye, giving me an exaggerated sad face as if she understood my pain.

  I wanted to scream. She was insinuating that The Boss had given me the black eye as part of some kinky office escapade. The thought made me ill. Breathe. I steadied myself. She wasn’t going to goad me into sinking to her level.

  She smiled, baring her teeth, as she glided past me.

  My shoulders slumped when the door shut behind me. I should have been relieved to be back. I’d survived. The day was almost over. But something was off. The office was different.

  I glanced around, but nothing was out of place. My reception desk and the small waiting area was austere—severely modern. Every surface was glass, stainless steel, or rich mahogany. It was sleek and minimal, cold and impersonal—just like The Boss. The magazines were all stacked neatly as they had been before but oddly, it was colder than it had been this morning. It wasn’t the temperature of the room. Something that had been here and made the space more inviting was now gone. I shook my head. The day had been weird; it was probably my imagination.

  I brushed off the sudden dread and dropped into my chair. I tossed my bag in the bottom drawer and picked up my desk mirror. My eye was already starting to bruise. It would be worse tomorrow. Maybe The Boss would let me go to medical. They could make it go away. Otherwise, I’d have to explain it to Jack. Mugged, maybe? But I’d already used that excuse once this year.

  I blew out an exhausted breath and leaned back in my chair.

  I bolted upright. “The roses.” I caught the faint smell of the buds that still lingered in the room.

  I scanned the office, but they weren’t there. Who would steal my flowers? Had The Boss had them removed? He’d asked me about them this morning. I spotted the note in the trash. When I reached in to retrieve it, I saw a crumpled paper crane.

  Dammit! I wasn’t here when Jack stopped by for lunch. I’d completely forgotten.

  I pulled the crane from the trash. Today was missing from my origami desk calendar—a Christmas gift from Jack. He always made me a crane when he stopped by the office.

  I picked up my phone—there were no messages or missed calls from him.

  I texted him: “I’m sorry I missed you. I was stuck in a meeting w/o my phone. See you tonight! XOXO.”

  Whoever stole the flowers must have tossed Jack’s crane into the trash.

  Oh god, I hope it wasn’t The Boss. Was it punishment for being late? I hate this place.

  I smoothed out the crane and balanced it on the monitor. I wanted to go home and be with Jack. The phone on my desk rang, reminding me how impossible that was right now. “This is Claire.”

  “Claire, um, Mr. Taylor wanted me to tell you to tell The Boss we’re being audited by the IRS,” Jenny, the plebe from this morning said.

  Unbelievable. “Taylor is the VP of Finance. It’s his job to tell him.”

  “So, you’ll do it, right?”

  “Are you kidding?” This wasn’t the first time we’d been audited by the IRS, or the first time the VP of Finance wanted me to tell The Boss the good news.

  Ugh. My second line was flashing. “Fine. I’ll do it this—”

  “Great!” She hung up before I could finish.

  Unbelievable.

  I picked up the second line. It was Carlos from Maintenance. “What?” I snapped.

  “Do we have dental yet?”

  As if it wasn’t enough, the Underworld Mafia wanted Maintenance to have dental; every few months for the last five years I actually had to deal with Maintenance too. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times—nobody gets dental.”

  “You listen to me, chica—”

  I stopped listening. Carlos continued to complain, but I didn’t need to tune in. It was always the same. He would threaten to stop working. He would remind me the Cleaners worked for him too, on and on and on. Just once, I wished I could tell him The Truth. The Cleaners knew The Truth. They knew they weren’t working for some multi-national corporation that sells insurance. They knew they were working for the Devil—the Devil. If Maintenance knew the truth, my life might actually seem normal.

  I powered on my monitor. A meeting reminder flashed at the bottom of the screen. I frowned, not remembering any meetings this afternoon. I clicked on the reminder. It was a meeting with Junior, and it was thirty minutes overdue.

  The events of this morning were coming back. He’d stopped by and left a weird love poem on my voicemail. Now he was adding meetings to my calendar. What game was he playing? I cringed at the thought of having to deal with him today. I was about to ask Carlos to call me back when Number Four stormed out of The Boss’s office.

  “I’m not going to wait all day,” Number Four said. “You tell Conrad I’ll be back tomorrow. If he’s not here when I return, I’m calling my lawyer.”

  Huh? “He was just in there.” Where the hell did he go?

  “You’re not a v
ery good liar, Claire. He couldn’t have just disappeared.”

  If only she knew how wrong she was. She hitched her purse high on her shoulder, spun on her heel, and marched off before I could respond. Why he needed wives to perpetuate this farce on Earth was beyond me.

  I was still holding the phone to my ear and heard Carlos continue, “Why, you gonna pick the trash up yourself? The Cleaners—”

  I hung up. He would have to wait. I dialed Junior’s extension. The call went straight to voicemail. Crap. I had to find out what he wanted. The heir apparent was just as nice as his father, so it wouldn’t do to ignore him.

  I peered at The Boss’s office door. He’d blown off his ex, which meant he’d be MIA for the next two hours at least; he might not return at all. If he wasn’t back by four he’d be out for the rest of the day. I could leave early. I smiled. The Boss would never know.

  Then I remembered Junior. I had to handle this now. He was up to something. Maybe he was trying to piss off his father. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it was the first time he involved me.

  I took money from my purse. I’d stop by Junior’s office, hope to God I could convince him to leave me alone, then run down to the coffee shop on the corner for a latte. I might even drink it before I came back to the office. At the very least I wasn’t going to rush.

  ~ * ~

  The Boss had more hellspawn than a dog had fleas. That was the colorful way Midge, the kindly old demon from HR, explained it during my orientation five years ago. Luckily, I had only met a few of them, and thank God, they weren’t all like Junior.

  He was arrogant and conceited like the rest, which was bad enough, but he was also immortal. Not all the hellspawn were. Human mothers almost never produced one. A non-human mother’s offspring would be long lived—three or four hundred years, but true immortality was rare. At least, that was how Midge explained it. There weren’t many immortal hellspawn left. Junior was the oldest by more than a thousand years, which ratcheted his sense of entitlement up to an almost unbearable level.

  According to Midge, Junior had survived over two thousand years climbing his way to the top on the backs of his dead siblings. This was one of the reasons his visit this morning concerned me. I rarely saw him. He was usually too busy avoiding his father to cross my path. He wasn’t the favorite, which appeared to piss him off. Midge called him the black sheep of the family, which was why—considering the family—I was freaked out by the sudden interest.