Dark Hope (The Devil's Assistant)

by Smith, H. D.

  He shook his head.

  What did that mean? Did he doubt me? I would know if I’d killed Junior. “Junior was fooled too,” I said.

  How could anyone create a veil that good? A magic user could veil themselves to resemble another, but a veil was sort of two-dimensional. It was impossible to make an exact copy. A human would be tricked, but not another magic user. Not if they knew the real person. Junior and I weren’t best buddies, but he knew me well enough not to be conned by a normal veil.

  Omar rubbed his head again. I didn’t like his behavior. He’d never acted like this before. His eyes shot open, and he glared at me. “You belonged to another.”

  “What do you mean?” I belonged to The Boss and Jack, unfortunately in that order. There was no way Omar meant Jack.

  A wild thought crossed my mind. Omar wasn’t seeing me, I knew that, but he said it as if it were possible. Did that mean there was a way out of my deal with the Devil? “Are you saying there’s a way out of my deal?”

  He rubbed his head again. Closing his eyes, he went quiet.

  No, no, no, he couldn’t do this. He had to tell me. “Omar,” I pleaded. He didn’t respond.

  He opened his eyes. This time, they were vacant, hollow, and lost. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

  I started toward him.

  He held up his hand to stop me.

  “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

  “Nothing,” he whispered. A second later, he headed toward the door. “Out,” he said, before he dropped to the ground like a lead weight. He was unconscious or God forbid, dead.

  “Oh crap.” I rushed to his side. “Omar.” I shook his shoulder, but he didn’t wake. I checked his pulse. It was faint, and his breathing labored. Out. Did he mean I needed to be out of the room or him?

  He’d taken a few strides in that direction, so that must mean him, but he had to weigh close to three hundred pounds. Pulling him out wasn’t an option. I tried it anyway. My grip slipped from his arm, and I landed on the ground with a thump.

  I studied the situation. He was partially lying on his side across from the door. Could I roll him? I crouched behind him and pushed. He flopped over onto his back. I moved to the other side and hooked my fingers into two belt loops. Using my body weight as a counter balance, I wedged my feet against his hip and tugged with all my strength. I got him back on his side, one roll closer to the door. I repeated my actions until we reached the elevator.

  By the time we arrived at the lobby, he was conscious enough to stand. It took him a minute to compose himself. He clutched my arms and locked our gazes. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

  “Omar, what is it?”

  He backed away from me, holding up his hand so I wouldn’t approach.

  “Omar, you have to help me. Tell me who was with me—the one who looked like me?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember what I saw up there. It’s blank.”

  “Blank? You remember nothing?” I was stunned. He was a seer.

  He rubbed his head again.

  Oh, no, not again. Okay, new tactic. “What about my deal? You made it sound like it could be broken.”

  Omar seemed hesitant to answer, but the thought of a normal life—with Jack—was worth any risk. If there were a way out—a way to be free of this hell—I’d do everything in my power to make it happen.

  “Dammit, Omar. Can I get out of my deal or not?”

  “I can’t remember—”

  “I don’t care what you saw. What you saw up there was a lie. Is it possible? Is there a way out?”

  Omar averted his gaze.

  I clasped his arm and yanked him back around. “Please tell me. If there’s a way—?” I could barely even consider the possibility. “I deserve to know.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “I don’t care about that. You know what I need to know. Please just tell me. You’re a friend. Tell me what I have to do. Please, I’m begging you.”

  He shook his head. “The answer isn’t that simple.”

  “No shit. Nothing is ever that simple,” I shouted, then remembered where I was and lowered my voice to continue, “I’ll do anything to be free.”

  Omar gazed deep into my eyes. What was he looking for? As if in pain, his eyes squeezed shut. What was hurting him? A few seconds later, his lids came up. He shuffled away, holding up his hand, forcing me to keep my distance. “I can’t see his decision, and there are forces that you—” He stopped, pushing his palm against the side of his head. A moment later he continued, “If you’re truly willing to do anything, Claire, then you must risk it all—and that may not be enough.”

  “I’m willing. I’ll do anything.”

  “You must discover Junior’s killer. To do that, you must visit the quads.”

  The quads! Oh, hell. This was bad—very bad.

  Omar’s complexion paled, but I needed more information. He wanted me to go see the four most dangerous immortal hellspawn alive. The five hundred-year-old quadruplets were the love children of the Devil and a pagan, and rumored to have more power than a hundred normal demons combined.

  I opened my mouth to protest.

  Omar shook his head, then disappeared.

  “No,” I yelled, but he was gone.

  Five

  A chill ran through me as if someone had brushed passed me. I spun around, trying to find the whispered voice I’d heard. Or was I just being paranoid? A man by the elevator glanced in my direction then said something to the woman he was standing with. Had he seen Omar disappear?

  I took out my phone, quickly checking Omar’s contact. There was no number listed by his name. When I put it away, I spotted one of the security guards from reception heading my way.

  I backed toward the elevator. My heart pounded, and my breath came out in short gasps.

  “Is everything all right, Miss Cooper?” the guard asked.

  I nodded, moving quickly to the panel. Impatiently I tapped the up arrow three or four times, as if that would make it come faster. I had to get out of here.

  Hurrying to my desk, I kept my head lowered. I opened a drawer and snatched up my bag. As I turned to leave, I paused when my eyes landed on the red file folder. Impulsively, I swiped Janus’s corporate credit card.

  I froze when the elevator dinged. A moment later the door opened, but no one stepped off. I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I had to get out of here. Now.

  Normally I walked home, but I didn’t want to be predictable today. Too many things had gone wrong. I took the subway.

  There was no relief when I entered my apartment. Jack wasn’t here and still no text.

  Every part of my being was telling me to avoid the quads. They were dangerous, cruel, vindictive, and immortal. Because their mother was a pagan, they were very easy on the eyes, but Cinnamon, Sage, Sorrel, and Mace were as deadly as they were beautiful.

  I hadn’t lied to Omar. I was willing to risk it all for my freedom, but the quads were...more. More dangerous, more cunning, more uncontrolled madness. What had he seen? Could I really save my soul?

  I attempted to call Jack again. No answer. I wanted to explain some version of the truth before I left. I didn’t want to die thinking he hated me. Rushing to change out of my suit, I remembered seeing Jack’s gym bag on the closet floor this morning. It was gone now. Sighing, I realized he was probably at the gym blowing off steam. His phone would be in his locker. I’d stop by the gym before I left town.

  I changed into something less ‘office’ and more ‘run for your life’—jeans and a t-shirt. I had no clean socks. I opened Jack’s sock drawer hoping to find a pair that might fit. My hand brushed against something hard, and something under the socks in the back flashed red. I plucked it out, stumbling to the bed.

  A ring box.

  I sat there staring at the box. Was this what he wanted to talk to me about? With trembling fingers, I flipped up the lid.

  Empty. I forced back tea
rs and took out my phone again and texted, “Where are you? Please call.”

  Had he taken the ring with him? If only The Boss hadn’t sent me downtown, I would’ve met Jack for lunch. We would’ve talked. I would know if this meant something. Why isn’t he responding? I wiped away a tear. Was he mad? My hand tightened around the box. Did he think I was seeing someone else? God, I hope not. I put the box back.

  I slipped on my shoes and slung my bag across my body.

  I was writing “I Love You” on the whiteboard in the kitchen, when I heard voices coming toward the apartment.

  Jack? My hope disappeared when I recognized Quaid’s deep voice. I closed my eyes and concentrated. Two people approached the door.

  “Let me do the talking,” he said.

  “If that doesn’t work?” the other man asked.

  “Do what you have to.”

  I bolted for the back bedroom.

  I opened the window and peered outside. The fire escape was old, but it was the only other way out of the apartment. I didn’t see anyone in the alley. But they could be just around the corner. I sucked in a breath as a knock sounded at the front door. Before jumping outside, I looked up and down the alley one more time.

  Trying to ignore the rickety stairs, I hurried down the steps to the bottom of the first floor landing. The ladder broke off its rails last month, and the super hadn’t fixed it yet.

  I hesitated for a moment—I didn’t want to break my leg. I glanced up at voices coming from the apartment. Crap. I left the window open. There was nothing I could do now. I jumped over the railing.

  I landed funny when I fell and hit the ground. I winced as I stood and hobbled over to the darkened doorway of the building next door. There were three or four steps to a basement door—the only immediate place to hide. Once I was hidden, I stretched out my foot a few times. It wasn’t too badly hurt. I’d probably have a bruise and soreness, but no real damage.

  Within seconds, Quaid’s head popped out of the open window above. He scanned the alley. I slunk into the darkened doorway and breathed a sigh of relief when he went inside.

  I had to get out of town.

  I texted Jack, “I’m sorry. I have to leave town unexpectedly. I’ll be back. PLEASE don’t hate me...I can explain...please. I love you.”

  I wouldn’t risk getting Jack tangled in my mess. It hurt to think he might hate me, or that he might think I cheated on him. But I believed our relationship was stronger than today’s misunderstanding. I would make this right—after I figured out who killed Junior and who was walking around pretending to be me.

  Omar said to visit the quads, but he didn’t say in which order I should. They were almost never together, which was probably a good thing. Each of the four was powerful in their own right, but they were rumored to be unstoppable together. Horrible stories were told about the destruction they caused as children. I believed the stories. Midge said, “There’d be hell on Earth if they could actually stand each other.”

  I decided to see Cinnamon first.

  She was the oldest, by seconds, and the only girl. She was hardly my BFF, but of the four, she was the one I distrusted the least. This was mostly because she couldn’t be bothered to waste her time on me, not because she liked me; she just had better things to do than screw with me.

  To avoid running into Quaid or the other man as they left my building, I headed down the alley in the opposite direction. I opened the address book on my phone. Motor pool wasn’t an option. Quaid would have them on the lookout. I would have to use an otherworldly taxi.

  By the time I made it to the street at the other end of the alley, I’d been turned down by every listed otherworldly taxi service. It was essentially impossible to get picked up on Earth—who knew? My only other option was a walk-through portal I’d never used. I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed to, or if I even could, but I had to try.

  I opened Google Maps to find one. The closest was five blocks away, but it was back toward my apartment. Quaid would probably have someone watching my home. If so, he might be keeping an eye on the closest portal too. The next nearby location was twenty blocks in the other direction.

  I stopped on the sidewalk, searching for the best subway route on my phone. I froze when the sound of car brakes squeaked behind me. Closing my eyes briefly, I prayed this wasn’t the end of the road. I should be moving or ducking into an alley. Not standing in plain sight. I peered over my shoulder, ready to bolt.

  “Need a ride?” the guy asked.

  Oh, thank God, it’s just a taxi.

  I was about to say no thanks, until I read the ad on the top of his cab: Sunshine Sandwiches—The hottest place downtown!—the Underworld sandwich shop I’d been to earlier today. This was an otherworldly taxi.

  I eyed the driver. He wasn’t veiled, which was unusual on Earth and the reason I hadn’t immediately noticed he wasn’t human. If he’d been veiled I would have sensed it and realized he was from one of the otherworldly taxi services. In the right light, or lack thereof, even an unveiled supernatural appeared mostly human. It was the little things that made one think twice. The metallic shine to their eyes was their most noticeable trait. It showed their true eye color, only brighter. The Boss, for example, had eyes so dark they were almost black, but the glint when the light was just right was red.

  The driver wasn’t a bad-looking demon. His longer than average dark hair gave him a softer appearance, which was probably why he didn’t bother with the veil. His eyes were dark like The Boss’s.

  “Need a ride?” he asked again.

  “Yeah, how did you know?”

  “I dropped off a guy a few streets over. When I checked in, dispatch said someone called who needed a pick-up. I guess it’s your lucky day.”

  I raised both eyebrows. This guy couldn’t have been more wrong. “Right—lucky.”

  I reached for the door handle then stopped. Should I trust this guy? I glanced inside the cab. Except for a few papers strewn about the passenger seat and a Starbucks to-go coffee in the cup holder, the taxi was clean. His story was plausible. I considered the walkthrough I wasn’t sure I could use—and was twenty blocks away. I got in the taxi.

  “Where to?”

  Traveling through the Underworld was fast. It would take no time at all to get almost anywhere on Earth. Hellspawn were required to register their current address. I just hoped she’d be home.

  “I need to see Cinnamon, The Boss’s daughter. She’ll be in the registry.”

  I couldn’t imagine her being involved in a plot to kill Junior. She was too self-absorbed for that, but Omar had been very clear. I had to see them all to figure out who killed Junior, and Cinnamon was the least likely to want me dead for saying hi.

  The cabby typed something into the GPS.

  “My code is 4-3-9-2,” I said before he asked. It was a risk, but I didn’t think Quaid would be monitoring my registry access.

  “It’s going to cost you,” the cabby said.

  I handed him David Janus’s corporate credit card. “I’m in a hurry. Twenty percent tip if you can get me there in ten minutes.” The cabby wouldn’t check the name on the card. They never do.

  Six

  “China? What is Cinnamon doing in China?” I said, glancing at a traditional pagoda across the street before leaning forward to see the cabby’s GPS screen. China.

  “Excuse me?” the cabby said over his shoulder.

  “Nothing,” I said. “This is right. I’ll only be a minute.”

  “I can’t wait. You’ll have to call when you’re ready to be picked up.”

  “I had difficulty getting you guys to come pick me up the first time,” I reminded him.

  “Sorry, it’s a new policy, but here’s my card. Call and ask for me. I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

  I sighed, but there was nothing this guy could do about the policy. I had to hope he’d still be available. I had doubts anyone else would come out this far.

  “Okay,” I said, taking his card. �
�I’ll call when I’m ready to be picked up.”

  “One more thing,” he said, handing me a clipboard and pen. “Please sign.”

  I reviewed the receipt.

  “Nothing to worry about, just signing your soul away.”

  “Funny,” I said, clicking the pen open. “Ouch!”

  “Sorry, it’s the only pen I’ve got.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” This wasn’t the first time I’d used a blood pen by mistake. And I was already bound by one deal; I couldn’t be bound by another.

  As you can imagine, blood pens were everywhere in the office, but this was the first time I’d ever been surprised by one. I signed the receipt and passed it back to the driver.

  “Sorry again,” he said.

  I glanced at his business card. “I’ll call you when I’m ready, Mike.”

  “No rush.”

  It was dark—China’s time zone was twelve hours ahead of New York—but the streetlights illuminated the area well enough.

  The pagoda was on the other side of the street. I was standing in front of a brick wall that ran the length of a football field in both directions. At least that was what I was supposed to see. Mike had stopped in front of a cluster of bricks that were all a slightly different shade than the rest. The bricks formed a diamond pattern—one I’d seen Cinnamon use before—that hid the door from public view. I walked to the pattern and placed my hand on the center brick. The wall disappeared showing me the real entrance.

  I glided through the illusion then looked back toward the taxi. It was already gone. A drunken couple was stumbling down the sidewalk—heading home from a night out—but they couldn’t see me. I was now hidden behind the brick veil.

  Two life-sized lion’s head knockers guarded the entrance to Cinnamon’s Chinese fortress. They were mounted on a pair of heavy iron doors at least thirty feet tall. Odd didn’t really cover what I was seeing. Uptown Manhattan was more Cinnamon’s style.

  My phone chirped. Please be Jack. I pulled it out to check the message. Not Jack. A sigh slipped from my lips. It was Jenny in Finance. “Quaid was just here looking for you. Is there something I should know?”