Dark Hope (The Devil's Assistant)

by Smith, H. D.

  “Aunt?” He followed her stare. His eyes scanned the area, but when he didn’t remark about my presence, I took that to mean he saw nothing. He couldn’t sense me, but he’d somehow heard me.

  “Don’t worry, Nephew. All will be fine.”

  “But you said—”

  She put a finger against his lips. “We will discuss that later. Does your father know she’s here?”

  “No.”

  “I must speak with her...alone.”

  Mace hesitated. “Alone?”

  Her eyes became cold slits when he didn’t immediately agree. “Yes, alone,” she demanded.

  Back-pedaling, he said, “Of course, Aunt. She is in the basement.”

  She smiled, caressing the side of his face. “We will speak when I return.”

  As she passed me, her cold essence rolled over my presence. “Are you coming?” she whispered.

  My eyes flew open. I was back in the dark basement. Adrenalin pulsed through me. My heart rate increased with every second. She’d scared Mace—the scariest pagan I knew—and now she wanted to see me. Alone.

  I swallowed, pushing down the knot in my throat as footsteps stopped at the basement door. Why was she happy I’d been in Purgatory? I flinched when the door clicked open. The lights flashed on overhead, causing me to squint.

  An unveiled human with dark hair glided down the stairs, but I was sure it was the aunt. Her hair, which had been straight down her back before, was gathered up into a neat bun. Her flowing full-length dress was now a suit that reminded me of a modern-day Jackie-O—complete with a small strand of white pearls and earrings. She looked to be in her late thirties or early forties. Pretty, but not beautiful.

  I was confused by the new style. She’d sensed me; didn’t she know I’d seen her? The hidden veil worried me. Someone who could scare Mace would have to be strong—Omar strong. Obviously, there were more people than I thought who could hide their veil.

  She lowered her gaze to Lily, who was starting to stir. “Sleep,” she commanded, and Lily’s body went limp. Turning to face me, the woman said, “Do not worry, child. You’re safe from me...for now.”

  My eyes widened.

  She chortled. “The game will be so much more rewarding now.”

  “The game?”

  She studied me. “You look different than I imagined.”

  I furrowed my brow. “How did you expect me to look?”

  “Like a human, of course.”

  “I am human.” Although I believed it less every time I said it.

  Her grin broadened. “Your features are more pagan than human.”

  Oh, please. “You’re the pagan here, not me.”

  She gasped, covering her mouth playfully with one hand. “Ah, clever girl. What else have you seen?”

  Had she really not known I’d seen her true form upstairs?

  I wanted to take a step back, but she’d wrapped her will around me so fast and effortlessly I didn’t even see it coming. Our eyes locked.

  There was an increased pressure on my head, similar to the way it felt when the Keeper read my mind. I wanted to turn away, but couldn’t. The pain started almost immediately. I could smell the blood as it trickled down my upper lip. A ringing sounded in my ears. I couldn’t breathe.

  “Stop,” I managed to force out.

  I fell to my hands and knees when she released me. My lungs burned as I sucked in air as fast as I could. Still gasping, I raised my head.

  She was in her true form now. Her simple long dress flowed effortlessly around her lithe body. The dress shimmered with an iridescent lushness I hadn’t noticed upstairs. Her hair was once again white-blonde, loose and flowing down her back.

  “I’m surprised you made it out of Purgatory alive,” she said. “We will deal with that later. For now, I am more interested in your predicament.”

  “Which predicament?” I wheezed out between gasps. The pain shooting through my head was relentless. My breathing was returning to normal, but every lungful still burned. I managed to push myself off the floor and stand.

  She crowed a mirthless laugh. “Which one, indeed.”

  “Yes, which one?” I demanded.

  Her wicked grin returned. “Traveling between the realms is very dangerous for humans—especially from Earth. Underworld portals are more predictable.”

  “So now I’m human,” I said, bent over, hands on my knees, looking up at her.

  She raised one of her perfect eyebrows. “That was a general statement, dear. However, you were more human before, which is why you’re here—now.”

  Now? “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You arrived three days before you went in.”

  “What?” This really made no sense.

  She sighed.

  I straightened, finally able to catch my breath.

  “I’ll try to explain the situation more clearly. You think today is?” She looked at me, expectant.

  After a few heartbeats, I said, “Monday?”

  “When, in fact, today is Friday.” She grinned. “Last Friday from your perspective.”

  I shook my head. Time travel? That was impossible. Time travel wasn’t real. Was it? “I went back in time?”

  “It would appear so,” she said. “Those pesky Earth portals can be so unreliable. You should be thanking whatever you pray to that it didn’t drop you in the eighteen hundreds. Three days is just a mere inconvenience. Don’t you think?”

  “Back in time? Time travel?” I said, shaking my head. How was that possible? I looked up, realizing what she’d said—the eighteen hundreds—three days were bad enough. Three days ago—not Monday. I gasped. “Junior’s not dead!”

  My body went rigid. Her will, holding me in place.

  “That’s exactly the kind of information I don’t want you sharing.”

  “But I can save him.” And save myself.

  She waggled a finger. “That isn’t quite how it works, dear. The decisions they make must be their own. No helping.”

  Decisions? “Are you saying the quads are going to kill him?” Was Junior the one who trapped them? Was he the mystery player—the one who hired Charles?

  The aunt’s lips pressed into a line. “Enough,” she said, waving her hand at me.

  Her will tightened around me like a giant fist, making it impossible for me to move. I gaped as she stepped through the salt circle as if it weren’t there. She towered over my five-foot-eight-inch frame. My back ached with increased pressure as she lifted me to eye level.

  “You will not speak of these events.” She raised her hand. A tiny shock zapped me as she touched my jaw. I opened my mouth to ask about Junior. A cold sensation rippled over my face, forcing me to clamp my mouth shut. Words were on my tongue to speak, but the spell kept me tight-lipped. A moment later the sensation receded. My jaw loosened. I was able to speak.

  “Junior trapped them. That’s why—” I cried out in pain as she tightened her hold.

  “Indeed,” she said, drawing me closer. “There is more than one way to get what I want. The first way would have been far less painful.”

  My eyes widened with fear. I couldn’t look away.

  “Snow of winter, rain of spring, leaves of fall and summer’s green. Keep this child of mine I see from telling tales of future deeds.”

  Her eyelids dropped, and a white-hot stream of energy shot from her eyes into mine. My head exploded with fire. I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

  I waited for the darkness to come—for the searing abyss of pain to abate—but it didn’t. My entire body shook as the aunt’s power drained me.

  Eleven

  My body tingled as if I’d been zapped with a Taser. The aftershocks rippled through me, making everything ache. I was curled in a ball on the floor. A drip of blood fell from my nose. I opened my eyes to see nothing but dark shadows over my vision.

  Jumbled thoughts ran through my head. A dull thumping sound blocked out all others. Where was I? Did I black out
again?

  No, I heard a voice surface from the melee. You’re in the basement.

  The basement. As soon as the words crossed my mind, a flood of images popped into my head. One image of Mace’s butler pouring a circle of salt. The markings on the wall as they activated and flashed. The eerie green glow of the wards trapping me. It was difficult to concentrate at first. My brain was scrambled, my thoughts scattered, but the images kept coming. The image of the pagan—the aunt—in the office with Mace. Everything connected to this basement was flooding my conscious thoughts.

  My eyelids fluttered as I focused. The aunt’s spell had been so bright—blinding. The dark shadows were fading.

  The thumping turned to ringing in my ears, then stopped. A split second later the room snapped into clear view. I could hear everything. The hum of the air conditioner, the sound of water running through pipes, Lily’s breathing as she lingered outside the circle. I was acutely aware of the smallest things. It was all so loud. I covered my ears with my hands.

  Translator, the voice said.

  I wasn’t blocking the tech—the translator's ability to bring quiet sounds near. Everything—all the sounds—were coming in. The soft shuffle of feet from above sounded like sandpaper scraping against wood. I had to stop it. I had to turn down the volume before my ears bled.

  I closed my eyes and attempted to block the sounds. I zeroed in on Lily. I heard her heart beat—steady and calm. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. One by one the other sounds quieted.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and uncovered my ears. All I could hear now was Lily cursing under her breath. “Stupid girl,” she muttered.

  Now that I had control I could ignore her too. Tuning her out, I concentrated on the jumbled mess in my head. My mind worked to piece together the developments of the day. One thought led to another. Events, people, places, all settling back into place. Why did the aunt do this?

  You canceled the first spell, the voice whispered.

  The aunt hadn’t wanted me to say anything. She cast a spell to keep me quiet, but my magic reversed it.

  As it did in Purgatory.

  Her words came rushing back. “Keep this child of mine I see from telling tales of future deeds.”

  She hadn’t called me a pagan, not exactly. But a child of hers didn’t make sense at all. Had going to Purgatory done more than give me powers? Did it make me a pagan? And why would I be hers if it did? I shook my head. I wasn’t a pagan. That was impossible.

  The voice was quiet. Did it disagree?

  Great. I’m going crazy. Talking about my subconscious like it was a real person. I laughed.

  Lily hissed.

  “I know you’re work—” working for my double, I tried to say, but my voice box seized, sending a sharp spike of pain down the back of my throat. “Ju—” I wanted to say: Junior’s not dead! but my throat closed up again, and I groaned. “Time—” Time Travel. I couldn’t say it.

  What did she do to me?

  The spell. Future deeds, you can’t speak them, the voice said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Thank you, Captain Obvious. Why?

  Lily muttered something, then cried out as she hit her hand against the wall protecting me.

  The aunt had been able to cross the salt barrier. Lily can’t. I guess friendlies can get through.

  Perhaps.

  You can’t actually believe she’s stronger than salt magic.

  No comment.

  Lily was getting harder to ignore, and my body was stiff from being curled up on the cold concrete floor.

  The decisions they make must be their own, the voice repeated something the aunt said.

  Returning my thoughts to the conversation I had with the aunt—I remember, she didn’t reply when I asked if the quads were going to kill Junior. Nor had she confirmed that Junior trapped them.

  How would she know?

  I shrugged. Then I recalled I was talking to myself and shrugged again. I have no idea, but if the quads suspect him—

  They’ll want revenge.

  I agreed. I had to get out of here. Junior could still be saved. He didn’t have to die. I could save him and get out of this mess.

  The double.

  The video of Junior at his desk flashed before me. The memory of the blood running down the walls and the sick copper smell of his office caused saliva to well in my mouth. I swallowed it and pushed the memory back. I refused to throw up.

  “Claire, baby,” he’d said. She was there when he was shot.

  Was she?

  Why was I questioning that? Oh, crap, Omar said it was me. He’d seen me both times—me, not the double. I didn’t believe him. How could I believe him? It hadn’t occurred to me that going back in time was an option.

  Because no one factors in time travel.

  I let out an erratic giggle. No one factors in time travel.

  My thoughts were starting to clear.

  Lily was eyeing me. “Are you insane?”

  Being sure to stay tucked safely inside the circle, I sat up. “It’s certainly possible.” I stretched out the muscles in my neck and wiped the blood off my nose with the hem of my T-shirt. There wasn’t much of it now, but a small puddle had dried on the floor.

  She glared at me. The red swollen mark under her eye and a small cut over her left eyebrow looked painful. “What did you tell him about me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You lie,” she whined. “My mistress hid me from his eyes. You told him.”

  “True, I pointed you out, but I didn’t tell him anything else. He found out on his own.”

  “Impossible,” she sneered.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  A car door slammed up above. I closed my eyes and blinked to the living room.

  Sage strode into the main room. He was back to his normal style in a dark suit that settled against his lean frame perfectly. I certainly wasn’t going to miss the dashiki. The butler carried in Sorrel. He was unconscious and in worse shape than Sage had been in earlier.

  Mace and Sage exchanged awkward pleasantries. This was probably the first time the two had been together at a non-family event since they were kids, and that was over five hundred years ago.

  Sage watched as the butler carried Sorrel toward the stairs. His brows were lowered. “What if she can’t fix him?”

  “She can,” Mace said with confidence. “But we will wait until Sin arrives.”

  Sage gave Mace a sidelong look. “Why?”

  “Because I say so.”

  Sage faced his brother, his lips pressed into a hard line. “You aren’t in charge here. I want Claire to fix him now.”

  “I’m in the basement,” I said, without thinking.

  He scanned the room, his gaze stopping on the wall that hid the portal to the basement. He heard me, just as Mace had before in the office.

  “We wait for Cinnamon,” Mace said, not seeming to notice Sage wasn’t listening.

  “Don’t wait,” I encouraged. “Come get me now.”

  Sage glanced from the wall to Mace, then back. “I’ll get her myself,” Sage said, heading toward the portal.

  In a flash, Mace threw his will, slamming Sage against the wall and holding him there. “I said we will wait.”

  Sage struggled, but Mace’s hold was stronger. “I said I would stay.”

  A cruel grin curved Mace’s lips. “I don’t believe you, so we’ll wait.”

  “Fine,” Sage growled.

  “The girl stays put.”

  “I’ve already agreed, now release me.”

  Mace waited for his brother’s eyes to meet his.

  Through clenched teeth, Sage snarled, “Please.”

  With a twisted smirk, Mace dropped his will. Sage barreled past him toward the bedrooms.

  “You’re giving up that easy?” I yelled after him.

  “Fuck you,” Sage muttered.

  Mace raised both his eyebrows.

  “He’s not talking to you,” I said, before slam
ming my hand over my mouth.

  Mace spun around, scanning the room. After a minute, he gave up looking and returned to his office. He couldn’t sense me, not like the aunt. However, he—both of them—could hear me somehow. But it was subconscious. I don’t think either of them realized they heard me, yet both acted on my suggestions.

  I decided to stay upstairs and explore the bungalow. Cinnamon would arrive soon. Mace would ignore me until then.

  The place was huge. The upper floor had four bedrooms and Mace’s office. Along with the main room, the downstairs consisted of an eat-in kitchen, dining room, media room, and master bedroom. The tropical eclectic ensemble of furniture continued throughout the house. I found an oil painting propped against the wall in one of the bedrooms. The image reminded me of the butler. Maybe this was his house?

  I watched the sun set from the deck off the master suite. I thought of Jack and the vacation cruise we’d been promising ourselves we’d take as soon as he finished his degree. I wished he was here with me and this was our vacation, instead of this miserable nightmare I couldn’t control.

  I blinked back inside when Cinnamon’s voice rolled in from the main room. Part of me was glad she’d arrived. The other part was scared at what she and the boys might do to me. I returned to the living room. She was in her signature black dress, blood-red lipstick, and killer high heels. Her hair was once again flowing down her back, perfectly straight. The toga princess she’d been in the garden was gone.

  She didn’t bother with pleasantries. She started barking orders the moment she arrived. “Put him below with the others,” she ordered her manservant—one of the sentries from the garden. He was having difficulty controlling the thing that was tied up in the sack, which I assumed was Charles.

  “You,” she said to Collins, “be a dear and fix me a drink.”

  Mace entered the room, his face expressionless. Sage carried Sorrel. Cinnamon motioned for him to lay Sorrel on the sofa. She hovered over him, studying him.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Sage asked.

  Cinnamon placed her hand above Sorrel’s body. She left her hand there for a few minutes before dropping it. “It’s some sort of spell—obviously—but I’m not getting any readings off him.”