Dark Forsaken (The Devil's Assistant Book 3) (5 page)

Chapter 5

Sorrel stuffed Sage’s unconscious body into the back of the Lamborghini, which might seem impossible, but wasn’t. Of course, Sage would have been complaining if he were awake. Thank God for small favors.

I was ready to be home, or at least what passed for my home these days. Because of Sorrel, I couldn’t just live in my old one-bedroom apartment I’d shared with Jack. I now lived in a ridiculously extravagant apartment large enough for a family of seven. A small part of me never wanted to live in the one-bedroom again, but that was because there were just too many memories of Jack and me and the happy, somewhat normal life we could have had there. I’m not sure why I kept it. The old apartment was slowly becoming a time capsule of my past life, but I couldn’t give it up yet. It was where I kept my old life with Jack: the memory of his love, Jack’s ring, the happiness, and a life I’d never have. It wasn’t like I could ever go back to those days. Part of me didn’t want to—my heart now belonged to Thanos in a way it never did to Jack, but I still felt the loss of the
idea
of that perfect life that I almost had with my first love.

The roar of the engine brought me back to reality. I couldn’t dwell on
what could have been
with Jack or focus on
what might be
with Thanos. I had to replace the curator, sort out this mess in Underworld, and regain my freedom to travel to the fourth realm. Then I could go back to the realm I called home and power up, which was the only way I’d be able to find Thanos and have any hope of being with him. Without the power to walk through time, I’d never get him away from Mab long enough to know if he’d really forgotten me. I didn’t put it past Mab to lock him away in the Deeps for a while. She’d use any means to make him forget me. The Deeps had a way of forcing you to live hundreds of years in a second, and after a few trips there, living other complete lives, how could he still remember me? For five hundred years Mab had thought he was dead, so what was another few hours in her isolation hold to make him forget me? He was already broken in her eyes. What did it matter if she put him through more pain to get a true blank slate?

Sorrel got us back to the apartment in record time—maybe he was concerned Sage would throw up in his car. I left him to handle his brother and headed up to my five-star prison.

I had an entire side of the apartment to myself, which consisted of a master-bedroom suite and office. The other bedrooms were all smaller, but still bigger than the apartment I’d shared with Jack.

Sorrel was cursing as he pulled a half-conscious Sage into the foyer.

“Put him in one of the spare bedrooms,” I said. “And get rid of all the liquor in the house. I’m holding you responsible if he gets anything alcoholic to drink while he’s here.”

Sorrel scowled at me. “How the hell do you expect me to keep him away from it?”

I shrugged and laughed. “Dump it all out. I don’t care, but he better stay sober. Or I’ll tell your father you contributed to the problem.”

Sorrel muttered something under his breath as he dragged Sage to one of the back bedrooms. I headed for my office, but stopped when I saw my laptop on the couch. Sorrel had obviously borrowed it—again—without permission. I grabbed it, wondering what questionable site he’d left on the screen this time and making a mental note to run the anti-virus software.

After taking a shower, putting on my pajamas, and fixing an ice cream sundae for dinner—yes, it was one of those days—I sat down at my desk and pulled up the web browser. I wanted to search for Sydney online. She obviously used the internet enough to find the guy that pointed her to me. As I started, it occurred to me that she wouldn’t have found anyone that knew about me on the human internet—her knowledge was limited, but she’d known about the otherworldly among us, which meant she must have access to the Other-Net.

I closed the normal browser and brought up the Other-Net. It was a special interface that decrypted content from sites owned and operated by non-humans or humans in the know. It was sort of like browsing from a mobile device: any site that supported an Other-Net address routed to the correct content when browsing via the interface. It was eye-opening the first time I stumbled upon it at work years ago. The Tucker Bosh Other-Net site has nothing in common with the human version.

I googled Sydney’s name, which returned links to Instagram and Snapchat. I scanned the list, quickly moving to the less popular results, but I found nothing more interesting than the first two links. I clicked on Instagram to see what public pictures she had out there. The last post was three weeks ago when she uploaded a picture of the Jaded Dragon. According to the post, it was a Chinese restaurant in Underworld where she was applying for a job. There wasn’t a follow-up post, but it was a lead.

I then added “dead twin” to my Google search and found a link to Geoffrey’s Other-Net Depot of Spirituality, which had the unfortunate acronym G.O.D.S.

I clicked on the link and read the personal ad she posted four days ago. It had one reply: “Follow me on Snapchat.” There was no user id listed, but it was possible the G.O.D.S. id was the same. Unfortunately, Snapchat was known for its immediate removal of content after viewing, so that was a dead end too.

The first crash of breaking glass pulled my attention away from the search. I guess I should have been glad Sorrel was following my orders by getting rid of all the liquor, but the headache that followed all the noise wasn’t making me feel appreciative.

Two hours later, I was sitting in my swivel chair, rubbing my temples and waiting for the Tylenol I’d just taken to kick in. After trying a few more Sydney searches with no luck, I started giving some thought to Mab’s approach to replacing the curator. I was so far past three hundred applicants it wasn’t funny, but I couldn’t just start killing people. That wasn’t really my thing. And if the big three still had to approve my choice, then what good did it do? Of course, another thousand people could change my mind, and maybe the big three would start accepting my choices if they didn’t want rejected applicants to die—although, honestly, I couldn’t see them caring.

I cringed when the next glass shattered. Was he doing this on purpose or did we really have that much liquor in the apartment? Loud shouting started and I laid my head on the desk. Sage had obviously woken up and they had started fighting. I closed my eyes and stepped into the in-between.

I blinked my presence into the kitchen, where Sorrel was wrestling what had to be the last bottle of bourbon away from Sage. In as stern a voice as possible, with all the measly power I possessed, I said, “Sage, go to bed. Sleep it off and wake up without this stupid addiction to alcohol. You are forbidden to drink ever again! Sorrel, if you break one more bottle tonight, I’ll kill you.” My power had waned by the time I reached Sorrel’s command, but it was an idle threat anyway.

I opened my eyes, returning to my body. The noise in the kitchen had stopped. Now, I just had to figure out what the hell to do with Sage. Why couldn’t he just find a nice sugar-mama to hold up with like Cinnamon and her billionaire boyfriend?

I didn’t want to banish any of the quads to the fourth realm. It wasn’t because they didn’t deserve it, I just didn’t want them stuck there pissed at me. With their power, they’d have Omar deposed in a day and be running the place as acting Regent within a week. They’d have more power than anyone else in the realm and I’d have no ability to stop them from here or even monitor the situation.

I glanced at the time on the computer. It was one in the morning, well past my bedtime. I closed the laptop and tried to get some sleep.

Chapter 6

Sage was grouchy on the cab ride to the office the next morning. I’d half expected him to curse me for not letting him have a little hair of the dog, but other than being surly, he didn’t appear to want anything to drink. I was glad my persuasion had a beneficial effect, but I officially forbade him as the Fall Queen and ruler of his realm not to drink. Of course, I couldn’t enforce this, but it was my right as their ruler to command them—even though I was fairly sure it wouldn’t have worked without the persuasion.

I had no clue what I was going to do with Sage now. I couldn’t just let him loose on the world so soon after his antics in Underworld and I wouldn’t put him back in the path of temptation by leaving him with Mace, so that meant he would be at the office with us until I figured out something better.

Not surprisingly, there was a line of people waiting when we arrived. I ignored the candidates until Sage snarled at one man, who then crossed himself before bolting for the elevators. I raised an eyebrow at Sage, who was giving off the serial killer vibe to the point that he made Sorrel look angelic. “You’ll sit with Sorrel in the waiting room. Don’t kill anyone.” Another man, who’d obviously overheard my remark, stood and headed for the door. Maybe having Sage around wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Connie was being her usual annoying self until she caught sight of our new resident bad boy. She smiled and batted her eyelashes. Shooing someone from the seat near her desk, she motioned for Sage to sit. He snarled at her and then grumpily sat down in one of the newly-empty seats near the door. I wanted to laugh when Connie’s lips pressed into a hard line, but I held up my hand to stop anything she might consider saying—I didn’t want to hear it. Glancing around, I realized that more than one person waiting had quietly left. Oh yeah, keeping Sage around might be worth his baggage.

Eyeing Connie, I said, “Sage will be with us for a while. Leave him alone.”

Connie’s nose turned up as if she smelled something fowl and she gave me a once-over to clearly disapprove of my casual attire. I’d decided this morning that jeans would be my new thing, although I wasn’t quite ready to throw all decorum to the wind and wear t-shirts as well. For now, I’d stick with the sweater sets.

Ignoring Connie’s attitude, I continued. “Did you get the contact number for that young girl yesterday? The one with the pink and blue hair?”

“No,” Connie’s shrill voice grated. “The little shit didn’t turn in the paperwork.”

“Fine. Give me five minutes to get settled and then send in the first candidate.”

My desk looked the same as it had the day before, but it felt more depressing. I settled in and began checking my email. Thirty minutes later, I looked up when I realized no one had interrupted me for an interview.

Assuming Connie was being her usual less-than-stellar self, I yelled, “Next.” After a few silent minutes, I yelled again. “Next.” Still, no one entered the office. “Connie,” I called. A slow minute later, she strolled over to my door.

“What?” she said, clearly annoyed.

“Next.”

Glancing back toward the waiting room, she said. “Nobody’s here.”

What
? That waiting room had been overflowing for weeks. “There was a line out the door when we got here.”

Shrugging, she said, “They walk in, take one look around, and walk back out.”

I got up and went out into the waiting room. Sage was sitting across from the door looking like he’d already killed a few people today. Just as I thought he might be too much of a deterrent, the door opened and a small pagan man walked in. The man looked first at Sage and then at Sorrel. With only a brief hesitation, he sat on Sorrel’s side of the room. I could live with that.

“Looks like you’re next,” I said to him.

He smiled and followed me back to my desk.

The rest of the day went about the same way. Normally, I had to talk to over a hundred applicants, and ninety percent were a waste of my time. Thanks to Sage, I talked to ten people—all of whom had potential. I added them all to my list of candidates to present to the big three even though I didn’t think it mattered, since they hadn’t approved any of my choices so far.

If only there had been a clearly outstanding candidate, I’d have tried to argue with them over one of my choices and figure out how to get around the ridiculous rule of seeing anyone that wanted to apply, but the curator job was a lifetime position and I didn’t want to pick poorly. I wanted to talk to Harry about it the next time I saw him. At least I trusted him more than the rest to give me accurate advice on the subject.

Sage’s presence had turned away the losers, and I was actually happy he was around for once. My good mood was dashed when I heard Cinnamon’s voice drift in from the outer office. I was surprised to hear her barking orders at Connie, and even more surprised, considering she never did anything for me, that Connie had actually agreed to run out for coffee.

What is Cinnamon doing here
? She had no reason to stop by unless she was here for Sage. But why would she come for him?

I sat back in my chair, waiting for her royal highness to grace me with her presence.

“You,” Cinnamon said to someone in the waiting room, “can go.”

At this rate, I could leave early.

After a few hushed whispers with Sorrel or Sage, Cinnamon finally darkened my door.

“My queen,” she said, smiling.

I pointed at the chair in front of me. Reluctantly, she sat, but didn’t say anything.

A few seconds of awkward silence passed before I asked, “What do you want?”

“Can’t I come down for a social call?”

I barked out a quick laugh. “No.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. After a beat, she said, “I’ve come for Sage.”

I’d been right about her intentions, but that still didn’t answer why she’d care about any of her brothers’ well-being. They wanted her dead after the incident in Purgatory last summer, so this sisterly love crap wasn’t ringing true. “How did you know he was here? And why do you think I’d let you take him?”

Cinnamon’s smile didn’t falter. In an innocent voice, she said, “A little bird told me.” Was she serious, or being literal? Not that she could directly talk to animals, that was Gizelle and Sage’s talent, but her mother could have contacted her by more traditional means—assuming it was their mother that knew he was here. I certainly wouldn’t put it past Gizelle to use a messenger bird to spy on the quads.

“Why do you want him?” I asked.

Cinnamon’s eyebrows rose. “I assumed you’d want him off your hands. Am I wrong?”

Something didn’t feel right about this. Cinnamon had been avoiding the boys for weeks. She’d treated them badly while they were trapped in Purgatory, so I didn’t blame her. I’d had to actually order the boys not to hurt her and remind them that she was The Boss’s favorite. So why would she care if Sage was stuck here with me?

Before I could say anything, Cinnamon added, “He’s my brother and he needs help.”

I snorted. “Yeah, and the last time I checked, all three of your brothers wanted you dead.”

“It’s not the first time, my queen, or the last, I’m sure. Plus, you’ve forbidden them to try.”

I wanted to laugh. The truth was that they were scared the Devil would retaliate, not me, but I played along. “Perhaps I should rethink that order?”

Cinnamon shrugged. “That will not stop me from trying to help him.”

I narrowed my eyes. She had no reason to help him, which meant there was another reason she wanted Sage. I could forbid him from leaving, but then I’d never know her motives. Before I could decide the best approach, Sage came to the door.

With arms crossed over his chest, he said, “I’m going with Cinnamon. Don’t try to stop me.”

I sighed. Trying to keep him now would be a constant battle. Before I could say anything, he proved my point.

“I won’t
not
kill them tomorrow,” he said, glancing back at the waiting room and clearly threatening to physically harm people who came to the office for the job interview tomorrow and not just look menacing.

“Fine,” I said, not wanting to argue. Making eye contact with Cinnamon, I added, “Keep him out of trouble.”

“Of course, my queen,” she said, bowing her head.

I hated their fake pageantry. It was all so ridiculously phony, but I ignored it.

Standing, Cinnamon nodded to Sage, who looked desperate to leave.

“Cinnamon,” I said.

“Yes, my queen?”

“I want your word that he’ll stay out of trouble.”

She hesitated for a moment as if she was uncertain and then glanced at her phone. Who was she considering calling?

“I’ll force him to stay if you refuse,” I warned. I wouldn’t just let her walk out with him only to turn him loose the moment they were out of sight. “I’ll need your word if you want to take him.”

She glanced at Sage, then said, “I, Cinnamon of Fallen, give you my word that, while in my care, Sage will stay out of trouble.”

Sage grunted and sulked away. I considered challenging her addition to the oath—while in her care—but let it go.

“Keep him on a short leash,” I warned.

Cinnamon laughed. “Claire, your concern warms my soul, but do not fret, he will not be allowed to run around by himself.”

Do not fret
? Was she serious? I wanted to roll my eyes at her, but didn’t. I waved my hand to dismiss her. I had had too good of a day to let her ruin it. Thankfully, she left without further encouragement.

A few minutes later, Sorrel came to the door. “I don’t think that assistant chick is coming back. Are you ready to leave?”

I glanced at my computer screen. It was almost four, close enough to the end of the workday.

Before I could answer, someone came crashing through the door to the outer office. Sorrel turned to face them, blocking my view.

“Do this, do that,” Connie muttered and then let out a startled yelp. “What are you still doing here?” She didn’t wait for Sorrel to answer. “Here, take this,” she said, shoving something into his hands. I heard what sounded like paper flapping. “I now have flyers to make and deliver. It’s already after three,” she groused, slamming a drawer closed. The outer office door opened a second later. “Tell Miss Fancy Pants that I’m taking tomorrow off.”

Sorrel turned back around with a scowl on his face, holding a to-go tray with two cups of coffee. In complete deadpan he said, “Miss Fancy Pants, your assistant is crazy and won’t be here tomorrow.”

I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “Whatever.” Connie wasn’t exactly the best assistant, but she didn’t usually act quite so erratic. Cinnamon’s coffee run had obviously put her in a mood.

Sorrel took out one of the coffees and tossed the other in the trash.

“No,” I said sarcastically, “I didn’t want the coffee, thanks for asking.” When he didn’t comment, I continued. “We’re going downtown for dinner.”

He started to protest, but I cut him off.

“I’m the queen and I say we’re going to the Jaded Dragon for dinner.” I snapped my fingers, changing his clothes into a tie-dyed mockery of his badass cowboy look from the previous night. He changed them back, but I immediately put him in a tight matador’s outfit in bright pink. “I can keep this up for days.” That was a total lie, but I had enough juice to piss him off for at least an hour.

“Fine,” he said, changing his clothes back. “Let’s go.”