Dark Hope (The Devil's Assistant) (13 page)

What
? I considered her face. She was grinning from ear to ear, but there was no hint of deception. She believed it without doubt. I’m not human? Never was? How was that even possible?

“If I’m not human, then what the hell am I?” A sudden fear ran through me.

“Poor baby—doesn’t know who Daddy is,” she chided.

I shook my head involuntarily. There was no father’s name listed on my birth certificate. If I’m not human, did that mean I was, what, a druid, a pagan—a hellspawn? Could The Boss be my—? I wouldn’t even consider it. I swallowed, trying to keep down the bile in my throat. The Devil was not my father, and I wasn’t sure how the power thing worked, but I was human.

“The watch has the power.” I feebly attempted to explain it away.

She chuckled. “Winter’s blood will break the curse.”

My eyes widened. “What curse?”

She sagged her shoulders and sighed. “It doesn’t matter now—now we play. I do hope you remember our games. We used to have so much fun.”

I crossed my arms. I wasn’t going to play her stupid games. “I suppose Fall wants to screw me over too.”

Her eyes flared white. Her jovial nature vanished. Before my eyes, her body morphed into a ghostly siren with radiating static energy covering her naked form. A wild mess of green hair stood out from her head as if the strands were being blown by an invisible wind. In a deep voice, she said, “Do not joke of things you do not understand. Fall is the reason you exist. Your heart belongs to her.”

“But there’s only three realms,” I challenged.

A low rumble started, which must have been her laughing, before she said, “Now there are three. Then there were four.”

There used to be a fourth realm?

“Choose,” she spat.

Choose what
?

Her form changed. Within seconds, she showed me seventeen different, yet familiar, people. Everyone from the grocer in my local supermarket to the homeless man I passed on my way to work. She paused on my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Gage, an older woman with graying hair and pointy horn-rimmed glasses that seemed to stare at you on their own.

Her voice was loud and shrill, sounding the same as I remembered Mrs. Gage sounding. “This was a popular choice once.”

No. Not the nightmares.

“Summer’s pet is starting to remember. Good.”

I may have been twenty-one, but at that moment, I felt like nine-year-old Claire—the scared little girl plagued by nightmares. This couldn’t be happening. Those had disappeared years ago.

Ignoring my distress, the other me continued, “Maybe someone more recent.” Quickly, she shifted through images until she stopped on my beautiful dark-haired, blue-eyed boyfriend.

Jack.

He stood there in his low hung jeans, looking all bad-boy sexy. “Hey babe, what’s up?” he said.

“No. Not him. Please.”

He winked, and she started shifting through images again. She stopped on a big, blurry blob in the shape of a woman. I knew immediately it was my mother. I shook my head again. I didn’t want to see this thing’s version of her.

The blob shrugged, and the Keeper switched again. This time it landed on Mace.

I sucked in a breath. My body tensed.

“Shall I read you poetry or cut out your heart?” Mace said with a wicked laugh.

“Why are you doing this?”

Ignoring me, the Keeper waved his hand. The office disappeared. We were now in Hell—at least what I expected Hell to be like—a desolate wasteland of destruction.

“I guess it’s too late to pick poetry?” I said nervously.

He licked his lips, then winked before giving me a wide Cheshire cat grin. The Keeper’s version of Mace was somehow more vicious and cold. His god-like good looks were hardened, as if he was wearing a mask. The wind picked up, and a chill ran through me.

“Please don’t bring back the nightmares,” I whispered, more to myself than any plea to the Keeper.

His smile faded as he calmly started removing his jacket. I was in the middle of a war-torn city. Gutted, bombed, and crumbling buildings were all around me. Debris was everywhere. I stumbled and almost fell backing up.

He was taking his time, rolling up each shirtsleeve. “You should start running now—a head start,” he said. “I’ll be very disappointed if you’re too easy to catch,” he warned.

I ran. An unseen force slammed me against a crumbling chunk of concrete. I guess I should have known the Keeper wasn’t going to play fair. I winced as I heaved myself from the rubble. A pole protruding from the block of concrete jabbed painfully into my side. The skin wasn’t broken, but it hurt like hell.

“Ten, nine, eight…” Mace started counting down.

I ran. There was no way to out run him, but I had to try.

“…seven, six, five…”

I ducked behind a building, still within earshot.

“…four, three, two, one.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“Ready or not, here I come,” he teased.

I crouched low, trying to quiet my breathing—trying not to panic. Waiting for him to pass by, I held my breath as he approached. I gave him a minute to put distance between us, then bolted to another building. Staying low, I hugged the wall. I jumped when an invisible blast struck near my head. Tiny chips of concrete debris flew out in every direction. I ducked as one of the larger chunks flew at my head. I nearly tripped, almost falling into a pile of steel and sharp glass.

I lost sight of him, but I was sure he was still chasing me. Without warning, I slammed into an abandoned car. Its alarm started blaring. I lunged away, stumbling this time, and ran. I reached the next building, stopping to catch my breath.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he taunted.

The crunch of his footsteps neared. I saw a broken piece of two-by-four lying on the ground. It had four rusty nails jutting from the underside of one end. I scooped it up and ducked behind a wall—waiting for him to get closer.

Wind howled through the buildings. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on his sound. “Just go away,” I pleaded quietly into the night.

Everything stilled.

I cautiously opened my eyes, hoping I was back in Sage’s apartment. I wasn’t. I was in my childhood nightmare, the one from my past, a scary version of my old elementary school.

I froze and looked around. The classrooms on either side of the hallway were filled with children—at least they appeared to be children. They were really scary little monsters who were just waiting to break out of their skins and eat me.

An innocent giggle sounded behind me. I thought my heart might stop beating. I spun around. It was Beatrice—a little five-year-old with cute blonde curls that bounced in time with her steps. She giggled again and skipped toward me. Exactly as I remembered.

I gripped the plank tighter, holding it up like a baseball bat. “Stay the hell away from me, bitch.”

The sound of her patent leather shoes hitting the floor sent chills down my spine. She scared me more than anything else ever had, before or since. When I was younger, I actually thought she was the Devil—that was before I met him, of course.

Get a hold of yourself
. I backed up, but stopped when I hit something.

“Boo.” I shivered as his breath brushed the back of my neck.

I spun around.

Mace ripped the board from my hands and tossed it away. “There you are.” He caught me by the hair and jerked me close.

I slammed my elbow into his side, but he wouldn’t budge. He tugged my head back and leaned in for a kiss. With my fingers shaped like claws, I grabbed at his face, pushing him away. He snarled and yanked my hair. I yelped, but still tried to claw him.

With his free hand, he held my arms away from him. I struggled, but it did no good. He was bigger and stronger. He angled my head, exposing my neck, but this time he wasn’t going to kiss me. Opening his mouth, he bared his teeth. They were now disgustingly sharp and dripping with saliva.

My heart beat like a drum. Struggling free was impossible. I arched my face, screaming when his wet lips touched my neck—burning my skin. I felt a tug against my core, as if he was somehow sucking my life away.

“Stop,” I panted.

The Keeper stilled.

I took a few deep breaths. I closed my eyes and shouted, “Wake-up!”

Everything stopped. My hands ached. The burn of his lips on my neck faded. I slowly opened my eyes. I was back in Sage’s apartment, gawking at a very disappointed—pissed off—version of myself.

I sighed with relief just as an annoying beep-beep, beep-beep started. I checked my watch and let out a disbelieving snort. I released the mirror’s frame, flexing my hands to relieve the stiffness. I switched off the alarm.

I was shaking, cold, and scared, but I was free of the Keeper’s influence.

The reflection of me started to fade. “Until next time,” she mouthed, before backing away and disappearing into the mist.

Nine

I hurried down the stairs, pausing at the bottom to catch my breath. My hands were still shaking when I spotted a small bathroom off the foyer. I splashed water on my face, then dried it with a hand towel by the sink.

My reflection in the mirror was pale, but my color was returning. I took several deep breaths. My hands weren’t shaking as much, but I was still wired. I inspected my neck, expecting to see where Mace had bitten me, but there was nothing there.

This whole time, I’d never left the apartment.

I took a long calming breath and attempted to forget the memory of the nightmares. I hadn’t thought about them in years. I hadn’t run from Ms. Gage, or Beatrice, or the scary monster children since I was nine. I was still having difficulty wrapping my head around what had happened, now
and
then. To think that years ago my nightmares had been caused by this creature—the Keeper—deliberately trying to hurt me.

The nightmares had ended the summer before I turned ten. At the time, I’d given credit for chasing the nightmares away to my new caseworker, Mr. Harrison. He was the New York City social worker who had been assigned to me after my previous social worker mysteriously disappeared. I felt horrible for him the first time I met him. Getting assigned my case was like the lottery win of bad luck. Up until then, I’d had a different caseworker every six months—and they weren’t all lucky enough to
just
disappear.

Mr. Harrison hadn’t really taken away the nightmares. He was my caseworker, not my savior, but he’d removed me from more horrible foster families than I could count. I considered the nightmares part of that package. He was the only good thing that had ever happened to me.

Now I had a new hell to deal with. Could I trust anything the Keeper said?

I glanced at my right arm—The Boss’s mark. The watch.
My power
.

Spring’s pet. Bound by Winter. Protected by Summer.
Screwed by Fall
.

Not human.

I shook my head. I was tired and hungry. I wanted this day to end. I wanted to go home to Jack and make love to him. Fix the misunderstanding between us. Quit my job. Live a normal life. Win the lottery. I chuckled. What was one more impossible thing on the list?

I flexed my hands
which
were still sore from the tight hold I’d had on the frame. “Enough,” I said, pounding my fist on the counter. “Suck it up, Red, and solve Junior’s murder.” I laughed at my own serious expression, but I couldn’t just stand here and do nothing.

Sage was MIA. I took out my phone and considered calling Quaid. No, I couldn’t give up yet. I shoved it back into my bag. I wasn’t willing to risk involving him. I had to stick to the plan. Sorrel—as long as he wasn’t actually dead—was next on the list.

I moved to leave then stopped when I spied an old-looking set of keys on the marble table by the door. I hadn’t seen those before, but I’d been distracted by Sage’s behavior. I picked them up and examined them.

There were two skeleton keys, one slightly larger than the other, and two ordinary house keys. They were each engraved with a hellspawn symbol. If I was right about the symbols, the house keys belonged to Sage and Sorrel, the larger skeleton key had Cinnamon’s mark, and the smaller key, embossed with a silver snake, was for Mace.

Why would Sage have all of their keys?

I stuffed them into my bag. If they belonged to Sage, he wouldn’t miss them right away, and if not, they could be a clue to what was going on.

I left the apartment and walked over to Sorrel’s door. I considered using his key to enter his apartment, but decided it was safer to ring the bell. After the day I’d had so far, I didn’t want to walk in uninvited.

I rang twice before he answered. Good, not dead. He partially opened the door, leaving the chain attached. More strange behavior. Most things coming after him wouldn’t be stopped by a door chain.

He wore a white tank top and was just as unkempt as his brother. At least he wasn’t wearing a dashiki.

“I need to speak to you,” I said. “Your father sent me.” I opted to start with a lie. I certainly didn’t want him to think I’d come for any other reason.

Sorrel sniffed. “I told him I don’t ever want to speak to him again.”

Okay, like that was possible. “Since when?”

“Since the funeral,” he said.

“Whose funeral? Yours?”

“No, idiot. I’m standing right here,” he admonished, then muttered, “Why does no one ever see me? Why do they only ever think about him?”

Sorrel was definitely the neurotic one, but this wasn’t like him. He’d never admit he thought everyone favored Sage, no matter how much he believed it. Not that I was surprised, but he clearly wasn’t himself.

“Sorrel,” I said, getting his attention. “Who died?” I asked, to confirm what I already suspected.

“What? Oh, Daddy’s favorite is still here,” he sneered, raising his chin.

“His favorite what? Slave?” I wasn’t The Boss’s favorite anything. “Who died?” I demanded.

“Sage. Sage is dead. Now go away.”

Sorrel shifted and his right leg came into view. I recognized the sweat pants Sage had been wearing earlier. I looked closer. He had the same bruise on his right foot.
Oh, crap
. This was the same twin, but did that mean the other twin was really dead?