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

“My sister is still alive?” Sydney asked, eyes darting around as if the girl might pop out at any moment. “How?”

It was my turn to shrug. “Records like your twin’s death certificate would be fairly easy to forge and there’s another queen that has put things in motion. She made sure there would be four in this time. If you’re one of the girls, your sister is, too.”

Sydney’s expression changed and her face brightened. “This other queen, she knows where my sister is?”

I hesitated. Mab most definitely knew where Sydney’s sister was, but there was no way she’d confess. “It’s possible that she knows, but Mab won’t tell anyone her secrets.”

“Mab?” Sydney asked, a quizzical look on her face.

That was right, Sydney just knew what the online guy told her. I decided to start at the beginning, or something close to the beginning anyway. “You know Sorrel isn’t human, right?”

She nodded. “You said he was immortal, so I assumed that meant he wasn’t human.”

“Do you know what he is?”

“Some kind of demon?”

I tried not to laugh. “Sorrel is a hellspawn, half demon. But demon isn’t really a generic term for anything non-human.”

Her brows drew together. “Half demon? What’s the other half?”

“His other half is pagan, the pretty people. There are also druids and fallen. Fallen, however, are new, so there aren’t that many of them yet.”

“Right—the fallen,” she said, as if she knew something I didn’t. “So why are you considered the Fall Queen if I’m also a contender?”

“My blood is special. It allowed me to reawaken the fourth realm. In doing so, I got the title of Fall Queen, but I’m not as powerful as the others.”

“The others? Like Sorrel?”

“No, the big three, the Devil, Mab, and Harry.”

“Mab and Harry?”

Right, I was in the middle of explaining that. “Mab is the Winter Queen and Harry is the Spring King, also known as the Queen of Purgatory and the ruler of Paradise.”

With a grimace, she said, “God’s real name is Harry?”

“Um, not exactly. The druids aren’t angels.”
Far from it
. Trying to explain was harder than I thought it would be. “He’s had a lot of names. I wouldn’t get too wrapped up in what you think you know.” At least for me, knowing the truth had put the religions of the world into question, but there was some truth in all things and Paradise was real—of course so were Hell and Purgatory.

“Oh,” she said, somewhat disappointed.

“The big three are very similar. There isn’t much difference between any of them.” It sounded way more depressing than I meant it to.

“I think I’ve had enough truth for one day,” she said glancing at the door. “I’m going to go now.”

There was a knock on the door and Connie walked in uninvited. Sydney took that opportunity to bolt.

“Wait,” I yelled, but she was already gone. “Thanks a lot,” I said, looking at my assistant, who’d just let contender number three walk out.

Connie shrugged. “The Boss wants to see you before you go.”

“Great. Just what I needed today,” I grumbled.

Chapter 2

I took the elevator to the top floor. Sorrel, my constant shadow, was with me. He’d been assigned by The Boss to protect me until the curator was replaced. I didn’t like the arrangement, because even though he was part of my realm, it felt too much like The Boss was trying to micromanage me. I guess it could be worse. I could still be working for the Devil.

Walking through the glass doors to The Boss’s office suite, I spotted a new girl sitting at my old desk. Last summer, before everything with Raven happened and I became the Fall Queen, The Boss had tried to bring me back to work as his assistant. At the time, a snooty girl with too much eyeliner named Vivian had been all too happy to give up the post. The new girl—a very druid-looking mousey-haired human—was so timid the creak of the glass door startled her. This was, of course, a different girl than the one who’d been here two days ago. Clearly, without a curse of being owned by The Boss, he couldn’t keep an assistant to save his life. I was still amazed I’d done the job for five years.

Mousey just stared as I headed for The Boss’s office. Her mouth dropped open as I grabbed the handle to his door and pushed.

I heard a very weak, “Excuse me,” as the door closed behind me.

The Boss was standing behind his desk, his hand resting on the back of his chair. He wasn’t alone. Harry and Mab were both present—in their normal guises, not the twenty-somethings they’d played at for a while last summer. Harry was standing near the full-length window, surveying the city below. Mab was checking her nails, clearly tired of waiting. Unfortunately, their presence meant this wasn’t a typical check-in.

Harry and Mab straightened and turned to face me when I walked in.

I placed the folder of qualified curator candidates on The Boss’s desk for them to review and picked up the previous folder, which was empty, meaning none of the previous qualified candidates had been approved for the job. Some days, I wasn’t sure why I bothered trying.

Refusing to let them see my disappointment, I plopped down in one of The Boss’s cushy office chairs, ignoring their ominous stairs. “Not sure Mousey’s going to make it long.”

The Boss narrowed his eyes, but he knew I was right. He’d be lucky if she finished out the day.

Mab didn’t officially greet me, but Harry smiled and nodded. I winked at my one-time protector and pretend social worker.

Opening my hands, palms up in a half shrug, I directed my statement at The Boss. “You requested my presence, so here I am.”

He nodded as if I weren’t being completely sarcastic and began the meeting. “We have a matter to discuss, but first, how is the search progressing?”

I wanted to groan, but smiled instead. “The same as always.” I pointed at the new folder. “Four qualified candidates for you to consider.”

Mab blew out a long breath. In Ancient—a language she assumed I didn’t know—she said, “I don’t understand what’s taking her so long. I only had to see three hundred people before I found the last one.”

Was she serious? I’d found plenty. How did she get the others to agree on the one she chose? I kept my face neutral. I didn’t want her to realize I understood her.

Harry shifted his stance, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes,” he said in English, “because you killed the first two-hundred and ninety-nine that applied for not meeting your standards.”

My mouth dropped open, but I closed it quickly. I didn’t trust any of them, although they generally followed their rules. I wasn’t sure which rule would let her kill the candidates that failed the test. Of course, there would certainly be fewer candidates if death were on the table. I kept my expression placid—showing shock around these three was never a good thing. Harry’s statement made it clear what he was referring to, but playing the I-don’t-understand-Ancient game was not always easy. Only Cinnamon knew I possessed the ability to understand the language, which was the way I wanted to keep it.

Mab shrugged. In English, she said, “It got the job done, didn’t it?”

The Boss turned his head to me. In what I could only assume was complete seriousness, he said, “Try to wrap it up this decade.” Before I could ask if he was kidding, since they could easily pick one of the four new ones I just presented and end this search now, the candidate discussion was over. He jumped right into the reason he’d called me to his office. “The fallen aren’t following the rules. There’s a situation downtown. You need to handle it.”

I raised one of my eyebrows. By downtown, he meant Underworld. How the hell he thought I could reign in anything down there was beyond me. “Fine. Let me pop over to my realm. I’ll get some reinforcements and sort it all out.”

Mab snorted. “You must replace the curator before you can return. Those are the rules.”

Of course they were, and I was sure they’d find another excuse to keep me from my realm after I replaced the curator. For now, I had to pretend I believed them. “Then how do you expect me to fix the problem?”

Harry, more relaxed now, said, “You’re the leader of the fourth realm. They will follow your directive.”

I wanted to laugh. Was he serious? I could barely toss two fireballs before I was spent and it was only getting worse the longer I was outside of my realm. “What about your boys? Aren’t they supposed to be the police down there?” I’d always considered the Underworld mob—all druids—to be anything but police, but, officially, it was their role.

Harry bristled a bit. Somewhat condescendingly he said, “It’s your responsibility, but if—”

“No,” The Boss cut in. “She’ll handle it. We agreed.”

I didn’t like the way that sounded. When had they agreed? And how big was this problem?

Mab fired back in Ancient. “We agreed she’d get her chance, but I won’t wait forever. Underworld could fall if things deteriorate further.”

Holy hell. What was going on down there?

Harry actually rolled his eyes. Did that mean Mab was being overly dramatic? Not that I’d put it past her, but why? It wasn’t like she’d said it in English.

“Enough,” The Boss said in English. Looking at me, he said, “You’ll sort out a small issue with Sage, and then get the quads to assist in the cleanup.”

“Cleanup? What exactly is going on down there?”

The Boss’s lips flattened into a straight line. “Some factions are trying to displace existing residents. It needs to stop.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Factions? Displaced residents? That’s the situation? What are the fallen doing, booting the others out of their homes?” I asked sarcastically.

The Boss started to speak, but Mab answered instead. “You need to get your people in line, or I’ll do it for you.”

Harry cleared his throat. “
My
boys
will investigate if it continues. There will be consequences if that happens.”

Oh, joy
. I imagined payoffs and protection money, huge fines that would need to be paid by the fallen to the mob to keep the fallen’s stolen land—if it was stolen. Or were the residents that owned the property switching allegiance and putting pressure on other non-fallen to leave?

I wondered how Harry saw the police in Underworld. Did he think they were actually doing good things—that
his boys
handled things in a legal, ethical way? Did he not know that they were basically corrupt? I considered asking a dozen questions, but The Boss was already straightening the papers on his desk. I guess I’d have to figure it out on my own. I smiled and said, “Piece of cake.”

~#~

Sorrel was chatting up Mousey with his usual smooth-operator charm when I left The Boss’s office. He was a lover, not a fighter, and Mousey was just the kind of new human he liked to deflower.

“Let’s go,” I said, not bothering to slow down.

Mousey actually glared at me. She was clearly trying to stake a claim. If only she knew what she was really looking at, she wouldn’t be so eager. Sorrel had all the looks, but he was a player through and through. I was fairly sure he’d slept with every woman under thirty in the building, and maybe a few of the cougars, too. I ignored her. It would be a different girl next week, so it wasn’t like she and I needed to be BFFs.

I glanced back as I pushed through the glass doors. She blushed as Sorrel took her hand and kissed it. I rolled my eyes, continuing to the elevators. Sorrel was such a flirt, but thank God he no longer tried to hit on me and had finally gotten over Gwen—a servant he’d fallen for when he was trapped in Purgatory last summer. She’d been killed for delivering a message, but he thought they were soul mates. Now, it seemed as though he was making up for lost time.

Sorrel’s phone buzzed just as the elevator dinged. I was sure The Boss was giving him instructions to take me downtown.

“I need to go home first,” I announced.

Sorrel ignored me, typing something into his phone, which was odd because he didn’t usually need to acknowledge his orders.

Sighing, I repeated, “I need to go home first.”

Sorrel shook his head, typing another message. “There’s no time for that.”

Was he serious?

This wasn’t like him, but in my weakened state I wasn’t sure I could force the issue—even though Sorrel and his siblings were part of my realm, I had limitations. The only powers at my command were the abilities I received when I entered Purgatory last spring and a few things from jump-starting the fourth realm last summer. Nothing had any real juice behind it. Because their power base was the largest of any in the fourth realm, trying to hurt them only weakened me.

With a long sigh, I asked, “What’s the rush? Your twin isn’t causing that much trouble, is he?” Sage had always been more trouble than Sorrel.

Sorrel’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t know what I meant. His phone buzzed again. Looking down, he said, “Oh, it looks like he is. And now the request makes much more sense,” he said to himself.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, we have to go downtown immediately.” Looking me over, he said, “You should change.”

I glanced down at my work clothes—a boring pair of khaki dress slacks and a simple white cashmere cardigan. I was all about comfort these days, and yes, sometimes that meant I wore a twin set.

Continuing he said, “We’re going to the Hare—you’ll stick out anyway, but like that, you’ll just look weird.”

I rolled my eyes, something I did way too often lately. Snapping my fingers, my clothes changed into a nice pair of jeans and cowboy boots, but I kept the cardigan. Sorrel switched his dark suit for tight black jeans, a form-fitting black t-shirt, and black steel-toed work boots. I wasn’t sure who the hell he thought he was kidding: he’d never done manual labor a day in his life. At my raised eyebrow, he winked, just as a black cowboy hat fell onto his head and he shrugged into a kick-ass leather jacket.

“Whatever,” I muttered as we headed to the motor pool.

I half expected the manager to bring around an F150, but no, apparently the upper-echelon demon cowboy drove a cherry red Lamborghini.

It was still daylight when we pulled out of the underground garage at the Tucker Bosh building in midtown, but the sun was setting fast. I stared out the window as the city passed by and felt an almost imperceptible tug on my core as we crossed over into Underworld.

“Where are we going, exactly?” I asked when I realized we were on the wrong side of town from the Wild Hare, the bar Mace now owned.

Sorrel remained quiet as we turned onto a side street I recognized. My gut tightened with dread as the blacksmith’s shop came into view.