Dark Hope (The Devil's Assistant) (19 page)

“Wake him up, now,” Cinnamon said.

“Mace has to remove the bracelets before I can touch him.”

She dropped her eyes to the metal band around my wrist. Raising one of her brows, she fixed her eyes on Mace.

“Hell shackles,” she said. “Really?”

He shrugged. “They’re mine. I can do what I want with them.”

“Remove it,” she said to Mace.

With a sigh, Mace clasped the bracelet on my right hand between his fingers. I heard a click, and the energy surrounding my right hand fell away. He removed the cuff, letting my hand drop back down to the bed. I reached forward, brushing my hand against Sorrel’s head. A faint shock passed from me to him as my fingers made contact with his skin.

A minute passed. Sage glared at me, the vein beneath his eye pulsing. I willed Sorrel to move. Another minute passed. A low growl came from Sage’s throat.

“It’s going to work,” I said to Sage. “Give it a minute.”

Mace caught my wrist and clicked the bracelet back into place. He brushed the skin on the back of my hand, sending a jolt of pain through my arm. I scowled at him, but he just looked away.

“Why isn’t it working?” Sage grumbled. His patience was running out.

“Are you refusing to help, Claire?” Cinnamon asked.

“No,” I said, not liking the vulnerable position I was in, laying flat on the bed surrounded by them.

Sage ran his hands through his hair. “Make her fix him.”

“I’ve already fixed him,” I yelled
,
defiantly at Sage.

Mace brushed my hand again.

“What?” I said, but his gaze was on Sorrel. I glared at Mace for a moment, willing him to look at me. His face was turned away, but I could see the tiniest upturn at the corner of his mouth. He wanted me to look at him, not Sage. Was he jealous? Unbelievable.

“He’s waking,” Cinnamon said, and immediately some of the tension left the room.

Sorrel’s eyes were open, but he was still dazed and confused. His brow furrowed when our eyes met.

Sage rushed to Sorrel’s side, helping him to his feet. “It will pass, brother,” Sage said, leading Sorrel from the room.

After the twins and servants left, Mace started in with his usual posturing. “Shall we throw her back to the demons?”

Cinnamon sighed, as if tired of this game already. “She’ll tell us what she knows after they’ve loosened her tongue.”

I glared at him. “You’re the one who knows something. Why don’t we let them loosen your tongue?”

A glint of fury flashed in his eyes, but his demeanor didn’t change. He quickly silenced me with his will.

Cinnamon’s gaze hardened. She’d caught the look. “What does she mean, brother?”

“She’s trying to trick us.”

I shook my head.

Cinnamon pushed his will away. “Let her speak.”

Mace scared me, but she was not one to ignore. She could easily take control if she had a reason, and giving up the aunt’s connection to Mace might take her attention away from me.
And keep him away from me
. “Ask him about your aunt,” I said. “Ask him why she was here. Why he sent for her—”

Mace silenced me again, but it was too late. Cinnamon went from normal to scary as hell in about half a second. I was sure she’d care about the aunt, but I had no idea how she would react.

“Aunt Mab,” she screamed, actually sending tiny sparks out of her fingers. “You called Aunt Mab!”

Mab! Pagan Queen Mab?
Oh, shit
. Child of mine!
Oh, shit
. Had she claimed me in the basement? She couldn’t just make me a pagan?
Right
? The dark hair, I remembered. I can’t believe I didn’t guess before. Human history gets a lot of things wrong about the big three, but apparently Mab really does appear to them with dark hair. My thoughts returned to the room when I heard Mace cry out.

As if swatting a fly, Cinnamon captured him with her will and hurled him across the room. He was tossed like a rag doll, and she wasn’t breaking a sweat.

Ignoring the throbbing soreness in my shoulder, I rolled off the bed out of their way. I was on the wrong side to leave the room, and there was no way past them. I pressed against the wall, hoping to avoid being hit.

Mace threw his will back at Cinnamon with enough force to shake the walls. She countered and deflected his attempt with no effort. It was obvious now why he needed her cooperation. An uncooperative Cinnamon would be impossible to control.

She deflected another of Mace’s attacks before suspending him by the throat with her will. She smashed him into the wall, cracking the plaster. He attempted to say something, but she was too mad to listen. She flung him across the room again, nearly throwing him through the wall. He staggered as he stood, catching the edge of the dresser for support. He held his hands up, putting his will between them. With a wave of her hand, she batted his protection away. He was going to lose. His eyes found mine.

“She owns you,” I mouthed.

His violet eyes flared with cold fire just before he dropped to one knee. He bowed his head toward Cinnamon. “I can explain,” he said.

She raised her hand to strike. Glaring, she closed her fist. “You know I don’t trust her, so tell me quickly before I kill you for involving her.”

“She contacted me,” he said. “I swear it on our mother’s name.”

Cinnamon’s demeanor changed. Her shoulders relaxed. Dropping her hand to her side, she released him.

“What?” I said, glancing between them.

She was still furious, but something was different.

Mace stood, glaring at me.

Cinnamon smoothed out her dress. She was cool and collected again, as if she hadn’t just wiped the floor with him. In her normal voice, she asked, “Why did she contact you?”

He ran his hand through his hair and tugged the sleeves of his jacket down. He didn’t appear as un-fazed as Cinnamon, but his cool hardened visage was back. In a quiet, deadly tone, he said, “Why do you think?”

Cinnamon cocked one of her perfect eyebrows.

“She knows everything that happens in Purgatory. Did you think your presence there went unnoticed?”

Her lips pinched into a hard line. “Then why didn’t she contact me?”

“I have no idea.”

He was lying. The aunt—Mab—may have contacted him first, but he was willingly helping her now.

A line appeared between Cinnamon’s brows. “I was the one in Purgatory.”

He answered with a small nod. “True, but maybe she wanted to make sure you weren’t just there to piss off Daddy.”

“As if I would ever willingly stay in Purgatory,” Cinnamon scoffed.

I didn’t understand why she hated Purgatory. She was half pagan. Of course, I didn’t want to go back either, and I’d only been there a few hours.

I pressed into the wall when Mace walked toward me.

“Mab found me in a very bad state.” He shrugged. “I thought I was the butler, as if Collins was my master. She saved me,” he said, glancing back at Cinnamon. “Before we could save you,” his brows lifted at me, “Claire found you.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but there was nothing to say. Everything about why I found Cinnamon was from the future. My throat tightened just at the thought.

“Claire knows something we don’t. She knows who did this to us, and she will tell us, or I’ll kill her,” Mace said, although I doubted he would do it quickly. He’d want to play first.

“Ask the demons—Lily, ask Lily. Please,” I begged.

Mace leaned in, crowding me against the wall. I reached up to shove him away, but dropped my hands when the shock of touching him increased.

Cinnamon stepped up, putting her hand on his shoulder. She tugged. Mace resisted at first, continuing to pin me with his stare. She tugged again. He dropped his shoulder, pulling out of her hold and paced toward the door.

She pushed the hair back from my face. Running her hand down my arm, she stopped just before passing the metal band. “You have one chance to tell me the truth, Claire,” Cinnamon said. “Who is Maliki?”

She was deadly serious. I couldn’t hide the truth, and she was done wasting time. She’d throw me back to the demons if I lied, or let Mace finish me off. She didn’t care.

I couldn’t give her the answer I wanted to give her. My throat tightened. The double was off limits. I’d have to give them Junior. Not as if that would save me from Mace. I would save myself another way. Blinking back the sting of tears, I said, “Junior.”

You could have heard a pin drop it was so quiet.

Before she could comment, Mace was behind her, a hand on one arm. He muttered a few words in Ancient. Through my connection with her, a strong surge of power washed over me, just as it had when Charles touched me in Purgatory.

For a moment, I trusted Mace completely.

Cinnamon’s hand dropped from my arm, as a very sweet scent wafted in the air. Moments later the spell rolled back over me—away from me. I no longer trusted him any more than I had before. The sweet smell was gone.

Unfortunately, Cinnamon was still caught by the spell. I could see it in her eyes. I reached out to touch her hand, but winced when the bracelets shocked me. My hands fell away. I couldn’t help her. Mace’s eyes narrowed on me. He’d witnessed my attempt to de-spell her.

“Cinnamon,” he said, drawing her attention. Just as Charles had done in the garden.

“What?” she said, but her voice had lost its edge.

“You need to convince the twins that we must strike now, before Junior realizes his efforts to trap us have failed.”

Cinnamon’s face was pensive, as if she were considering his request. His hold wasn’t as strong. She had followed Charles without question.

In the garden, I’d felt love for Charles; this time it was trust for Mace. The spells were different, but oddly similar. Unfortunately, trust would probably be enough to make Cinnamon comply. She’d want revenge.

“We can end this now, before the situation becomes an issue,” Mace continued.

“What about Claire?” she asked.

My eyes locked on Mace.

“Would you like to keep her as a pet?” he asked, his eyebrow arched at me.

“I’m no one’s pet,” I said.

Cinnamon smiled. After a long moment, she sighed. “She wouldn’t be worth the trouble.”

“Let me go. You don’t need me. I don’t care what you do to Junior,” I lied.

Ignoring me, she turned to Mace. “I will speak with the twins.”

He locked the door behind her when she left. “You really shouldn’t have told Cinnamon about Mab.” He still faced the door. “I was just going to have some fun. Even after you messed up my plans.”

“Yeah, right.”

In a flash, he was in my face, flattening my body against the wall and twining his fingers in my hair. “Now I’m going to take everything from you. Your protection, your love, your freedom. Everything.”

I stifled a yelp when he put pressure on my shoulder. As he chanted in Ancient, his hand warmed. I whimpered from the heat that concentrated on the damage in my shoulder. I cried out as the soft tissue was mended and fused together.

He wiped away a tear. I resisted when he pulled me in for a kiss. Tightening his hold on my hair, he growled, “You’re mine now. Get used to it.”

Thirteen

I was sitting on the floor, when Mace returned two hours later. I’d been all over the room, but there was no way out. The windows were too high and small for me to reach, and the door was locked and warded.

My back straightened. I didn’t want him picking up where he’d left off. His hot kiss lingered on my lips, and pagans weren’t exactly picky about who they slept with. Sex was as precious to them as day old bread. I didn’t want him taking liberties with me. Just because he put no emotional attachment to it, didn’t mean I felt the same way.

He’d never shown any interest in me before—not that I’d spent that much time with him. Sorrel, on the other hand, had come on to me from the first moment I met him. He’d been clear from the get-go that he planned to have me in his bed. It never happened, but that was because he could be scared by the threat of his father’s wrath. Mace had no such fear.

Mace sat down on the floor beside me. He still wore his suit pants, but the jacket was gone. His white button down was open at the collar, and his sleeves were rolled up. He placed a small silver tray on the floor next to him. I couldn’t see what was on it, but I caught the smell of something sweet.

He placed my arm on his lap, running a finger along the line of the bracelet at my wrist. “How are you feeling, Claire?”

Jerking my hand away, I said, “How the hell do you think I’m feeling? I want to leave.”

His lip turned up into that annoyingly handsome smirk of his. He pulled my arm back to his lap, this time keeping it trapped. “Would you like something to eat?”

As if on cue my stomach rumbled. I thought of the sweet aroma. I was hungry, but my stomach roiled at the thought of eating anything from him. I pressed my lips together.

He touched my hand, giving me a little shock.

I winced then growled, “No, thank you.”

His twisted smile faltered a bit. When he stroked the side of my face, I flinched. “I knew there was something special about you the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Yeah, I think you mean cursed.”

His hand was back on my wrist.

I hated the way he touched me. I wanted him to go away and leave me alone.

“It was the mark,” he said. “Father doesn’t mark just anyone, but he marked you.”

I frowned, drawing my brows together. The mark was a very painful reminder of The Boss’s power. I never gave much thought to whom else he might have marked.

“Do you know what it says?”

“Property of?” I offered.

“No,” he sneered, twisting my wrist to bare the mark. He sent a pulse of energy through my arm. Like it had at the deli, the mark illuminated. He ran his finger along the mark, sending a shiver down my spine. “The first two symbols here,” he gestured at the two closest to my wrist, “mean protected by. The last two,” he indicated the others, “are the symbols for my father.”

Protected by. The Keeper said the same thing. I didn’t buy it then, and I don’t buy it now. The Boss had proven too often how willing he was to leave me unprotected, but why would Mace lie?