Dark Hope (The Devil's Assistant) (29 page)

“I need a way out,” I said to the watch, not that I believed it held the power. I was now sure the power came from within, but I had no clue how to use it. The Keeper said I was bound by Winter, but the watch somehow let me channel my power—as crazy as that seemed.

I caught sight of the billowing drapes before I sensed the cool air against my face.

You’ll die
, the voice warned.

That doesn’t sound like a memory. What are you really
?

The voice stayed quiet.

I hadn’t noticed the window until I’d asked for a way out. Maybe I had too much faith in my power. Maybe I wanted another visit with Death.

I glanced at the window again, but turned back when Mace spoke.

“Have you learned to fly, Claire,” he asked, his lip curled in that gorgeous sneer.

I cocked one of my eyebrows. “We’re about to find out.”

I spun on my heel and ran. I wasn’t returning to his care. I’d die before I let that happen. He’d already taken everything—Jack. There was nothing left if I couldn’t have my freedom. Thirteenth floor or not, I had nothing to lose.

“Don’t let me die,” I said to the watch as the cool air hit my face.

Nineteen

I dove through the window as if I were jumping through a ring of fire. I spread my arms out wide after I cleared the windowsill. For a second, I was suspended in a perfect swan dive over one of the busiest streets in Underworld. I was free.

At that moment, I didn’t actually care what happened—but magic doesn’t always work the way you expect it to—and I guess fate really did have bigger plans for me.

I hadn’t been very specific in my instructions. Don’t let me die and give me a soft landing was what I should have said. Instead, in the blink of an eye, I was skidding, arms first, onto the roof of the building across the street. I was glad I had chosen the maintenance coveralls, or I would have had cuts and bruises all over. Instead, I wound up with a bruised elbow and two scraped knees—it could have been worse.

I stood on wobbly legs. I went to the edge and looked over. I couldn’t really believe the jump had worked. For a second, I thought Mr. Harrison was standing on the street in front of the hotel, but whoever it was disappeared before I could be sure. I lifted my gaze to the window across the way and saw Mace.

Shock and fury turned his face red. “You can’t hide from me,” he mouthed, retrieving one of the
Hell
shackles from his pocket.

“Oh yeah?” I challenged. “Watch me.” I snapped my fingers, then whispered, “Hide me,” to the watch.

My head was swimming so I shut my eyes to shake the light-headedness. My presence pulled from my body. I ignored the fatigue and prayed my power would hide me.

I stood there watching my body.
Please work
.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I began to fade. One minute I was there, the next I was gone.

“No,” Mace mouthed, astonished.

As if the heat were draining out of my body, I was cold and began to shiver. My breathing became labored, and I watched in horror as my shield started failing. I started flickering back into visibility, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I opened my eyes just as I fell to my knees, then passed out.

~ * ~

I ached. I hurt. I could barely move. Not dead. I was too miserable to be dead. Exhausted, mentally and physically drained, but not dead. Death would have been easier.

My mother. I’d seen her—sort of. She’d called him The Boss, not Conrad. Did that mean anything? Did I mean anything?

She fed you
, the voice said.

I remembered the rolls and the orange juice. The voice was being helpful again. My stomach grumbled. She didn’t tell me who she was. She hid her identity. Were all first-Saturday-of-every-month meetings with her at the hotel?

Don’t, I thought before the voice could argue.
There’s nothing else to remember
.

I opened my eyes. The room was dark
,
but not pitch black. I failed to sit up on the first two attempts. On the third, I took a few deep breaths then swung my legs off the brick they called a cot. I closed my eyes again so I wouldn’t pass out or throw up from the spinning room. I was so tired and exhausted my muscles shook from the exertion. After a few minutes, my breathing slowed. I opened my eyes again.

I was propped against the bars of the cell. I guess my days of getting my own room were over. As my eyes adjusted, I realized I was no longer wearing the maintenance coveralls. Someone had cleaned me up and changed my clothes. I was dressed in a green loose fitting shirt and pants, hospital scrubs or prison uniform, take your pick. I took stock of everything else. No shoes or socks—no watch!

I studied my bare wrist. I had been wishing I could get the watch off for over five years. Now that it was gone I wanted it back. How the hell did they remove it? I was sure no one, except maybe The Boss, could remove it. And who were they? Mace? He’d seen me on the rooftop. This must be another of his prisons. It was so quiet. I was isolated and alone, as if he’d left me here to die. If this was Mace’s doing, I’m sure I wouldn’t be that lucky.

Unlike the basement at the bungalow, this room resembled an actual prison. The concrete room was filled with four identical cells, with no separation from one to the next. The bars I was leaning against were the bars separating the cell next door. The walls beyond the cells were bare unpainted concrete, which made the room feel cold. A flight of stairs rose out of sight, but that was it—no door or windows.

The other cells were empty. There was a blanket rumpled on the floor, and the cot was slightly askew in the cell on the far end. The room also had a faint musky-sweaty scent as if someone had recently spent some time down here. Good to know this was an active prison.

I closed my eyes, to step outside my body, but nothing happened. There was no spark of power. Nothing that made me even think it was possible. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt more human than I did right now. Funny how I didn’t like it.

I heaved myself to a sitting position away from the bars. I wanted to stand—make sure the door was locked, but with the way I felt, I was lucky to sit-up on my own. Standing wasn’t going to happen.

There was a small crate beside the cot. A note leaned against a carton of something. I’d seen that type of tetra-pak packaging before on fancy protein energy drinks, but this one, with its bold red and blue design, didn’t look familiar. With effort, I picked up the note: “Drink this, you need your strength.”

Yeah, right
. With my luck, this would shrink me like Alice in Wonderland.
No thanks
.

You could walk through the bars if it does
, the voice said.

Cute
. I rolled my eyes.
Stop talking to me
.

The note slipped out of my hand and landed upside down on the cot. This side said: “You won’t fully recover without it.” I tried to laugh, but it was a pathetic attempt seeing as how I could barely keep my eyes open.

After another five minutes, when sitting was becoming an issue, I picked up the carton and read the label: Berry Blast. It didn’t sound very appetizing to me, and the big blue and red graphics, which were maybe supposed to be a blueberry and a strawberry, just looked weird. Food shouldn’t look like expressionist art. I pried open the lid and took a sniff then I couldn’t close it fast enough. It smelled awful. Just as I stretched to put it back on the crate, my stomach grumbled loudly. I was starving, but I wasn’t sure Berry Blast was the answer. Of course, it was the only option. I reopened the carton, held my nose, and drank.

Just for the record, Berry Blast sucks.

I twisted the top back onto the carton and returned it to the crate.

There was nothing instant about Berry Blast, and sitting up wasn’t accomplishing much. I laid back down on the cot and closed my eyes.

My stomach roiled, but I didn’t throw up. However, I did have a really sudden need to stand, which I thought was impossible considering how tired and drained I was. I braced myself for the effort of swinging my legs over the side of the cot. I was surprised when the motion practically propelled me to a standing position. I grabbed the bars to steady myself. My head was dizzy from the sudden movement, but I could stand on my own.

Holy shit, Berry Blast rocks!

I paced around the cell with a gnawing restlessness in my gut. My heart was pounding, my hands shaking. Lying in the bed wasn’t an option. I had to keep moving around. It was like a caffeine rush times ten. I wanted to climb the walls—literally. Clearly, I
had
underestimated the power of Berry Blast.

I checked the cell door for the twentieth time. It was still locked. I tried to step outside my body now that my energy returned and I didn’t feel like death, but I was too wired to keep my eyes closed. I stopped trying after noticing that every square inch of the cement walls were covered by invisible glyphs. I couldn’t see them now, but the green glow was crystal clear to my presence. Like the basement in Mace’s bungalow, this place was warded to keep people in. The bars were for show.

After thirty minutes of pacing, the door at the top of the stairs opened. I squinted when the lights flipped on, but my eyes adjusted quickly.

The wooden steps creaked under his weight. My heart thudded. I was sure Mace was ready to punish me for leaving without permission and screwing up his attempt to kill Junior. I expected to feel the tingle of his mark, but nothing was there. He slowly descended the stairs into view.

Only it wasn’t Mace.

It was Mr. Harrison—Harry—the Godfather—the Druid King.

He’d been my protector as a child. There was an amber glint that ran across his eyes now, but that was the only difference. He had the same amount of gray hair as before, although I’d never thought it suited him. He was exactly as I remembered: taller than average, a nondescript face, and light brown hair. A druid.

The
Druid, I suppose.

Of course, I’ve never really met the man in front of me. There was no Mr. Harrison.

He gave me a steady look but didn’t immediately speak. I suspected he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know I already knew who he was—who he really was.

We both stood there staring at the other. I had trusted this man. He was the one person I considered trying to contact when The Boss took me, but I couldn’t do that to him. The Boss made the rules very clear. No one could know whom I really worked for. What sucked now was that I’m sure Mr. Harrison had always known what happened. Hell, he probably had his boys pick me up and deliver me to The Boss.

At least, I had my answer as to why he wasn’t there five years ago. Why he hadn’t ridden in on a white horse and saved the day? I blinked back the tears that threatened.

Mr. Harrison grew solemn. “Claire... There is a lot you don’t understand.”

“Harry.” I tilted my head. “You don’t mind if I call you Harry, right? Or should I remain formal? Mr. Harrison? The Druid King seems a bit arrogant, but hey, whatever you want.”

He smiled. “Harry will do.”

“So, did someone call the police? Did you come to save me again?” I asked sarcastically.

“Claire—”

I held up my hand. “Don’t.” I didn’t want to hear his excuses. “I need to speak to the Demon King. Can you take me to him?”

His gaze slid to the side. Frowning, he said, “You don’t belong to him anymore.”

“Anymore? Did I ever? What claim did he make when you handed me over at sixteen? Did you get any proof? Did you get any proof from her? Am I just some prize you people collect and pass around? Is it her turn?”

He opened his mouth
—
closed it. Opened it again. “Claire, you’re—” He paused.

“Different from the rest?”

His eyebrows rose
,
then dropped as if he were considering something. After a few seconds, he said, “You were there? At the meeting?”

“Yes.”

“How? We should have sensed you,” he said. “And how did you understand us?”

I had no reason to hide the truth. I suspected Mab made it all possible, but I had no proof. I shrugged. “I have no idea, and I heard English.”

His eyes narrowed as if he didn’t believe me. After a moment, he looked away. “Interesting,” he finally said. “She wanted you to hear us—but why?”

“Who the hell knows? She’s your sister. Why don’t you ask her?”

His lip curled into an amused grin.

“How can you do this to me?” I asked. “Give me to her? Or him? Or even keep me here at all? What is so different about me that I need to be owned by one of you?”

“Mab is using you to get what she wants from our brother. She will throw you back once she has it.”

Harry was lying. He couldn’t know what Mab would do. She’d have no reason to give me back. According to her, this wasn’t her first claim. Obviously, she wanted me, but why? “You don’t know that, and I don’t even think you believe it.” I called his bluff. “Of course, who am I kidding? Why would the Druid King—the most feared of the royals—care?”

Harry’s mouth twitched. “He will save you if he can.”

“Right,” I drawled. “Don’t hold it against me if I don’t consider that money in the bank.”

“Claire—”

“So that’s it. You’re going to hand me over to Mab and hope she loses interest, or The Boss saves me?”

“It’s the law.”

“The law. Unbelievable.”

“Claire—”

“Okay, fine, the law,” I said, making the quote mark gesture. “I don’t understand why
you
have to do it. Why not just let me walk out of here? Let her find me herself?”

“Because he didn’t bring you here.” Mace’s voice came from the top of the stairs as I felt the tingle of proximity affecting his mark.