Dark Hope (The Devil's Assistant) (21 page)

“I love Jack—and he—”
Loves me
. My throat closed before I could say it out loud. I hated Mab’s spell.

Mace’s lips curled into a snarl. He flipped me over. Now he was on top.

“Yes, take me. I’m yours.”

“Fuck. Too much cake,” he muttered.

Was he angry with me because I loved someone else? “I love you too.”

Mace kissed me, but it was too short. He rested his forehead against mine. I studied his lips. I wanted them on me. “Tell me, baby,” he said, in that beautiful voice of his.

“I love—”

“Tell me what I want to know.” He ran his hands down my shirt, cupping my breasts. “I’ll give you everything you want if you do.” He was back in my face, but his lips were too far away.

Licking my lips, I willed him closer. I groaned when he wouldn’t. The tingling burn at my wrist started to hurt. I didn’t care.

“Tell me,” Mace demanded.

I smiled up at him, incapable of keeping any thoughts in my head. “I love you.”

He pushed me away, getting to his feet in one fluid movement.

“No, stay with me,” I whispered as the warmth of his body left me.

He muttered a curse before slamming the door as he left.

Fourteen

The room was bright from the sun outside when I woke. I was on the bed, twisted in the sheets. The room had been put back together and someone had tucked me in.

Cringing at how I’d practically thrown myself at Mace, I thought of the night before and wanted to scream. I moved my head and almost hurled. Nausea was not my friend. I nearly tripped detangling myself from the sheets.

I ran to the bathroom and made it just before I threw up.

After flushing away the cotton candy sludge—the remains of Pagan cake—I sank to the floor. My conversation with Mace ran through my head.

I’d
kissed
him
. I’d begged him to stay with me. God, make love to me.

I wanted to go home, curl up on the couch with
Jack
—not Mace—and have him hold me. I’d go crazy if I didn’t have something that was normal soon, something that didn’t have anything to do with my insane reality.

My stomach gurgled. I leaned over the toilet and threw up again. Crying wouldn’t help. I had to get out of here. Screw Mace and my pledge to him. I could leave—go to The Boss—he’d fix everything. He might kill me too, but that would be better than pining for Mace.

I stood and washed out my mouth. After drinking several handfuls of water, I splashed more on my face then glanced at the shower, then at my clothes. I’d been in the same shirt and pants for what seemed like days. I needed the clothes off, and to wash away the memory of Mace’s hands and lips.

I peeled off my clothes and started the shower. It was hot and steamy within seconds. Inside, the water washed over me, soothing my nerves and sore muscles. I washed, but no amount of scrubbing made me feel clean. My skin tingled as if his hands were still on me. His touch, his kiss, his smell—it was all around me. Resting my head against the tile, I closed my eyes and thought about home—about Jack. What if I never saw him again? I started to cry.
What would he think if I never came home
?

I stayed in the shower until the water ran cold. When I stood in front of the vanity, I didn’t recognize the girl who stared back at me. Her color was sickly pale, red hair dull and lifeless. She had bruises everywhere and scars. Twisting around to see my back, I gaped at my gaunt reflection and Mace’s mark!

She’s still you
, the voice whispered.

I know
. I didn’t need to be reminded of everything. Taking a deep breath, I wiped my eyes. I couldn’t lie down and accept this hell. I had to fight.

I leaned in closer to the mirror to more clearly see the mark. It was a red tattoo, a cord of vines and jagged edges circling the emblem of a serpent. It rested in the center of my back, between my shoulder blades. I loathed it and what it represented.

The click of a door shutting brought my attention back to the room. I shrugged into the robe hanging by the door. When I returned to the bedroom, it was still empty, but a tray of food had been left on the bed. The savory smells of a warm breakfast reminded me how hungry I was. Yesterday’s lifesaving hotdog was barely a memory. And the god-awful Pagan cake was gone too.

Ravenously I devoured the food before I considered what I was eating. From the few remaining crumbs I decided my breakfast had been bacon, eggs, and toast with orange juice. Not that it mattered—considering it was almost gone—but the food tasted normal. No licorice and almond aftertaste. I hoped that meant I wouldn’t be a lovesick puppy for Mace today.

After breakfast, I found clothes in the chest of drawers. The choices were limited, but I was glad to have something clean to wear. I put on the capri pants and tank top, then blow-dried my hair.

I slipped my shoes on and headed for the door. Remembering the door was locked and warded when I tried to twist the unmoving knob. Still, I needed to know what was going on. I wouldn’t be able to physically leave until they let me out of this room, but anything I could learn about them would only help me escape.

I laid down on the bed and closed my eyes, pushing my presence outside my body. Now that I was rested, it was easy. The warding on the door had a yellow glow to it, but unlike the basement prison downstairs, which had wards up and down every wall, floor, and ceiling tile, this one just covered the door. I blinked to the hall and headed toward the main room on the first floor.

The doors to the other bedrooms were open, and I could see what each of the quads was doing. Cinnamon sat at a dressing table preening in front of the mirror. She’d gathered her hair into a messy twist similar to the style she’d worn in the garden. Sage was ironing a bright green tie. I chuckled. The tie reminded me of the dashiki—I guess he’d forgotten to pack it. Sorrel was asleep.

I stopped, pivoting around to peer at the open doors. Sorrel had been unconscious before and now he was just sleeping. Sage was ironing a green tie, which wasn’t really one of his normal colors, and except for the garden, I’d never seen Cinnamon with anything but straight hair.

Why did Mace’s spell appear to affect them the same as Junior’s?

Voices from the living room pulled my attention away from the quads. As I got closer I heard Mace and Aunt Mab speaking Pagan. “I agree, that is very bad news about Cinnamon, but it is not entirely your fault. I should not have made myself known to the girl so soon. But the spell is working?” Mab asked.

It was Mab’s spell?

“Yes, but I thought you said it would make them cooperative.”

“Claire’s abilities had an unintended side-effect. I couldn’t use the same spell,” Mab said.

The same spell? Was there just one book of them? How would she know the spell Junior used?

“Her abilities?” Mace’s tone was clipped telling me he was annoyed.

“Nothing for you to worry about, dear, and no need to worry about the others.”

“They must willingly cooperate. You said that was imperative.”

“Yes, but that was before.”

“Before?”

“Yes, before Claire got involved. She changes everything.”

Me? How do I change everything
?

“Everything,” Mace scoffed. “How?”

“Do not worry, dear Nephew. It is nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“But she belongs to me now,” he said, almost whining.

I hated the way that sounded, and wished it wasn’t true.

As if to stifle her chuckle, Mab put her hand to her lips. “I wouldn’t get too attached, my boy.”

I really didn’t like the way that sounded.

Mace was disappointed, but he didn’t challenge her.

“Ask her why,” I prompted and immediately wanted to kick myself. For a moment I thought the corner of Mab’s lip curved up.
Oh, yeah, she heard me
.

Mace hesitated. The suggestion in my voice was clearly enough to nudge him, even though he couldn’t sense me in the same way Mab could.

“My father can’t claim her,” Mace said. “So why can’t she be mine?”

Can’t claim me
? Why couldn’t The Boss claim me?

Mab waved her hand in the air as if shooing away his question. “Something else is on your mind, Nephew. What is it?”

No, no, no. Go back to the other question
.

Before I could suggest this to Mace, he sighed and continued.

“I’ve been contacted by an unexpected ally,” he began cautiously. “But his timing is too coincidental for my liking.”

She raised her eyebrows. “A traitor? In your father’s organization?”

“It would seem so,” Mace confirmed. “He claims to know things about the future.”

“That’s highly suspect.” She paused. “But we must not rule out his usefulness.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me worry about that. You have other matters to attend. Have you contacted the blacksmith as I suggested?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I have, but she is reluctant to trade with me.”

“What is her concern?”

“Retribution, perhaps. I’m not sure.” He lifted a shoulder. “If you—”

“That’s not possible, but I’m sure we can find something she wants.”

Mab glanced in my direction. I ducked behind the wall. I sensed her smile at my attempt to hide. Realizing it was stupid, I moved back into the room. She clearly had no intention of telling Mace I was here.

“What of the girl?” she asked. “Is she well?”

“She will live.”

Mab’s eyes narrowed. “Be sure she does. Especially now that we have a traitor.”

His brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

Ugh, I’ll never get any information with him asking the questions.

“You must go to the blacksmith,” Mab said. “Take the girl with you, and she will trade with you.”

He needed another nudge. “Why? Ask her why.”

“Why?” he blurted out, then snapped his mouth shut. His gaze searched the empty space near my presence. He was getting better at sensing me. “I don’t trust Claire. She’s not being completely honest with me. My methods of persuasion have not been as effective as I would have liked.”

I rolled my eyes. “He means threatening and drugging me didn’t work.”

Mab’s lip curled. “I have looked into her mind, Nephew. She doesn’t know more than she’s telling you.”

“Bullshit,” I said.

This time Mab had to cough to cover her laugh, but she regained her composure when Mace spoke.

“Bullshit. I agree. She’s not telling me everything,” Mace countered, then realized who he was talking to. “Forgive my outburst Aunt. It’s just—I could tell she was holding something back.”

Mab smiled. She strolled forward and took hold of his hands. “Don’t worry. Move forward with the plan. Everyone will play their part.”

He nodded.

Unbelievable. He was going to take her word for it.

She’s the Pagan Queen
, the voice reminded me.

Whatever
.

“I must go now. I have business to attend to. Take the girl to see the blacksmith. She will trade with you, but don’t let her kill the girl.” Mab winked at me before disappearing.

~ * ~

I was beyond sick of being in the room when Mace finally opened the door. He’d called for a car about an hour ago, and it just arrived. He was dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. Not a style he wore often. He, of course, rocked it, but that was because he was perfect. I was sure his body had been the inspiration for countless marble statues over time. At least I didn’t have the urge to throw myself at him today. That was a plus.

He leered at me with possessive eyes. A warm tingle ran over my body as his fingers stroked my arm. I turned away. He cupped my face, tugging it back around. He kissed me, holding me in place. I eventually gave up trying to resist and opened my mouth to let him in. Guilt crowded my mind every time he touched me. I forced back tears. I wasn’t going to cry. Not about this.

He finished and leaned his forehead against mine. “You belong to me,” he said. “No matter what she says.”

I didn’t want to belong to him or The Boss or Mab. I wanted to belong to Jack.

Mace’s mood darkened. “It’s time for your next punishment.”

My eyes widened. “What was the first one?”

The Boss’s protection
, the voice reminded me.

Right
. I couldn’t even think of that without adding air quotes in my mind. Protection. Indeed.

“You must let go of your silly human notions. I’ve removed your protection. Now I’m going to take your love.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jack, no, he couldn’t mean Jack. “Don’t hurt him. Please.”

Mace smiled at the fear in my eyes. He caressed the side of my face, then quickly kissed me on the lips. “We must hurry. There’s a lot to do.” Taking my hand in his, he led me along behind him.

The car was waiting outside the bungalow. The driver held the door as Mace shoved me into the backseat.

Clutching my chin, he fixed me with his eyes. “You belong to me.”

I didn’t look away. His claim wasn’t my biggest concern right now. What he might do to Jack was what scared me.

“We have an errand to run, but first I have something to show you.”

Show me
? Did he mean the blacksmith, or was she the errand?

Deep lines formed on his forehead as his eyebrows drew together. “You know,” he accused.

“I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me, Claire. I can see the truth in your eyes. You know where we’re going…how?” He pushed forward, bringing us nose to nose.

“I—I overheard you and Mab talking.”

The cords of his neck stood out. “Cinnamon was right. You were in the room earlier when you were supposed to be in the basement. What
ability
is this?”

“It’s complicated, and I don’t know how it works.”