Dark Hope (The Devil's Assistant) (27 page)

“It’s just Quaid,” I said quickly.

“I don’t fucking care. You’re here with me,” he growled.

Jealous much
? I smiled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m here with you.”

He smiled and kissed me for real. I wanted away from him, especially now that he was being alpha-male asshole in possessive, controlling mode, but he didn’t know the danger he was in. I couldn’t just leave him here to be picked off by Mace.

I got a break from his attention when the demon behind me spilled half of his drink down my back. Junior’s eyes flashed red. He shoved the guy back into his seat. “Sit down,” he ordered.

With Junior distracted, I scanned the crowd again. He hadn’t died here, but I still didn’t know if that was the future I needed to avoid, or if being here already changed things. Maybe he would be shot in this place—that’s right; he was shot. The weapon Mace got from the blacksmith must have been a gun. It would take a special gun to kill a hellspawn—wouldn’t it? At least now I had an idea of what to look for. The bullet hole was too small to be from a rifle. They would need to get close.

The crowd behind us thrummed with rowdy shouts and cheers. Words bounced around us like chants. Most of them were drunk. The mass of fans was mixed; there were as many purple armbands as red ones.

I swept my gaze over the immediate crowd. Someone who resembled Sage was coming our way, but I could tell it wasn’t him as he drew closer. I kept sweeping my focus back and forth
, but
jumped out of my seat when the guy behind me soaked my back with the rest of his rum and coke. At least it wasn’t beer.

“Hey, jackass,” Junior shouted. “I’m not going to tell you again. Watch what you’re doing.”

The guy behind us snorted as if he was actually offended Junior had called him a jackass. “Oh, yeah?” he slurred, so drunk he didn’t seem to have a clue who he was talking to. “What are you going to do about it, twinkle toes?”

Oh, hell
. This was going from bad to worse. I searched for one of the security guards. Junior was about to rip this guy’s head off. A minute ago, the place had been crawling with them, now this idiot was going to get killed because they were all on break.

I put my hand on Junior’s arm, trying to get his attention. As if Mace was near, the mark on my back tingled. My breath caught as I spotted him coming down the far aisle. His eyes flashed with violet rage when they locked on mine. With lips pressed into a straight line, he searched the crowd for a second. Sage was coming down the aisle closer to us. Mace, teeth clenched, face dark with fury, tilted his head in my direction. The others wouldn’t be far behind.

Glancing around, I spotted another drunken fan stupidly about to join the Junior discussion. “Hey,” I said, getting the drunk’s attention. “That guy—” I pointed at Sage— “said you look like a druid.”

The guy’s eyes flashed red, and his lip curled into a snarl. He barreled toward Sage, knocking him to the ground. He was throwing punches before Sage knew what hit him. A minute later, the guy was flying through the air as Sage threw him off as if he weighed nothing. The other crazy fans in our section took notice as the demon’s body careened into the ring.

“That guy said Wagner sucks,” I called into the crowd, drawing their attention to Sage.

Not everyone attacked. Some might have known who he was, and the druids agreed with his supposed view of Wagner. But enough had no clue how dangerous he was, and threw themselves into the fracas. He was back on the floor before he could get to his feet. Cinnamon had joined Mace, and they were both trying to stay out of the fray, which was quickly turning into a free-for-all.

Mace’s eyes were locked on mine. His eyes had lightened. He raised his hand, I assumed, to throw his will at me, but lost focus when Cinnamon yanked him from the crowd. He glared at me once more before letting her lead him away.

I tugged at Junior’s arm. He didn’t budge. He was still arguing with the first drunk fan, who I honestly couldn’t believe wasn’t already dead.

Sorrel rushed into the melee, shoving people out of the way, trying to get to Sage. Junior didn’t see either twin. The fight was spreading. The whole arena would be at it before long.

Sorrel helped Sage to his feet. They didn’t look back as he and Sage escaped. Junior wouldn’t die tonight.

He didn’t the first time either
, the voice reminded.

I know that
.

I just didn’t know what that really meant. I couldn’t stay with Junior until Monday. With the immediate threat neutralized, I had to move on to Plan B. I had to get to either Quaid or The Boss. They would be able to sort this out before it became an issue.

I slunk away from Junior. I kept my gaze on him, expecting him to latch onto my arm and yank me back to his side. Fortunately, he was too busy watching the chaos to realize I was leaving.

I darted through the crowd, trying not to run into anyone. I was glad I wasn’t wearing the high heels. Security rushed past me as I reached the stairs.

“Where’s Marco’s team?” a guard’s walkie-talkie squawked.

“Attention everyone,” the announcer boomed over the loud speaker. “Please take your seats.”

“It’ll be a bloodbath if they cancel,” someone nearby observed.

The red exit sign above the door shined against the darkened arena. There were only a few more steps to climb. I swerved to miss a woman getting out of her seat and ran into a man wearing a fedora.
Oh, no
. He was one of the bookies I’d seen taking bets earlier. I didn’t wait for him to figure out who I was. I shoved off and kept moving.

I glanced back when a really loud whistle pierced the noise. The man in the fedora was pointing at me. Crap, Johnny’s bookie realized who I was, and knew there was a standing order to take me in if I was ever downtown alone.

The sound of the crowd was deepening, getting angrier. The rumor had already spread that the fight would be canceled. The announcer bellowed, “Unfortunately,” but that was all I heard.

The crowd was on its feet screaming, “Fight, fight, fight.”

I kicked something with my foot. It was a ball cap. I picked it up and put it on.

I burst through the exit doors into the main lobby. The doors closed behind me, blocking out most of the noise. I concentrated on my watch. “Which way?”

The hands pointed me down a dead-end corridor. I hesitated for a minute
,
until another loud whistle sounded from behind the closed door.

I turned all the knobs as I went down the hall. The fourth one was unlocked. I ducked inside as the door to the arena flew open. I closed my eyes and sent my presence back out into the corridor.

The man in the fedora just cleared the door. Another heavyset guy was with him. He let the doors slam, shutting out the noise. “Where did she go?”

Fedora shook his head. “She just disappeared.”

The other man looked right at my presence but couldn’t see me.

“She didn’t go down there,” Fedora said. “It’s a dead end.”

“Well, she didn’t disappear,” the other man argued.

Fedora took out his cell phone. “Vinnie just texted me. They’re not going to cancel the fight.”

“Good, because we took way too many ‘Wagner’s not going to win’ bets for the fight to be canceled."

“You got that right.”

“I’ll text dispatch,” he said, as if these guys were really cops. “Let them know she’s been spotted.”

“Yeah, she can be someone else’s problem tonight. Let’s go.”

With one more glance down the empty corridor, they both went back into the arena.

I waited for the doors to
close,
then opened my eyes. The quads could try again tonight if they didn’t cancel the fight. I glanced around. I was in a room full of computers, similar to the server room at the office. This one was not as high-tech and definitely lacking in security.

All the servers had labels. Some were half curled up on the end. One read “Scoreboard
”,
another read “Tickets.” Only one was re-taped half a dozen times. I grinned when I read the label: “Do not turn off or you will get fired.”

I reached around to the back of the computer and pulled the power plug. The computer immediately powered down, which caused a chain reaction with every computer in the room. One by one, they all started shutting off.

I left the server room and headed back to the lobby. A clamor of footsteps rushed down a set of stairs to the right just before two men burst through a door a few feet ahead of me. The sign above the door read Control Booth with an arrow pointing up.

The men ran past me, not even looking my way. “Oh, shit,” the first guy cursed.

“Time to go,” I said to the watch. The hands spun around
,
then pointed toward the nearest exit.

Two seconds later, the building shut down—every light went dark and every sound went quiet. The main doors to the arena flew open. A few gasps sounded, and a brief murmur of panic until the emergency lights clicked on. Then all hell broke loose. I didn’t wait around to see the chaos. I needed to get out of there and get back to the company. It was time to see The Boss.

I made it to the street before anyone else was out of the arena. It wasn’t long, however, before throngs of people were pushing their way out the glass doors. Loud cracks and crashes happened as more than one pane shattered. The paper hadn’t mentioned anything about a high body count. I hoped everyone made it out safely. I hurried across the street and headed for a taxi. Once I got back to the office, the motor pool manager would pay the cab fare.

The Boss isn’t at the office
, the voice said.

“What?” I said, then remembered I was talking to myself. I stopped for a minute. I checked my watch. It was a little after six on Saturday night, but he was always there late.

If he’s not at the office, smarty pants, where is he
?

There was a
pause,
then the voice said,
the Lux Hotel
.

I remembered. He had a standing meeting on the first Saturday of every month at the Lux. It was on his calendar. I could see the image in my head, clear as day.

I eyed my watch. “Take me to the Lux.”

Eighteen

I was ahead of the foot traffic of fans from the fight, walking alone on mostly deserted streets. Almost every business was closed. No one could compete with Fight Night. A few bars had signs on the doors that read ‘Open after the fight’, but like everything else, they were still closed.

I was shivering. The cocktail dress did nothing to keep me warm. I was hungry too, and tired. At least my feet weren’t hurting. I trudged on for another twenty minutes before finally seeing some signs of life. The Lux was busy with activity. There were several cars waiting for
a
valet, with more than a few vehicles honking their horns. With the unexpected cancellation, the hotel was short staffed. Everyone was scrambling, and no one was happy.

I kept an eye on the watch. I expected the hands to lead me into the lobby, but instead I was directed to a dark alley down the side of the hotel. I hesitated for a moment, but the watch hadn’t steered me wrong yet. The face lit up as I left the sidewalk, and several doors had lights overhead that gave off enough illumination I didn’t trip over debris.

I followed the watch’s directions toward an alcove. As I got closer, I could clearly see the three or four steps that led to a weathered door. I took the stairs down and tried the door. The knob wouldn’t turn, but based on the shadow cast by the light, it was obvious the connection wasn’t flush.

I yanked on the knob. The door budged an inch so I stepped back to access. The top part of the door was protruding more than the bottom. I took hold of the knob with my left hand and pushed the top with my right. With a firm back and forth motion, I wiggled the door loose. I walked through a few cobwebs into a cluttered room that had been long forgotten. The only light came from under the door on the far side.

I banged my knee twice as I made my way across. I closed my eyes and stepped outside my body. I blinked to the hall. A dozen cleaning carts lined one side of the corridor. They were parked between small closets that ran the length. I opened my eyes when I didn’t see anything or anyone.

I rested my ear against the door, one last check before I slipped out. The watch pointed right. I’d only taken a few steps when I heard approaching footsteps.

I ducked into one of the closets and shut the door. A door near me creaked, followed by someone wheeling out a squeaky mop bucket. I peered around the closet, hoping they didn’t need anything. The room was dark, but light coming from under the door illuminated stacks of fabric. I ran my hand over a few. They were too uneven to be sheets. Uniforms, I guessed. I listened as the squeaky bucket passed by, then waited until the sound was so faint I could barely hear it.

I had my hand on the doorknob when it occurred to me that I would be a lot less conspicuous in one of the uniforms. The blue party dress was cold and would stand out below stairs. I needed to blend in. I paused for a second to make sure all was still quiet, then I switched on the lights. Quickly, I scanned the garments and selected a set of maintenance coveralls, mainly because they would be warmer than a maid’s uniform, and I didn’t think a guest would stop a maintenance worker for help.

I slipped out of the dress and hid it back behind the folded uniforms, then shimmied into the coveralls and stuffed my hair beneath the ball cap I’d found at the arena. I needed to keep a low profile, and I hoped this would do it.

I flipped off the light and closed my eyes. The hallway was still clear. I left the closet, but froze when I realized one of the carts up ahead was moving. I didn’t see anyone at first, but then I spotted the top of a head. A maid was crouched down, refilling her cart with tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner. I spotted her key card lying on top. Quietly, I shut the door to the uniform closet and headed down the hall. Without pausing or making a sound, I snatched her key card.