Dark Hope (The Devil's Assistant) (39 page)

The Boss opened a portal, then motioned for us to leave.

I started forward, but stopped when Mace said, “Stay.”

I lost the ability to move forward. My eyes widened as I realized Mace’s control of me in Purgatory hadn’t been removed when Mab’s blood broke the curse and freed my powers. I couldn’t walk toward the portal; his command wouldn’t allow me to leave. Quaid had already passed through, when Harry realized I wasn’t moving. He glared at Mab.

She sidled up to Mace and whispered something in his ear. He blanched. “Go,” he whispered.

My legs could move again. Harry led me to the portal and waited for me to pass through. He and The Boss followed. I didn’t look back again, hoping it would be the last time I was ever in Purgatory. Mace screamed while the portal closed. I guess he wasn’t as favored by Mab as he’d thought.

The Boss called medical who immediately sent someone up for Quaid. He was taken away to be treated. He would be back to normal by tomorrow. I wasn’t sure I would ever be normal again.

Harry handed me the watch. I put it back on. Technically, I didn’t need it anymore, but I didn’t want them to know. Plus it was a very easy way to reach Harry. Having the Druid King on speed dial wasn’t a bad thing.

“Thank you,” I said.

He turned to The Boss. “We have many things to discuss,” he said in Ancient. “I’ll see you later tonight?”

“Yes,” The Boss replied in Ancient.

Harry disappeared without another word.

Part of me wanted to know what they were going to talk about, but the other part wanted nothing more to do with these people. I was over the game they were playing with my life. I wanted to be that girl at the bus stop five years ago. The one who didn’t know anything about this world or its people. I wanted to be her, not this screwed-up version of me who barely escaped Purgatory.

The Boss went back to his desk and sat down as if nothing had happened. “Do you need something, Claire?”

Did he really think things were just going to return to normal? “Did you love my mother?”

“Obviously,” he said.

Obviously
? I didn’t think there was anything obvious about any of this. He loved her, but didn’t bother claiming me. Not that I was necessarily his, but he didn’t even check.

“Are you my father?”

“No.” His answer was quick. No hesitation.

“Who is my father?”

He leaned back in his chair. “I have no idea. Your mother never told me.”

Was he serious? “So she was pregnant before you met?”

I stiffened when he pushed back from his desk and stood, but didn’t drop eye contact. I wasn’t willing to let this go. He wouldn’t tell me about the omen, or about the time I’d spent with her before we were discovered, but he had to know something.

He paced over to the window and gazed out over the city. It was another gray and gloomy day. Just like the first time I was in his office. His posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. I expected him to turn on his mark, but he didn’t.

“Do you want me to be your father, Claire?”

My mouth dropped open. “No. I just want the truth.”

He turned. I saw the slightest hint of a raised eyebrow, before he schooled his features. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know. That’s the truth. I don’t consider you to be mine, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I shook my head. “I’m well aware of your opinion of me.”

He drew his eyebrows together a fraction. It wasn’t much of a movement, but I got the impression I’d offended him.

“What about the prophecy?” I continued, knowing he’d think I meant the one from Wylan James.

“The prophecy is complete,” he lied.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “So, I unleashed the great destroyer, created a divide among the realms, and brought about tyranny like no one has experienced in thousands of years?”

He shrugged in a dismissive way. “Prophecies are always a bit vague.”

I gawked at him. He was going to let everything go as if it all meant nothing.

He started back toward his desk.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“You don’t have a choice,” he said. This time he didn’t even look at me.

I spun to leave. He stopped me with his will. He’d never done that before. Perhaps it was against the rules for someone not under his control. I guess now that he owned me he didn’t have to hold back. The contract I’d signed meant he had complete control of me. Unless he wanted me to, I couldn’t even move to face him.

“You tricked me into signing,” I said, not that it mattered.

He swaggered over to me, holding the receipt up so I could see it. He pinched the contract at the top and slowly ripped it down the middle. The two halves burst into flames as they separated.

I could move again.

“I had to do that for your own safety. Mab would have kept you otherwise. She is not one to give up.”

I moved to step past him.

He held out his hand to block my path. “You aren’t safe if Mab thinks you’re unprotected. If you leave, she will know I have released you.”

“So I have to stay, or she’ll try again?”

The confidence on his face was palpable.

“Bring it,” I said, pushing his arm out of the way.

He switched on the only real power he had over me—his mark. He didn’t make it hurt too badly, just enough to remind me who was boss.

I spun back around to face him. “You’re a heartless bastard. I have no idea what my mother sees in you, but maybe that’s because I don’t know her. I never will. Your sister has seen to that.”

By the time I was finished speaking, I was shouting. I was mad, and I wanted him to know it. “You let her take everything from me. Everything!”

He didn’t reply. Just stared at me.

I wanted to hit him. I felt the power in my hand building that tiny crackle of electricity as the wisps of energy gathered. I pivoted on my heel to leave before I did something stupid.

He extinguished the mark. “I didn’t let her take you.”

I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath. I was so tired. Everything had changed. I couldn’t go home and be with Jack—but I wanted to. Instead, I was stuck living in this new hell. My mind was so overloaded with everything that had happened to me—ever. I wanted what I had that morning when I’d woken up in Jack’s arms. Something real that felt right.

Without turning, I asked, “Where’s Jack?” I assumed he’d know. “He and I need to talk.”

“Claire,” The Boss said, walking up behind me.

I went rigid when he rested his hands on my shoulders.

He’d never actually touched me before. “There’s something we must discuss.”

I turned to face him. “I know about Jack. It’s not your business. It
never
should have been, and it never will be again. Do you understand? Never.”

“I accept your terms.”

My terms
? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll take care of the current problem. You’re free to find a new acquaintance. I won’t interfere,” he said, as if that was the answer I was expecting.

“Jack is my problem. I’ll take care of it.” I didn’t want him anywhere near Jack.

“Unfortunately he has already been transferred. At his own request.”

No. He was lying. Jack was supposed to meet me for lunch. Today. We were happy—are happy. Jack wouldn’t have requested a transfer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t have to deal with it.” The Boss returned to his desk as if the conversation was over.

“I don’t accept your terms. Where is he?”

“It’s over. Move on.”

That was bullshit. There was no way Jack wanted out. The empty red ring box wasn’t for nothing. He loved me. The Boss was hiding something.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Enter.”

Quaid entered, but it wasn’t the Quaid who’d come back with us. That Quaid was being treated in medical. This was the one from earlier in the day. The one The Boss was about to send back in time, I realized, to be the traitor.

Quaid was surprised to see me. He cupped his hands together, twisting a ring around on his pinky finger. He didn’t wear jewelry, and he certainly wasn’t going to start with an ill-fitting platinum pinky ring. “You needed to see me, Boss?” His hands were still cupped in front of him. He seemed uneasy.

“Claire. Go.”

I studied Quaid’s hands more carefully. The finger with the ring protruded more than the others, and the ring barely fit, riding high above his knuckle. I gasped, glaring up at his face. He didn’t look at me. He kept his gaze forward.

It dawned on me. Quaid hadn’t been searching for me at the apartment. He’d been hunting Jack, and now he wore a ring that clearly didn’t fit on his pinky finger of all places. Was that my ring? The ring that belonged in the empty red ring box hidden in Jack’s sock drawer? Jack would have had it with him for when he met me at lunch.

Tears welled in my eyes. Transferred. Was that like retired?

“Claire,” The Boss said, but I ignored him.

I lunged at Quaid. He was a big man, but he wasn’t expecting me to throw myself at him. I placed my left hand on the side of his face, the wisps of power flowing through me. His eyes locked on mine. “Where’s Jack?”

“Retired.”

Tears stung my eyes. “Is he already dead?”

Quaid nodded.

“Is that my ring?”

“Yes.”

“Give it to me.” I held out my hand.

He took it off. He’d twisted the diamond around to the back to hide it. He must have been bringing it back to The Boss as proof Jack was dead. I was never supposed to see it. I was never supposed to know Jack really loved me.

Quaid put the ring in my outstretched hand. I dropped my hand from his face. He immediately turned to The Boss.

“Claire,” The Boss said.

I put the ring on my finger and wiped the tears from my face. Surprise number two. The ring was beautiful.

Meeting Quaid’s eyes, I said, “What has happened must happen.”

I spun to leave, then glanced back. “Give my regards to the queen.”

The Boss turned on his mark, but that wasn’t going to stop me from leaving this time. “You can’t have me anymore.”

“You won’t be safe,” he said, his tone somber as if he really cared.

“Then I die.”

He didn’t stop me from leaving.

I went back to my desk. The message light was on, but I ignored it. I opened the bottom drawer, the one where I kept my bag, but the bag wasn’t there. It was still at Mace’s bungalow in Grand Cayman. The drawer was empty except for an envelope with my name on it. The script was delicate and light, like a woman’s handwriting, but I didn’t recognize it.

I opened it. The note simply said
I’m sorry
.

It wasn’t signed, but the paper smelled like the angelic beekeeper. Sliding it back into the envelope, I put the note in my pocket. Closing the drawer, I grabbed my spare key and picked up Jack’s paper crane.

I was about to leave when I noticed the red file folder sitting in my outbox. Picking it up, I opened the file to the last page. I never viewed this page, because I didn’t want to know what they’d done to get retired. Something about this one made me curious.

I scanned the document. The reason was short and sweet and not what I expected. David Janis was retired because of: An inappropriate or fraudulent use of company assets: corporate credit card.

Slowly, I closed his file. He wasn’t guilty. I’d taken his card and used it. Because of my unexpected time travel situation, it was also while he still had the card. I took the folder and fed it through the shredder. HR would eventually find the mistake, in fifty years or so—long after David Janus died of natural causes.

I stared back at my desk one last time from the glass doors. I hoped I would never see the place again. I pressed the button for the elevator and waited. Calmness wash over me as the doors popped open. The elevator appeared empty, but I could sense his presence.

“Can you give me a ride home?”

About The Author

HD Smith has been writing as a hobby for over ten years. DARK HOPE is her first traditionally published full length novel. She has previously self-published two middle grade novellas in ebook format. She is a software developer by day, working for an awesome cruise line in Celebration, FL.

HD grew up in South Carolina, but has called the Sunshine State home since 1997. She has Computer Science degrees from Clemson University (CS) and Florida Institute of Technology (MS). Her other hobbies include painting and screen printing. She enjoys creating t-shirts inspired by the places in her books. For more information, visit HD’s website at
http://www.hdsmithauthor.com
.

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