Dark Hope (The Devil's Assistant) (6 page)

I patted down Junior’s jacket, trying not to press my hands against his cooling body. I found his phone in his inside pocket. My heart skipped a beat when I located FC in the contact list. The digits were mine. I reviewed the call log. Thankfully my number wasn’t there showing that we hadn’t talked. Maybe a point in my favor.

I put his phone back and scrolled through my contacts.

I called Omar. He was a seer—a friend, sort of—someone I trusted, and the only one who might be able to help.

~ * ~

I received four company perks when I woke up five years ago. The watch—which I couldn’t remove—was the most annoying and useless item. My ability to sense veils was a necessity of the job. The translator, also a necessity, was by far the coolest trick in the arsenal. Second only to the translator was the cell phone.

It worked everywhere. There were no dead zones, black holes, or dropped calls, and the contact list contained
everyone
. If you had a phone, listed or not, landline or mobile—even if you were just standing near a payphone—my phone had your number.

Seers were a tricky bunch. They could literally see you coming, which was why I always used Omar. He was the one seer I could count on to answer my call. I found his name in my favorites. He didn’t have a static phone number. I never actually knew where I’d reach him. Two years ago I was quite shocked to find him at the Lucky Lady Gentleman’s Club in Vancouver. He’d assured me it was all business. Today’s number wasn’t familiar, but it was local.

“Come on, pick up,” I said.

“Hey, beautiful, what’s up?” Omar answered.

He was a hopeless flirt, but he never tried anything. It was one of the reasons I trusted him. He was as far from my type as possible, but that didn’t seem to stop anyone else from harassing me.

I didn’t have time for small talk. “I need your help.”

“Well, hello to you too.” He sounded annoyed.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“What is it this time? One of the wives causing trouble? Or is one of the hellspawn...? Well, it’s one of the spawn. Who is it—Junior? What has he gone and done this—oh, shit.”

“Exactly.” I wasn’t sure if all seers were like Omar, but talking to him was sometimes hard to follow. However, it didn’t take him long to pick up on the exact problem. Now maybe he understood my urgency. “Quaid’s got the place locked down. You’ll need to use the portal on three.”

“What makes you think I know about the portal?” a voice said behind me.

I spun to face him, shoving my phone back into my pocket.

Omar could have easily been mistaken for a high school chemistry teacher. He was short, fat, and balding. He wore a pair of horn-rimmed glasses shoved up high on his nose, a short-sleeved white, button-down polyester shirt, and a clip-on tie. He appeared to be in his late thirties, but almost anyone with lots of power wasn’t what they seemed.

Omar was powerful. I’d seen him do some pretty cool things over the years, and I couldn’t sense his veil. The only other person I couldn’t sense was The Boss. I didn’t think Omar was as powerful as the Demon King—the Devil was in a league all his own, but Omar definitely had some serious juice. Since I’d never seen him without a veil, I had no idea what realm he was from. I’d always assumed he was a demon, but his homely human veil screamed druid.

I considered him a friend, which was saying a lot—especially if he really was a druid.

He was at least two hundred years old, but that was the extent of what I knew about his history. He wasn’t any more secretive than the average otherworldly person, but considering our relationship, I was surprised he hadn’t opened up a bit over time. I wasn’t offended. It just put the crazy world I was living in into perspective. Still he was the closest thing I had to a friend.

“I need your help.”

“Who clocked you—?” Omar ogled my black eye. “Oh, a run-in with Johnny. It’s a good thing you have the looks of a pagan, my dear, or that shiner would be very unbecoming.”

“No time for jokes today, Omar.”

“Trust me, I never joke about your beauty, Claire.”

I rolled my eyes. He was always so adamant about my looks.

“You’re supposed to stay out of downtown,” he continued. “It’s a rough place.”

“Yeah, I know, but I have bigger problems right now.”

Omar concentrated on my face.

“Please don’t read me,” I begged. This wasn’t the first time he’d wasted time reading my future or past or whatever it was he could see. “Please focus on the room.”

He smiled. “I just needed a quick peek.” Now concentrating on the room, he moved away before I could beg again. “Someone did a number on him,” Omar casually observed while studying Junior. “Do you have any leads?”

“Yeah, me,” I said sarcastically. “So can we maybe find someone else so The Boss doesn’t kill me?”

Omar fixed his gaze on me again. This time worry lines stretched across his forehead. He rubbed his head. He paced around the office, closing his eyes
,
then opening them again. His hand returned to his forehead.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

He wasn’t fine.

He rubbed his forehead again.

“What’s wrong?”

“How long have you been here?” he asked.

“About ten minutes. Why?”

He continued to pace. “No, you were here before that.”

What
? “No, I wasn’t.”

He glanced at me
,
then closed his eyes again.

“It wasn’t me. There’s someone else—with blue eyes—” I remembered Junior’s love poem. Now it made sense why he’d gotten the eye color wrong. “Anyway. It’s not me. I swear.”

“You weren’t alone.”

“She wasn’t alone,” I corrected.

He shook his head.

What did that mean? Did he doubt me? I would know if I’d killed Junior. “Junior was fooled too,” I said.

How could anyone create a veil that good? A magic user could veil themselves to resemble another, but a veil was sort of two-dimensional. It was impossible to make an exact copy. A human would be tricked, but not another magic user. Not if they knew the real person. Junior and I weren’t best buddies, but he knew me well enough not to be conned by a normal veil.

Omar rubbed his head again. I didn’t like his behavior. He’d never acted like this before. His eyes shot open, and he glared at me. “You belonged to another.”

“What do you mean?” I belonged to The Boss and Jack, unfortunately in that order. There was no way Omar meant Jack.

A wild thought crossed my mind. Omar wasn’t seeing me
,
I knew that, but he said it as if it were possible. Did that mean there was a way out of my deal with the Devil? “Are you saying there’s a way out of my deal?”

He rubbed his head again. Closing his eyes, he went quiet.

No, no, no, he couldn’t do this
. He had to tell me. “Omar,” I pleaded. He didn’t respond.

He opened his eyes. This time, they were vacant, hollow, and lost. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

I started toward him.

He held up his hand to stop me.

“What’s wrong? What can I do?”

“Nothing,” he whispered. A second later, he headed toward the door. “Out,” he said, before he dropped to the ground like a lead weight. He was unconscious or God forbid, dead.

“Oh crap.” I rushed to his side. “Omar.” I shook his shoulder, but he didn’t wake. I checked his pulse. It was faint, and his breathing labored. Out. Did he mean I needed to be out of the room or him?

He’d taken a few strides in that direction, so that must mean him, but he had to weigh close to three hundred pounds. Pulling him out wasn’t an option. I tried it anyway. My grip slipped from his arm, and I landed on the ground with a thump.

I studied the situation. He was partially lying on his side across from the door. Could I roll him? I crouched behind him and pushed. He flopped over onto his back. I moved to the other side and hooked my fingers into two belt loops. Using my body weight as a counter balance, I wedged my feet against his hip and tugged with all my strength. I got him back on his side, one roll closer to the door. I repeated my actions until we reached the elevator.

By the time we arrived at the lobby, he was conscious enough to stand. It took him a minute to compose himself. He clutched my arms and locked our gazes. He opened his mouth
,
then closed it.

“Omar, what is it?”

He backed away from me, holding up his hand so I wouldn’t approach.

“Omar, you have to help me. Tell me who was with me—the one who looked like me?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember what I saw up there. It’s blank.”

“Blank? You remember nothing?” I was stunned. He was a seer.

He rubbed his head again.

Oh, no, not again
. Okay, new tactic. “What about my deal? You made it sound like it could be broken.”

Omar seemed hesitant to answer, but the thought of a normal life—with Jack—was worth any risk. If there were a way out—a way to be free of this hell—I’d do everything in my power to make it happen.

“Dammit, Omar. Can I get out of my deal or not?”

“I can’t remember—”

“I don’t care what you saw. What you saw up there was a lie. Is it possible? Is there a way out?”

Omar averted his gaze.

I clasped his arm and yanked him back around. “Please tell me. If there’s a way—?” I could barely even consider the possibility. “I deserve to know.”

“I don’t know what—”

“I don’t care about that. You know what I need to know. Please just tell me. You’re a friend. Tell me what I have to do. Please, I’m begging you.”

He shook his head. “The answer isn’t that simple.”

“No shit. Nothing is ever that simple,” I shouted
, then
remembered where I was and lowered my voice
to continue,
“I’ll do anything to be free.”

Omar gazed deep into my eyes. What was he looking for? As if in pain, his eyes squeezed shut. What was hurting him? A few seconds later, his lids came up. He shuffled away, holding up his hand, forcing me to keep my distance. “I can’t see his decision, and there are forces that you—” He stopped, pushing his palm against the side of his head. A moment later he continued, “If you’re truly willing to do anything, Claire, then you must risk it all—and that may not be enough.”

“I’m willing. I’ll do anything.”

“You must discover Junior’s killer. To do that, you must visit the quads.”

The quads!
Oh, hell
. This was bad—very bad.

Omar’s complexion paled, but I needed more information. He wanted me to go see the four most dangerous immortal hellspawn alive. The five hundred-year-old quadruplets were the love children of the Devil and a pagan, and rumored to have more power than a hundred normal demons combined.

I opened my mouth to protest.

Omar shook his head, then disappeared.

“No,” I yelled, but he was gone.

Five

A chill ran through me as if someone had brushed passed me. I spun around, trying to find the whispered voice I’d heard. Or was I just being paranoid? A man by the elevator glanced in my direction then said something to the woman he was standing with. Had he seen Omar disappear?

I took out my phone, quickly checking Omar’s contact. There was no number listed by his name. When I put it away, I spotted one of the security guards from reception heading my way.

I backed toward the elevator. My heart pounded, and my breath came out in short gasps.

“Is everything all right, Miss Cooper?” the guard asked.

I nodded, moving quickly to the panel. Impatiently I tapped the up arrow three or four times, as if that would make it come faster. I had to get out of here.

Hurrying to my desk, I kept my head lowered. I opened a drawer and snatched up my bag. As I turned to leave, I paused when my eyes landed on the red file folder. Impulsively, I swiped Janus’s corporate credit card.

I froze when the elevator dinged. A moment later the door opened, but no one stepped off. I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I had to get out of here. Now.

Normally I walked home, but I didn’t want to be predictable today. Too many things had gone wrong. I took the subway.

There was no relief when I entered my apartment. Jack wasn’t here and still no text.

Every part of my being was telling me to avoid the quads. They were dangerous, cruel, vindictive, and immortal. Because their mother was a pagan, they were very easy on the eyes, but Cinnamon, Sage, Sorrel, and Mace were as deadly as they were beautiful.

I hadn’t lied to Omar. I was willing to risk it all for my freedom, but the quads were...more. More dangerous, more cunning, more uncontrolled madness. What had he seen? Could I really save my soul?

I attempted to call Jack again. No answer. I wanted to explain some version of the truth before I left. I didn’t want to die thinking he hated me. Rushing to change out of my suit, I remembered seeing Jack’s gym bag on the closet floor this morning. It was gone now. Sighing, I realized he was probably at the gym blowing off steam. His phone would be in his locker. I’d stop by the gym before I left town.

I changed into something less ‘office’ and more ‘run for your life’—jeans and a t-shirt. I had no clean socks. I opened Jack’s sock drawer hoping to find a pair that might fit. My hand brushed against something hard, and something under the socks in the back flashed red. I plucked it out, stumbling to the bed.

A ring box.

I sat there staring at the box. Was this what he wanted to talk to me about? With trembling fingers, I flipped up the lid.

Empty. I forced back tears and took out my phone again and texted, “Where are you? Please call.”

Had he taken the ring with him? If only The Boss hadn’t sent me downtown, I would’ve met Jack for lunch. We would’ve talked. I would know if this meant something. Why isn’t he responding? I wiped away a tear. Was he mad? My hand tightened around the box. Did he think I was seeing someone else?
God, I hope not
. I put the box back.