by Smith, HD
DARK FORSAKEN
The Devil’s Assistant ~ Book 3
H. D. Smith
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
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Copyright © 2015 HD Smith
[e ~ v8]
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ISBN-10: 1942030053
ISBN-13: 9781942030058
DEDICATION
For the forgotten ones.
Reminders
Book 1 - Characters
Big Three
Harry, Mab, & The Boss (& sometimes Jayne)
Blacksmith
A child of all realms. She takes a lot of Claire's blood in Book 1. In Book 2 she joins the ranks of the fallen and relocates to the fourth realm. Title: Lady Isla of Woodhall (Book 2)
The Boss
Father to the quads. Alternate Names: Conrad Bosh (III & IV) & the Devil. Titles: Demon King, Summer King, & Ruler of Hell. Brother to Harry, Jayne, and Mab. Claire's boss at the company where she works in Book 1.
Cinnamon
Oldest of her siblings, strongest and most powerful of the quads. Titles: Easter Hare (Easter Bunny), Countess of East Hareington, & Cinnamon of Man Hatton
Claire
Previous assistant to the Devil, current Fall Queen. Other titles include Ruler of Fallen & Fallen Queen. She reawakened the fourth realm and killed Raven, Contender #2 in Book 2. Contender titles include: Name Caller, World Killer, & the Great Destroyer. Claire's blood was replaced by Jayne's blood when she was a baby, no one knows where her original blood is located, or who her "otherworldly parent" is. The Devil doesn't claim her as his. Prophecy: The Harbinger
Death
Claire's boyfriend in Book 2. She leaves him because he only loves Jayne, and his connection to Claire is only because Claire has Jayne's blood. Death wants the Revenant prophecy to be fulfilled, which would bring Jayne back. He was prepared to let Claire die so that Jayne could have her body.
Frankie
One of Mob boss Johnny's henchmen. Druid.
Harry
Uncle to the quads. Alternate Names: Mr. Harrison. Titles: Druid King, Spring King, Godfather to the Underworld mob, & Ruler of Paradise. Brother to The Boss, Jayne, and Mab. Claire's social worker from when she was in foster care.
Jack
Claire's boyfriend in Book 1. Killed by Quaid. Claire takes the ring Jack was planning to give her from Quaid at the end of Book 1.
Jayne
Dead/destroyed sibling to the big three. Titles: Fallen Queen, Fall Queen, & Queen of Fallen. Death's true love. Time thief.
Johnny
Druid Mob boss in Underworld who tries to teach Claire a lesson, until the Godfather (Harry) steps in and forces him to let her go.
Junior
The Boss’s oldest hellspawn. Claire has to solve his murder in Book 1. Killed by the quads.
The Keeper
A night shade that is trapped in a mirror. She was allowed to torment Claire as a child, then tries again to entrap her as an adult.
Mab
Aunt to the quads. Titles: Pagan Queen, Winter Queen, & Ruler of Purgatory. Sister to Harry, Jayne, and The Boss. Lost her original claim on Claire because Mab killed Claire’s mother.
Mace
Youngest of his siblings, second strongest of the quads. Titles: Viscount of West Toothington, Tooth Fairy
Melinda
Claire's mother, the Devil's true love. Killed by Mab.
Moe
One of Mob boss Johnny's henchmen. Druid.
Omar
A seer who Claire assumed worked for The Boss, but really has loyalty with the fourth realm. Titles: Omar of the Lost Valley & Omar of Legend (Book 2).
The Quads
Cinnamon, Sage, Sorrel, & Mace
Quaid
The Boss's untouchable and right hand man. He killed Jack. He calls himself Claire's favorite demon.
The Realms
Paradise, Purgatory, Hell, & Fallen (the fourth realm)
Sage
Older middle child and identical twin to Sorrel, third strongest of the quads. Title: Duke of North Flockington
Sorrel
Younger middle child and identical twin to Sage, weakest of the quads. Title: Earl of South Roseington
Book 2 – Characters
Callum
Spirit of the lake, takes Claire to the fourth realm. Inhabits the Silver Sea.
Curator
The man who watches over the museum. Mab kills him in Book 2. Claire is tasked with replacing him in Book 3 (the new hell job).
Girl #3
Contender #3, Death Seeker
Girl #4
Contender #4, Wanderer. Prophecy: The Time Queen
Gizelle
Mother of the quads and Chimera twin mother to Thanos. She manipulates events to save her children, but her real goal is to save Thanos.
Leland Kane
Jayne's old advisor. Trapped in a time bubble. He teaches Claire how to control her power.
Raven
Contender #2, Name Caller. Killed by Claire. Prophecy: The Horseman (Red Horse: War)
Ronin
Mab's bounty hunter in book 2. Title: Prince of Time.
Tarik
Dragon in Leland Kane's time bubble. Title: Time King.
Thanos
Clair’s soul mate. Mab’s son. Gizelle’s Chimera’s twin’s son. Lost for five hundred years. One of Raven’s victims.
Chapter 1
There’s always a catch. The Boss, AKA the Devil or Demon King, said he’d explain things after I recovered from the unfortunate series of events that left me virtually powerless last summer. I still had a little power, mostly what I’d gotten from entering Purgatory last spring, but nothing like the never-ending well of resources I’d had with Harry’s blood. Harry, the Druid King and Godfather to the Underworld Mafia, had had no hand in giving me his blood the first time. Harry and The Boss’s sister, Mab, Pagan Queen and all-around pain in my ass, juiced me with it last summer. It was all for a good cause, of course. Why else would she bind Harry’s blood with mine and create a person capable of wielding the power of all four realms? Someone had to defeat Raven, contender number two for “the girl” of the prophecy race and holder of a power so great it scared the hell out of the big three. That was then, before Harry took back his blood. Now, with my powers once again limited, I was dealing with the catch: replacing the curator of the Great Museum.
Mab had practically jumped with joy when she heard my assignment. She obviously knew just how badly this job sucked. After only a few weeks, I agreed. It was quite possibly the worst job on the planet—and I’m counting things like working for the Devil, indentured servitude, and anything to do with the sanitation industry.
“Next,” I called from my desk in my shoebox-sized office at Tucker Bosh headquarters in New York City, the place I’d been dumped after my “recovery” to fulfill my obligation of finding and hiring the next curator. I quickly discovered that finding a qualified candidate wasn’t the problem—hiring him was. So far, every candidate I
’d shown to the big three had been rejected. The other major factor was that I had to speak with anyone that presented themselves for consideration—anyone—no matter who they were, what their qualifications were, or any other relevant factor. That was the law and as the new Fall Queen, I apparently had to follow it, which just made the job seem all that more endless.
After a second, I noticed the pagan in front of me was just staring, not getting up and leaving my office as I’d intended. I mean, I said “Next.” He should have gotten the hint, right? I sighed. Unfortunately, there were three types of candidates: the qualified, the unqualified, and the delusional. I was really hoping this guy would realize he’d fallen into the unqualified bucket and move along easily, but no such luck. Pretty-Boy-612 here wasn’t taking rejection gracefully.
I’d been stuck in this office interviewing candidates just as unqualified as the pagan in front of me for almost two months. For every one that met the qualifications, there were at least twenty that didn’t—and at least nine delusional candidates a week.
The previous curator had guarded the treasures in the Great Museum for over three hundred years. Most of the candidates for the now-vacant position just wanted the power. They had no clue what being the curator really meant, or how it would bind them to the museum for life—a very long life if the last curator was any gauge.
It was also a dangerous job. The position was vacant because the last curator inadvertently came between Mab and her son, Thanos. The curator had been killed during Mab’s interrogation to determine how Raven, who took Thanos during her escape, had made it out of her glass prison.
So here I was, sitting in a godforsaken swivel chair, in an office not much bigger than a walk-in closet, saying “Next” for what felt like the millionth time, but was really only about the thousandth time—this week—eight weeks after saving the world.
Yeah, that was when this never-ending process started: last summer when I became the World Killer (for like a second) and almost destroyed it. World Killer, Great Destroyer, Name Caller, Fallen Queen, Claire—at this point, I was starting to think my name count might eventually surpass The Boss’s list.
My thoughts were interrupted by Pretty-Boy-612. “What about me?” he asked.
“No,” I said, still hoping he’d just leave.
“Why not? I’m qualified.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. All the delusional ones thought they were qualified. They waltzed in here with the confidence of a schoolyard bully and they didn’t like being told no. Pretty-Boy-612 wasn’t qualified. He was average. He wasn’t even all that pretty—don’t get me wrong, he was a pagan, blue eyes, golden hair, perfect skin, but he wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous. I’d seen better (today).
“You’re not qualified,” I said, trying to remain professional. “Now, get out.”
He kicked his chair back, toppling it, and stood. “You’ll be sorry for turning me down.”
Holding my hand out, I released the power at my core. His eyes grew wide as a ball of hellfire coalesced in my outstretched palm.
“Pick up the chair and leave. Now.”
I let the green shine run across my eyes. He stumbled back, quickly righting the chair before he bolted out of the office. I closed my palm and took a few calming breaths, trying to shake the feeling of being drained. My power was weak—and it felt weaker every day. The Boss had refused to let me return to the fourth realm until I replaced the curator, but I didn’t know if this feeling was a side effect of being away from the realm for so long, or something else completely. I wasn’t willing to discuss it with The Boss, and Omar, a court seer loyal to Fallen and Royal Regent in my absence, either wasn’t able to contact me or didn’t think it was necessary. At least I could scare the shit out of a normal candidate, but with my limited abilities, I wouldn’t be sparring with the big three anytime soon.
Of course, maybe it was the job, which was killing me slowly. Unfortunately, according to Harry, now that I’d awakened the fourth realm and become the Fall Queen, it was my duty to comply with their assignment, so I should just suck it up and do my job, right? I suspected the gig was really their idea of hazing the new kid. Either way, it sucked. My life had never really been my own, but now it was buried in motherfucking paperwork.
“Hey!” Connie’s shrill voice screeched from the waiting room, bringing me back to reality. “You forgot to sign out,” she shrieked after the fleeing candidate.
I rubbed my temples to relieve the pressure of a pending headache. Connie was my assistant, sort of. She came with the office that The Boss assigned me on the fifth floor of his building. I only used it because I didn’t want the candidates knowing where I lived, and since the Fallen had no administrative buildings in Underworld, my apartment would have been the only other rent-free option. The tiny office was dull and lifeless, but I refused to decorate it—not even if it took me two years to find a replacement. The only plus was Connie, and that was a borderline plus at best.
Her real name was Pamela, and, no surprise, she was a demon. She was playing the human card fairly well, so I let her believe it was working. I almost called her Pamela once, but luckily, I caught myself. The ability to know everything’s name was a power I’d acquired last summer when I killed Raven.
She’d been the Name Caller, one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse (War), and one of the four girls with the potential to be the Fall Queen. I thought of her as girl number two, although considering Mab had been holding Raven prisoner for over 500 years in the Great Museum, she had the “contender” title long before me. Raven’s attempt to end the prophecy by having me killed failed. When I killed her, I was stuck with her gift and two other contenders to deal with at some point. Go me.
If the big three ever figured out that I was now the Name Caller, I’d be as good as dead. I’d used my other power to null spells to cure them all, but they had no idea. The power was too dangerous for anyone to have, but, unfortunately, I couldn’t exactly give it back. I’d only lose it if one of the other two contenders were able to take the title of Fall Queen from me—and that would mean I was dead because that was the game, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
My life was now driven by forces outside my control, prophecies I’d first learned of last spring when I’d inadvertently entered Purgatory, discovered I wasn’t human, and set off a sequence of events that led me to the truth about the fourth realm and its former queen, Jayne, who was also Mab’s twin sister because nothing was ever simple. But it wasn’t until months later that I truly understood the ramifications of my situation.
There wasn’t just one prophecy. There were four, and one of the paths led to Jayne’s resurrection—something Death, my ex-lover, was hell-bent on making happen.
The Revenant prophecy states: If war prevails, the torque of time changes hands, or the sacrificed child isn’t saved, the Revenant will be reborn.
And of course Death wants that to happen. He wants Jayne back—in my body. This isn’t really a win-win for me, so I have to make sure neither of the last two conditions are met to stop that from happening.
I eliminated the first condition when I killed Raven—the Name Caller and Red Horse, War—last summer. Now, I just had to make sure “the torque of time doesn’t change hands” and “the sacrificed child is saved.” If only it was that easy.
Initially, I thought I might be the saved sacrificed child because The Boss had saved me from death when I was a baby. I should have gone to Mab’s court as an infant born with power, but he hid my mother, his true love, and me for four years. Mab eventually found us, but lost her claim to me when she killed my mother. Of course, if my life being saved negated the “sacrificed child” portion of the prophecy, Death would have considered the current candidates failures. He’d originally thought all of the three elements had to be true for Jayne to return, but I’d inadvertently corrected him last summer. Now he knows only one must be true, which meant there was no way I was the sacrificed child. He’d known the truth
about my past before I did, so it negated nothing.
Two conditions remained, but one was a more pressing issue. Death wanted the torque of time—and I was the only one who knew where it was. He’d stayed away, allowing me to recover from the events of last summer, but he’d be coming for me soon. His threat to kill one of Gizelle’s children (Thanos, Cinnamon, Sage, Sorrel, or Mace) was weak, but I couldn’t rule out his willingness to do it if he thought I wouldn’t cooperate. Of course, I had no idea what that would do to the prophecies. Raven’s attempt to disrupt the outcome by having Cinnamon kill me backfired. Would Death fail if he tried to kill the quads or Thanos? With my life on the line, I wasn’t sure I could rely on fate to step in and save them.
According to Jayne’s advisor, Leland Kane, only one of the contenders could kill another, which I assumed Death knew, so forcing Gizelle’s curse to kill me would somehow fail or maybe just disqualify this round of contenders. If the contenders were disqualified and the timetable was moved back until another set of four emerged, would it really matter? Jayne died ten thousand years ago, so what was another few hundred years waiting for the stars to align and produce a new set? Death was probably willing to wait.
I rubbed my temples again. Thinking about the possible outcomes always made my head hurt. Someone cleared their throat. I looked up, surprised at what I found.
A teenage girl, mostly human, was standing in the doorway to my office. She looked to be around seventeen, not the usual age of the candidates. Dressed in skinny jeans and a blue Wild Mushroom pizzeria t-shirt, she looked like a normal teen, but normal teens didn’t apply for this job. I studied her. She was taller than average, around five-seven or five-eight—my height. Her medium-length hair had been dyed a kaleidoscope of colors, going from pink at the roots to purple and then blue, but it didn’t strike me as odd on her willowy frame. Her jean jacket was draped casually over the green messenger bag slung across her body, and her sneakers were worn but clean. So why the hell was she here?
