Dark Forsaken (The Devil's Assistant Book 3)

by Smith, HD

  Isla shrugged.

  “You’ll learn nothing from me. Go, before I change my mind.”

  She inclined her head. I opened the door with my will. She retreated without taking her eyes off me.

  “You should have killed her,” Mace said.

  “Why? Are you worried she’ll double-cross me?”

  “She’d double-cross anyone,” he said.

  “I know. She’s a mercenary. She’ll cut and run at the first sign of failure, or maybe we’ll buy her off. The devil you know, and all that.”

  Sage chuckled.

  “I would have killed her,” Mace groused.

  “Yes, Mace, which is why you’re the guard and I’m the queen.”

  Sage and Sorrel both snorted this time. Cinnamon turned away so as not to show her smile. I could feel the humor rolling off all of them except Mace. He was annoyed. Then Gizelle’s summon ratcheted up a notch, which irritated everyone.

  After another sharp poke, Sorrel said, “Please do something about this.” He pointed at the place on his arm where Gizelle had put her reminder on me.

  I supposed it was time to see what she wanted. Her constant poking was becoming annoying. “Fine,” I said, then focused my energy on bringing Gizelle here to us. The spell to summon would do the trick. Speaking clearly, I said, “I summon Gizelle.”

  The power word rolled off my tongue as an image of Gizelle resonated in my mind. I thought of the reminder she’d left on me as also being a part of her and used it to link with the visual image of the many ways I’d seen her. Through my eyes, the quads also saw the Gizelle from the Roman bath in the Deeps and the one from Underworld with Sorrel. Their memories began filling in the blanks by showing me images of her from their childhood and at various times throughout the past. She resonated within each of us in a different way, but that knowledge allowed us all to call her forth, and she came.

  She appeared in a flash. She was mid-chortle until she realized what had happened. Stopping her laugh, Gizelle spun to face us, a drink still in her hand from what had most likely been a fancy cocktail party or museum gala if her dress was any indication. After taking us all in, she sat the glass on the table nearest her and moved to stand before us.

  “Yes, my queen,” she said with an emotion I’d never seen on her before: pissed-off fear.

  The others agreed. She composed herself quickly and regained her regal composure. Running her hands through her long, strawberry-blond hair, the illusion of the socialite party girl disappeared. She changed into a cutesy sweater set and capris that would be in a magazine advertising fashionable casualwear for the busy mom on the go—but she wasn’t fooling anyone.

  I pointed to the place on my arm where Gizelle marked me and where the summon had resonated. “You rang?”

  She smiled at her children, but it didn’t seem sincere to me and I wasn’t the only one who didn’t buy it. Her fake countenance was confusing Mace. It turned his already grumpy mood to something more glacial.

  “You must find Thanos before it’s too late,” Gizelle said without preamble.

  “Too late for what?” I asked, just as Mace thought, She’s not being truthful.

  The others all glanced toward him and then back at their mother. They were being guarded now.

  “He’s in danger,” Gizelle continued cautiously.

  “Do you mean from Faith? I told you to keep her away from him.”

  “No,” Gizelle said. “This is about what you’re planning. It’s going to fail and my son, my Thanos, will be hurt in the process—killed. Your strategy will fail.” She made eye contact with her children as if trying to reassure them.

  Does anyone know what she’s talking about? Cinnamon asked.

  She’s not being truthful, Mace said, this time with more venom.

  I mind-spoke back. Normally, you just call out that they’re lying, so what gives with the ‘not truthful’ disclaimer? To Cinnamon I said, I think she means the strategy to replace the curator, but why she’s bringing that up is beyond me.

  I expected Mace to remind me that I didn’t know what the strategy was, but he just continued to stare at his mother.

  I turned my attention back to Gizelle. She was studying us as if trying to solve a puzzle.

  Can she tell we’re mind speaking? I asked.

  Cinnamon chuckled, but stopped herself when she realized it would seem like odd behavior. I think the problem is bigger than that. I don’t think she can see us anymore. We have somehow jumped out of her sight.

  Can she not see Thanos either? Sorrel asked.

  Thanos, another dagger in my heart.

  Sage had the nerve to say, You really are shit in that department, aren’t you, Claire?

  Wisps of power crackled at my wrists. Fuck you, I thought to Sage before turning my eyes back to Gizelle and squashing the power back down. “The big three think the strategy will work. They approved it. I see no reason Thanos will even be there, so what exactly don’t you like about it?”

  “I have seen Thanos die on the stage at the Lux two days from now,” Gizelle said.

  “Okay,” I said, adding that detail to my limited knowledge of the strategy. “How?”

  Mace’s anger spiked. His rage was palpable. I noticed Gizelle give him a stern look. His pulse rose. He was furious, which was putting me on edge. I tightened my fist to prevent hellfire from forming.

  “What is it?” I asked him.

  “Something is wrong,” he said and then he thought, She’s lying.

  Well, can you man up? You’re making it hard for me to stay in control.

  He just glared at me. “She never lies to me.”

  “Lie? I’m not—” Gizelle tried to protest, but I cut her off.

  “He’s never wrong.” Then I remembered what the blacksmith had said. Omar lost the ability to see me. I thought Cinnamon was right: Gizelle’s problem was bigger than her ability to see me. “You can’t see me or the quads, can you? We’re like a black hole to you now. Did you really see Thanos die at the Lux?”

  She pursed her lips together, anger clear on her face. “He was there, but he shouldn’t have been there. He was hurt. Then nothing.”

  “When did your visions stop?” I asked.

  “Less than an hour ago,” she confirmed.

  That’s when you kissed Cinnamon and we were all linked, Sage thought.

  “I know.”

  “You know what, Claire?” Gizelle asked.

  “I can’t fix your problem.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Can’t.”

  Gizelle smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  Wisps of energy crackled at my wrists. Mace was still enraged. I glanced back at him, but he was focused on his mother.

  What is your problem? I thought.

  She lied to me, Mace replied.

  She lied to Claire, Sage reminded him.

  “I am in the room,” Mace growled at Sage.

  Gizelle was trying not to look concerned, but Mace’s attitude and seemingly erratic behavior were making her suspicious.

  His almost uncontrollable anger was overwhelming and starting to affect the others. I’d lose control if he didn’t rein it in soon.

  Trying my best to ignore the rage, I asked, “What was the last thing you saw about Thanos?”

  “I told you. He was hurt. He was with you and Faith at the Lux Hotel,” Gizelle said. “You were in the theater, standing over his prone form with a bloody knife. Faith was laughing like a loon. I saw this moments before it all went dark. Now, I see nothing.”

  Was that the truth? I asked Mace, but he wasn’t focused on me. His rage was blinding him to all but Gizelle.

  “Why do you think this means he’ll die? And why would you think I’d intentionally kill him?” I asked Gizelle.

  She closed her eyes, steepling her hands and pressing them between her eyes like she was in pain. I saw a tear roll down one cheek. Mace made a low, involuntary growl.

  Gizelle either didn�
�t hear him or ignored his mood. “You saw them together,” Gizelle said as if this were devastating news she was imparting. “The other women. You found out somehow and seek revenge.”

  “I …” I began to say that she should have had this vision days ago if that were true, but Mace’s growl rumbled through the room.

  “That’s Mab’s doing, of course,” Gizelle continued, as if Mace wasn’t about to explode. “She—”

  “Stop,” I said, getting her startled attention. “I wouldn’t kill him for that. Why the hell are you lying?”

  Mace’s anger had an almost physical heat to it now. “Yes,” he growled through clenched teeth. “You’re lying.”

  Gizelle narrowed her eyes, but tried to smile and wave it off. “I know what I saw.”

  I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise. Mace was about to implode and take the rest of us with him. I tightened the hold on my power. Gizelle clearly had no idea what her actions were doing. The vein on the side of Mace’s neck pulsed. He believed nothing she was saying.

  Gizelle opened her mouth to speak, but clammed up when Mace took a menacing step in her direction. I grabbed his arm to stop him. Chill out.

  “I don’t plan to kill Thanos,” I said, bringing Gizelle’s attention back to me, “but you know that.” She appeared pleased—smug. “Why is that? Why can’t I let him go? I know he doesn’t love me. Our bond was severed and he had girls in the wings for God’s sake—it’s clear he’s over me. So why am I still so deeply committed to him?” I hadn’t thought about it like that before, but now that I’d said it out loud, I knew it was true. He was in my heart like no other. Was that a spell or true feelings? Gizelle was certainly trying to use them against me.

  “It was Mab, she—”

  “Stop,” Mace barked, clearly not believing her lie.

  Mab wouldn’t have spelled me with a love for Thanos. She wanted him back without any further encumbrance from me. If I loved him, I’d never let him go.

  Gizelle started again. “It was—”

  “I said stop,” Mace bellowed, his voice reverberating off the walls.

  He was actually offended that she’d dare lie to him, but surely, this wasn’t the first time.

  “She’s lying.” Mace’s low tone was scary. His emotional spike was off the charts.

  Wisps of power crackled at my wrists. My control was slipping. “Mace,” I said, lightly touching his arm. “Please calm down.”

  “Son,” Gizelle said. “You’re mistaken.” She looked back and forth between us, as if searching for the right thing to say, which was when I understood what was happening. She had no insight into their futures. She couldn’t tell him what he needed to hear to believe her. She’d never lied to him because she always knew how to get past his truth detector before.

  Mace needed to calm down. I glanced at Cinnamon, but she shrugged. They were no help, but I realized the others were just trying to stay calm as well. Sorrel had his eyes closed as if trying to distance himself from this situation.

  “You’re blind,” I said. “So much so that you can’t see the pain you’re causing your son—the one standing in front of you. You’re just looking for a way to placate him. The real truth would be a start. He sees your lies now and, clearly, he doesn’t like it.”

  Gizelle’s expression settled into the cold blank mask I’d seen in the Deeps when she jumped me after the bath. She couldn’t care less about Mace or the others—I was sure. Her only concern was for Thanos. It had always been Thanos.

  Shrugging as if she agreed with my assessment, she closed her eyes and opened them a moment later. A wild glow of greenish-blue shined brightly within her cold orbs. Cinnamon and Sage tensed in fear. I tried wrapping Gizelle in a protection spell, but she was too quick.

  The curse on my arm warmed as she started chanting.

  “Winds of change do I call forth, set the plan on its natural course. Perish those who’ve lost their way. Sever ties that bind and sway.”

  I screamed as Gizelle’s reminder burned red-hot on my arm. A fiery red glow appeared on the outside of my upper arm where she’d marked me. I stumbled from the pain and fell to one knee as the glow turned into a nasty raised brand. I glanced over when Cinnamon cried out. She was also being burnt by Gizelle’s reminder.

  “What is this?” Gizelle shrieked, stepping back from Cinnamon and the twins.

  I pushed back to my feet. Sorrel was writhing on the floor, the fiery red glow burning through his shirt. Sage remained on his feet, but the pained look on his face was obvious. Cinnamon’s mark was the easiest to see on her bare arm. It was a circular pattern, intertwined with a latticework of vines. It looked Celtic to my normal sight. I blinked and the overlay of magic flared to life, showing me the swirling black power that burned our flesh. The image of a doe flounced off in the mist of energy as it dissipated.

  When Gizelle moved toward Mace, I slammed a protection spell into place around all of us.

  She sneered at me and then glared at Mace. “The results of this gift were meant for you alone, my son. But it appears that you will all share in his fate.” Under her breath, she muttered, “A pity to waste so many at once.”

  “You heartless bitch,” I yelled.

  She smiled and bowed her head, “My queen.” Then she disappeared.

  I put my hand over the mark. “Heal.”

  The pain went away as the magic within me closed the wound. All of our wounds began to heal, but the marks remained, ugly scars on previously unblemished skin that would serve as permanent reminders—for all of us—of my deal with Gizelle.

  Sage helped Sorrel to his feet. Cinnamon looked pissed as she inspected the mark on her arm, something that would show prominently in her usual style of sleeveless little black dresses.

  I turned to look at Mace. The curse I’d put on him last summer echoed in my head. Energy crackled at my wrists and swarmed around my arms as the blood vine ignited. Gizelle’s curse was no more and every part of me wanted him dead.

  Chapter 25

  Gizelle’s agreement with me to keep her children alive didn’t exist and my power knew it. The vines on my arms glowed. Every tattoo under my skin blazed to life. My heart pulsed with the anger I’d felt last summer when I cursed Mace. A strong wave of emotion rolling over me sluiced off in sheets. Everyone in the room could feel it. I began to pull, but not randomly as I had before. This time my energy was focused entirely on one being.

  Mace’s eyes widened as he felt the rage within me. He took a step back. I grabbed him with my will. Bringing him in close, I began to drain him. He wouldn’t escape my wrath this time. The curse would have its pound of flesh.

  The others were gasping for breath as I squeezed Mace’s struggling form. My lungs burned from the pain of no oxygen, but still I pulled the breath from him, fully intending to end his life no matter the cost.

  Sorrel grabbed his throat, gasping for air. Cinnamon and Sage rushed forward, trying to stop me. I flicked them away with my will and wrapped a protection spell around Mace and I.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw that Sorrel was no longer gasping. Relief at being able to breathe washed over all of them until they realized I had no intention of saving their brother.

  The power wouldn’t let me. I was the one killing us and I didn’t know how to stop it. Then everything changed. In the blink of an eye I went from suffocating to breathing as our bodies crumpled to the floor. We were both unconscious, staring at each other’s presences.

  “Fuck, Claire, you almost killed me,” Mace said.

  From this vantage point, I could see the magic as it pulled into me, but it had slowed to a trickle and was dissipating.

  “That’s why they call it a curse, jackass,” I said coldly.

  “But you would have died, too.”

  I held up my hands. “Curse.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he said, “You hate me that much?”

  I barked out a laugh. “Yes. Why the hell wouldn’t I?”

  “I was no
worse than the others.”

  I stared at him incredulously. “Don’t take this as a compliment, but you are ten times worse than the others.”

  My mind slipped away to last spring. I thought of Jack, how I’d pined for him as Mace threatened his life. I sent that thought away. I had to hold it together.

  “You’ve had many suitors for someone who is so hung up over one demon lover.”

  That was the wrong thing to say and he must have realized it right away, but it was too late for rational Claire to give the entitled SOB any leeway. My head snapped up to look at him. The fire behind my eyes burned bright.

  “You have no idea what you took from me. The pain you’ve caused me. The heartache. That knowledge is the curse I wish I could give you.”

  As if the power only needed an outlet, it reacted to my words. Without warning, everything Mace had ever done to me started flashing through my head. His eyes widened, his gaze locked with mine.

  “Stop,” he begged, his voice shaking.

  His fear pushed against me, but I ignored it. My mind filled with every moment he and I shared. We relived them from my perspective—he saw and felt what I’d seen as he tormented me.

  It was much more intense than simply watching a movie of events. He was living the hell of those moments, but because of our link, I also felt the pain.

  The rhythm of our hearts beat in sync. The pain intensified when he pulled Jack out of that bar in Underworld. I saw tears in Mace’s eyes and felt our hearts race as the blacksmith came toward us with the needle. We screamed as Mab marked us.

  We felt the pain as he discovered the baby in Harry’s basement and because we were sharing our thoughts, his memories were filling in the blanks of that event, which made it doubly painful for me. My heart hurt all over again. He trudged through the agony of the Deeps with me as we turned to dust. We relived the realization that the baby was lost—gone forever—his memories filling in the blanks again. We cried as we took the ring from Quaid and put it in the sock drawer at the apartment, now a bittersweet memory because I knew Jack wasn’t dead.

  We suffered through my fear and pain at Cinnamon’s castle, and choked down my anger at having to save him, claim him, and let him go unharmed.