Dark Hope (The Devil's Assistant) (32 page)

I tried to school my emotions. I didn’t want him to know what I thought of his plan. He was a fool to think she’d just let him have what he wanted.

He squeezed my arm as he pulled me from the basement. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Once upstairs, he shoved me toward Quaid. I didn’t see Harry again as we left the house. A car was waiting for us outside. Quaid hustled me into the back of the car. Cinnamon and the twins were already there. None of them acknowledged me, which was fine. Part of me wanted to warn them, but the other part knew it was useless, so I decided to keep quiet. Cinnamon’s hair was still up, and Sage wore the green tie I had seen him ironing at the bungalow. He and Sorrel looked a little banged up, but neither of them seemed to care—or remember?—that I had caused the crazy fans to attack them.

“Why do we all have to go?” Cinnamon asked, scowling.

“Aunt Mab requested it,” Sage said.

“Requested—commanded is more like it,” she scoffed.

“She can’t command you. You should have refused,” I said, as Mace slid onto the seat.

Cinnamon’s lips pursed together, and her eyebrows dropped into a line. Had she not even considered refusing?

I started to say as much, when Mace said, “Enough,” and looked at my belly.

I turned my gaze away. Challenging him right now wasn’t an option.

He leaned back against the seat and placed a hand on Cinnamon’s arm. “It’s just a request for a visit.”

Her face relaxed as she nodded. “Of course, you’re right.” She was still trapped by his spell and trusted him.

I knew when we crossed over into Purgatory. We’d driven down what appeared to be a dead-end alley in Underworld, only to end up in an ice-covered forest in the middle of nowhere. I had no negative reaction to the threshold this time, but I wondered how dangerous the portal really was. Mab said it wasn’t safe to travel between Earth and the realms directly, but travel between Underworld and the realms was more stable. Actually, she’d said it wasn’t safe for humans, so maybe I didn’t have to worry as much about that now. That was if I ever got to leave, of course.

The tires of the town car crunched on the ice and snow as we drove to the castle. My stomach was full of ants—not butterflies; those would have been too tame for what was going on in the pit of my tummy. I just hoped I wouldn’t get hungry anytime soon.

An arctic cold ran through me as we stepped out of the car. My clean change of clothes at Harry’s hadn’t included a pair of shoes. I was freezing.

Quaid ushered me toward the large doors of a huge castle. The stone structure was so tall and sprawling it made the forest around it seem small. I shivered when I registered where we were, and it wasn’t from the permafrost beneath my bare feet. Mab’s castle. Her claim had been granted. I was in Purgatory—maybe for good this time. The fear of what she could do to me—what she’d already done to my mother—came rushing back.

Trembling, I followed Quaid inside the great hall. The temperature inside wasn’t much different from the frosty outside, but at least we’d left behind the biting wind. I was frozen to the bone, and the scrubs weren’t providing any heat. It may have been my imagination, or the fact I’d just walked on ice outside, but the stone floor had warmth I wasn’t expecting—not that it helped much, but at least I wasn’t worried about losing any toes to frostbite.

Mab sat on a high throne, watching as we approached. The quads and Quaid bowed as they greeted her. Quaid yanked me down. She walked over to where I knelt. The temperature around me dropped further as she neared.

As if this was the first time we’d met, she tipped my head back and studied me. “Oh, look,” she said gleefully. “You brought me a new toy.”

I swallowed a sour taste in my mouth. She raised me to my feet.

The others stood, but she ignored them. Her eyes were so blue they were almost black. “You must be freezing, dear. Let me fetch you a warm drink.”

Mace tensed beside me, but he didn’t say anything.

I had no intention of eating or drinking anything. I remembered Jayne’s warning—I couldn’t believe I was actually giving the voice a name. “No, thank you,” I said before Mab had a chance to summon a servant.

“I can see you’re cold. Would you not like something to warm you?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

Her angelic face hid her true evil, but her shell was starting to crack. Fine lines appeared around her mouth as her lips formed a twisted smile. She hadn’t expected me to refuse her.

Without so much as a twitch, she wrapped her will around me so tightly I could barely breathe. She lifted me a few inches off the ground to her eye level. “I must insist.”

Mace hadn’t been able to force me to eat the Pagan cake in the bungalow; I had to eat it willingly. I assumed the same rules applied to her. “I doubt it will have the desired effect if you force me.” My voice was strained. I barely had enough air to get out the words.

Her hold tightened, suffocating me. She crowded closer, practically nose-to-nose. My lungs burned with the lack of oxygen.

In a lowered voice
,
she said, “You’re in no position to refuse.”

My eyelids drooped. She was very clearly proving her point. She smiled
,
then dropped me to the floor. I gasped, sucking in air as fast as possible. I was still trying to steady my breathing when Quaid put me on my feet.

“I’m sure some time to yourself will improve your attitude.” She had a wicked gleam in her eyes. Waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, she said, “Take her to the Deeps.”

Two of her guards, men I hadn’t noticed before, came from behind her throne.

“Stop,” Mace commanded before I could back away.

As if glued to the floor, with no real desire to move, I was stuck. Mace had commanded me to stop—a simple voice command—and now I was unable to move.
Oh, god. Complete control. This was what it meant
?

He bowed his head and went down to one knee. “May we speak first, Aunt, before you send her away?”

He looked up; his eyes were wide—hopeful—but I knew there was no way she was going to give him what he wanted. She had a smug look of indifference, but all I saw was death in her eyes. She wanted me agreeable. Apparently, whatever awaited me in the Deeps would make that happen.

She smiled. “She will go to the Deeps while we talk.”

No longer arrogant, his dejected gaze met mine. Quietly, he said, “Go with them.”

Without any conscious effort, I walked over to the guards. I wanted to run, but my body wouldn’t obey. Not when Mace gave the order in Purgatory. Complete control sucks.

“You have your orders,” Mab shouted at the guards. “To the Deeps with her.”

The men led me from the great hall, taking me along a series of corridors to the back of the castle
,
then winding through another long corridor and into a spiraling stairwell that appeared to have no end. We went further and further down until finally it ended so deep in the ground it felt like a grave. My pulse quickened as we reached the bottom. A single dark door lay ahead.

Twenty One

In China, the Taklamakan desert was said to mean, “go in, and you will never come out.” The Deeps, as Mab called it, was nothing like the dreams Mace trapped me in or the nightmares controlled by the Keeper. The Deeps, as it turned out, was its own world, an endless Taklamakan, designed by Mab to make anyone go mad.

There was no mean foster father or sociopathic hellspawn here to torment me. There was nothing. Nothing but me and the wind or the rain or the snow or the searing hot summer sun on a vast, endless desert. So hot one’s mouth was dry from the lack of water, and one’s lips cracked and bled. This was the Deeps, the endless hell of nothingness that went on for days, then weeks, then years.

Aimlessly, I walked around. There was nothing to find or do or see. At first, I thought the desolate isolation would cause me to forget and drive me mad, but the spell I’d done made that impossible. I hadn’t heard from the voice again, but images, the movie of my life, were relentlessly played over and over in my head. I couldn’t forget—anything. This might drive me mad faster than if I was losing them.

The time of this place was different. The days ticked past like marks on a ruler. I watched them turn into weeks, then months. Forward and back, ending and beginning, as if I could somehow control time itself. Maybe in this hellhole I could.

I stumbled over a rock and fell to the ground but got back up quickly. Resting wasn’t an option. Nor sleeping, sitting, or stopping. The elements would attack if I did. I would wind up in the middle of a raging storm or a freezing wind.

I groaned as the wind picked up. I hadn’t
gotten
back to my feet fast enough. The dirt started to swirl. A sand storm was coming. I ran, trying to get ahead of the gale. Trying to get out of its way, but I was too late. Raging wind slammed into me, knocking me to the ground.

After too many times of this happening, in frustration, I cried, “Stop!”

Instantly, everything stilled. I pushed myself to my feet and looked around. I was in the middle of the storm, but it wasn’t moving. Millions of tiny specs of sand were suspended in the air. Amazing. I spun around in all directions, gawking at the contained chaos. Raw power, suspended in time. It was beautiful.

A moment later, something struck my cheek with a sharp sting. Then another. The sand. As I studied the suspended particles, they moved, vibrating slightly before flying off on their former trajectory.

I had some control but not enough. I reeled around, searching for the best way out. A small patch of blue sky beckoned. I ran
for
the clearing as the storm roared again, the sand swirling faster and faster. It was getting harder to see. I kept going, running for the bright beacon of blue.

“Faster,” I screamed at my legs.

Without warning, time jumped ahead, and I wasn’t in the desert anymore. Instead, I stood in the
frozen
tundra, the storm long gone. Winter again.

“Four months,” I said, knowing that was the time that had passed. It was strange how I could sense the time here. I could see it as if it were laid out before me in a timeline.

Of course, I didn’t actually believe it was real time—dream time perhaps. I wasn’t completely sure.

I walked for another two days, making comments about the weather—talking to myself—actually wishing the voice would talk back.

“Jayne,” I said hesitantly. I was so starved for interaction
,
I would gladly welcome her conversation. She remained quiet. “Please talk to me.”

“Finally,” she said in an exacerbated tone. “So, did it just occur to you
that
you had to give me permission to speak?”

“Um—” I wasn’t sure what to say. I hadn’t realized that at all.

“Fine, you’re forgiven.”

I’m losing it
.

“You’re not going crazy,” she said.

“I’ve been here for seven years or two months or two seconds, depending on how you want to look at it. I’m tired. I can’t sleep or rest. I’ve been watching a continuous loop of my life in movie form, and I don’t know how the hell to get out of here, or when it will end on its own. So, yeah, I’m fairly sure I’m going crazy.”

“You could shut it off.”

The movie already felt like someone else’s life, but I couldn’t switch it off. “I have no idea how long I’ll be here. If I switch it off, I could wind up forgetting my own name. Which is not a better option.”

“Just a suggestion.”

“You’re talking to me now. Maybe I’ve already tipped the crazy scale.”

The voice was silent.

“Fine, let’s say I’m not crazy. What are you? Who are you?” I asked, realizing I had no idea how to phrase the right question.

“I’m Jayne,” she said as if that explained it.

I wanted to beat my head against a wall. “Well, Jayne, what the hell does that mean exactly?”

She didn’t say anything.

I sighed. “Where are you?”

“Trapped in you, somehow, I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Have you always been there, just silent? Which is creepy, by the way, if you have.”

“No, I only regained awareness after you entered Purgatory the first time. I decided to use the spell you cast as a way to talk to you.”

“So why did you shut up?”

“You commanded me, and for some reason, I couldn’t talk to you after that.”

I thought about that for a minute. Did my words have that much power? Was it like the suggestions I’d made to Mace and Sage?

“Yes, I think so,” Jayne said.

“Right, you can hear everything I’m thinking.”

She was quiet.

“I think we need to get past these secrets. Especially if I have none from you.”

“I don’t exactly understand it myself, but it’s like I am you, but I have no control of the body.”

A split personality?

“No, that’s not it,” she said quickly.

“How do you know?” That would explain a few things—wouldn’t it? I’d seen a special on TV.

“No, look, I know I have memories that aren’t from your life. I can’t access all of them, but I know they’re there. And I don’t have the ability to take control of your body. If I were an alternate personality I’d be able to do that, and we couldn't have a conversation.”

My head hurt thinking about it.

“Look out,” she said, before I almost tripped over another rock.

I was so tired, I just wanted to sit down for a minute and do nothing.

“Maybe we should try to get out?”

“I’d love to. Do
you
have any ideas?”

“We could let the storms kill us?”

“That’s an interesting thought, but what happens if it doesn’t work? She may be planning to keep us down here forever.”

“I doubt it. What fun would that be?”

“I assume you mean for her since she wouldn’t have the gratification of screwing with us on a daily basis.”