Dark Forsaken (The Devil's Assistant Book 3) by H.D. Smith Read Free Book Online

hadn’t hunted him down the moment I’d recovered after last summer. It was probably a good thing because had I seen him without Gizelle’s painful reminder, he would so be dead already. The more I thought of killing him, the stronger the pain burned from Gizelle’s mark. So, yeah, I hated Mace—just a bit more than the rest.
    His anxiety lessened a bit when I didn’t immediately blink him from existence. I couldn’t feel the emotions of the other fallen so well, but even though my connection to the fourth realm’s power base had waned, the quads were different. They were so much more powerful compared to the other descendants that when their emotions were raised, I felt everything about them.
    Regaining some composure, Mace turned to the remaining customers. “Get out. We’re closed.”
    The patrons hurried to leave, throwing money on the table before running like mice from a snake. They didn’t want Mace’s kind of trouble—no one ever did.
    My hand twitched with a crackle of energy. The power visibly formed at my wrist, streaming a ball of hellfire into my palm. I tightened my fist and pulled in the rage just as Gizelle’s mark sent another lightning bolt of pain down my arm.
    “My queen,” Mace snarled, his voice echoing in the empty bar.
    I kept a tight hold on the power within me that really wanted to kill him. Sage cackled. He was seriously drunk and that was getting very annoying.
    Glancing at Mace, I asked him, “What the hell is up with Sage?”
    Sage took offense. “Nothing’s wrong with me,” he slurred.
    Eyeing Mace, I said, “He clearly has a problem. Why are you letting him drink?”
    Mace let out a long, exasperated breath. “He was getting into more trouble elsewhere. At least it is somewhat controlled here.”
    “Controlled,” I scoffed, “There are two half-dead pagans laying on the ground outside.”
    Sage snorted. “They could be dead.” He tipped up his glass for the last drop of whiskey.
    “Quiet,” I said to him. “You’re not allowed to drink anymore.”
    “Fuck you,” he murmured, leaning over the bar as if he planned to grab the bottle and pour himself another drink.
    Mace sighed as if this were boring him. The energy within me wanted out. Seeing his disinterested image in the mirror behind the bar and not really wanting to hold back, I let the hellfire gather in my palm. The power coalesced as I watched his smug face. In the blink of an eye, I tossed it at Mace’s reflection, shattering every bit of glass on the back wall and feeling a tiny amount of satisfaction in the process.
    Sage yelped as the bottle in his hand broke. Throwing my will, I knocked him off the stool and then smacked his head against the floor, knocking him unconscious.
    I turned back to Mace, whose mouth was still gaping at the shattered mess behind his bar. Snapping my fingers, I got his attention. “This has to stop. The big three don’t like all the shit going on down here, and this kind of thing isn’t helping. They sent me to handle it.”
    Mace laughed.
    “They sent me to make you handle it,” I clarified. That shut him up. He raised his chin, defiant. I continued. “Someone is running people out of business. The big three are accusing the fallen. I need to know why. And it needs to stop.”
    Mace narrowed his eyes as if he didn’t know what I meant.
    “Are you telling me you haven’t noticed either?”
    His expression was clueless.
    I pointed out to his street. “There are over seven stores around you that are closed, and another half a dozen that look new. Two more over near the blacksmith’s shop also look abandoned. Any of this ringing any bells?”
    Mace shrugged. “Since when do you care about Underworld, Claire? And why should I care that a few places have shut down?”
    A new surge of power crackled in the air and a flare of pain shot from Gizelle’s mark. I stretched my neck. I didn’t need this shit. “Look, truth be told, I couldn’t give a fucking rat’s ass