Dark Hope (The Devil's Assistant) by H.D. Smith Page A

was nothing I could do now. I jumped over the railing.
    I landed funny when I fell and hit the ground. I winced as I stood and hobbled over to the darkened doorway of the building next door. There were three or four steps to a basement door—the only immediate place to hide. Once I was hidden, I stretched out my foot a few times. It wasn’t too badly hurt. I’d probably have a bruise and soreness, but no real damage.
    Within seconds, Quaid’s head popped out of the open window above. He scanned the alley. I slunk into the darkened doorway and breathed a sigh of relief when he went inside.
    I had to get out of town.
    I texted Jack, “I’m sorry. I have to leave town unexpectedly. I’ll be back. PLEASE don’t hate me...I can explain...please. I love you.”
    I wouldn’t risk getting Jack tangled in my mess. It hurt to think he might hate me, or that he might think I cheated on him. But I believed our relationship was stronger than today’s misunderstanding. I would make this right—after I figured out who killed Junior and who was walking around pretending to be me.
    Omar said to visit the quads, but he didn’t say in which order I should. They were almost never together, which was probably a good thing. Each of the four was powerful in their own right, but they were rumored to be unstoppable together. Horrible stories were told about the destruction they caused as children. I believed the stories. Midge said, “There’d be hell on Earth if they could actually stand each other.”
    I decided to see Cinnamon first.
    She was the oldest, by seconds, and the only girl. She was hardly my BFF, but of the four, she was the one I distrusted the least. This was mostly because she couldn’t be bothered to waste her time on me, not because she liked me; she just had better things to do than screw with me.
    To avoid running into Quaid or the other man as they left my building, I headed down the alley in the opposite direction. I opened the address book on my phone. Motor pool wasn’t an option. Quaid would have them on the lookout. I would have to use an otherworldly taxi.
    By the time I made it to the street at the other end of the alley, I’d been turned down by every listed otherworldly taxi service. It was essentially impossible to get picked up on Earth—who knew? My only other option was a walk-through portal I’d never used. I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed to, or if I even could, but I had to try.
    I opened Google Maps to find one. The closest was five blocks away, but it was back toward my apartment. Quaid would probably have someone watching my home. If so, he might be keeping an eye on the closest portal too. The next nearby location was twenty blocks in the other direction.
    I stopped on the sidewalk, searching for the best subway route on my phone. I froze when the sound of car brakes squeaked behind me. Closing my eyes briefly, I prayed this wasn’t the end of the road. I should be moving or ducking into an alley . Not standing in plain sight. I peered over my shoulder, ready to bolt.
    “Need a ride?” the guy asked.
    Oh, thank God, it’s just a taxi .
    I was about to say no thanks, until I read the ad on the top of his cab: Sunshine Sandwiches—The hottest place downtown!—the Underworld sandwich shop I’d been to earlier today. This was an otherworldly taxi.
    I eyed the driver. He wasn’t veiled, which was unusual on Earth and the reason I hadn’t immediately noticed he wasn’t human. If he’d been veiled I would have sensed it and realized he was from one of the otherworldly taxi services. In the right light, or lack thereof, even an unveiled supernatural appeared mostly human. It was the little things that made one think twice. The metallic shine to their eyes was their most noticeable trait. It showed their true eye color, only brighter. The Boss, for example, had eyes so dark they were almost black, but the glint when the light was just right was red.
    The driver wasn’t a bad-looking