Read Online Dark Forsaken (The Devil's Assistant Book 3) by H.D. Smith - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: H.D. Smith
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“But you’ve heard of the Jaded Dragon?”
“The hottest place downtown,” he muttered as if by rote, eyes now locked on the entrance.
I grabbed his arm and felt a small static charge pass between us. That was what happened when I de-spelled someone. He blinked his eyes a few times and almost lost his balance. I grabbed his arm to keep him upright. He shook his head.
I asked again. “Have you ever heard of this place?”
“No,” he said, “but a minute ago, I was sure—”
“Yeah, I know. I didn’t realize it right away, but I felt it, too.” I didn’t need to explain how my internal magic could null most spells that were cast on me. Sorrel already knew how it worked. The magic would reverse the spell and give me the ability to cure others. The spell had been so subtle I’d almost missed it. If Sorrel hadn’t been with me to question, I might not have realized it at all. I thought back to when we’d arrived at the blacksmith’s shop. I’d been sure everything was okay, but then I saw the street for what it was: closed and abandoned businesses. Was this why Sorrel and Mace hadn’t noticed? I touched Sorrel again, this time passing on the cure I’d gotten from outside the blacksmith’s shop for seeing the closed businesses.
He shook his head again. “Stop that.”
“Man up,” I quipped before heading to the Jaded Dragon’s entrance.
Sorrel was on my heels as I walked into the eatery. Everyone inside appeared to be having a great time. They probably all thought it was the place to be downtown.
A short waitress with long black hair in heavy Asian-styled costume makeup and a red cheongsam Chinese-style dress with small cap sleeves brushed passed me. I could sense she was a demon, but had recently converted to one of the fallen. It wasn’t a process I completely understood, but it had something to do with them having a full-blooded Fallen descendant and choosing to embrace the Fallen realm as their home. Scanning the room, I noticed that most of the people here were recent converts, which might explain Sydney’s odd comment. She’d known about the fallen, but since these people were all recently fallen, she might have thought they were just some odd cult.
The waitress, whose nametag said Mei-Ling but whose real name was Susan Jones, let out a tiny scream. She dropped the tray of dirty plates she was carrying, which drew everyone’s attention.
A balding, super-thin Hispanic guy in his late forties came rushing in from the back. His uniform was an elaborate but ill-fitting samurai costume with a nametag that said Mr. Wong. His real name was Hector Dias, and he’d been a druid until recently.
Mr. Wong had two busboys in tow. He barked out orders like a drill sergeant the moment he arrived on the scene. “Clean this mess up,” he yelled at the boys while he glared at the waitress. He jerked his head toward the back and she ran from the main dining room. Turning to me, the scowl on his face fell and he narrowed his eyes. “You,” he snarled.
Before he could start barking at me, I spotted Sydney across the dining room. She went pale when our eyes met.
“Sydney,” I called, pushing past Mr. Wong . I caught up with her just as she tried to disappear into the back room. She was dressed in the same style as the other waitresses and wore the same heavy costume makeup as the other girls, but I could still see the faint signs of a black eye—something I was sure she hadn’t had the day before.
“I don’t know you,” she said. I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it when she whispered, “Please.”
“How did you get that black eye?” I asked just as quietly.
Unfortunately, Mr. Wong joined us before she could reply. Her eyes widened in panic as he belittled Sydney in front of the entire restaurant, which was when I noticed none of the other patrons were paying attention. They’d all gone back to their meals as if nothing was happening.
“What are you doing, stupid girl? Attracting
“The hottest place downtown,” he muttered as if by rote, eyes now locked on the entrance.
I grabbed his arm and felt a small static charge pass between us. That was what happened when I de-spelled someone. He blinked his eyes a few times and almost lost his balance. I grabbed his arm to keep him upright. He shook his head.
I asked again. “Have you ever heard of this place?”
“No,” he said, “but a minute ago, I was sure—”
“Yeah, I know. I didn’t realize it right away, but I felt it, too.” I didn’t need to explain how my internal magic could null most spells that were cast on me. Sorrel already knew how it worked. The magic would reverse the spell and give me the ability to cure others. The spell had been so subtle I’d almost missed it. If Sorrel hadn’t been with me to question, I might not have realized it at all. I thought back to when we’d arrived at the blacksmith’s shop. I’d been sure everything was okay, but then I saw the street for what it was: closed and abandoned businesses. Was this why Sorrel and Mace hadn’t noticed? I touched Sorrel again, this time passing on the cure I’d gotten from outside the blacksmith’s shop for seeing the closed businesses.
He shook his head again. “Stop that.”
“Man up,” I quipped before heading to the Jaded Dragon’s entrance.
Sorrel was on my heels as I walked into the eatery. Everyone inside appeared to be having a great time. They probably all thought it was the place to be downtown.
A short waitress with long black hair in heavy Asian-styled costume makeup and a red cheongsam Chinese-style dress with small cap sleeves brushed passed me. I could sense she was a demon, but had recently converted to one of the fallen. It wasn’t a process I completely understood, but it had something to do with them having a full-blooded Fallen descendant and choosing to embrace the Fallen realm as their home. Scanning the room, I noticed that most of the people here were recent converts, which might explain Sydney’s odd comment. She’d known about the fallen, but since these people were all recently fallen, she might have thought they were just some odd cult.
The waitress, whose nametag said Mei-Ling but whose real name was Susan Jones, let out a tiny scream. She dropped the tray of dirty plates she was carrying, which drew everyone’s attention.
A balding, super-thin Hispanic guy in his late forties came rushing in from the back. His uniform was an elaborate but ill-fitting samurai costume with a nametag that said Mr. Wong. His real name was Hector Dias, and he’d been a druid until recently.
Mr. Wong had two busboys in tow. He barked out orders like a drill sergeant the moment he arrived on the scene. “Clean this mess up,” he yelled at the boys while he glared at the waitress. He jerked his head toward the back and she ran from the main dining room. Turning to me, the scowl on his face fell and he narrowed his eyes. “You,” he snarled.
Before he could start barking at me, I spotted Sydney across the dining room. She went pale when our eyes met.
“Sydney,” I called, pushing past Mr. Wong . I caught up with her just as she tried to disappear into the back room. She was dressed in the same style as the other waitresses and wore the same heavy costume makeup as the other girls, but I could still see the faint signs of a black eye—something I was sure she hadn’t had the day before.
“I don’t know you,” she said. I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it when she whispered, “Please.”
“How did you get that black eye?” I asked just as quietly.
Unfortunately, Mr. Wong joined us before she could reply. Her eyes widened in panic as he belittled Sydney in front of the entire restaurant, which was when I noticed none of the other patrons were paying attention. They’d all gone back to their meals as if nothing was happening.
“What are you doing, stupid girl? Attracting
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