Pretty When She Destroys (Pretty When She Dies 3)

“What the fuck, Etzli?” one of the vampires said, his dark eyes menacing. “You can’t talk to Santos like that!”

“Jorge, this is between me and my sister,” Santos said, holding up one hand in warning. Though anger his anger was close to consuming him and sending him into a violent rampage, he stared at his sister with the last bit of hope he had inside of him. “Etzli, this is my house! My city! My cabal! What the fuck is this...thing,” he gestured at distaste at the blood-soaked vampire, “doing to you?”

“I said on your knees!” Etzli screeched.

In a blur of shadow, she struck out at the cabal. Gasps of pain and shock rang out, mingling with the crunch of bone. Etzli’s whirling figure slashed at the vampires with deadly efficiency. In seconds, they were on the floor, legs shattered, splinters of bone puncturing their flesh and clothing. Standing over the broken men and women, Etzli twirled her bone dagger in her one good hand.

Santos at last felt fear.

“On your knees, Santos,” Etzli said calmly, her threat clear.

One of the male vampires made a grab for Santos’s sister. She slashed off his head with one mighty blow. It rolled away with a meaty thump.

After all his years of hard work, all his plans, Santos was thunderstruck to realize he was losing his cabal to the one person he had loved and trusted above all others. “Etzli...”

The reek of death, blood, fear, and dark magic filled the room. Santos’s eyes slid toward the pale, blonde vampire standing placidly among the corpses. The air grew frigid as the creature stared at him.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

The blue eyes flashed white and the slaughtered minions started to squirm around him. Those who were able to stand rose to their feet, while the ones in chunks flailed like newborn babes.

“Where is that famous Latin temper, Santos?” the girl asked. She stepped over the writhing bits of human flesh, advancing on him.

“There is another one,” Santos said at last. “And you have enslaved her, Etzli?” His dark eyes darted toward his sister.

“I serve her,” Etzli replied, her voice filled with reverence.

Bloodied fingers gripped at Santos’s legs. Glancing downward, he saw Ricky’s upper half attempting to drag him to the floor while his legs flailed nearby. With disgust, Santos kicked the partial corpse away.

“I will not kneel,” he said at last. “This is still my cabal. You will have to kill me to take it.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” the blonde vampire said, laughing. “Not yet. I don’t need to kill you to take your cabal from you.”

Another vampire attempted to attack Etzli. She lashed out, and another head rolled across the floor.

Rippling waves of dark magic flowed out of the new vampire, a visible manifestation of her power. Resembling great wings, the darkness knitted the corpses into monstrous creations.

“No!” Santos gasped, at last understanding. “No! You’re dead!”

“Do you really think a little thing like the death of my body would stop me?” The girl laughed with delight. “You’re such a foolish little child.”

The massive creatures made of human flesh, bone, and sinew roared. Teeth made of broken bones filled their maws.

Santos sought out his sister’s gaze, desperate to understand her betrayal. “Etzli, why?”

“Because The Summoner is our future. We’ve become weak and complacent. The Summoner will restore us to greatness.” Lifting her chin, she visibly dared him to argue with her.

The hulking monsters of flesh moved menacingly toward Santos. They disgusted him and he took a step away from them.

“We’re blood, Etzli. You can’t betray me this way.”

“I’m not betraying you, Santos. I’m saving you. You’re weak. Pathetic. These little games you play are silly and childish. You want to be king of your own realm instead of realizing the greatness of what we are.” Etzli resembled the Aztec blood goddess she claimed to be as she stepped out from amidst the vampires she had crippled. “Our time is coming. Either you stand with us, or die.”

Santos shifted his gaze to the woman he now realized was The Summoner. How the ancient vampire had come to reside in the body of the slender blonde woman was of no importance. The glowing white eyes and cold smirk terrified him.

“The Summoner has returned to us. She will guide us to our true victory,” Etzli proclaimed to all the vampires. “She is the purity of our power.”

Stepping toward Santos, The Summoner raised her hands. “Kneel, Santos.” A ring flashed on one finger, and Santos flinched, a sharp pain filling him. The monsters made of flesh and bone shambled forward, their gigantic arms made of the intertwined limbs of the dead tipped with massive claws made of bone. The blood splattered across the room slithered like red snakes across the floor, wrapping around the girl’s body before sinking into her pale skin. As the bright red liquid vanished into the body of The Summoner, the death magic of the necromancer/vampire increased. Razor sharp slashes of power shredded through Santos. At first he thought it was an illusion, then he felt his cold vampire blood oozing from the many wounds covering his body.