Pretty When She Destroys (Pretty When She Dies 3)

“Aimee, how long will it take to heal?” Cian called out.

Aimee and Cassandra looked up from their embrace.

“That’s going to take a lot of blood. Demon fire is serious black magic.” Disengaging from her girlfriend, Aimee strode over to Amaliya. Leaning forward to examine the scorched skin, she winced. “Maybe two or three days of feeding.”

“Great.” Amaliya hated being in pain. It made her cranky and she detested how she kept shifting from one foot to the other in a fruitless effort to somehow diminish it. Cian stood close to her, but didn’t touch her. Again, she was impressed and annoyed with how well he knew her. She loathed being coddled.

“Is anyone else concerned that the black witches are missing?” Benchley asked. He stood near the spot where the witches had fallen after Samantha’s ghosts had pelted them with the spell bags.

“Where the hell is the ward?” Aimee asked, looking more than a little worried. Hands on her hips, she peered upward.

“I kinda broke it,” Amaliya confessed.

“You what?” Samantha’s eyes widened. “Is that why they got in?”

Amaliya shrugged. “Oops.”

“How?” Aimee demanded. “That was a hardcore spell. If you can break it, The Summoner will be able to.”

“I don’t know! I was trying to stop my fall when I landed on top of it after being ambushed by a stupid vampire.”

“You landed on it?” Aimee’s eyes narrowed. “You landed on it?”

“It’s only supposed to keep out the bad guys,” Benchley said in a low voice.

“I jumped through it once with no problem,” Amaliya said defensively. “And I was bleeding and fighting for my life when I fell on it the second time. I was trying to stop my fall, dug in my fingers, and then it wasn’t there and...how the fuck am I supposed to know? You’re the witch!” Amaliya frowned, irritably staring at her arm. “Fuck, this hurts.”

At last, Cian put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him. “It’ll heal. Aimee, can you get another ward up?”

Crossing her arms ove

r her breasts, Aimee shook her head. “No, I don’t have the stuff for it.”

“It was broken anyway,” Benchley sniffed. “We couldn’t defend ourselves. Sam and Amaliya’s magic was deflected off it. We were trapped.”

“Dammit,” Aimee muttered. “I’ll have to come up with a new version of it. That could take a few days.”

“You can do it, babe,” Cassandra said, giving the witch’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“We need to leave now,” Jeff decided. “Samantha, get Beatrice. We’re going. The ward is down and I’m not waiting around for a second attack.”

“I agree.” Baptiste moved toward the were-creature. “But we need to take care of this.”

Amaliya sent her power into the earth, felt the dead answer, and asked them to take one of their own. The were-creature vanished into the earth before Baptiste reached it.

Tilting his head in her direction, Baptiste said, “I see.”

“You and I have to share territory. We need to work on that.” Amaliya tried not to sound as pissed off as she felt.

Samantha and Jeff vanished inside her house while Benchley and Alexia grabbed their stuff from the living room. After pressing a quick kiss to Cian’s lips, Amaliya hurried through the house to claim her shoes. Cassandra, Aimee, Baptiste, and Cian kept watch outside. She found the Louboutins in the kitchen where she had left them. They were dirty, but not ruined. Leaning over to pick them up, she grunted at the agonizing burning of her arm. No matter how much of her power she directed into her limb, it was healing at a snail’s pace.

Straightening, Amaliya was shocked to see Bianca standing before her, and took a hard step back, reaching out to brace herself against the counter. The blonde’s dark fringed blue eyes gazed at her with desperation in their depths. It took a second for Amaliya to realize Bianca was translucent. The ghostly aspect of the girl was unexpected and sent her mind whirling.

“Bianca,” she whispered.

“I’m not dead,” the girl answered, her voice imploring Amaliya to believe her. “I’m not dead. I’m still here.”

Beatrice scampered into the kitchen, Samantha right behind her. “Bad kitty, Beatrice!”