Pretty When She Destroys (Pretty When She Dies 3)

“It makes it harder for you to do your spells, doesn’t it? The fact that we have them on our side?” Cassandra fiddled nervously with a nail stuck in the wall used to hang up cotton bags.

“Yes, but I’ll deal.” Aimee flashed her stunning, confident smile. “Because I’m a badass true witch.”

“Damn, I love you.” Cassandra couldn’t help but return Aimee’s smile.

“I know. Shows how smart you are.”

“I may be leery about all this other shit going on in our lives, but you’re the one thing in my life that I never doubt.”

“Aw, babe.” Aimee came instantly into her arms and snuggled against her.

Holding her girlfriend close, Cassandra breathed in her sweet scent. It always grounded her when she was feeling agitated. She often wondered if it was the herbs Aimee worked with or the actual fragrance of her magic that always made her smell so delicious.

“Cass, we’re going to be okay. I promise.”

“You had some sort of vision?”

Aimee wagged her head. “No, no. I don’t have those.”

“Right. The vampires killed all the oracles.” Cassandra rolled her eyes. The vampires had done a lot to make sure the cards were always stacked in their favor.

“Remember that evil tends to get cocky. I was around Frank long enough to see that myself.”

Cassandra snarled at the mention of Frank.

Picking up the wicker basket, Aimee motioned for Cassandra to let her out of the pantry. “You’re cute when you’re growly.”

“Then I’m going to be uber-cute when I pull The Summoner’s head off.”

“That’s my girl!”

Aimee carried the basket to the kitchen and Cassandra followed.

Chapter 12

Cian stood on the back porch of the Victorian house and surveyed his surroundings with a critical eye. Fireflies darted through the variety of trees that stood sentry around the house obscuring the view. There was a wrought iron fence at street level and a second fence enclosed the rear yard above the greenbelt. The entire lawn sloped downward on all sides.

“It’ll be easy to see an attack from up here,” Baptiste said, joining him.

“Especially from the higher floors,” Cian agreed.

“We could maybe put some spells that work like flash bombs along that fence line. If the enemy breaches the ward, we can at least disorient them as they come over that second fence

“A very solid idea. Which branch of the military were you in?” Cian asked, watching the other man scrutinizing their surroundings.

“Air Force. But I left after one tour. It was increasingly difficult to hide what I am.” Baptiste rested his hands on the rail. A platinum skull ring with ruby eyes glittered on one finger. Cian recognized it as one Prosper had worn.

“Your kind of magus is very rare. Does it run in the family?”

Baptiste nodded. “Those of us with maroon eyes usually have the gift.”

“Rachon?”

“The Summoner killed her and changed her before she manifested any abilities. Maybe the powers would have been latent in her. It’s hard to say. The eyes are a good indicator, but the abilities don’t always develop. My great grandfather told me stories about our family in Africa being able to hold off enemy tribes with the power of earth, fire, and air. Sadly, the generation that was conquered and sold into slavery couldn’t wield the power.” Baptiste shrugged. “So here we are...strange how fate works. We lost our tribal homeland, but now control Louisiana.”

The sweet smell of the wildflowers planted in the greenbelt floated on the night breeze. It was a tranquil view considering all that had occurred that night. The shadows shifting through tall grasses and tree trunks were cast by the swaying tree boughs and not the creatures of the night.

“It’s beautiful here. Reminds me a little of my home. The big porch, the feel of magic in the air.” Baptiste turned around, leaning on the rail, emulating Cian by crossing his arms. “Rachon told me you were a slave.”