Pretty When She Destroys (Pretty When She Dies 3)

“Though the antiques have potential. If they were properly restored.” Roberto sniffed.

“You’re not here to snark on the house’s decor.”

“I wouldn’t call this decor. I would call it a...catastrophe. This is far worse than Cian’s IKEA obsession.”

“Yeah. What’s up with that?” Samantha shook her head and returned to her task. Scrounging around in her large purse for her iPad, Samantha wondered how something so big could get lost. Pulling a stack of bills, a couple of fashion magazines, and her makeup bag out of the purse, she finally spotted the tablet. Jerking it out, she flipped open the case.

“What’s that?” Roberto asked, drifting closer.

“My notes on how to deal with you, dickface.” Samantha drew up the information she had collected from Benchley and Alexia’s research.

The ghost smirked.

“What?”

“Your power is wasted on you.”

Samantha raised one finger, ignoring him. “First off, you can’t leave the property without my permission

.”

The moment she said the words, she felt her magic surge out in a big wave. She was peculiarly aware of it building a perimeter around the house. It was as if she had some sort of supernatural radar that pinged back information to her. Maybe she did. Tilting her head, she let her new powers decipher what she was feeling. It was a bizarre sensation, but she could feel, see, and almost taste the ward she had placed to keep Roberto in check.

Roberto narrowed his eyes. They looked more like smudges of black in his slightly blurred face. “Hmm...”

Giving him a victorious look, Samantha said, “See. My powers aren’t wasted. I can do this.”

“Apparently,” the ghost answered with a hint of grudging respect.

“Where was I? Oh, yeah. You’re not allowed to enter any of the bedrooms without permission. Especially this one. We don’t need you spying on us having...you know...relations.” Another ripple of her magic flowed out, creating new wards within the house.

The ghost winced, then began to slide along the floor as misty tentacles of her magic gripped him and dragged him toward the door. Pinwheeling his arms, he tried to grab onto something.

“Samantha!”

“Oh, you have permission to be here right now!”

Roberto’s skid stopped just before the door. He glared at her.

“Oops.” Samantha made a mental note to remember that her magic took her words literally.

“What is my job exactly?” Roberto’s voice was cold, angry, and stubborn.

“You’re going to be the general of my ghost army,” Samantha answered. “Cool, huh?”

“Possibly,” Roberto replied noncommittally, but appeared intrigued.

“Also, play nice with the others. Cian’s in charge. Don’t piss him off.”

His hazy form slightly drooping, Roberto averted his face.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes. I am. Unfortunately.”

“Be nice, Roberto. I saved you.” Samantha frowned, worried that maybe this had been a bad idea after all.

“I am grateful for that, but a ghost can have many regrets once their life is over. I know I do.”