Pretty When She Destroys (Pretty When She Dies 3)

“Dad, don’t say that,” Cassandra protested. She wasn’t sure how they hell they could rescue Amaliya, but she knew they had to try.

“You don’t understand,” Cian said, pain in his voice. “Amaliya and I discussed something like this happening. We agreed that if he came for her she would go with him. We have to know how to stop him and by being close to him she can figure it out. Like Benchley likes to say so often, she’s our big gun. If anyone can find a way to stop him, she will.”

Samantha smacked Cian. “Asshole! You can’t just let her do that!”

Though Cassandra could tell Samantha was upsetting Cian even more, the vampire didn’t lash out. He opted to let her yell at him for a few more minutes before lifting a hand and stopping her from hitting him again. No one else had tried to stop her, so it was quite clear that Cian was not very popular at the moment.

“Amaliya is resourceful. She’ll find a way to let us know how to help her when the time is right. I trust her,” Cian said fiercely. “She’s more powerful than all of us. She went with him willingly to help us.”

“She’s sacrificing herself,” Aimee protested.

“Yes, she is.” Cian focused on the road ahead as Benchley drove toward Jeff’s Victorian. “But that’s what people do for those they love. Let’s not diminish what she’s doing.”

“This is bullshit,” Samantha muttered, but sounded like she grasped what he was saying and maybe agreed.

Leaning toward the vampire, Cassandra sought out his gaze. He finally looked at her and the depth of his despair ate at her. “Dad, what if she can’t do it?”

“She will.” There was no doubt in his inflection. He absolutely believed his words.

Cassandra’s gaze drifted toward Aimee. She understood where Cian’s strength came from in that moment. Cassandra trusted Aimee completely. She didn’t doubt Aimee’s abilities or strength. She also knew that Aimee would sacrifice herself in a heartbeat to save Cassandra and Cassandra would do the same for her.

“Okay, Dad. I believe you.” She snuggled into his shoulder, attempting to give him some solace and a bit of the love that was growing in her heart for the man that was her father.

To her surprise, he slanted his head so his brow touched hers. “And I believe in you, Cass.”

Part Six

Amaliya, Bianca, and The Devil

Chapter 23

The freezing vacuum expelled Amaliya from its grip and deposited her in a large room lit by candles. Ornate designs drawn with dark red paint covered the white marble floor. The scent of wax, ashes, blood, and sweat drifted through the murk and smoke filling the grand room. With hands raised and oily black tentacles springing from their palms, thirteen black witches stood in a circle around the portal feeding it with their magic.

In the void, The Summoner and Bianca had been tangible presences, but as Amaliya observed the scene she realized she was exited alone. Disoriented, she raised a hand to her head straining to adapt to the physical world. It was unsettling to feel the weight of gravity upon her body. How long had she been trapped within the conjured doorway?

She attempted to take a step, but fell to the floor. The impact was jarring and painful. Her teeth clanked together, biting her inner cheek and drawing blood.

“It will take you a moment to adjust,” Bianca’s voice said with The Summoner’s accent.

Lifting her eyes, Amaliya observed that just beyond the circle of black witches, the slim girl was secured to an ornate wood chair with heavy silver chains. Two people, a redhead woman with maroon eyes, and a nervous young man clutching a tablet stood on either side of diminutive blonde.

The black witches around Amaliya continued to feed the portal, their dark magic twisting and wiggling through the air. There was a heavy thump beside Amaliya. She tilted her head to see Etzli lying on the floor next to her. The smaller woman gagged, then threw up foul smelling blood. Cursing impressively in Spanish, Etzli tried to push herself upright, but obviously had great difficulty doing so. Hastily, an older mortal man rushed over to help her to her feet. Amaliya was glad to see she wasn’t the only one suffering the aftereffects of the portal. Though Amaliya was close to vomiting, she fought the urge. She refused to show any weakness. The two women exchanged fierce glowers, then Etzli was guided to a chair set near the wall. As Etzli was helped away, Amaliya gingerly balanced her

self on her feet and sluggishly straightened.

“Gregorio, I need a blood minion,” Etzli snarled.

After making sure his mistress was settled, Gregorio rushed through an arched doorway into the main part of the house.

Gesturing toward Bianca, Etzli said, “He’s returned. Release him, Trish.”

The slim woman with wild red hair and eyes the same color as Baptiste yanked a ring of keys from her jeans and set about unlocking the padlocks.

“Come on,” the young man with the iPad urged Amaliya, waving her toward him. “Don’t step on the markings.”

Narrowing her eyes, Amaliya ambled on unsteady feet away from the portal. She could hear the thrum of its power and feel the artic coldness that dwelled within it. The black witches were completely silent, their eyes riveted to the gateway. Dressed either in a black shirt and jeans, or a black dress, the thirteen people were of various ages, ethnicities and split almost evenly between the sexes, with women having just one more of their number. Their eyes were utterly black. Amaliya carefully edged between two of the witches and approached The Summoner.

There was no mistaking he was control of Bianca’s body. Cold blue eyes watched Amaliya approach as he was released from his bindings. Lifting his charred wrists, he smiled with Bianca’s sweet cupid mouth as they healed.