Pretty When She Dies (Pretty When She Dies 1)

“Die, you fucker, die!”

She dug her fingers into the Rob-Monster's eyes and felt its dead flesh giving away. Its tongue slurped out toward her. Despair and madness were about to overwhelm her when she felt that dark tentacle of power shove into the Rob-Creature and she almost cried with triumph.

“Die,” she hissed. “Die. ”

It dropped her and she hit the ground hard as it staggered back. She could see Rob's ruined face twisting in pain, then his hideous form fell apart far more quickly than the others had. As its grisly remains sunk into the ground, she watched with loathing as her battered body pulsed with power.

The last bit of the corpse vanished from view and she slowly looked up from where she lay on her side on the ground. The Summoner was standing over her, his cold gaze surveying her with great interest. His fair hair was long and flowing on the wind and his face was much younger than when he had pretended to be the professor. He was also leaner and a tad bit more imposing now. Slowly, he leaned down over her and tilted his head.

“Well, that was impressive,” he said with a slight smile.

Her answer was to punch him in the face.

The Summoner's head snapped back with the impact. With a snarl, he reached down and grabbed her about the throat and drew her up against him.

“Do not do foolish things, little girl,” he growled in her face.

Amaliya set her jaw and hissed back at him,“ Fuck you. ”

Gripping her injured arm, he squeezed hard.

She screamed in agony.

“Do not aggravate me after you so enthralled me with your performance. ”

Gasping with pain, she looked up at him through tearing eyes and whispered, “Do I get an A, Professor Sumner?”

He smirked at her and yanked her closer. Pain clouded her senses as his fingers dug into her wound. She struggled to keep her wits about her. She had felt absolutely high with her power after her battle, but now she was feeling weak again. The dark power that had been hers to use was now drawn tightly inside of her.

The Summoner pressed his lips to her forehead and his long tongue snaked over a wound she had not even known was there. “Delicious. Powerful. What did I create in you?” Dragging her about, he set off toward the motel. “I knew you were special when I took you. You were so pretty when you died. Exquisite in death. More lovely than you had been in life. ”

Stumbling along beside him, Amaliya saw her battered cowboy hat lying in the street. The sight made her want to cry. One more piece of her humanity lost to her.

“Now, we must talk and discuss what we shall do. Never have I had a child such as you,” The Summoner said as they walked over the crumbling walkway.

They entered the old office area that was now fully overgrown with bushes and the young tree. He dragged her along, not bothering to help her evade the obstacles before her. She thought he rather enjoyed dragging her through the brambles.

Stepping through a doorway, he pulled her even closer.

“You smell of death. Of blood. Of sex. ” He licked her mouth and she spat on the ground immediately afterwards. “You and Cian having a bit of fun?”

He laughed and dragged her into what appeared to be an old restaurant. Light from the only streetlight in town filtered in through the dirty, broken windows and he shoved her into a chair. It was moldy and had long ago lost all its stuffing. The springs bit into her flesh and she held her wounded arm against her.

Sweeping debris off a bar, he leaned against it and regarded her with interest.

“Speak to me, Amaliya. How did you do it? How did you command my creatures?”

“I dunno,” she answered. She truly wasn't really sure how she had done it. Somehow, it had just worked.

“I don't really believe you. This is what? The third time you've used this power? You absolutely shocked me the first time. When I felt my control slip, I could not fathom what was happening. Then I realized. . . ah. . . this is new. ”

“I don't know how I did it,” Amaliya answered again. She began to will her arm to heal. Fuck it, she needed to heal even if she lost some of her power.

The Summoner stared down at her thoughtfully. He was dressed in black trousers and a maroon silk shirt under an Armani trench coat that hit him mid-thigh. He flicked a bit of dirt off his shoulder epaulets and pondered her words.

“Of course, you could be telling the truth. You always did just stumble about in the dark, didn't you? You haven't much improved on that since changing. ”

“Fuck off,” she sneered, and ran her fingers over her healing wound. “Where's Cian?”