Pretty When They Collide (Pretty When She Dies 0.50)

fished the relic out its pouch and tossed it to the floor. “Scott said you wouldn’t be easy to catch. I think I’ll declare him wrong. He didn’t realize you’d be trying to save the damsel in distress.”

Aimee’s fingers tugged at Cassandra’s gloved hand. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were moving slightly. Cassandra’s keen hearing couldn’t make out the words. They sounded like gibberish.

More men entered the room. Cassandra fought against the dart, burning blood to keep herself conscious. Her eyes started to droop, but she kept pushing through the haze with her powers.

“Arnost, I told you, piece of cake. The witch and the dhamphir for your little menagerie,” Michael said, greeting a man with a brooding face and dark hair.

“You did well, Michael,” the man said with a distinctive Eastern European accent. “Not only did you get me a witch, but a very lovely new dhamphir. I haven’t owned one in so long.”

The soft, warm fingers of the witch wrapped around Cassandra’s bare fingers as the glove dropped to the floor. Aimee was a dead weight in her arms, but Cassandra could still hear the faintest whisper from her lips.

“Fuck you,” Cassandra slurred, trying to cover Aimee’s voice. “You assholes. This whole... thing... a setup.”

With a magnetic grin and a shrug, Michael said, “Oh, come now, Cass. Don’t be so bitter. We’re both in the acquisitions game. You get relics. I get supernatural toys for very rich people. I was after that lovely little witch in your arms when I took on this security job, but when I found out from Scott that Frank wanted you, I just had to let Arnost know about that little deal.”

“I’m going...” Cassandra struggled with her numb tongue.

“Yeah, you’re gonna what?” Michael smirked.

The dart fell out of her neck and onto the floor.

“How long before she goes out?” Arnost asked briskly, clearly annoyed by the fact that she was still standing.

“I’ll shoot her again,” another man offered.

“No, no. I like her this way. All helpless and desperate,” Michael said, brushing them off. “She can barely stand.”

A cold liquid began to trickle from the puncture wound in her neck. Cassandra started to lift her hand to brush it away, but then realized what was happening. She could feel Aimee’s magic building, her fingers trembling in Cassandra’s. Even as her head grew clearer, Cassandra deliberately slumped against the billiard table. Let the assholes think they had her in their power for the moment. It would give her the element of surprise.

“She’s almost out,” Michael continued. “Look at her struggling.”

Arnost and the other men chuckled.

A man with beady eyes and a very sallow complexion drew closer, his dart gun aimed at Cassandra. “I want to fuck her.”

Arnost shrugged. “After I break her. I’m not interested in her fuckin’ pussy. I want her powers. I want her loyalty. It’s the witch I plan to fuck without mercy for that little spell she cast on me.”

“Blood bonding both of them is going to be a bitch,” Frank’s angry voice said. He was shoved into the room by more armed guards wearing very different body armor from his men. “The witch is especially a pain in the ass.” His face was bruised, bleeding, and his shirt was pockmarked with bullet holes.

The crackling sensation of their combined power played along Cassandra’s hand. The sedative was racing out of the puncture, moistening her skin, while her thoughts were becoming increasingly lucid. She could feel her strength returning. It was now a matter of seconds.

“So this is a fuckin’ double-cross,” Frank spat, glowering at Michael.

Aimee slumped to the floor at Cassandra’s feet, her fingers slipping free of her grip. Cassandra let her go, trusting her completely. She made a big show of trying to stand up straight, but fell instead over the billiard table and out of the sight of the kidnappers.

“Frank, you stupid little shit, didn’t I tell you I don’t’ like being fucked with?” Arnost said dismissively. “Someone get the dhamphir.”

“That’s my dhamphir and my witch and this is my house,” Frank snarled.

Cassandra lay on the floor, waiting.

“And look who’s in chains,” Arnost snorted. “And who is going to fuck your witch tonight?”

As Frank and Arnost continued to trade insults, Cassandra focused on the approaching footsteps. The man reeked of cigarettes and harsh cologne. Eyes closed, she concentrated on the sound of his footfalls and his growing scent. When he was only a few feet away, she rolled to her feet in a flash, seized the tranquilizer gun in his hands, jerked and twisted it about, liberating it from his hands. He only got out a sharp gasp before she slammed the butt of the weapon into his face, knocking him out.

The popping of dart guns going off filled the air and Cassandra spun away into cover behind an arcade game to avoid the fire. But she needn’t have to. When she peeked out, she saw all the darts suspended in air and the surprised expressions of Arnost’s men.

“My witch is about to kick your ass,” Frank said with confidence.