Pretty When They Collide (Pretty When She Dies 0.50)

Slowly, Aimee rose to her feet, her long hair shimmering in the light. “I’m not your witch, Frank. And no one is fucking me tonight,” she said in a low voice. “Or Cass.”

The darts flipped around in the air, aiming at the guards at various points in the room.

“Michael!” Arnost shouted. “Stop her!”

Cassandra sprinted forward, jumped onto the billiard table, then launched herself at Michael just as Aimee released the darts. Some of the guards tried to dive out of the way, others swatted at them futilely with their weapons. Most of the darts appeared to hit their targets and men all over the room fell. Cassandra attempted to kick Michael in the head on her downward arc, but he lashed out, smacking her out of the air and into the wall. She landed hard, but rolled to her feet, lifting the tranquilizer gun. Drawing a bead on Michael, she tried to squeeze off a dart, but he was faster than anticipated and kicked the weapon out of her hand.

For a split second she worried about Aimee, but then a guard went sailing past her, crashed through the sliding glass door, and disappeared into the night. Relieved, Cassandra ducked under Michael’s attack, came up behind him, punched her elbow into his back, and sent him stumbling. Whipping about to finish him off, she was shocked to find him raising his weapon to shoot her.

“It’s been fun,” he said, squeezing the trigger.

The gun flew out of his hand, the dart hitting the wall.

“Thanks, Aimee!” Cassandra called out. “I can handle this asshole from here.”

A roar filled the room as a powerful wind tore through the shattered doorway and became a raging funnel, sucking the weapons from the hands of the attackers.

Grinning, Cassandra punched Michael in the face, knocking him off his feet. Turning to help Aimee, she saw the witch levitated off the ground, arms outstretched within the heart of the small tornado.

“Wow!” she said with admiration.

Then someone hit her from behind and sent her crashing through a window and into the night air.

Chapter 16:

Vampires Versus Witch

The tentacles of Aimee’s power lashed out, doing her will, sending Arnost’s men scrambling. There were a dozen men in the room, all of them infused with Arnost’s blood. Seven were unconscious, but the others were still dangerous. They moved quickly, with preternatural swiftness, trying to encircle her and wrestle her from the air. Their dart guns were somewhere out in the desert now, so they resorted to drawing blades. Though her eyes were closed, Aimee could sense their intent before they even moved. Each time one dared to lash out at her, Aimee sent a wave of magic, knocking them across the room.

“Don’t kill the witch!” Arnost ordered.

Nearby, Cassandra held her own, fighting Michael until he tried to shoot her. Aimee ripped the weapon from his hands and flung it away with her magic. His surprised expression was immensely satisfying.

The witch felt herself weakening, but s

he had used as much power as she dared to disarm their enemies of their dart guns. She and Cassandra couldn’t afford to be hit again. Aimee had barely managed to stay conscious enough to work her magic to extract the sedative. She was rapidly using up her power and would soon need to recharge.

Another window exploded and Aimee barely caught sight of Cassandra vanishing into the darkness outside the house. Michael fearlessly dove through the window after her. It was a two-story fall, but he didn’t seem to care.

“No!” Aimee shouted.

Landing on the floor, she ran toward the window, magically slapping away anyone trying to attack her with waves of energy. Reaching the broken opening, she looked down to see Cassandra and Michael in combat in the garden below.

The sharp bark of actual gunfire startled her. Twisting about, the acrid stench of a fired gun filled her nostrils as it mingled with the scent of blood. Ivan stood over Frank, pistol in hand, shooting at Arnost and his men. Two tried to rush Ivan, but he fired with eerie precision, the back of their heads bursting like melons. Behind Frank, another one of his faithful guards named Glenn was unshackling him.

Aimee shrank back against the window, pondering her options. She had only her spells and the tapestry bag around her neck that she had hidden her most precious possession in. Her power began to wane; she had to conserve it.

As the final echo of the last gunshot fired faded, Ivan reloaded and aimed at Aimee. “You’re done now.”

“Enough of the bullshit, Aimee!” Frank roared at her.

“I’m not staying here!” Aimee shouted at him. “I’m not your slave!” Raising her hand, a ball of energy formed.

Ivan fired, the bullet barely missing her and pounding into the wall behind her. “I’ll shoot you, Aimee.”

“Get over here, Aimee. Now!” Frank ordered impatiently. “Don’t make Ivan shoot you. Not that I’m not opposed to crippling you at this point.”

The room was quiet enough to hear the moans of the wounded men and the firefight on the floor below. Between Aimee’s magic and Ivan’s gun, all of Arnost’s men upstairs were incapacitated or dead. Aimee had lost track of Arnost in the battle and wasn’t sure where he lay in the room.