Pretty When She Kills (4 page)

With a slight nod, Innocente grabbed the notepad she kept next to the bed. With still quivering fingers she wrote down as much of the dream as she could recall. It was fading fast and it aggravated her. She knew the girl’s name was important, but it eluded her.

“Grandmama, is this someone we know?” Sergio sat on the edge of her bed. His tall, muscular body made her mattress dip down. He continued to shovel cereal into his mouth as he stared at her with worry.

“No, no. No one I know, but she...” Innocente’s hand froze over the notepad as she remembered what the girl had said. “She said The Summoner killed her.”

“But we killed him,” Sergio said swiftly, his eyes widening.

“There was a lot of blood and then...” Innocente remembered the girl’s eyes flashing completely white just before she had vanished. “I think Amaliya is in danger. We need to call her!”

“I’ll get the phone,” Cynthia said and rushed out of the room, her long blue bathrobe flowing out behind her like a cape.

“It’ll be okay, Grandmama,” Sergio said in a comforting tone.

Innocente drew the covers up around her chest as she shook her head. “Something is wrong, Sergio.” The dream had been a warning, but she had been too afraid to remember the details. She was angry at her failure.

Cynthia returned with Sergio’s cellphone and thrust it at him. He handed over the empty bowl, then dialed his cousin’s phone number. As he listened to the phone ring on the other end, he reached out and laid his big hand over Innocente’s. He gave her an encouraging smile even though the worry lines around his eyes had deepened.

“Amal, it’s Sergio. Call me. We’re worried about you,” he said at last.

“Voicemail,” Cynthia sighed, leaning against the door jamb. Though she had not been a part of the events a few months earlier, she had believed the wild story her husband had told her once she had met Cian and Amaliya. Cynthia was quite matter of fact about most things in life and had adapted faster than Innocente had thought she would. Sergio had married a remarkable woman.

“Maybe they’re...uh...hunting,” Sergio suggested.

“Or other things,” Cynthia added, a sly smile on her lips.

Innocente pulled her rosary from under her pillow and held it gently in her hand. The pink faceted beads glittered in the lamp light. Reverently touching the crucifix, she sent a silent prayer up to the heavens.

“No, no,” she said at last. “Something is wrong.” Shoving off her covers, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I might as well get up. I won’t sleep until I hear from her.”

“She’s fine,” Sergio assured his grandmother.

Innocente tried not to let tears spring into her eyes. She knew Sergio was wrong. Amaliya was not fine. She felt it to the marrow of her bones.

Chapter 3

Amaliya’s face pulsed in pain and her left arm felt broken. The door was lodged into her side and her crushed ribs were in agony. Blood streamed down her face as she attempted to free herself from the seatbelt digging into her torso. White powder filled the air and burned her nostrils. Blinking the blood from her eyes, she glanced at Cian. The driver’s side window was shattered from the impact of his head striking the glass and blood covered his face.

“Get ready,” he ordered, his voice ragged as he pulled his seatbelt off.

Amaliya’s veins burned as she willed herself to heal. The buckle finally popped free and she slid out of the seatbelt. Gasping at the pain, she dragged herself out of the car through the broken windshield. Bits of glass pressed into her palms as she crawled onto the buckled hood of the car.

The first thing she noticed was the silence. The sounds of the city were gone. Not even the whistling of the wind slipping through the branches of the trees was audible. Twisting around on her hip, she saw the SUV was crumpled against a utility pole. Two men were slowly stirring inside. They appeared as stunned as Amaliya and Cian.

What concerned her more than the men in the SUV was the tiny Hispanic girl standing under a street light with both arms lifted upwards. A miasma of purple and black smoke wound around her hands like writhing serpents. Dressed in jeans and a tank top, the girl looked like any other teenager, but the power pulsing out of her was terrifying. Her dark eyes watched Amaliya from beneath her straight bangs and her hair was gathered into two small buns on either side of her head. Her full lips were turned up in a cruel smile.

Cian pulled himself through his broken window.

“It’s an-”

His body jerked and fell out of sight as he was peppered with bullets.

Amaliya slid off the hood and crouched alongside the car, hiding from the gunman. “Cian!”

“Stay down!” With surprising speed, he crawled around the car to join her. His flesh expelled the bullets, the tiny bits of metal clinking as they fell to the street. “I’m here. Fuck, silver. Burns like a bitch.”

“Come out and play,” the girl’s voice called out and she giggled.

“They brought a witch. Fuck.” Cian shook his head, aggravated. He handed Amaliya a dagger. “Strike to kill. No mercy.” He was already weakened from healing himself from the accident and now even weaker after healing from the silver bullets. Which was probably exactly what their attackers wanted.

“Why isn’t there any sound?” Amaliya asked, fear strangling her throat.

“Magic. She has us in a bubble. It will keep all the humans away from here, which is a good thing. They don’t need to witness what is about to happen.”

“Which is?” Amaliya asked fearfully.

“Us killing them.”

The crumpled car rose into the air before being tossed up the street. Amaliya cried out in surprise. A slim Hispanic man in jeans, a leather jacket and cowboy boots grinned as he raised his weapon and aimed. Cian leaped to his feet and ducked away from the barrage of gunfire aimed at him. Scrambling to follow, Amaliya grunted as a massive form erupted from the shadows and tackled her to the ground. The big man straddled her, pinning her to the asphalt.

A meaty fist hit her twice before she managed to grab the thick wrist of her assailant. The big beefy face of one of Santo’s men glared down at her. She recognized him from her captivity months before. He was wearing another ugly yellow shirt and his shaved head gleamed in the light from the streetlamp. This was the same asshole who had beat the living hell out of her a few months before.

“What’s up, chica?” He hit her with his other huge fist and she lost her grip on his wrist. Grabbing her top, he dragged her upward. Bringing his head down, he head butted her.

Amaliya literally saw stars.

The big man chuckled as she reeled from his blow, one hand drawing out silver shackles from his jeans. “Time to go meet your new master.”

“Fuck you!”

Before he could capture her wrist, Amaliya shoved the silver-edged dagger into his thick neck. Gasping, he clutched his throat. Amaliya planted her heels on his chest and kicked him off her. Rolling away, she hurriedly clambered to her feet.

Nearby, Santos’s other goon was continuing to fire at Cian. Cian dodged the bullets, moving closer to the attacker.

Meanwhile, the witch continued to maintain the spell that was keeping the human world from seeing the battle as her cold dark eyes watched. “Kill him!” she shouted. “Hurry up and kill him! We need to get the girl!”

Cian was a streak in the night. Amaliya knew he was burning up his power. Very soon he’d weaken and be deranged with the hunger. Cian reached the gunman, knocked the firearm from his hand, and hurled him into the SUV. The impact of the man’s body caved in the side of the vehicle. Cian stalked after him, kicking away the gun that had fallen from the man’s hand.

Amaliya heard a scuffling noise and quickly turned to see the bald guy getting to his feet. He had dragged the blade out of his throat and now held the dagger at his side.

“Nice move,
puta
. Now I got your weapon. Let’s see what else you got,” he said, grinning. His bloodied teeth and fangs glimmered.

Despite the fear clawing its way up out of her chest, Amaliya stepped into a defensive position. “Bring it, Pikachu.”

“Not such a badass away from the graveyard, are you, bitch?”

Amaliya shrugged. “You shouldn’t count on that.” She reached down within herself and found the core of her power. Slowly she began to feed it with the remaining blood in her veins, unwinding it.

It took all her willpower not to look behind her and check on Cian. She had to trust him to take care of himself.

The big vampire in the blood-stained yellow shirt smirked as he pulled out a pistol and aimed it at her. “Too easy,” he said.

As his finger squeezed the trigger, Amaliya unleashed her power. It sliced out like icy razors, filling the world around her. A cold wind swirled around her as she felt the dead reach out to her, answering her call. It only took a fraction of a second for her to ensnare them and pull them to her along the pulsing waves of her power, drawing them through the earth to her side.

Just before the first bullet was about to puncture her chest, the dead exploded out of the street. Bullets punched into their bodies as Amaliya was enveloped by the throng of the corpses.

The witch screamed in terror.

The hulking vampire gasped. “What the fuck?”

“Surprise, asshole.” Amaliya sent the dead after the big vampire in the ugly yellow shirt, urging them to kill him.

The vampire howled, his pistol firing until it clicked empty. “No fucking way!”

Dry, shrunken bodies, moldering clothes, and ratty hair filled her vision as she pushed her way through the zombies. She wanted to reach Cian, but she had summoned more dead than she realized. As she passed by her minions, they touched her reverently, her bloodied flesh infusing them with more life. The big bald vampire screeched in terror, fighting the corpses. Amaliya felt her zombies being torn apart through her connection with them. The vampire was physically more powerful than the zombies. Turning, she reached out and grabbed two of the nearest corpses with her bloody hands. She poured her power into them, and through them into their brethren.

“Kill him,” she ordered.

The empowered zombies surged forward.

Weaving her way through the throng of dead, she finally reached the outer edges the horde. Cian stood over the remains of the other attacker. There was pride in Cian’s eyes as he surveyed the mass of dead attacking Santo’s minion. Covered in blood, his eyes were bright red with hunger. He was ghastly pale and his face was thinned out to the point where he resembled her zombies. He needed to feed soon.

The witch stared in horror at the crowd of zombies ripping into her companion. Her hands shook and sweat poured down her face. Afraid, she began to pull her hands down to her sides.

“Don’t you dare drop the spell,” Cian said to the girl.

“Fuck you,” the witch answered.

Amaliya could feel the witch withdrawing her magic. To her surprise, she felt it tangling with her own necromantic power. Curiosity gripping her, Amaliya closed her eyes and reached out with her supernatural senses to feel the edges of the spell. The magic must have been based on blood or death, because the spell began to absorb into her power. With a grin, Amaliya wrenched the spell away from the witch. Instantly, the purplish manifestation of the witch’s power vanished from her hands. It reappeared, swirling around Amaliya’s head like a dark halo.

“What the fuck?!” the witch cried out.

“I have it,” Amaliya said to Cian. To her amazement, she was able to hold it in place. “I have the spell!”

The witch gasped, her hands falling to her side. Her arrogance was gone as the precariousness of her situation registered. The screams of the bald-headed vampire faded as the sounds of tearing flesh and crunching bones took their place. The corpses were tearing him to little bits.

“Santos sent weaklings to test us,” Cian said, scorn in his voice.

The witch suddenly lashed out with one hand, a ball of black energy hurtling toward Amaliya. Amaliya immediately summoned her dead. A zombie erupted from the earth to absorb the blast. Amaliya felt the creature shudder, but it did not fall.

“She can’t hurt me! Her magic is full of death and blood. It’s mine!” Amaliya said triumphantly.

The witch paled, her breath ragged.

“Then she’s not necessary anymore,” Cian decided.

The horde of zombies gathered around Amaliya, filling the intersection as she stared at the witch facing her.

The girl’s eyes flashed toward Cian, then back at Amaliya. “Send me back to Santos. I’ll tell him whatever you want,” the witch said at last. “I’ll deliver your message.”

Cian shook his head. “Unnecessary.”

The witch spun about to run, but Amaliya unleashed her power and four zombies burst from the street to block the witch’s path.

“Don’t let her through the spell protecting this area,” Cian ordered.

“I have her.” Amaliya said confidently. She was flushed with power and laughed with delight. She could feel the magic around her building, growing stronger. Her zombies were looking more human as they clustered around her.

“Let me go!” the witch screamed. Drawing a pistol from the waistband of her jeans, she aimed it at Amaliya. “You let me go, you stupid bitch!”

The four zombies behind the witch seized her, holding her securely. Cian drew close enough to slap the gun out of her hand. Amaliya heard the girl’s wrist shatter. The girl screeched in pain.

“What are you going to do with her?” Amaliya asked.

Cian grabbed the girl by her hair, wrenched her head to one side, and bit into her throat.

Startled, Amaliya watched Cian drain the teenage girl as she flailed against him. For a second she considered rushing in to help the girl, but instead turned away. There was nothing she could do for the witch. It was too late for her.

The zombies gently touched Amaliya’s body as she walked among them. Each drop of blood imbued them with more life. Yet, they were the empty shells of people long gone. There were no souls inside the bodies, but there were memories. She could feel the whispers of who the zombies once were. The lost hopes and dreams brought tears to her eyes.