Pretty When She Dies (Pretty When She Dies #1)

Pretty When She Dies (Pretty When She Dies #1) Page 62

Cian and Amaliya attacked together, teeth bared. Cian managed to get in a few hard blows, his actions a blur. The Summoner fell back and Amaliya attacked him from behind, her nails ripping through his coat and flesh. With an angry shout, he began to fight both his offspring simultaneously, his movements too fast for even the vampires to track. Cian managed to deflect a few blows, but then The Summoner's long nails caught his throat and ripped it open. Blood gushing from the wound, Cian staggered back and collapsed at the mouth of the closet.

With a scream of rage, Amaliya punched The Summoner hard in the face a few times before he caught her by her neck. Lifting her off the ground, he held her firmly as she thrashed in his grip. She managed to kick him a few times before he slammed her through the wall behind her. Pain filled her and blood flowed into her eyes. Then he dragged her back through the debris of the wall and shoved her down hard onto the floor at his feet.

“Do not defy me,” he hissed.

Her nails clawed at his hand as his fingers dug in harder. Her blood flowed over his hand and down her front as he crushed her throat.

“I will kill you if you continue to defy me,” he said in a low voice. He smiled his cruel smile. “And that would ruin the fun of killing all your friends in front of you, then fucking you in their blood.”

Looking up at him through her bloodied eyelashes, Amaliya tried to form words, but could not. His face was terribly handsome and cruel with his fine features and glowing white eyes.

How could going to coffee one night after class end her up here?

His white eyes suddenly flashed to blue and his lips parted in a silent scream. His fingers released her and he staggered back from her. Arching his back, he tried hard to reach behind him, but faltered and fell to the ground.

It took Amaliya a few seconds to realize that her sweet, little Mexican grandmother had creamed him with the Virgin of Guadalupe statue. Not only struck him, but had broken the statue over his back. As he twisted on the ground, she saw that the statue had struck his bare skin where Amaliya and Cian's nails had torn open his clothing. A huge bubbling, festering wound was pulsating beneath the torn fabric.

Innocente stood staring at the broken remains of the statue in her hand, then down at the vampire thrashing at her feet. He was so overwhelmed with pain, he did not even notice the old woman until she thrust the top half of the statue into his corrupted flesh. It lodged there between his shoulder blades, the flesh blackening and dripping off his spine.

The Summoner swung his arm in a desperate bid to fight off the old woman and it caught Innocent's legs and sent her tumbling to the ground.

“No!” Amaliya staggered to her feet and grabbed hold of her grandmother tightly and pulled her away from The Summoner. She screamed as the old woman's shirt hit her bare flesh and the Virgin's image burned her. Rolling away, Amaliya crouched low and watched The Summoner writhe.

He managed to grab hold of the embedded statue and screamed in pain as his hand burst into flame. Most of the statue came out of his back, but a big white sliver remained firmly in his body. Whirling about, he howled at the mortals slowly crawling to their feet.

Amaliya's grandmother whimpered and Amaliya could hear the old woman's heart beating at a terrible pace.

The Summoner let out another terrible scream, then launched himself upwards. Amaliya scrambled after him, trying to grip his legs, but she failed. Looking up into the gapping hole in the roof, she saw The Summoner's form slowly dropping downwards beyond the house.

Not even sure if she could follow, she tensed her body, ran, and leaped. She sailed out of the hole in the roof and flew over the dead. As her body slowly dropped downward, the blood from her grievous wounds dripped onto the dead below her and she felt her power unfurling within her. She landed hard and fell to her hands and knees. Turning around, she saw a few of the dead licking drops of her blood from their flesh. They were very old corpses and looked like mummies made of leathery skin and bone. But as they licked at her blood, they began to look more human.

As this registered in her shocked mind, she felt her power flash out, a dark tentacle of exhilarating magic. It snagged the few that were covered in her blood and they turned to face her fully. She felt her power coursing into them and understood at last what it was that let her control the dead.

It was her blood.

Turning back to the graveyard, she saw the wounded man who had created her leaning heavily against a broken mausoleum. The mass of dead began to move toward her. These were his and she could feel their intent to destroy her. Summoning her own dead, she backed slowly toward the graveyard determined to draw them all away from the house, the wounded mortals, and Cian.

Sergio knew his arm was broken, but there wasn't much he could do but hold it stiffly at his side as he hurried to his grandmother. Samantha and Jeff were bloodied and bruised, but okay.

He had seen his cousin fly out of the house after The Summoner and he could only hope that she could handle the wounded vampire. It had been amazing to see his grandmother nail the asshole with the blessed statue.

“I think we're okay,” Sergio said when he saw his grandmother was fine except for a bruise on her cheek.

“Um,” Jeff said, and pointed.

Sergio looked up to see Cian slowly rise to his feet, his long hair hanging over his face.

“I think this isn't good,” Samantha said softly.

Cian raised his head and hissed at them, the hunger distorting his features. His feral expression sent the humans scrambling backward.

Innocente quickly pulled out a handful of rosaries and holy medals from her tote bag.

“You can't kill him,” Samantha said firmly as Cian advanced slowly on them. “He doesn't know what he's doing!”

“Okay, we just...keep him back until Amaliya gets back,” Jeff said looking uneasy with this plan.

Sergio held out his cross and watched Cian shrink back. “If she comes back.”

“She will,” Innocente said firmly.

As the four mortals faced down the famished vampire, they all knew that if she didn't return soon, it was going to become unpleasant very quickly.

Amaliya strode toward The Summoner just ahead of the dead that were intent on killing her. She wasn't afraid of them anymore. Her own tiny group of dead trailed behind her. Blood was still flowing from her neck and she let it. She understood the power in her blood now.

The Summoner raised his head as she drew near. The expression on his face was terrible. It was clear he was in agonizing pain and beyond that, he was furious. A tiny old lady had reduced him to a shivering weakling and she could see what a terrible blow it was to his ego.

“You shouldn't fuck with little Mexican grandmas or their family,” Amaliya said as she drew near him.

“Take it out and I will let them go. Stay with me and I will forgive you,” he said through gritted teeth. His eyes were white and burning. She knew her eyes were also white and glowing just as bright. She could feel her power filling her and flowing around her like dark whispers. Her magic was not quite like his. It was different. He had accidentally made her and his power had been mutated by her transformation. Her magic was uniquely her own.

The dead he controlled scrabbled at her flesh, but did not rip into her. If they drew her blood, she could seize them from him and she was not afraid. She could feel that he was holding his minions at bay and preventing them from tearing her apart. He truly wanted her. His need for her was strong. At last she could see him for what he really was. A truly old, bored, over-powered creature that was terribly lonely.

“Take the holy relic fragment from my back and I will spare them. Come to me and I will teach you how powerful you truly are. We can raise armies together,” he said in his rich, seductive voice.

He was sweating blood and she could see his struggle to remain upright. “You remember how it was when you first rose. When we made love in the blood of your victims. It can be that way again.”

Amaliya felt her sex throb at the memory. It had been deliciously erotic, but she had technically been insane with the hunger. She did not want to be in that state of mind ever again. That was another time, another version of herself and she would not let him take her new found strength from her. “Do you really think you can seduce me?”

He was close enough to touch her and he did. Their powers mingled for a moment and she shivered as the horrible lust inside of her grew.

“Yes,” he answered, and smiled charmingly.

A shriveled-up dead woman staggered up behind him to take the relic from his back. Amaliya slid her gaze from his face to the corpse and watched as the creature's stiff fingers tried to grab hold of the lodged piece of plaster.

Moving close to The Summoner, she licked her lips as his hands slid over her bloodied skin and he began to caress her breasts. Her nipples tightened with a terrible need and she closed her eyes to gain control.

“Yes, you see,” he said in a low, pained voice. “We have just begun this adventure of ours.”

Amaliya reached past his shoulders as if to embrace him and moved in as if to kiss his pale lips. She flicked her hand at the dead woman busily working the piece of statue out of his back and her blood splattered the creature. Instantly, she felt a connection to the raised dead and she summoned the woman. The Summoner stared in shock as his salvation staggered to Amaliya's side.