Pretty When She Kills (Pretty When She Dies #2)

Pretty When She Kills (Pretty When She Dies #2) Page 5

Innocente gasped, startled by the vision. “Who hurt you, sweetie?”

“The Summoner,” the girl whispered, her perfectly shaped pink lips barely moving.

“Dios mio!” Innocente crossed herself, but kept her hand with the gun and rosary tucked under the covers. “He’s dead!”

Red tears stained the girl’s cheeks as she held out one bloodstained hand toward Innocente. “He hurt me. Please, help me!”

“How?” Innocente whispered, giving in to the plea. The young woman looked so fragile, so desolate, it tugged at her heartstrings. “How can I help you?”

“Save me from her,” the girl’s voice was fading. “She wants me to do terrible things.”

“Who does, honey?” Innocente’s heart was beating faster and faster.

“The woman with the red eyes,” the girl wailed.

The room grew colder as the apparition at the end of Innocente’s bed wept. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Who are you?” Innocente managed to say despite her dry throat and trembling lips.

“Bianca Leduc,” the girl answered. “She’s going to kill Amaliya.”

“No!” Innocente gasped. “No, not my Amal!”

Bianca Leduc’s eyes flashed white as the room fell to freezing temperatures. The moisture of Innocente’s breath turned to ice on her lips.

“Help me! Before it’s too late!” Bianca cried out then the darkness swallowed her. Her departing scream echoed throughout the room.

Innocente cried out in fear, then the lamp next to her bed flashed on. Sergio, her grandson, stood next to her bed clutching a bowl of cereal. Innocente slowly sat up, startled to realize she had dreamed the entire encounter.

“What’s up, Grandmama?” Sergio asked, spooning more cereal into his mouth and crunching it loudly.

“I had a nightmare,” she answered, pressing her shaking hand to her chest. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. She flipped over the pillows revealing the rosary and firearm. “It was just a nightmare.”

“What about?” Sergio asked, frowning slightly.

Innocente grimaced, the nightmare already beginning to fade. “I’m not sure. There was a girl in it and she needed my help.”

Cynthia, Sergio’s wife, appeared behind him. She was bleary-eyed, yawning, and looked half-asleep. “Everything okay?”

Since the encounter with The Summoner a few months before, Innocente had been living with Sergio’s family. She had hated losing her independence, but now that she understood the true dangers of the supernatural realm she knew she had to be careful. Sergio had moved his family in with her and there had been some difficult adjustment as the house had become a home to all of them. She had reluctantly allowed Cynthia to redecorate the main rooms of the house and send off boxes full of clothes, toys, and other items she had been storing in the extra rooms in her house. Innocente always found it difficult to let go of objects from the past. She loved to feel the energy of her long dead husband and daughter in their old possessions, but she had finally let those old things go.

“Grandmama had a nightmare,” Sergio answered his wife.

Cynthia stole his spoon and ate a mouthful of cereal. “I hate nightmares. Especially the ones with clowns.”

Innocente stared at the end of the bed, her mind struggling to hold onto the image of the girl she had seen in her dream. There had also been a name said by the apparition in her nightmare, but she had already lost it. “This one had a ghost. A girl. She needed help.”

Arching an eyebrow, Cynthia tilted her head. “You mean...a dream.”

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.”