Pretty When She Destroys (27 page)

The people gathered in the narrow hallway flinched when Cian slammed the door shut, cutting them off from the view of Etzli bound in silver and splayed out on the floor.

The ugly knot in Cassandra’s stomach had her on edge. Though a part of her was thrilled to see Etzli subdued and at their mercy, she was well aware of just how dangerous the situation actually was. Cassandra lightly touched her girlfriend’s hand seeking solace, but Aimee didn’t even look her way. The witch’s forehead was furrowed and her lips pressed into a tight line.

They weren’t the only ones ill at ease. Baptiste slid his hands slowly over his bald head, exhaling slowly. Benchley nervously scratched his nose, while his sister frowned at the tips of her battered sneakers. Jeff rubbed Samantha’s back gently, trying to soothe her, but the ugly scowl on her face did not disappear. Only Eduardo didn’t seem affected to what was about to occur. He leaned against the wall, tapping his fingers against it.

“Something’s gone wrong,” Aimee whispered.

“Yeah, we’re going all Guantanamo
on Etzli,” Benchley answered.

Baptiste grimly
dipped his head. “Not a good feeling.”

“Kinda like we’re the bad guys now,” Benchley agreed.

“No, that’s not it!” Aimee lifted her blue eyes and Cassandra saw stark fear in them. “Something is here!”

“Oh, God! I feel it!” Samantha took a step away from the door, visibly shivering as revulsion poured into her expression. “It’s full of death and...and...”

“Evil,” Aimee finished for her.

“Well, it
is
Etzli,” Alexia pointed out, but she also retreated down the hall.

“Maybe you’re feeling Cian...you know...torturing her.” The suggestion obviously made Jeff very uncomfortable, but he, too, took a few cautious steps backward.

“It’s not Etzli. It’s
him
!” Samantha started toward the door. Jeff futilely tried to tug her back, but Samantha twisted away from him. “Let go! He’s here!”

Aimee fell in behind Samantha, magic beginning to spark around her fingertips.

“How can you be sure?” Cassandra took a step toward the door and froze.

“Uh...that?” Benchley nearly stumbled in his haste to get away from the cell.

Black magic coursed out around the edges of the door giving it a dark, wispy aura. Ribbons of frosty energy lashed out, Aimee and Samantha both flinching under the assault. Cassandra cried out as she was whipped by the magic, welts appearing on her flesh where they struck. .

“I can see that!” Jeff exclaimed.

“Dude, we all can!” Benchley grabbed Alexia’s arm and shoved her behind him as he backed in the direction of the stairwell.

Baptiste surged forward. “We need to get them out of there!”

Cassandra was a few steps in front of him. Raising her arms to protect her face, she plunged past Samantha and Aimee. She pivoted on one foot and kicked out with the other, the heel of her boot striking the door. It took three more kicks to knock it entirely off its hinges. Baptiste thrust out his hands, a gust of warm air shoving the falling door out of their way so it spun across the cell floor.

“Oh, hell!” Samantha gasped.

A massive hole spread along the wall directly across from the doorway. It was filled with darkness and inky threads crawled along the floor, ceiling and walls like swiftly growing vines. Cian lay close to the door, his sword at his side. There was no sign of Amaliya or Etzli. The shackles that had bound Etzli were empty.

“It’s a portal!” Benchley waved at the maw of shadows. “It’s a portal!”

Tendrils of shadow lashed out toward the doorway. The floor beneath Cian shuddered, cracked, and started to give way. Cassandra grabbed her father under the armpits and dragged him out of the room seconds before the floor broke apart and fell into a pit opening up beneath the foundation of the house.

“This isn’t good!” Samantha cried out.

“Everyone out!” Jeff ordered.

There w
as a mad scramble to the stairs. Aimee tossed a few orbs of energy at the spreading darkness. Small explosions of energy filled the air with an acrid smell, but did not deter the black magic. The pitch-black filaments snaked past the threshold and spread into the hallway, forcing the witch to retreat.

“Well, that didn’t work,” Aimee muttered, then turned and fled.

Cassandra heaved her unconscious father over her shoulders and raced behind Aimee and the others toward the stairs to the main floor. Behind them the ceiling broke apart with a mighty crack and cement dust filled the air. Choking on the mix of chilly air and smut, Cassandra clambered up the stairs. Violent coughing drew her attention downward. Alexia was at the base of the stairs, doubled over and trying to catch her breath. Clutched in her hands were several external hard drives.

“Baptiste,” Cassandra managed to force out of her clogged throat. “Alexia’s in trouble!”

The elemagus’s tall frame pressed past the witch and dhamphir to the tiny woman below. His sweater was pulled over his mouth to keep the dusty air out of his airways. Once Cassandra saw he had Alexia, she continued her ascent, following in Aimee’s wake.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassandra saw the black tendrils rapidly crawling along the walls, flanking their ascent. With a burst of speed, the dhamphir scrambled upward under her heavy burden, her hand grabbing Aimee’s. Dragging her girlfriend along, Cassandra trailed behind the others in a desperate dash to get out of the house. The shadowy
serpents of black magic slithered over the floor and walls and wove through the building, ripping it apart.

The house gave out a loud moan before the ground floor began to buckle and cave in.

“Hurry, hurry!” voices rang out through the haze.

Cassandra stumbled a few times, but Aimee helped her along. Cian started to rouse, moaning against her back. She didn’t dare set him down until they escaped. The outside lights were a cloudy blur in the thick, choking air. Cassandra aimed for the illumination, banging into furniture as she fled. There was a loud whoosh then a tunnel of clear air formed before her. Baptiste’s magic sizzled along their escape route, holding back the thick haze.

They reached the front door just as the house shuddered violently. The sound of concrete cracking, girders bending, and glass shattering was a terrifying dissonance. Dodging chunks of the house as it toppled, the witch, dhamphir, elemagus and the people they had rescued scurried toward the street.

Benchley’s van backfired loudly as he started it. The side door was open. Jeff, Samantha, and Eduardo were already inside on the rear seat,
all three covered in a thick layer of dust and trying to clear out their throats and lungs. Cassandra helped Aimee inside just as the house gave another loud groan before breaking apart and disappearing into the gaping sinkhole opening beneath it.

“What the hell...” Cian muttered, finally coming to as Cassandra shoved him onto the middle bench.

“You missed some stuff,” Cassandra said sliding in beside him.

Baptiste tucked Alexia into the front seat before jumping into the back, crouching on the floor and sliding the side door shut.

“Go! Go! Go!” Jeff shouted.

Cassandra glanced toward the house to see the sinkhole spreading outward. The van’s tires squealed as the vehicle raced up the street, Benchley honking the horn wildly as he drove.

“What are you doing?” Alexia panted.

“Trying to warn the neighbors,” Benchley answered.

Joining the others in looking out the back window to watch the destruction, Cassandra wrapped an arm around Cian in an attempt to console him.

“It’s not spreading past the property line,” Aimee observed, relief in her voice.

“He took her.” There was deadness in the words.

“Yeah, Dad. I’m so sorry.” Cassandra hugged him, not sure if he would accept her sympathy.

To her surprise, he lifted one arm, draped it over her shoulders, and held her close. “It was inevitable.”

The van swerved around a corner and
sped along a dimly lit street.

“Benchley, slow down! It’s not following!” Jeff ordered. “We don’t need to crash!”

Benchley obeyed, but was still driving far too fast.

“What the hell happened back there?” Samantha demanded.

“The Summoner found a way into our haven through Etzli. Then he took Amaliya,” Cian answered. Everything about him was grim, from his words to his face.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Samantha slammed her fist against the back of the seat for emphasis.

Baptiste let out a long breath, cupping his head with his hands. “Dammit. We shouldn’t have brought Etzli back.”

“I can’t believe our plan failed,” Alexia said through her coughing fit.

“We’re dealing with The Summoner,” Cian said simply.

“You’re taking this pretty well considering that he just stole the hottest piece of ass in Austin,” Eduardo said, a smirk twisting his lips.

Cian moved so swiftly Cassandra didn’t even realize what was happening until Cian hurled Eduardo through the back window. Glass exploded outward, then the coyote’s body hit the street and rolled away into the night.

“Whoa,” Baptiste said, his maroon eyes widening.

“Did you just bust out my rear window?” Benchley howled in distress.

“I’ll pay to repair it. “ Returning to his seat next to Cassandra, Cian stared straight ahead.

“Dad?” Cassandra said softly, wrapping her arms around one of his. “Dad, we’ll get her back.”

Aimee started to rest her hand on Cian’s other arm, but thought better of it and set it on her lap instead. “Samantha may be able to track her. We’ll find Amaliya and rescue her.”

“No,” Cian said, shaking his head. “No.”

“Dad, don’t say that,” Cassandra protested. She wasn’t sure how they hell they could rescue Amaliya, but she knew they had to try.

“You don’t understand,” Cian said, pain in his voice. “Amaliya and I discussed something like this happening. We agreed that if he came for her she would go with him. We have to know how to stop him and by being close to him she can figure it out. Like Benchley likes to say so often, she’s our big gun. If anyone can find a way to stop him, she will.”

Samantha smacked Cian. “Asshole! You can’t just let her do that!”

Though Cassandra could tell Samantha was upsetting Cian even more, the vampire didn’t lash out. He opted to let her yell at him for a few more minutes before lifting a hand and stopping her from hitting him again. No one else had tried to stop her, so it was quite clear that Cian was not very popular at the moment.

“Amaliya is resourceful. She’ll find a way to let us know how to help her when the time is right. I trust her,” Cian said fiercely. “She’s more powerful than all of us. She went with him willingly to
help
us.”

“She’s sacrificing herself,” Aimee protested.

“Yes, she is.” Cian focused on the road ahead as Benchley drove toward Jeff’s Victorian. “But that’s what people do for those they love. Let’s not diminish what she’s doing.”

“This is bullshit,” Samantha muttered, but sounded like she grasped what he was saying and maybe agreed.

Leaning toward the vampire, Cassandra sought out his gaze. He finally looked at her and the depth of his despair ate at her. “Dad, what if she can’t do it?”

“She will.” There was no doubt in his inflection. He absolutely believed his words.

Cassandra’s gaze drifted toward Aimee. She understood where Cian’s strength came from in that moment. Cassandra trusted Aimee completely. She didn’t doubt Aimee’s abilities or strength. She also knew that Aimee would sacrifice herself in a heartbeat to save Cassandra and Cassandra would do the same for her.

“Okay, Dad. I believe you.” She snuggled into his shoulder, attempting to give him some solace and a bit of the love that was growing in her heart for the man that was her father.

To her surprise, he slanted his head so his brow touched hers. “And I believe in you, Cass.”

Part Six

Amaliya, Bianca, and The Devil

Chapter 23

The freezing vacuum expelled Amaliya from its grip and deposited her in a large room lit by candles. Ornate designs drawn with dark red paint covered the white marble floor. The scent of wax, ashes, blood, and sweat drifted through the murk and smoke filling the grand room. With hands raised and oily black tentacles springing from their palms, thirteen black witches stood in a circle around the portal feeding it with their magic.

In the void, The Summoner and Bianca had been tangible presences, but as Amaliya observed the scene she realized she was exited alone. Disoriented, she raised a hand to her head straining to adapt to the physical world. It was unsettling to feel the weight of gravity upon her body. How long had she been trapped within the conjured doorway?

She attempted to take a step, but fell to the floor. The impact was jarring and painful. Her teeth clanked together, biting her inner cheek and drawing blood.

“It will take you a moment to adjust,” Bianca’s voice said with The Summoner’s accent.

Lifting her eyes, Amaliya observed that just beyond the circle of black witches, the slim girl was secured to an ornate wood chair with heavy silver chains. Two people, a redhead woman with maroon eyes, and a nervous young man clutching a tablet stood on either side of diminutive blonde.

The black witches around Amaliya continued to feed the portal, their dark magic twisting and wiggling through the air. There was a heavy thump beside Amaliya. She tilted her head to see Etzli lying on the floor next to her. The smaller woman gagged, then threw up foul smelling blood. Cursing impressively in Spanish, Etzli tried to push herself upright, but obviously had great difficulty doing so. Hastily, an older mortal man rushed over to help her to her feet. Amaliya was glad to see she wasn’t the only one suffering the aftereffects of the portal. Though Amaliya was close to vomiting, she fought the urge. She refused to show any weakness. The two women exchanged fierce glowers, then Etzli was guided to a chair set near the wall. As Etzli was helped away, Amaliya gingerly balanced herself on her feet and sluggishly straightened.

“Gregorio, I need a blood minion,” Etzli snarled.

After making sure his mistress was settled, Gregorio rushed through an arched doorway into the main part of the house.

Gesturing toward Bianca, Etzli said, “He’s returned. Release him, Trish.”

The slim woman with wild red hair and eyes the same color as Baptiste yanked a ring of keys from her jeans and set about unlocking the padlocks.

“Come on,” the young man with the iPad urged Amaliya, waving her toward him. “Don’t step on the markings.”

Narrowing her eyes, Amaliya ambled on unsteady feet away from the portal. She could hear the thrum of its power and feel the artic coldness that dwelled within it. The black witches were completely silent, their eyes riveted to the gateway. Dressed either in a black shirt and jeans, or a black dress, the thirteen people were of various ages, ethnicities and split almost evenly between the sexes, with women having just one more of their number. Their eyes were utterly black. Amaliya carefully edged between two of the witches and approached The Summoner.

There was no mistaking he was control of Bianca’s body. Cold blue eyes watched Amaliya approach as he was released from his bindings. Lifting his charred wrists, he smiled with Bianca’s sweet cupid mouth as they healed.

“So this is how you keep her from escaping,” Amaliya said, folding her arms over her breasts and cocking her hip. Eduardo had been right.

“It’s effective,” The Summoner said simply.

Glancing over her shoulder, Amaliya saw that the black miasma hovering in the air was now churning violently. Thick bubbles ran along the tendrils connecting it to the witches. Amaliya could feel the power escalating, becoming more dangerous.

“You said you would spare them!”

“They’re closing the portal,” The Summoner answered with a dismissive shrug.

“I don’t believe you!”

“Watch. It’s closing. I can’t have your friends coming through to disrupt our time together.”

One by one, the witches dropped to the floor with loud, painful sounding smacks. The portal swelled outward once, like a large bladder filling with liquid, then it crumpled in on itself, vanishing with a fleshy pop.

“What the hell?” Amaliya stared at the spot where the portal had floated, then at the witches. Blood oozed from their mouths, noses, and ears. “Are they dead?”

“No, no. They’ll recover,” the young man answered, nervously fidgeting with his tablet. He was wearing clothes that looked like something out of an anime film.

Out of the darkness that bordered the room, tall beings emerged to bend over the fallen black witches. Their eyes glowed like red fires in odd faces that were not quite human. Amaliya recoiled, realizing they were demons. The creatures claimed the witches and carried them out of the room. As they filed past the candles, the flames expired one by one, smoke curling upward toward the high ceiling.

“Stark, the lights,” The Summoner said crisply.

The young man nodded, slid his finger over the iPad screen, and the three large chandeliers suspended above their heads came to life. “There you go.”

The Summoner stood. Bianca’s body was clad in a long white dress and white lace-up boots. Her blonde hair was brushed into soft waves around her delicate face. Though the face of the younger woman was youthful and lovely with big blue eyes, sweet pink lips, and rosy cheeks, cruelty lingered just beneath the surface. Bianca had never appeared this way in life. Amaliya stared into the blueness of the other woman’s gaze, seeking out any sign of the other medium.

There was none.

“Your plan succeeded,” Etzli said, her voice raspy. “Now we should move to crush Cian’s cabal.”

Amaliya glared at Etzli. “As if you could.”

“That wasn’t the agreement between me and my prodigal daughter. I have agreed to allow them to live since she has so graciously returned to the fold. It spared me having to bring her back unconscious and bind her in chains.”

Bianca’s fingers were cold, yet enticing against her cheek.

“What if they try to stop us?” Etzli glowered at Amaliya, obviously not trusting her. “What if
she
tries to stop us?”

“Cian’s cabal is inconsequential. They were amusing pawns in my game to acquire Amaliya, but we are done with it now. All is as it should be.” The exultant smile on Bianca’s lips was cruel in its certainty.

Gregorio returned to the room dragging a young dark-haired woman with him. She was already covered in bloody bites. Sobbing, Etzli’s prey futilely attempted to break free, but the man ignored her clawing fingers. Gruffly, he thrust her into Etzli’s arms. With a loud, hungry hiss, Etzli sank her sharp teeth into the girl’s throat. The fragrance of warm, fresh blood filled the room.

Slipping his arm around Amaliya’s waist, The Summoner escorted her past the feeding vampire and out into a long hallway with a
arched ceiling. “Stark, monitor the unrest in San Antonio. We may need to release more of the black magic spells to incite more violence. Trish, make sure to dispose of the body once Etzli is done feeding.”

Amaliya shivered involuntarily as The Summoner escorted her through his haven. The dark power dwelling in the house was heavy and foreboding. The air itself was so thick with black magic it was like walking through a fog. It dampened the light spilling from the wall sconces and overhead chandeliers. Death magic was intertwined with a much blacker, scarier power. Amaliya had to fight not to let it sink into her.

The house was old, but beautifully preserved. Arched doorways, red-tiled floors, and white walls spoke of a Spanish influence, yet it didn’t resemble Santos’s old haven. There was a hint of Victorian opulence in the design.

As they walked, she kept her head slanted downward, her hair sliding forward to shield her features from The Summoner’s gaze. It was difficult to hide her anger, contempt, and frustration. She supposed she should be pretending to be much more subservient, but it wasn’t in her nature. With a growing sense of foreboding, she realized that she may have to give in to her darker nature to actually succeed.

“I knew you would come once I threatened your loved ones,” The Summoner said, his arrogance antagonizing her. He was very good at reading her, which pissed her off.

“Whatever.”

The Summoner was mocking her. “You are a strangely loyal person when it comes to your family. Even after you were transformed, your first instinct was to run home to your father even though you knew he would most likely reject you. And then there was your delightful grandmother. You ran to her immediately after your father’s rejection. She really was a strong soul, wasn’t she? May she rest in peace.”

“Don’t you dare bring her up,” Amaliya said tersely. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare!”

“Oh, my. Still a sore spot?” Bianca’s blue eyes widened. “What else did you expect me to do after she helped
kill
me?”

“I
did
kill you.”

The Summoner’s expression darkened. “True. But I
want
you.”

Amaliya frowned at the words. “I thought
you ditched Rachoń because she put family first. Why do I get a pass?”

“Because I’ve
always
wanted you. Even before I took on the persona of that unfortunate professor, I knew I wanted you. The history of your family is fascinating. Do you even know that every firstborn daughter of your family is a powerful medium?”

“My mother wasn’t,” Amaliya said with defiance.

“Yes, she was. They all were. But they all started hiding from the truth of their natures much like you did when you were a little girl.”

“You know nothing about me!” The denial flew from her before she could swallow it down. Even as she said the words, she knew it wasn’t the truth. She actually feared he knew too much about her. He’d spent a lot of time observing her while she sat in his class, and he had probably watched her from afar when she hadn’t even been aware of his presence. Obviously, he had also known about her grandmother and Bianca’s mother, which mean he had researched their families.

The Summoner chuckled. “I know much more than you know.”

Amaliya dared to give him a sharp look. For a brief second she thought she saw Bianca lingering in the shadow of her own body. “What do you know then?”

Drawing close, The Summoner said, “You’re afraid that you really do belong with me.”

“Fuck you.”
Amaliya tried to pull away, but the grip on her body did not relent. She hated how easily he could read her.

“Rachoń is merely a vampire. You are much more than that and you know it. Once you fully embrace your new, true nature, your pathetic attachments
will dissolve. You will soon understand your rightful place.”

Amaliya certainly did not like being told who she was or where she belonged. It hadn’t worked when her family, society, and religion had tried to do that. It wasn’t about to work now, but she kept silent.

The Summoner directed her up a winding staircase with an ornate wrought iron railing. Their footfalls on the marble steps echoed through a large foyer. Somewhere, deep in the house, someone screamed in pain.

“You were inside Etzli,” Amaliya said as they climbed. Her mind was still piecing the events of the night together.

“Yes. Hidden inside, waiting.”

“You knew we were hoping to ambush your people.”

“Yes. Of course. It was obvious. I laid out a trap for you that would be very apparent, so you would lay a trap for me.”

“Which was the
real
trap.” Amaliya realized how foolish they had been. The Summoner loved to play games with people’s lives. He had easily maneuvered them into delivering him straight into their haven. “How did you open the portal? Oh, wait. Of course. The portal spell was inside Etzli, too.”

“See. You’re clever.” Bianca’s face proudly beamed at her.

“And somehow you were able to connect the portal here...” Amaliya pondered what she had seen when she had arrived. The dark red designs were significant. “Blood?”

“Santos and Etzli are related by blood.”

“So you formed a bridge through their blood.” Amaliya pressed a hand to her forehead. Of course. She had smelled blood when she exited the portal. It was Santos’ blood that had created the portal. “We were so stupid.”

“You’re children,” The Summoner said with a sigh. “Mere children.”

Guiding her through a set of doors, they entered into an enormous bedroom. It wasn’t furnished except for a massive bed covered in ivory silk bedding and an antique table in one corner. As soon as they stepped over the threshold, Amaliya’s head swam and her body sagged. The air throbbed with malevolent energy. The pulse of the magic surged against her body in potent waves. Feeling disoriented, she staggered as The Summoner drew her to the table. Resting on the surface was a length of red velvet with twelve gold rings sitting upon it in a glittering row.

“Oh, God,” Amaliya gasped.

“There is no god here other than you, me, and Bianca.” The Summoner’s voice was male, strong, and exactly like her nightmares.