Pretty When She Destroys (Pretty When She Dies #3)(110)

“Oh, hell!” Cassandra cried out, leading the charge into battle.

The dhamphir spun through the air, aiming for the closest creature. She landed on the mushy ground and drove her blades through its torso, ripping it in half. Blood sprayed her as she twisted about, just missing the swipe of a huge clawed hand. Hacking away at the creature, she had no idea how to kill it, but knew she had to keep it away from Amaliya until the necro-vampire could finish off The Summoner.

Nearby, Cian fought another creature, his black blade cutting off the claws of a multi-limbed creature. A grim expression upon his face, he fought with a brutality that was familiar to Cassandra. All her life she’d been afraid she was like her father. Now she realized she was very much his daughter in every way.

At last, it didn’t scare her. It empowered her.

With a gleeful shout, she decapitated the monster she was fighting and charged the next one.




Leaving the bodies of the thirteen witches in his wake, Cian raced after his daughter to face off against the monstrous beings made of the bodies of The Summoner’s innocent victims. Just before he leaped off the temple platform, he caught sight of Amaliya for a split second. She was a vengeance goddess, eyes glowing red, covered in blood, wielding the terrible sword, and fighting to save them all. In his heart, he knew she was the only one who could actually kill The Summoner and he had to allow her to do just that. Though a part of him wanted to fight the battle for her, he knew his place was with his daughter and the others keeping back the army of creatures that The Summoner had created to stop Amaliya.

Slashing and hacking at the claws of the terrible flesh and bone creations of The Summoner, Cian kept them from charging Amaliya. If she wasn’t using her necromancy, there was a reason for it, which meant he had to kill the creatures himself.

The bone claws of one of the monsters raked his chest and Cian cried out in pain. Recovering, he darted around the creature and lopped off one of its arms.

Daring to steal a glance at the temple, he saw Amaliya confronting Bianca’s possessed form. With dread, Cian realized that Amaliya would have to do the one thing she’d been desperately trying to avoid.

Amaliya had to kill Bianca.



Jeff and Alexia dispatched the demons with carefully aimed bullets while somehow still managing to avoid their flaming hands. Baptiste sent the redheaded elemagus flying with mighty gusts of wind, then called lightning bolts down on her flailing form. One struck her and shot her into the wall of the cavern. The redhead fell to the muddy ground, her body sizzling and smoking in the rain.

“That was one tough bitch,” Baptiste gasped, clutching his arm. Stone spikes had struck it and one protruded near his shoulder.

They were on the outskirts of the major battle between Cian, Cassandra, Aimee and the massive creatures made out of the flesh of humans. Eduardo had one of the smaller creatures cornered, howling gleefully as he tore it apart with his teeth. Jerking the head of a dark haired woman out of the torso of the creature, the were-coyote dashed away like a dog with a toy. Darting around the creature, Eduardo howled with delight and tugged another head out of the monster. The coyote gleefully played with the creature, ignoring the massive battle behind him.

“Uh,” Baptiste grunted.

“Jeff?” Alexia said, her eyes widening.

Reaching into his messenger bag, Jeff yanked out a clip with silver bullets. Slamming it into his pistol, he raised the weapon and aimed. One shot sent Eduardo to the ground, his head blown apart.

“Let’s finish this,” Jeff said, gesturing to the epic battle before them.

The three of them charged forward.




Growling with frustration, Amaliya landed near the stone serpent. The dead witches littered the stones, their blood slipping along the cracks to pool around the head. The sword in her hand froze her fingers, but sent pulses of warm delight through her. It wanted blood.

Amaliya’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and half-formed plans. There was no way in hell she was going to kill Bianca to get to The Summoner. Too many people had died already, but if she didn’t kill Bianca more would die.

The Summoner in Bianca’s body smiled. “Do you really think you can best me?”

“Yeah,” Amaliya answered, lifting the sword. “I got this.”

“I have Bianca.” Dropping to the floor, The Summoner bent over and plucked a jagged piece of stone from the debris. “The witches cast the spell. The sword is formed.”

“I have the sword!” Amaliya brandished it.

Bianca’s delicate form in the white gown looked so harmless against the grotesque backdrop of the cavern. A hint of her innocence remained in her features as The Summoner used her hand to raise the stone to her throat. “All that’s needed is the blood of a necromancer.”

“No!”

Slitting Bianca’s throat ear to ear, The Summoner grinned at Amaliya, twisting Bianca’s face into something inhuman and terrible. Blood gushed out of the wound to paint the white gown red. The blood slid over the ground toward the gruesome stone serpent head with its snarling mouth and cruel eyes.

“The ritual is complete,” The Summoner declared.

The Sword of Lucifer sang in her hand, its thirst for blood sated. Amaliya stepped back, the sword slicing through the air. A rent formed in the fabric of reality. A void of endless darkness lay just beyond the tear.