Pretty When She Destroys (Pretty When She Dies #3)(2)

Trembling, Bianca realized he was toying with Amaliya. Again, the image of Amaliya covered in blood bloomed in Bianca’s mind. Biting her bottom lip, Bianca struggled to speak. She imagined grabbing Amaliya’s hand and running off together, escaping the creature that was hunting the tattooed beauty. Yet, she couldn’t move. The malevolent power swirling through the air had her pinned where she stood.

“I’m heading home for Easter tonight after I do some laundry,” Amaliya said, tilting her head to gaze with obvious yearning at the terrible being disguised as a mortal man. “Maybe after break?”

Bianca finally dared to raise her face to gaze upon the couple speaking just a few feet from her. The air around them was thick with darkness. It distorted their images, wavering like heat. The glamour disguising the man flickered under her scrutiny. His true face was even more handsome and cruel than she had imagined.

The umbrella blossomed into a black flower over their heads. “That would be lovely. Are you on the way to class? I can walk you there.” The monster pretending to be Professor Sumner gestured out into the steady downpour.

“Actually, I think I’ll skip it.” Amaliya scrawled something on a piece of paper and gave it to him. “My number. For that coffee.”

“Thank you. I have some errands to do. Can I walk you somewhere?”

“Yes, you can.”

“Then after you.”

Amaliya grinned as she walked into the curtain of rain with the tall man.

Bianca tried to call out after her, but her voice wouldn’t come. On impulse, she dropped her books. The noise drew Amaliya’s attention, her mesmerizing eyes barely skimming over the disheveled girl standing beside the pillar.

The professor didn’t even look back.

Bianca tried to speak, but no words escaped her lips.

Amaliya gave her a curious look, then turned away.

Gathering her things, Bianca followed the two figures fading into the falling rain.

The voices of the dead whispered in her ears, their fingers clutching at her, urging her to hurry.

“Stop him! Stop him!” they chanted.

Again, flashes of Amaliya covered in blood filled her mind’s eye. Flinching, Bianca stumbled off the sidewalk into the mud. She pressed a hand to her head, trying to still the internal violence of her visions. They pummeled her, physically jerking her about.

...Amaliya covered in blood...

...Amaliya bringing destruction...

...the world in darkness...

“Please stop,” Bianca begged the powers hurling the warnings into her already overloaded mind. Lifting her hand, she drew a ward in the air. It lessened the onslaught, but still the one voice that always haunted her persisted. It was her mother, Josephine.

Stop him! Stop him! She’ll destroy us all if he succeeds! He’s going to lure her into his trap tonight. Go to the coffee shop! Hurry! Hurry!

Crying out, Bianca staggered forward. Her pale blond hair falling around her face, she knew she looked crazed. She was Cassandra in Greek mythology wailing prophecies that no one would heed. There was no choice other than for her to follow the vampire and Amaliya. Only she stood between the world and destruction.

Staggering through the rain, Bianca turned toward her dorm. She’d never catch up to Amaliya now, and wasn’t sure where she lived. There was only one coffee shop in town, so Bianca wasn’t defeated yet. She just had to get the weapon she had bought to destroy the evil that had set his sights on Amaliya.



The café was warm and filled with the fragrant smell of coffee. Nestled into a chair in the corner, Bianca watched Amaliya and the professor as they chatted at a nearby table. Bianca could see the power of the vampire drifting in the air, tangling with the aura the other medium. The writhing dark magic sickened Bianca. It was evil and full of death.

Reaching into the oversized bag on the chair beside her, she traced her fingertips over the sheathed silver dagger. She had to wait. If she struck at him in public and failed, it would be the end of everything; therefore, she had to wait until they were away from the public. The stillness around her was comforting after the cacophony of voices that had assailed her earlier. Maybe her mother’s spirit was holding back the others, or perhaps they were silent now that they knew she would move against the monster that would be the end of the world.

Watching Amaliya, tears sprung to Bianca’s eyes. Every aspect of her yearned to connect with the other woman, for Amaliya would understand what Bianca suffered. They would be like sisters, best friends, and, at last, Bianca wouldn’t be alone.

The green tea in the chipped bright yellow cup was cold now. Bianca’s fingers traced the lip lazily as she pretended to read the book she’d propped up before her. Whatever the two were discussing, it appeared to be upsetting Amaliya. PJ Harvey’s voice sang hauntingly over the loudspeaker above Bianca’s head, mournful and full of pain. It perfectly mirrored Amaliya’s expression. Crossing her legs, Bianca inadvertently bumped the table with her knee, the mug crashing to the floor. Bianca slid off the chair, picking the pieces out of the cold liquid. A barista hurried over with towels, a broom, and dustpan.

“I’m sorry,” Bianca said. “I can pay for the mug.”

“It’s no big deal,” the male barista assured her, mopping up the tea with the striped towels.

Bianca continued to pick up the slivers of the cup, her trembling hands making it difficult to get the smaller pieces.