Pretty When She Destroys (Pretty When She Dies #3)(25)

“It’s okay, Jeff. I just like spending time with you.”

Jeff gave her his goofiest loving look. “I feel the same way.”

“Besides, cleanup is super easy this way!” Samantha picked up the paper plates they had used along with the plastic utensils and dramatically tossed them into the trash bin. “Ta da!”

“Which was all part of my evil plan to begin with. I hate doing dishes!”

Jeff started putting the lids back on the plastic containers that held the leftovers and returned them to the cooler he had transported their dinner in from his house. Samantha wiped off the table with some napkins, then blew out the small tea lights.

“So, Sam, this was our first candlelight dinner of many. I think it went okay.”

“It was perfect. I loved it.”

“No, you’re perfect. And I love you,” Jeff said in such a way it made her heart flutter. His big brown eyes and thick eyebrows gave him such a cute puppy dog expression that Samantha had to snuggle into him. Laughing, he pressed kisses to the top of her head. “Next time we’ll have fancier candles if this is the response I get.”

“You’re on to me! I’m all about the fancy candles.” Samantha grinned up at him. “Or maybe I’m just all about the fancy boyfriend who says sweet things.”

“I thought I was charmingly dorky, not fancy.”

“You’re fancily a dork.”

Jeff made a big show of considering her words, then slowly grinned. “I can live with that.”

“Good! Because you have to!”

His kisses tasted like carrot cake.

Reluctantly, Samantha disengaged herself from his arms. “When’s the call?”

Jeff checked the clock on the wall and winced. “In about thirty minutes.”

“Want to fool around until then?” Samantha waggled her eyebrows.

“I love the way you think!”

“I just need to freshen up.”

Samantha coyly kissed his cheek before slipping down the hall and into the ladies restroom. She had drunk way too much sweet tea and her bladder was begging for relief.

Washing her hands once she was done, she studied her reflection in the mirror. Even though the world was teetering literally on the edge of eternal darkness, instead of looking haggard with fear, she appeared happy. It was weird to acknowledge the truth that she actually was happy. After all the crap that had gone down in her life, losing Cian as her fiancé, turning into a phasmagus, and facing the possible end of the world, she supposed she should be living in despair, yet she wasn’t. The cause of her surprising but reassuring peace of mind was her acceptance of her new role in the dangerous world of the supernaturals. It was odd to admit, but once she embraced being a part of the hidden world her life had somehow started to make sense. Upon reflection of all the choices she had made in her life, it was as if she had been on an inevitable course to this point in her existence.

Turning on the water, she moistened a paper towel and dabbed at face to fix her smudged mascara. Focused on the flecks of makeup and the smear under one eye, she leaned closer to the mirror. Her breath fogged the reflective surface, obscuring her view. Annoyed, she wiped the moisture away.

Behind Samantha stood a woman with her throat and chest torn open. Ropes of dirty, bloody intestines dangled across her pallid, naked thighs and blood dripped from the edges of her grievous wounds. She’d literally been torn apart. One eye was missing, but the other, pale blue and dead, stared at Samantha.

Frozen in place, Samantha gawked at the ghost in the mirror absorbing the horrific state of the woman. Tendrils of dark hair were matted with blood to her face and neck. Though Samantha had never seen the dark haired woman before there was something vaguely familiar about her. Then it struck her. The apparition was in a similar state to the ghost she had encountered while running one July morning. It had taken a bit of sleuthing to identify the ghost, but Samantha had uncovered she was a missing woman who had vanished while jogging. Her name was Cassidy Longoria. Like the specter reflected in the mirror, Cassidy had been ripped open.

“Who are you?” Samantha whispered.

“He killed me,” the ghost answered though her lips did not move.

Samantha winced when the ghost flickered in the reflection then appeared even closer to her. Frigid air sprouted goose bumps all over Samantha’s back and arms. Unlike the movies, she couldn’t just close her eyes and banish the ghost. If it touched her, it would gain mass and become solid.

“If you want me to help, tell me who you are and who killed you,” Samantha said in an even tone.

“Why did he kill me?” the ghost sobbed. “Why?”

Swiveling about, Samantha braced herself against the sink. The ghost was scant inches from her. Though the wounds were heinous and the ghost had the appearance of a fresh corpse, Samantha couldn’t smell anything other than the vanilla air freshener sitting on the back of the toilet.

“I’m sorry he killed you, but you need to tell me who did this to you,” Samantha insisted.

The ghost covered her face with her hands, sobbing.

“Hey. Ghost girl.” Samantha started to reach for the phantom, then thought better of it. Did she really want the ghost to solidify?

“Why?” the ghost lifted her head and screamed. “Why?”

Samantha flinched, sliding away from the specter. “I don’t know, but I’ll help you. Just tell me-”