Pretty When She Dies (Pretty When She Dies #1)(95)

He had made a fatal error. He had trusted Roberto.

But now he had Amaliya.

Turning his head, he caught her lips and the kiss was gentle and good.

Her fingers slid over his hair and her eyes spoke of her emotions more than any words ever could. Looking down, he saw her terribly scorched hand and knew she had tried to remove the dagger. The weapon burned in him and he could feel it slowly killing him. With one hand, he slid his hand over his bloodied chest, then pressed it to her lips. Understanding, she quickly drew her tongue over it, taking his blood.

“None of that!” Roberto darted forward with preternatural swiftness and jerked Amaliya away.



Her tongue licked desperately at her bloodied lips as Roberto tossed her into the wall. She hit it hard and sank against it, her eyes tortured.

“Now. Now. We were being kind and you took advantage of that,” the Summoner said in a put out voice, and kicked Amaliya hard in the ribs.

Cian could hear them shatter. She spit up blood and fell forward onto the moldy floor.

Cian looked down at the dagger and weakly drew his hand up to grip it and draw it out. Roberto was faster and hoisted him up off the ground and flung him into a table. Cian barely felt the pain as he impacted with the old piece of furniture. He was a furnace inside. He was dying.

Two massive men, obviously dead, entered and reached down to grip him under his armpits. They lifted him up so Roberto could bind his hands. Cian felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness as the room kept altering around him.

For a moment he saw The Summoner quite close, then the next he was standing over Amaliya.

Darkness swirled up again, then Amaliya stood nearby her dark hair falling over her shoulders to her waist. She was wearing a blue-gray satin dress that matched her eyes perfectly. It had a Victorian look about it, but Cian had seen a similar dress just recently in one of the haute couture fashion shows on TV Samantha had been watching.

“Dressing her up,” Cian mused. “Why?”

“She looks more like a lady this way, don't you think?” The Summoner sat in a nearby chair, his legs crossed. “It forces a certain dignity to her countenance.”

Amaliya looked toward Cian and she lifted her skirt enough for him to see her jeans and boots underneath. As usual, The Summoner was more about illusion than reality. Dressing her up was to make her unsure of herself and steal a bit of her identity.



Slowly, Cian took in his circumstances. He was bound to a chair with cord and the dagger had been drawn out. The damage was still there, deep and painful, but he was no longer dying.

Roberto lounged against the wall nearby watching the proceedings with a rather excited look on his face. Cian knew from experience that did not bode well for them.

Several dead creatures stood about the room. Some were fresh, but others were quite old. Cian had a feeling it was yet again another show of power.

Before Amaliya lay a woman dressed in a very pretty pink outfit and high heels. She was freshly dead and smelled of warmth and liquor.

“Now, where were we before he woke up? Ah, yes. Make her rise!”

“I don't know how,” Amaliya said in a tired voice. Her silky black hair was hanging around her face and Cian could only make out the tip of her nose.

“You defeated my creatures and now you can't raise this simple little corpse for me? I have a difficult time believing that.” The Summoner's voice was dangerous and cruel.

Cian could feel the tension ratcheting up and knew the violence was coming. He had seen Amaliya's battle through the back window of the Lexus. He had seen her eyes glow with the power over the dead and how she had cast down the creatures that attacked her. He knew, just as The Summoner did, that she was powerful. But what he understood without a doubt, but The Summoner did not, was that Amaliya did not know how she had done it. The Summoner would take it as Amaliya being obstinate and it was about to get very, very bad.

“I just don't know how I did it. Okay?” She lifted her chin and her hair swung back to reveal her strong features. Defiance was etched in her expression.

“No, it is not okay. Show her it is not okay, Roberto,” The Summoner said in a cold voice.

Roberto stepped away from the wall and drew out the silver dagger.

The hilt was wrapped in his silk handkerchief. He stepped purposefully toward Amaliya and she shrank back.

Cian knew what was going to happen, but Amaliya did not. He braced himself and clenched his teeth together.

Roberto swung about at the last moment and drove the silver dagger deep into Cian's upper arm. Cian felt the pain explode within him, but he did not cry out. Amaliya's cry was pained enough for both of them.

Roberto's eyes gazed deep into his former Master's with curiosity, then stepped back and bowed slightly.

“Don't hurt him! I don't know how!”

“Try!” The Summoner slapped her and pointed his finger in her face.

“Try.”

Amaliya fell to her knees, the big skirt puffing up around her and laid her hands on the girl's body. It wasn't hard to see her struggling to draw on her power of necromancy, but the girl remained unmoving.

“Do it!”

“I'm trying,” Amaliya cried out.

The Summoner nodded at Roberto and Amaliya screamed just as the blade was buried into Cian's thigh.

Again, Cian fought the agony and refused to cry out. He was weakening and he knew he could not remain conscious much longer.