Pretty When She Kills (Pretty When She Dies #2)(12)

With a flirtatious tilt of her head, she strolled along the hallway confident that he would follow. She did not stop until she reached her spacious room tucked on the far side of the mansion. Slipping inside, she waited for Gregorio to enter, then shut the door. Unlike the rest of the mansion that was full of Mexican antiques, Etzli’s rooms were very modern. There was no dash of bright color anywhere in the tranquil whiteness of the furniture. She stood out starkly against the backdrop of her room, vibrant and beautiful with her dark skin, eyes, and tresses.

“What did you see?” she asked, her fingers lightly playing with the tips of her hair curling over the swell of her breasts.

It was difficult for the craggy-faced older man to tear his eyes from her fingers and cleavage. “I saw the girl bring the dead up out of the street. They were not near any cemetery.”

“Ah,” Etzli said thoughtfully. “So she can wield her power like The Summoner did. What else?”

“They killed Manny, Art, and Irma.” Gregorio dared to take a step toward her. He was hungry for her touch. Her bite was an addiction and she used it to her benefit.

She lightly rebuffed him, enjoying his desperate need. Slowly, she pivoted on her heel and walked to the divan set before the high windows that let in the bright moonlight. Perching herself on the end, she motioned to Gregorio. He instantly followed, fell to his knees, and bowed his head.

“What else did you see?” she asked, her voice a soft purr.

“She took Irma’s power from her. I saw it happen. It came to her and wrapped around her,” Gregorio whispered.

“Did you tell Santos?”

Gregorio shook his head. “No, I only told him the basics as you instructed.”

Her long nails combed through his slick black hair that was laced with gray. “You please me.”

“I only wish to serve you.”

Extracting her cellphone from her cleavage, Etzli continued to stroke the man’s hair. He melted into her touch, his mind drifting in her power. She punched in the numbers manually, remembering them by heart. It was only a matter of seconds before Rachon answered.

“Cian will be calling you,” Etzli said, not bothering with the niceties of conversation.

“And Santos?”

“He’s afraid. She can raise the dead away from the graveyards.” Etzli couldn’t help but smile. “She’s everything we feared. She even stole away the black witch’s death magic so Cian could drain her. Santos didn’t like that, but it will teach him to be more careful with his assets.”

“Excellent,” Rachon answered and hung up.

Etzli tightened her grip on Gregorio and yanked him up to her waiting mouth. Biting deeply, she drank in celebration.



*



Cian listened to the mortal’s voice in his ear, rubbing his chin as he watched Amaliya stalking around the loft apartment. She was agitated and it showed. She was energized with the death magic she had absorbed and he could feel it cackling around her as she moved. At the same time, she was terribly afraid. Sweeping her dark hair back from her face with shaking hands, she gave him a wary look.

He shrugged and gave her a slight smile.

“I had the bodies removed. The vampire will burn in the sun, so he’s not a problem. But the witch is,” Jeff, the local vampire hunter, was saying.

“I didn’t leave marks on her,” Cian assured him.

“I noticed. But what do you want me to do with it? I handle vamps, not witches. That was our agreement.” Jeff was aggravated. His tone was clipped and slightly confrontational. He had been surly when Cian had woken him up and told him about the attack; now he was worse.

Resting his feet up on the edge of his desk, Cian leaned back in his chair. “Can Eduardo move the SUV to the outskirts of San Antonio? We can leave her on a remote road and tell Santos where to find her.”

Sighing wearily, Jeff answered, “Yeah. He can do that. But he’ll want payment.”

“I’ll pay whatever he wants.”

“Your car is toast, you know. Gone.”

“I’ll report it as stolen. They’ll think vandals got to it.”

There was a long pause. “Cian, I’m not your henchman.”

The vampire had been waiting for that comment throughout the conversation. He was ready for it and said in a very firm, but gentle tone, “You agreed to help me keep the city in order just like your father did.”

Another long pause lingered on the other end of the phone.

Cian expected that, too. Other than The Summoner, Jeff had truly never dealt with the dangerous aspects of the supernatural. He was well-read on the subject, but most of his dealings with otherworldly creatures had to do with incorporeal creatures, like ghosts and demons. Cian liked Jeff, but he wasn’t about to let the so-called vampire hunter off the hook. If Jeff wanted to live in Cian’s city, he would have to face the truth. The supernatural realm was dangerous and deadly, and Jeff was already tied to it.

As if Jeff was reading his mind, the mortal said, “Things are getting more dangerous now, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Cian answered simply.

“You do realize most hunters don’t play nice with vampires.”

“You do realize most vampires don’t allow hunters to live.”

“Touché,” Jeff grumbled.