Pretty When They Collide (Pretty When She Dies 0.5)(23)

Tilting her head to one side, Aimee grinned. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Duh. You’re totally my type.”

“So you definitely like women,” Aimee said, nodding to herself. With a keen look in her eyes, she said, “That makes sense.”

“This dream isn’t making any sense.”

Aimee spooned some ice cream into her mouth and continued to thoughtfully scrutinize Cassandra.

Pushing her dish aside, Cassandra leaned over the table, staring into the mesmerizing blue eyes. “If you’re not part of my dream, prove it.”

Aimee licked her spoon.

The mere sight sent shivers through Cassandra. “Are you sure this isn’t a sex dream?”

Lightly touching Cassandra’s hand, Aimee shook her head.

Cassandra felt the same tantalizing energy flow between them.

“I’m a witch. You’re a dhamphir,” Aimee said in a soft, yet urgent voice. “You stole something from Frank, my vampire master, and now he wants you. He’s already dealing with a broker to bring you to where we live. He’s setting a trap. I’m fairly sure that you’re going to be commissioned to acquire something from Frank to lure you here. Frank has instructed me to create spells that will trap you. He wants to make you his minion.”

“Frank? A vampire named Frank?” Cassandra snorted. “Kinda lame.”

“His original name is Francois. He’s French.”

Cassandra stared at their touching hands, a knot slowly forming in her gut. “This can’t be real.”

“It is.”

“So, when this job comes down, I’m not supposed to go, huh?”

“No, I want you to come here.” Tears shimmered in the other woman’s eyes. “I want to be free. I want to escape here. I want to be free of Frank. If you come here, you can help me escape him.”

Cassandra swallowed the lump in her throat. “Okay, so let’s say this is real. Why would you trust me to rescue you? You don’t even know my name.”

“Because of this.” Aimee lifted their hands. “When I touched you I felt safe. Instantly. Maybe it makes no sense, but I somehow knew you were important. Didn’t you feel something?”

With a nod, Cassandra admitted it to herself and Aimee. She had felt something she didn’t understand. “Maybe that’s why I’m dreaming all this.”

“No, this dream is because of the spell. Please, believe me.” Aimee’s fingers were trembling.

“Fine, Aimee, it’s real. What am I supposed to do? Come in with guns blazing?” Cassandra laid her other hand over their entwined fingers. “I’m a thief, not Rambo.”

Biting her lower lip, Aimee hesitated, then said, “Just come. I’ll have spells ready to help us escape.”

“Why don’t you do it on your own?”

“I can’t,” Aimee whispered. “I’m bonded to Frank.”

“So what will me being there change?”

Lowering her eyes, the witch appeared to struggle with what to say next. Finally, she gazed at Cassandra through her lashes and whispered, “Your blood. It can break the bond. I’ve been studying up on your kind and that’s one of the effects of your blood. It destroys the vampire bond.”

“Oh.” Cassandra wasn’t too sure what to think of that development, but it was difficult for her to see the other woman in so much distress. It was obvious from the pained expression on Aimee’s face and her trembling hands that she was incredibly unhappy and afraid.

“Please, come,” Aimee whispered.

Withdrawing her hands, Cassandra stared at the chocolate ice cream melting in the bowl. “My name is Cassandra, Aimee.”

Tears flecking her lashes, Aimee smiled. “Cassandra. I like it.”

“I can’t promise you anything,” Cassandra said at last. “I’m not even sure any of this is real. And... I may be good in a fight, but taking on a vampire in his own haven is not something I’ve done before.”

“I understand.” Aimee pressed her lips together, nodding.

“Aimee,” Cassandra whispered, reaching out to grip her hand.

Tucking her hands out of sight on her lap, Aimee stared out the window. “Frank always says that I live in my own bubble. That he can never quite touch me. I’ve never reached out to anyone for help before.” With a soft sob, Aimee shook her head. “And I shouldn’t have now.” She slid out of the booth, her long skirt whispering over the vinyl.

Cassandra scrambled after her, but the witch moved so swiftly the door to the cafe slammed shut before she could reach her.



The strains of a PJ Harvey song woke Cassandra. Gasping, groggy, and disoriented, she flailed about until she found the cellphone.

“Hello,” she grunted.

“Cassandra, how is my favorite girl?” Scott’s voice asked.

“Okay. What’s up?” Rubbing her face, she slid up into a sitting position.

“I have a new job for you. A very lucrative one.”

A chill slid down Cassandra’s spine.

“Oh?”

“Yes, it’s in West Texas outside of Marfa. Not that far from home for you.”

“Scott, you’ve obviously never been to Texas. I’m in East Texas. That’s over a day drive for me.”