Pretty When They Collide (Pretty When She Dies 0.5)(38)

“I’ll never let anyone do that to me again.” Aimee said, her voice steely. She watched the display on the control panel, then wrenched the door open. Scooting across the hall, she entered a room, but didn’t flip on the light. “Wait in the hall. Keep an eye out. I won’t be but a sec.”

Cassandra cautiously stepped into the hallway. Her eyes quickly scanned for any potential weapons. There were none. Inside the darkened bedroom, she could hear Aimee scurrying about.

Seconds later, Michael came around the corner his tranquilizer gun slung over one shoulder. He stopped in mid-stride, staring at Cassandra in disbelief.

“Surprise,” she said starting toward him. He was a big guy, but she was certain she could take him down.

“Stop!” he ordered, holding out one hand. “I’m on your side. Scott sent me.”

Hesitating, Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“I’m the inside guy. Scott thought this whole set up was a bit fishy and got me in. I’m the one who provided the codes and schematics.”

“So why didn’t you steal the relic?” Cassandra asked suspiciously.

Reaching slowly into a small pouch on his utility belt, Michael said, “Let me show you.”

Aimee stepped out of her bedroom wearing a tapestry bag looped across her chest and came up behind Cassandra, pressing the hilt of a dagger into her hand. “Don’t trust him.”

Cassandra fell into a fighting stance, ready to attack.

“Let me show you, okay? How else would I know about Scott?” Michael looked exasperated. “Scott suspected there was something up, okay?”

“Drop the gun on the floor, then show me,” Cassandra ordered. She was uneasy with the entire situation. After her dart gun failure, she wasn’t even sure she could trust Scott or anyone working for him. It could have just been a fluke, but the whole situation just reeked.

Michael’s hand hesitated, then moved instead to unsling the tranquilizer gun from his broad shoulder. “Fine.” Using the strap, he lowered the gun to the floor.

“Kick it over,” Aimee directed.

Shaking his head, Michael obeyed. “You’re wasting time. I have an exit strategy and you’re blowing precious seconds.”

Plucking the gun off the ground, Aimee stood behind Cassandra.

“Show me the relic and then I’ll consider going with you,” Cassandra said in a firm voice.

With very slow, deliberate motions, Michael flipped open the pouch and slowly extracted the exact same relic Cassandra had been sent to snatch. “Satisfied?”

“No, but we’ll follow you. No funny business.” Cassandra motioned for him to lead.

“Scott said you’d be a suspicious bitch,” Michael grumbled.

“Stop talking and move.” Cassandra held the sharp ceremonial dagger in her hand, ready to attack.

“I don’t trust him,” Aimee whispered.

“Me neither,” Cassandra whispered back.

The tall handsome man moved down the hall to the corner. “We’ll head across the second floor to the game room and exit from the balcony.”

Aimee and Cassandra exchanged glances. Cassandra shrugged. “Fine.”

“It’s clear,” Michael said, then hurried along the other hallway.

Cassandra was impressed when Aimee covered the stairway as they scurried past it, then took up the rear guard. On the floor below, Frank’s voice ranted loudly. Michael led them swiftly through the dimly-lit corridor and into a massive room that was filled with large TVs, a billiard table, various gambling tables, and old arcade machines. It reeked of stale cigar smoke and something cloying and chemical.

The sound of a tranquilizer gun sent Cassandra spinning about, dagger held defensively. Aimee staggered into her arms, surprising Cassandra. The witch slumped forward seconds before a dart punched into Cassandra’s neck, sending her reeling. As she fell backward, clutching Aimee with one arm, she realized they had been ambushed.

Two men slipped into the room from the hallway just seconds before shouts and gunfire erupted downstairs.

The room swung around Cassandra and she staggered against the billiard table. Her limbs were going numb and her vision was tunneling. The dagger fell from her slack fingers and she tried not to lose her grip on Aimee.

Picking up the tranquilizer gun he had relinquished earlier, Michael smirked at the two women. “I wasn’t expecting the witch to side with you, but I’m glad I carried around this piece of crap anyway.” Michael fished the relic out its pouch and tossed it to the floor. “Scott said you wouldn’t be easy to catch. I think I’ll declare him wrong. He didn’t realize you’d be trying to save the damsel in distress.”

Aimee’s fingers tugged at Cassandra’s gloved hand. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were moving slightly. Cassandra’s keen hearing couldn’t make out the words. They sounded like gibberish.

More men entered the room. Cassandra fought against the dart, burning blood to keep herself conscious. Her eyes started to droop, but she kept pushing through the haze with her powers.

“Arnost, I told you, piece of cake. The witch and the dhamphir for your little menagerie,” Michael said, greeting a man with a brooding face and dark hair.

“You did well, Michael,” the man said with a distinctive Eastern European accent. “Not only did you get me a witch, but a very lovely new dhamphir. I haven’t owned one in so long.”