Pretty When They Collide (Pretty When She Dies 0.5)(40)

“It’s been fun,” he said, squeezing the trigger.

The gun flew out of his hand, the dart hitting the wall.

“Thanks, Aimee!” Cassandra called out. “I can handle this * from here.”

A roar filled the room as a powerful wind tore through the shattered doorway and became a raging funnel, sucking the weapons from the hands of the attackers.

Grinning, Cassandra punched Michael in the face, knocking him off his feet. Turning to help Aimee, she saw the witch levitated off the ground, arms outstretched within the heart of the small tornado.

“Wow!” she said with admiration.

Then someone hit her from behind and sent her crashing through a window and into the night air.





Chapter 16:

Vampires Versus Witch



The tentacles of Aimee’s power lashed out, doing her will, sending Arnost’s men scrambling. There were a dozen men in the room, all of them infused with Arnost’s blood. Seven were unconscious, but the others were still dangerous. They moved quickly, with preternatural swiftness, trying to encircle her and wrestle her from the air. Their dart guns were somewhere out in the desert now, so they resorted to drawing blades. Though her eyes were closed, Aimee could sense their intent before they even moved. Each time one dared to lash out at her, Aimee sent a wave of magic, knocking them across the room.

“Don’t kill the witch!” Arnost ordered.

Nearby, Cassandra held her own, fighting Michael until he tried to shoot her. Aimee ripped the weapon from his hands and flung it away with her magic. His surprised expression was immensely satisfying.

The witch felt herself weakening, but she had used as much power as she dared to disarm their enemies of their dart guns. She and Cassandra couldn’t afford to be hit again. Aimee had barely managed to stay conscious enough to work her magic to extract the sedative. She was rapidly using up her power and would soon need to recharge.

Another window exploded and Aimee barely caught sight of Cassandra vanishing into the darkness outside the house. Michael fearlessly dove through the window after her. It was a two-story fall, but he didn’t seem to care.

“No!” Aimee shouted.

Landing on the floor, she ran toward the window, magically slapping away anyone trying to attack her with waves of energy. Reaching the broken opening, she looked down to see Cassandra and Michael in combat in the garden below.

The sharp bark of actual gunfire startled her. Twisting about, the acrid stench of a fired gun filled her nostrils as it mingled with the scent of blood. Ivan stood over Frank, pistol in hand, shooting at Arnost and his men. Two tried to rush Ivan, but he fired with eerie precision, the back of their heads bursting like melons. Behind Frank, another one of his faithful guards named Glenn was unshackling him.

Aimee shrank back against the window, pondering her options. She had only her spells and the tapestry bag around her neck that she had hidden her most precious possession in. Her power began to wane; she had to conserve it.

As the final echo of the last gunshot fired faded, Ivan reloaded and aimed at Aimee. “You’re done now.”

“Enough of the bullshit, Aimee!” Frank roared at her.

“I’m not staying here!” Aimee shouted at him. “I’m not your slave!” Raising her hand, a ball of energy formed.

Ivan fired, the bullet barely missing her and pounding into the wall behind her. “I’ll shoot you, Aimee.”

“Get over here, Aimee. Now!” Frank ordered impatiently. “Don’t make Ivan shoot you. Not that I’m not opposed to crippling you at this point.”

The room was quiet enough to hear the moans of the wounded men and the firefight on the floor below. Between Aimee’s magic and Ivan’s gun, all of Arnost’s men upstairs were incapacitated or dead. Aimee had lost track of Arnost in the battle and wasn’t sure where he lay in the room.

Finally, she let the orb dissipate. Slipping her arms behind her back, she fingered the spells tucked into her waistband. “I’ll come willingly. Please, don’t shoot.” Her head lowered, Aimee slowly walked past the fallen bodies toward Frank and his two men.

“I want this f*cking mess cleaned up. I want a bullet in Michael’s head and I want my f*cking dhamphir chained up in so much silver she won’t be able to f*cking move!” Frank’s face was flushed red with rage.

“The backup team is sweeping through the downstairs. We’ll have it under control shortly,” Ivan said briskly.

“I should have listened to you about Michael,” Frank huffed. “This was all a gawdamn f*cking setup to snatch my dhamphir and witch.”

Aimee drew closer to Frank, her fingers inching toward an incineration spell. She gingerly stepped over another body.

Rolling to his feet, Arnost grabbed Aimee about the waist, jerked her back against his body, and held her as a shield before him.

“Are you f*cking kidding me?” Frank exclaimed. “You left him alive, idiot!”

Ivan scrambled to draw a bead on Arnost. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Yes, you will, moron!” Frank huffed with disgust.

Aimee groaned with irritation. Her hands were pinned against Arnost’s stomach. She had almost been close enough to Frank to set the bastard on fire when he had snagged her.

“Frank, I’ll be leaving now with my witch,” Arnost said firmly. Stumbling backward toward the broken sliding glass door, the Serbian vampire dragged Aimee with him. Ivan tracked them, the pistol never wavering. Outside, Aimee could hear Cassandra and Michael still battling.