Pretty When They Collide (Pretty When She Dies 0.5)(41)

“Kill Arnost, and get me Aimee!” Furious, Frank kicked one of the dead men. Frank’s eyes blazed red. “Shoot him, Ivan!”

Arnost tugged Aimee closer. He reeked of the coppery smell of blood and she realized he was wounded.

Though she should’ve been afraid, she wasn’t. The power inside her was waiting for her command and if she could get her hands free, she had plenty of spells. The gun didn’t frighten her and neither did any of the men in the room. Gaze fastened on Frank, she realized that she only feared him.

Using the last of her power, she narrowed her eyes and sent Frank crashing into Ivan. They both tumbled to the ground, Ivan’s weapon discharging. The bullet slammed harmlessly through the ceiling above Aimee’s head. Startled, Arnost relinquished his hold on her enough for her to get one hand free. Glenn was already drawing his gun when Aimee sent a bolt of energy at him. With a shout, he dodged through the doorway and out of view.

Arnost grabbed Aimee’s arm, twisting it behind her before she could grab a spell. Shoving her forward, his lips were cold against her ear. “Don’t try that with me, witch. I’ll rip out your f*cking throat.”

A wry smile flitted across Aimee’s lips, but she hid it with her long hair by dropping her head. Arnost was an irritation, but she needed him for just a few more seconds. Pretending to be afraid, she cowered.

They were almost to the door when Ivan rolled over, trying to take aim again, but Arnost struck the pistol from his hand, then viciously kicked him in the head, crushing his skull.

Frank, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen.

Glenn dared to fill the doorway again with his hulking body. Instantly, Arnost whipped Aimee around, placing her between him and the guard.

“Aimee, I don’t want to hurt you,” Glenn said in an urgent voice. “I’m after Arnost.”

“It’s okay, Glenn. I’m going to kill him for you.”

Arnost jerked Aimee’s arm upward, causing her to cry out in pain. To Aimee’s surprise, he flung her at Glenn. The guard ducked, darted around her, and tried to fire at the vampire, but Arnost was already on the move. Recovered from his wounds, Arnost was a blur. Glenn was blood infused, but the vampire easily snatched him off the ground and drove him head first into the wall. The sickening crunch of his neck breaking echoed in the cavernous room.

Grinning, blood flecked on his lips, Arnost regarded Aimee with a predatory zeal. “You can’t stop me. I’m too fast for you.”

Aimee blinked and he was on her. Grabbing her long hair, he twirled her about, shoving her out of the room. Gruffly manhandling her down the hallway, Arnost swore in Serbian as he fished his cellphone out of his pocket and made a call. “Where the f*ck are you? What kind of f*cking backup are you?” he shouted into the phone.

Since he was foolish enough to drag her by her hair, Aimee plucked a spell off her waistband and pivoted into him. Pressing the small bag against his heart, she sent a spark of her power into it to activate it. Instantly, it burrowed through his shirt and into his chest.

Startled, Arnost’s eyes widened.

“I said I’d kill you,” she said with a smile.

Arnost took a swipe at her, but it was too late. The spell burst alive inside him, fire exploding out of his mouth as the inferno consumed him from within. Aimee ripped her hair out of his hand as it turned to ashes and ran past his disintegrating body into the game room, tugging more spells out of her waist band.

“Frank, you *, where are you?” she shouted angrily. “Come out!” She cursed herself for not noticing when he had slipped away.

It was then that she heard Cassandra scream and all thoughts of Frank were vanquished as she ran for the balcony.





Chapter 17:

Final Battle



Twisting in mid—air, and avoiding the sun shade over the garden, Cassandra managed to land on her feet. The hard landing jarred every bone and muscle in her body. She had set down on the soft soil of the garden, ruining a few of Aimee’s herbs.

“Oops,” she muttered, surprised by the guilt she felt for destroying the witch’s hard work.

Lifting her head, she coiled her body, ready to leap onto the house and scale up the side to rejoin the battle. Instead, she briefly glimpsed a dark shape crashing through the sun shade a second before Michael collided into her, painfully tackling her to the ground and smashing the air out of her lungs. Gasping for breath, Cassandra punched him in the face, and kicked him off her.

They both rolled onto all fours, facing each other. Michael’s grin was absolutely feral as Cassandra struggled for breath.

“So far, I’m really disappointed in you. I heard all these tall tales about your kind and yet you seem to be just a big old stupid girl,” he teased.

“I was just about to say the same thing about you,” Cassandra wheezed.

Anticipating his next attack, she lunged out of his attempted tackle and tucked into a rollover. Coming up on her feet, she instantly kicked out, striking his shin as he rose to his feet, and then hitting him across the face.

Wiping blood from his nose, Michael narrowed his eyes. “Better.”

Though she saw his fist coming, she couldn’t move fast enough to completely avoid the blow and he caught her side, sending her spinning. Quickly recovering, she ducked under his follow-up throw. Popping back up and facing him, she lifted her leg, snapping out her foot, striking the middle of his chest, shoving him backward. Michael moved to block her and she switched legs, revolving so her next kick was aimed at his chin. The impact resounded through her as his head snapped back.