Pretty When They Collide: A Novella in the Pretty When She Dies Universe (Volume 4)

by Rhiannon Frater

  “She’ll be here by the end of the week. You have to be ready for her, do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  “That’s my lovely little witch. Always doing what I want. Now, about that fucking...”

  Frank’s kiss tasted like liquor and copper. His touch was rough and cold. Though her body responded to his lovemaking expertise, Aimee had never felt so removed from the act of sex. It was as if she was an observer, watching from a great distance. Though Frank brought her to an orgasm rather quickly, it gave her no real satisfaction. When he rolled off her, she felt unsatisfied and rather disheartened.

  Striding nude into his bathroom, Frank waved his cellphone over his head. “Call the researcher, my witch. Get it done.”

  Crawling off his bed, Aimee drew the discarded robe over her nudity. The thought of the dhamphir coming to their home both thrilled and terrified her. She’d lock herself in her room tonight with the excuse she had to start preparing for the dhamphir’s arrival, but Frank wasn’t the only one with the ability to weave elaborate plans.

  With a slight smile on her lips, she hurried out of his room.

  Chapter 9:

  The Dream

  Cassandra tossed her bags onto her couch when she finally arrived at her apartment after spending the day with her mother. It was a small and cozy place, one of several apartments that an old Victorian had been split into. Cassandra occupied the rear apartment on the second floor that she entered via an outside staircase. The tall pecan trees provided ample shade that kept the apartment dark and cool even when the sun was shining and the windows were open.

  Rubbing her stomach, she surveyed her drink options in her refrigerator. Cassandra wondered how old the milk was and checked the date. It seemed to be in the realm of safe drinking, so she snagged it and poured herself a big glass. Her mother had cooked a fantastic meal, but she still felt pangs of hunger. It wasn’t for actual food, but blood. Cassandra didn’t need blood to live, but she needed it to use her dhamphir abilities. Since she only used them when on jobs, her blood intake was fairly low. For at least twenty-four hours after a job she was ravenous and suffered withdrawal. She always felt like she was going back on the wagon after a job.

  Gulping the milk, she hoped her system would believe it was satisfied long enough for her to get some sleep. Finished with her drink, she flopped onto the couch and turned on her secondary cellphone. She considered it her ‘civilian’ cellphone that she used in her regular life as a part-time waitress at the local diner.

  “Let’s see what calls I need to ignore,” she muttered.

  There were several messages from her co-workers asking for her to cover their shifts due to some flu bug going around town and a message trying to get her to donate to some politician that would never in a million years support her right to marry, so she deleted all those.

  “Erase, erase, erase, and definitely erase.”

  The last one gave her pause the second she heard the voice.

  “Cass, it’s me. I know that we didn’t part on the best of terms, but things aren’t working out for me here. It’s not a good scene. I can’t go into details. I know you’re mad at me, but I still love–”

  “Fuck you, Felicity, and erase.”

  Tossing the phone onto the coffee table, Cassandra slumped over on her side and closed her eyes. Anger ate her and she slammed her fist into the sofa cushions a few times. After all that Felicity had done, her ex was so damn sure Cassandra would take her back. Tears flowed and Cassandra wiped them away. It was hard not to feel hurt and angry all over again at the memory of Felicity’s betrayal, but it also upset her that for a brief second she had considered taking her back. It was hard dating in the small town where she lived, but she didn’t like being away from her mother for long periods of time.

  It had been very difficult when she had lived in Paris as a model and had to deal with daily phone calls from her mother’s caretaker. Galina had never really understood where Cassandra was during that time. Cassandra had sent her dozens of postcards and photos of Paris, and though Galina had decorated her bulletin board in her kitchen with them, she could never remember why Cassandra wasn’t at home. It was then that Cassandra swore she would never be away from her mother for very long. In doing so, she had significantly cut down on her dating pool.

  The apartment felt intensely empty. She could hear the muffled voices of her neighbors arguing, but she felt detached from the world they existed in. Maybe she was just fooling herself. She lived in the shadows of the world pretending to be normal. Though she was popular at the restaurant and people tended to like her, she was always aware of the distance that was between them. Even her ex-girlfriends had felt the gap between Cassandra and them even though she tried very hard to share her life with them. Often her exes attributed the disconnect between them to Cassandra’s mysterious side job working security. When Felicity had left in a tidal wave of rage and indignation, one of her last angry slings in Cassandra’s direction was to shout, “I don’t even know you! You’re a shadow!”

  Cassandra hated to admit it, but she was lonely. Though Felicity had hurt her terribly, she missed her ex banging around in the kitchen making dinner, chatting about her job at the bank, or her latest reality TV show obsession, or their times snuggling on the couch watching movies.

  Darkness filled the apartment, save for the kitchen where she had left the light on. Staring through the doorway at the gleaming white and black tiles under the bright light, Cassandra sighed. It was way too symbolic of her life. While she lay in darkness on the sofa, the light seemed far away and unobtainable.

  Plus, she didn’t want to get up and turn it off.

  Exhausted, she closed her eyes, swearing she would just rest her eyes for a bit. Within seconds, sleep claimed her.

  The bell over the door jingled, drawing her gaze upwards. Cassandra paused in the doorway of the ice cream parlor, confused, disoriented, and a little unnerved.

  The shop’s decor was mostly pink and white with flashes of bright red. The booths were red leather and sat like sentinels on either side of white tables edged in pink. The white wrought-iron chairs and tables decorated with fancy curlicues and flourishes scattered along the white-tiled floor gave the setting a little flavor. A young man in a white apron and little cap waited behind a counter for her to order.

  Her boot heels ringing against the floor, Cassandra slowly approached the long counter. An array of brightly-colored ice cream filled the display behind the highly polished glass. Tucking one hand into her jean pocket, she felt for her slim wallet, relieved when she felt the soft leather.

  “What will you be having today?” the man said in a thick West Texan accent. He lifted an ice cream scoop, the metal flashing in the bright light pouring through the white curtains covering the windows.

  “Uh...” Cassandra bit her lip. There were so many flavors to choose from that it was a little overwhelming.

  “Get the peppermint. It’s wickedly good,” a voice said beside her.

  Turning, Cassandra sharply drew in her breath.

  The woman from Vegas stood beside of her. Clad in a long, olive handkerchief skirt and tan crochet halter top adorned with polished stones that revealed slim shoulders and a taut stomach, the bronze-haired woman smiled warmly.

  “Seriously, the peppermint is the best. Though, the mint-chocolate chip is a close second.” Leaning against the counter, the woman said, “Could I have a scoop of both in a cup?”

  “Sure thing!” The man in the apron immediately began chiseling the thick sweet creamy goodness into rounded servings.

  Cassandra couldn’t stop staring at the other woman. Golden lashes framed pretty blue eyes and there was a faint smattering of freckles on her nose. Cassandra was a sucker for freckles.

  Returning her gaze to Cassandra, the woman smiled. “What are you going to get?”

  “Okay, now I know I’m hungry and hard up,” Cassandra muttered.

  Lifting an eyebrow, the woman said, “Oh?”


  Though she recognized she was in a dream, Cassandra nonetheless ran a hand over her hair to make sure it was tidy before straightening her thin leather cropped jacket. “Uh, yeah. I’m dreaming about the hot chick I saw in Vegas and ice cream, so horny and hungry.”

  “Hot chick? Horny?” Another eyebrow rose.

  “I’m so glad this is just a dream, because I’m usually way smoother than this,” Cassandra quipped with a wink.

  With an amused smile, the other woman said, “Oh, I see. So I’m the hot chick from Vegas, huh?”

  Leaning against the counter, arms folded over her breasts, Cassandra nodded. “Totally. Though I made you more of a hippie chick in my dream. I wonder why?”

  Appearing flattered and even more amused, the woman said, “Maybe because I’m a witch.”

  “That’s it!” Cassandra raised her hand and flexed her fingers. “That magical buzz you left on my hand. I made you into a witch in my imagination.”

  “Uh huh. Sure.”

  Cassandra felt her knees going weak when the woman gave her a sultry sidelong look while she reached for her cup of ice cream.

  “Going to get any ice cream? It’s calorie free since we’re--you’re dreaming.”

  Cassandra shrugged. “Sure. Chocolate. Two scoops and syrup.”

  “Sure thing, ma’am!” The over-enthusiastic ice cream scooper went back to work, chipping away at the creamy chocolate in the bin.

  “Not adventurous I see. You stick with the basics.”

  “Are you teasing me?” Cassandra smirked.

  “Uh huh.” The other woman licked some ice cream off her pink plastic spoon.

  “So, woman of my dreams, what name shall I give you?”

  “Aimee.”

  “Aimee?” Cassandra mulled this over. She had never dated a girl with that name, nor had it ever registered as one of her favorite names. “I wonder why I picked that one.”

  “Oh, you didn’t. My mother did.”

  Cassandra scrunched up her brow. “Uh, sure.” She claimed her cup of ice cream dripping in chocolate sauce.

  Aimee spooned some green ice cream into her mouth, smiling mysteriously.

  “I have to say, I don’t usually dream so vividly about eating ice cream,” Cassandra said after a hesitant beat in their conversation. “The hot woman totally fits my usual M.O., but the rest of this...”

  Walking to a booth, her long skirt swirling around her battered cowboy boots, Aimee beckoned for Cassandra to follow. “Join me?”

  Taking the benches on either side of one of the tables, they set their treats on the gleaming white table. Cassandra slumped in her seat and stared openly at the gorgeous woman across from her.

  “And if this is a sex dream, it’s really off to a slow start,” Cassandra muttered while jabbing at the firm lump of ice cream.

  “Sex dream?” Aimee laughed. “Oh, no. It’s not a sex dream. It’s a magic dream.”

  Cassandra pouted a little. “I could use a good sex dream.”

  Flipping her long, shimmering bronze hair over one shoulder before leaning her elbows on the table, Aimee gazed thoughtfully at Cassandra. “Really?”

  With a loud laugh, Cassandra shook her head. “Okay, I’m feeling embarrassed in a dream. My own dream. Gawd, I need to just wake up, eat something, and finger bang to Lana Del Rey.”

  Aimee’s hand lashed out and she gripped Cassandra’s forearm tightly. “Don’t wake up. Please.” Her delicate features were drawn into a mask of desperation. “It took a lot of power to make this dream happen. I don’t know if I can do it again. I didn’t have that much of your hair to both track you and cast the dream spell.”

  In small graduations, Cassandra’s mind fit all the pieces together. “No, no. Can’t be.”

  Aimee smirked, released her arm, and started stabbing at her ice cream with her spoon. “Uh huh.”

  Gulping, Cassandra shook her head. “No way.”

  “Way. You left one little hair clip behind. I managed to get a few strands off of it. That’s how I managed to locate you and then perform this dream spell. It’s not very easy to do with such a small bit of foci, but I managed. Usually the setting for the dream would be created by memories from your mind so you would be more comfortable, but since the spell is a little on the weak side I placed us in my favorite ice cream shop in the town near where I live,” Aimee explained.

  “No, no…” Cassandra shook her head adamantly, despite the fact she was actually starting to believe the woman across from her.

  “My name really is Aimee, and I really am a witch. A real witch. Full-blooded. I saw you at The Stratosphere when Frank, my bastard vampire master, and I were on our way to get a relic you stole.”

  “My brain could easily fill that into my dream,” Cassandra protested. “I had a rough moment, felt a little lonely, so I’m dreaming about the beautiful woman I saw in Vegas.”

  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 studyi
ng 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.”