Pretty When She Destroys

by Rhiannon Frater

  As Cian parked the car, he finally said the words he’d been holding back, but no longer could. “Pete died because he believed that the love he felt for you was worth fighting for, Amaliya. It was his choice.”

  “Don’t say anything more,” Amaliya said in a harsh, tight voice. She didn’t want to hear the truth coming from Cian’s lips.

  “But it is true,” Cian persisted. “If I die, it’s because I believe that the love I feel for you is worth fighting and dying for. That’s why I’m in this fight against The Summoner.”

  “Not to save the world?” Amaliya said, trying to sound flippant as she cast a dark look in his direction.

  “If I had to choose between you and the world...”

  “You’d let it burn,” Amaliya finished. “That’s really romantic, Cian. Really sick, fucked up, and romantic in a weird way.”

  “And you?” Cian already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it.

  “I’ll do anything to save you. Protect you,” she answered truthfully.

  “Then humanity may be fucked,” Cian decided.

  Chapter 11

  Samantha waited impatiently for Jeff to unlock the door to the massive Victorian, shifting from one foot to the other. She wished she had put on something other than her flip flips. The daisies on the straps kept tickling her toes. Beatrice was surly inside her carrier, letting out annoyed meows every few seconds. Behind her, Benchley and Alexia were arguing as the mysterious Baptiste stood quietly to one side with a heavy leather suitcase in one hand. Amaliya and Cian were still in their car, probably making out.

  Every moment she had to stand outside, Samantha felt vulnerable to a possible attack. She hated being in the sights of The Summoner.

  Stepping inside the door, Jeff quickly deactivated the alarm system and flipped on the foyer light. The glittering chandelier sprang to life overhead. Samantha darted inside, the rest of the group following. Baptiste craned his head one way then the other, taking in the giant foyer. Benchley and Alexia had been here many times before, so they made themselves at home by heading toward the kitchen.

  “Nice,” Baptiste said at last.

  Jeff smiled proudly. “It’s been in my family since the 1800’s when we first moved to Austin.”

  The front entrance wasn’t long, but wide. It spread halfway across the front of the house. The massive grand staircase wound up to the higher floors to the right of the front doors, while two wood sliding doors led into the library. An arched entrance opened to the dining room that was filled with antique furniture and a curio cabinet filled with porcelain dancing ladies. Another narrower archway revealed the hallway that led to the family room and parlor in the rear of the house, while the last door to the far right was to the hallway that ended in the kitchen. Samantha was forever opening the wrong doors or going down the wrong hallway whenever she visited.

  “I’m going to put Beatrice in your room,” Samantha said to Jeff, her fingers locked tight around the handle of the cat carrier.

  Inside, Beatrice hissed at her new surroundings.

  “I’ll be up in a second. Let me get Baptiste settled real quick.” He kissed her cheek tenderly, his fingers lightly gripping her waist. “I am glad you’re here.”

  Samantha sighed. “I guess I am, too.”

  The wide staircase wound up to the two floors above. It was a steep climb and she felt a little winded when she reached the third floor where Jeff’s room was located. She could have taken the small elevator that was off the dining room, but it freaked her out because of its size. It wasn’t much larger than a broom closet. At least Jeff’s room was quite large, consisting of a sitting area and actual bedroom with an attached bathroom.

  Once inside the room, she shut the door, set the carrier on the floor and opened it. Beatrice glared at her, obviously not appreciating the change in location.

  “This is our new home,” Samantha said, the words filling her with both dread and pleasure. She actually liked the room with its tall windows, large bed, and antique decor. But it wasn’t her room in her house.

  Beatrice’s eyes narrowed to slits, and she didn’t move.

  “C’mon, surly kitty. Come out.” Samantha bent at the waist to stare at her cat. “It’ll be fine. I think.”

  The bedroom door opened and Samantha quickly straightened. Jeff slipped inside carrying her two overnight bags. She’d packed them on a lark soon after the events in the graveyard in Fenton. Her father had always taught her to be prepared. One was filled with clothes and toiletries for Samantha; the other was for Beatrice.

  “I’m sorry,” Jeff said, seeing her expression. “I really am, Sam.”

  She didn’t mean to cry, but tears sprang out before she could shut them down.

  Dropping the bags on the floor, Jeff rushed to her, swept her up in his arms, and held her tenderly against his body. “Sam, I will do everything I can to protect you. I swear it.”

  Samantha snuggled into his chest, her face pressed into the hollow of his throat. “I’m so sorry I’m intruding on your space.”

  “Sam, you’re not!” Cupping her face, he smiled down at her. “I’m actually really happy you’re here. I’ve been wanting you to move in since this all started, but I knew you wouldn’t want to give up your place. That’s why I asked Aimee to ward your house.”

  Samantha sniffled. “I’m not a big ol’ nuisance?”

  “No! Not at all.” Jeff gave her an incredulous look. “C’mon, Sam, you know how I feel about you. I love you. Even if The Summoner wasn’t breathing down our necks, I’d still hope that you would end up living here with me one day.”

  “Really?” She felt foolish for asking, but she needed to hear Jeff’s answer. Maybe she was still smarting a bit from Cian’s betrayal, or maybe she just wanted Jeff to remind her how much he loved her. Every time she looked at Jeff, her heart felt so full of love for him, she wanted to know he felt exactly the same way. She’d never felt so completely enamored with anyone before. Not even Cian. The feelings she had for Jeff felt like forever.

  “Yes, really, Samantha. This isn’t a casual thing for me. I want us to be building a life together that will last.”

  “Oh, Jeff! Me, too!”

  Jeff’s kiss was sweet, yet searing. It was everything a kiss should be and she melted into it. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she returned the ardent touch of his lips. When they finally parted, they were both breathless.

  “So the world is coming to an end,” Jeff started.

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe. But it might.” Jeff stared into her eyes, his fingers gently caressing her flushed cheeks. “I want us to spend every moment we can together.”

  “Because the world might end?”

  “Because I love you,” Jeff answered.

  A fresh burst of tears, this time happy ones, flooded her eyes. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed kisses to his neck. “I love you!”

  There was a loud thump nearby.

  Jeff and Samantha separated immediately, both tensing.

  Beatrice stared at them from the center of the bed, then began to clean one paw.

  They both burst into laughter.

  Cassandra watched her girlfriend worriedly all the way to Jeff’s house. Aimee kept silent throughout the trip, but Cassandra could tell she was very upset. As soon as Jeff unlocked the front door of the Victorian house and let the group in, the witch immediately headed toward the pantry where the magic supplies were stored. Cassandra followed.

  “Aimee?”

  “The ward failed,” Aimee muttered. Grabbing her long hair, she twisted into a bun on top of her head, then placed her hands on her hips while glaring at the jars and bags lining the shelves.

  Leaning against the doorjamb, Cassandra tried to formulate a good reply to Aimee’s comment, but couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t sound trite. The ward had failed. Epically. Aimee wasn’t used to failure, so Cassandra knew she was smarting. After a few tense beats ticked by, she decided to opt for
another approach.

  “Amaliya landed on the ward and it held her out. I wonder what that means?”

  The witch sighed and picked up a jar to study the contents. “It means I should have taken into account that necromancy is dark magic.”

  “Huh?” Cassandra gave her girlfriend a startled look. “What?”

  Aimee sniffed the contents of the jar, looked satisfied, and set it in a wicker basket at her feet. “Cass, we’re dealing with vampires, necromancers, and a phasmagus. All creatures of the darkness.”

  “Like me,” Cassandra said, lowering her eyes.

  “No, no. Dhamphirs are different. You’re more in the gray area of magic.”

  “I sense the splitting of hairs here.” Cassandra frowned.

  “Cass, you’re half human. The vampire side of your nature is muted by that fact. We’ve discussed this before.” Aimee touched her arm lightly.

  “Yeah, I know, but it’s still really unnerving to see dear old dad vamp out and...” Cassandra had thought that her daddy issues were put behind her, but she realized that maybe she had been wrong. She was seeing a lot of herself in Cian and it made her uneasy.

  “Yeah, but he’s a very old vampire. In that regard you two are very different.” Aimee tilted her head, drawing close enough that her warm breath was on Cassandra’s cheek. “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course!”

  “Then trust me when I tell you that you’re a fabulous shade of gray.”

  Cassandra laughed. “Okay. Fine!”

  After pressing a kiss to Cassandra’s cheek, Aimee resumed searching for ingredients. “Now, to answer your question about Amaliya...I think she passed through the ward the first time because she hadn’t activated her necromancy yet. She spills blood to make it work, so once she was wounded and bleeding, her magic kicked in...”

  “And the ward attempted to kick her out.”

  “Exactly. Death and blood magic are very dark magicks. The only thing darker is demonic magic, which the black witches use.”

  Cassandra let out a puff of air. “Yoiks.”

  “I don’t think Amaliya and Samantha are evil, but the magicks they wield can easily cross that line. I’ll have to adjust the ward.” Aimee selected another jar and placed it in the basket.

  “How did Amaliya punch through the ward?”

  “Honestly, I think she confused it. When I cast the spell, I infused it with the names of our cabal to allow everyone safe passage. The ward recognized her, but was also repulsing her because it read her as a threat.” Aimee lifted a shoulder. “I should have thought of that. From now on everything I do will have to take this into account.”

  “It makes it harder for you to do your spells, doesn’t it? The fact that we have them on our side?” Cassandra fiddled nervously with a nail stuck in the wall used to hang up cotton bags.

  “Yes, but I’ll deal.” Aimee flashed her stunning, confident smile. “Because I’m a badass true witch.”

  “Damn, I love you.” Cassandra couldn’t help but return Aimee’s smile.

  “I know. Shows how smart you are.”

  “I may be leery about all this other shit going on in our lives, but you’re the one thing in my life that I never doubt.”

  “Aw, babe.” Aimee came instantly into her arms and snuggled against her.

  Holding her girlfriend close, Cassandra breathed in her sweet scent. It always grounded her when she was feeling agitated. She often wondered if it was the herbs Aimee worked with or the actual fragrance of her magic that always made her smell so delicious.

  “Cass, we’re going to be okay. I promise.”

  “You had some sort of vision?”

  Aimee wagged her head. “No, no. I don’t have those.”

  “Right. The vampires killed all the oracles.” Cassandra rolled her eyes. The vampires had done a lot to make sure the cards were always stacked in their favor.

  “Remember that evil tends to get cocky. I was around Frank long enough to see that myself.”

  Cassandra snarled at the mention of Frank.

  Picking up the wicker basket, Aimee motioned for Cassandra to let her out of the pantry. “You’re cute when you’re growly.”

  “Then I’m going to be uber-cute when I pull The Summoner’s head off.”

  “That’s my girl!”

  Aimee carried the basket to the kitchen and Cassandra followed.

  Chapter 12

  Cian stood on the back porch of the Victorian house and surveyed his surroundings with a critical eye. Fireflies darted through the variety of trees that stood sentry around the house obscuring the view. There was a wrought iron fence at street level and a second fence enclosed the rear yard above the greenbelt. The entire lawn sloped downward on all sides.

  “It’ll be easy to see an attack from up here,” Baptiste said, joining him.

  “Especially from the higher floors,” Cian agreed.

  “We could maybe put some spells that work like flash bombs along that fence line. If the enemy breaches the ward, we can at least disorient them as they come over that second fence

  “A very solid idea. Which branch of the military were you in?” Cian asked, watching the other man scrutinizing their surroundings.

  “Air Force. But I left after one tour. It was increasingly difficult to hide what I am.” Baptiste rested his hands on the rail. A platinum skull ring with ruby eyes glittered on one finger. Cian recognized it as one Prosper had worn.

  “Your kind of magus is very rare. Does it run in the family?”

  Baptiste nodded. “Those of us with maroon eyes usually have the gift.”

  “Rachoń?”

  “The Summoner killed her and changed her before she manifested any abilities. Maybe the powers would have been latent in her. It’s hard to say. The eyes are a good indicator, but the abilities don’t always develop. My great grandfather told me stories about our family in Africa being able to hold off enemy tribes with the power of earth, fire, and air. Sadly, the generation that was conquered and sold into slavery couldn’t wield the power.” Baptiste shrugged. “So here we are...strange how fate works. We lost our tribal homeland, but now control Louisiana.”

  The sweet smell of the wildflowers planted in the greenbelt floated on the night breeze. It was a tranquil view considering all that had occurred that night. The shadows shifting through tall grasses and tree trunks were cast by the swaying tree boughs and not the creatures of the night.

  “It’s beautiful here. Reminds me a little of my home. The big porch, the feel of magic in the air.” Baptiste turned around, leaning on the rail, emulating Cian by crossing his arms. “Rachoń told me you were a slave.”

  “Cromwell sold my family to plantation owners in the West Indies during his purge of Ireland.”

  “Do you remember Ireland?”

  Cian shook his head. “You live as long as I do and you forget so much.” He often struggled to remember the names of his wife and children. His wife’s face and voice had long faded from his mind, and he feared any recollection of her was false.

  “There are members of my family who claim to remember Africa. Of course, they also remember the plantations of the South.” Baptiste’s maroon eyes were thoughtful. “The Irish used to be considered subhuman. There were even ‘scientific’ arguments to support that viewpoint.”

  Unsure of where Baptiste was going with this thread of conversation, Cian just slightly shrugged. “People find reasons to support their hate.”

  “You see, I find it interesting that you and Rachoń have so much in common. You were both slaves, spat upon by others, and then turned by The Summoner, yet none of that seems to bind you together. I know she respects you, but she doesn’t like you.”

  “The feeling is a bit mutual,” Cian admitted.

  Baptiste gave Cian a slow, lopsided smile. “Well, just so you know, I am a man who makes up my own mind. I came here to fight against The Summoner because he killed the man who was my father figure throughout my life. I’m not here
to undermine you, or spy for her. I am aware of your pasts, but I’m more concerned about the future. My future and that of my family.”

  “I am sorry about Prosper. I had very little interaction with him, but I remember him as someone who was loyal.”

  Tilting his head, Baptiste’s gaze settled on the view within the windows. The people in their cadre were settling into the back room. “I just want you to know who I am and where I stand. It’s important for us to trust one another. Tonight proves that The Summoner has his sights on Amaliya.”

  “And Samantha. He somehow knows she’s a phasmagus.”

  The flash of headlights down the hill made Cian a little uneasy. The street was closer than he’d like.

  “A phasmagus. Unbelievable.” Baptiste grinned.

  “An elemagus. That’s unbelievable.”

  “There are a few of us left in the world.”

  “Thanks for the help with the demon, by the way.”

  “Glad to help.”

  Cian rather liked the man’s measured way of speaking. It was obvious that Baptiste was not one to mince words. He respected that. “I hope you don’t mind staying with Jeff.”

  “It makes sense. The witch and dhamphir are staying with you. I should be here with the phasmagus and human. It evens it out a bit. I do appreciate the hospitality.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, Cian saw Aimee tending to Amaliya’s scorched arm while Cassandra watched with a worried expression. Alexia and Benchley were still arguing about matters that Cian didn’t really care about. Sometimes he found the siblings to be insufferable.

  “The demons are a concern.” Baptiste was also watching the people within the house.