Pretty When She Dies (41 page)

How could going to coffee one night after class end her up here?

His white eyes suddenly flashed to blue and his lips parted in a silent scream. His fingers released her and he staggered back from her.

Arching his back, he tried hard to reach behind him, but faltered and fell to the ground.

It took Amaliya a few seconds to realize that her sweet, little Mexican grandmother had creamed him with the Virgin of Guadalupe statue.

Not only struck him, but had broken the statue over his back. As he twisted on the ground, she saw that the statue had struck his bare skin where Amaliya and Cian's nails had torn open his clothing. A huge bubbling, festering wound was pulsating beneath the torn fabric.

Innocente stood staring at the broken remains of the statue in her hand, then down at the vampire thrashing at her feet. He was so overwhelmed with pain, he did not even notice the old woman until she thrust the top half of the statue into his corrupted flesh. It lodged there between his shoulder blades, the flesh blackening and dripping off his spine.

The Summoner swung his arm in a desperate bid to fight off the old woman and it caught Innocent's legs and sent her tumbling to the ground.

“No!” Amaliya staggered to her feet and grabbed hold of her grandmother tightly and pulled her away from The Summoner. She screamed as the old woman's shirt hit her bare flesh and the Virgin's image burned her. Rolling away, Amaliya crouched low and watched The Summoner writhe.

He managed to grab hold of the embedded statue and screamed in pain as his hand burst into flame. Most of the statue came out of his back, but a big white sliver remained firmly in his body. Whirling about, he howled at the mortals slowly crawling to their feet.

Amaliya's grandmother whimpered and Amaliya could hear the old woman's heart beating at a terrible pace.

The Summoner let out another terrible scream, then launched himself upwards. Amaliya scrambled after him, trying to grip his legs, but she failed. Looking up into the gapping hole in the roof, she saw The Summoner's form slowly dropping downwards beyond the house.

Not even sure if she could follow, she tensed her body, ran, and leaped. She sailed out of the hole in the roof and flew over the dead.

As her body slowly dropped downward, the blood from her grievous wounds dripped onto the dead below her and she felt her power unfurling within her. She landed hard and fell to her hands and knees. Turning around, she saw a few of the dead licking drops of her blood from their flesh. They were very old corpses and looked like mummies made of leathery skin and bone. But as they licked at her blood, they began to look more human.

As this registered in her shocked mind, she felt her power flash out, a dark tentacle of exhilarating magic. It snagged the few that were covered in her blood and they turned to face her fully. She felt her power coursing into them and understood at last what it was that let her control the dead.

It was her blood.

Turning back to the graveyard, she saw the wounded man who had created her leaning heavily against a broken mausoleum. The mass of dead began to move toward her. These were his and she could feel their intent to destroy her. Summoning her own dead, she backed slowly toward the graveyard determined to draw them all away from the house, the wounded mortals, and Cian.

***

Sergio knew his arm was broken, but there wasn't much he could do but hold it stiffly at his side as he hurried to his grandmother.

Samantha and Jeff were bloodied and bruised, but okay.

He had seen his cousin fly out of the house after The Summoner and he could only hope that she could handle the wounded vampire. It had been amazing to see his grandmother nail the asshole with the blessed statue.

“I think we're okay,” Sergio said when he saw his grandmother was fine except for a bruise on her cheek.

“Um,” Jeff said, and pointed.

Sergio looked up to see Cian slowly rise to his feet, his long hair hanging over his face.

“I think this isn't good,” Samantha said softly.

Cian raised his head and hissed at them, the hunger distorting his features. His feral expression sent the humans scrambling backward.

Innocente quickly pulled out a handful of rosaries and holy medals from her tote bag.

“You can't kill him,” Samantha said firmly as Cian advanced slowly on them. “He doesn't know what he's doing!”

“Okay, we just...keep him back until Amaliya gets back,” Jeff said looking uneasy with this plan.

Sergio held out his cross and watched Cian shrink back. “If she comes back.”

“She will,” Innocente said firmly.

As the four mortals faced down the famished vampire, they all knew that if she didn't return soon, it was going to become unpleasant very quickly.

***

Amaliya strode toward The Summoner just ahead of the dead that were intent on killing her. She wasn't afraid of them anymore. Her own tiny group of dead trailed behind her. Blood was still flowing from her neck and she let it. She understood the power in her blood now.

The Summoner raised his head as she drew near. The expression on his face was terrible. It was clear he was in agonizing pain and beyond that, he was furious. A tiny old lady had reduced him to a shivering weakling and she could see what a terrible blow it was to his ego.

“You shouldn't fuck with little Mexican grandmas or their family,” 
Amaliya said as she drew near him.

“Take it out and I will let them go. Stay with me and I will forgive you,” he said through gritted teeth. His eyes were white and burning.

She knew her eyes were also white and glowing just as bright. She could feel her power filling her and flowing around her like dark whispers. Her magic was not quite like his. It was different. He had accidentally made her and his power had been mutated by her transformation. Her magic was uniquely her own.

The dead he controlled scrabbled at her flesh, but did not rip into her.

If they drew her blood, she could seize them from him and she was not afraid. She could feel that he was holding his minions at bay and preventing them from tearing her apart. He truly wanted her. His need for her was strong. At last she could see him for what he really was. A truly old, bored, over-powered creature that was terribly lonely.

“Take the holy relic fragment from my back and I will spare them.

Come to me and I will teach you how powerful you truly are. We can raise armies together,” he said in his rich, seductive voice.

He was sweating blood and she could see his struggle to remain upright. “You remember how it was when you first rose. When we made love in the blood of your victims. It can be that way again.”

Amaliya felt her sex throb at the memory. It had been deliciously erotic, but she had technically been insane with the hunger. She did not want to be in that state of mind ever again. That was another time, another version of herself and she would not let him take her new found strength from her. “Do you really think you can seduce me?”

He was close enough to touch her and he did. Their powers mingled for a moment and she shivered as the horrible lust inside of her grew.

“Yes,” he answered, and smiled charmingly.

A shriveled-up dead woman staggered up behind him to take the relic from his back. Amaliya slid her gaze from his face to the corpse and watched as the creature's stiff fingers tried to grab hold of the lodged piece of plaster.

Moving close to The Summoner, she licked her lips as his hands slid over her bloodied skin and he began to caress her breasts. Her nipples tightened with a terrible need and she closed her eyes to gain control.

“Yes, you see,” he said in a low, pained voice. “We have just begun this adventure of ours.”

Amaliya reached past his shoulders as if to embrace him and moved in as if to kiss his pale lips. She flicked her hand at the dead woman busily working the piece of statue out of his back and her blood splattered the creature. Instantly, she felt a connection to the raised dead and she summoned the woman. The Summoner stared in shock as his salvation staggered to Amaliya's side.

“I'd rather see you dead,” she said against his lips and drew back sharply from his touch.

His anger overwhelmed him and he roared at her. She felt the rush of his power flow over her like cold water and into the dead all around her. They instantly turned toward her and rushed forward. She ran her hands over her wounded throat and flung them out at the crowd.

Drops of her blood fell over the dead and instantly, they were tangled in her power. She leaped up onto a gravestone and ripped her wrists open with her teeth. With gleeful triumph, she rained her blood over the crowd of the dead.

Those closest to her staggered toward The Summoner. As they surged forward, he shrank back from them. She could feel him weakening.

The last bit of his power had been spent to turn the crowd of the dead against her. He backed away from them and she charged him.

She slashed him hard across the face with her nails and his blood splattered her. With a rage like no other, she pummeled his body as he tried to escape her and the dead that crowded around them.

Knocking him down onto his back, she straddled him and drove her fist into his face over and over again. She was beyond words and so was he. His fading power and her growing power fought against each other as the dead minions reached down to grab hold of them.

The majority of the crowd was now hers.

The Summoner's hands gripped her throat and with one last burst of power, he tried to rip her head from her shoulders. Earlier he would have succeeded. But now she was the greater power. She gripped his wrists and crushed them.

“You're done,” she whispered, and unleashed her minions on him.

Slowly, she drew back as she listened to him scream as the dead moved over him in a wave. They tore him apart, bit by bit, as he tried in vain to wrestle control from her. But the dead were hers. They obeyed her and her blood. Her blood was their life and their redemption from his power. They knew she would release them back to their slumber and they obeyed her.

She stood and watched as they ripped him apart with their gnarled, dry hands and clutched the bits of flesh against their chests like treasure. One by one, she sent the triumphant dead back to their grave. She felt them sink down into the welcome silence of the earth and soon there was nothing left of the dead or The Summoner to gaze upon.

He was gone.

A hundred little pieces of flesh and bone clutched in the hands of the dead he had abused.

Closing her eyes, she let her power slither back into her. It curled up and slumbered sated fully.

When she reopened her eyes, they were once more blue-gray.

***

Victorious, Amaliya walked back to the farmhouse, the wind tossing her hair back from her bloodied neck. She felt powerful and different.

And it was good.

A cry of pain erupted from the house and she heard her cousin shout out in fear.

“Shit,” she whispered, and ran back as fast as she could.

When she burst into the house, she found Cian backed into a corner with her grandmother standing in front of Samantha, Jeff and Sergio, holding out rosaries, holy medals, and a Bible. The heat of the holy items' power hit her hard and she staggered back.

“I'll take care of him,” Amaliya cried out.

She slunk into the shadows of the hall and cowered as the power emanating from the crosses pushed at her. Whimpering, she listened to the four mortals backing slowly out of the room. She looked up warily and saw her grandmother still holding the holy relics.

There was a terrible, agonized growl from the room and she felt Cian lunge forward in a desperate attempt to grab a mortal to feed upon.

Amaliya caught Cian's arm as he burst out of the room. He spun around and attacked her. She let him.

“Go! Go,” she shouted at the mortals.

She saw them flee just as he pinned her to the wall. His fangs sank into her throat. Her hands settled into his hair and she held him tight against her. He drank hard and deeply from her, but she could give it to him. Blood and death gave her life and she had drank deeply from The Summoner's death.

He was savage for the first few minutes of his attack and she trembled as he crushed her close. Then, as he was renewed, his hunger turned to something else. When his mouth closed over hers in a bloodied, passionate kiss, she shoved her hands down into his jeans to stroke him.

Pressed up against the wall of the old farmhouse, they struggled with each other's clothes, their bodies trembling with their great need for one another. She snagged his bottom lip with her teeth as he managed to bare one of her breasts and twisted her nipple.

“Need you,” he whispered.

“Do it,” she answered, and he slid down her body.

He bit her inner thigh hard. Her blood splattered her sex and his face.

His tongue swirled over the wound then swirled around her aroused clit. She knew her family was nearby, but she couldn't care. He sucked hard on her inner lips, then licked away the blood. Her fingers tugged on his hair and he rose up to kiss her hungrily.

Their creator was dead. They were free. And they needed to reaffirm that fact in an act of passion. When he shoved himself into her, hard and brutal, she welcomed him into her body. It was rough and passionate. The house shook around them as they met each other's thrusts with ferocity.

After a few minutes, he collapsed against her and she held him close.

He buried his face in her neck and she stroked his back gently.

“He's dead,” he whispered.

“Yes.”

“Your grandmother...”

“Yeah, he made the mistake of pissing her off.”

They both laughed and Cian drew away. He looked scruffy and tired, but he was no longer mad with the hunger. They both adjusted their clothes and Amaliya wondered briefly what the mortals thought they had been doing as the house had rocked.

Amaliya gave him a soft, awkward smile as she felt suddenly quite emotional. He tilted his head to gaze into her face. She wondered if he could read how much she loved him and see how much it terrified her.