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

The limousine glided beneath the awe-inspiring portico to The Venetian. The many lanes were filled with cars offloading passengers and luggage. Many of the newcomers craned their heads to gaze up at the murals painted on the ceiling framed by gilded molding.

  “Gaudy Americans. You have to love it,” Frank said with a charming grin.

  Aimee rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, come now, my pouty witch. What’s with the gloomy look? Look at all the pretty things you’re wearing.”

  Aimee didn’t even respond. She’d rather be wearing a flowing skirt, filmy blouse, and boots. Whenever he dressed her in expensive clothes and jewels she felt like his possession and not a real person. But then again, lately she felt like she didn’t even know who the real version of herself was anymore. The only things that she was certain of were that she was a powerful witch and dreadfully unhappy.

  The door opened and she was helped out by one of the porters. He was rudely dismissed by the guard who had slid out of the front seat. Other guards exited the black SUV that had tailed them all the way to the casino from the airport. Frank sauntered around the back of the limousine, adjusting his lapels and bow tie, smiling rakishly at some young women ogling him.

  “Keep track of those lovely young things,” he said to one of the guards.

  The man nodded and melded into the crowd of people.

  Aimee closed her eyes for a second, composing herself. She didn’t want to think about what might happen to the clutch of chattering girls that were blatantly giving Frank come-hither looks.

  Tucking his hand under her elbow, Frank urged Aimee through the front doors into the massive lobby of The Venetian. The arched ceiling covered in murals, the intricate pillars, and gleaming marble floors were luxurious and did an excellent job of mimicking the opulence of the architecture of the Northern Italian city. To Aimee’s amusement, she heard some Italians talking excitedly to one another as they snapped photos.

  Striding down the corridor, Frank carried himself like the aristocrat he had once been. He was immensely charming and good-looking. At one point in her life, she couldn’t look at him without feeling like she was the luckiest woman in the world. Now she had to force herself not to recoil from his touch. The high heels she wore perfectly matched her dress, but were so tall she had to clutch his arm to keep her balance. She longed for one of her many pairs of boots. The thought of wearing her cowboy boots with the designer gown made her smirk with wicked mirth.

  “There’s that beautiful smile, my little witch,” Frank said, misreading her expression. “I love it when you smile.”

  “There hasn’t been much to smile about,” she answered truthfully.

  “You’re homesick. I understand that. We’ll be home soon.”

  Aimee sighed, knowing that Frank would never understand the true reason for her unhappiness.

  “Now, remember: this is a new client, Aimee, so I may need you to do a little showing off. Nothing flashy. We’re meeting in public. Just a little something-something to make him take notice that I do not do any false advertising.”

  “I think I can manage,” Aimee answered, touching her small clutch with one hand. Inside were three protein bars. Magic drained her significantly and protein helped build her back up. She had tried carbohydrates and sugar, but the crash that followed drained her again.

  “Smart girl. Always thinking ahead.” He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, the blue stone in his ring very cold against her skin. She shivered at the touch. The ring had a very deep, dangerous enchantment in it, but Frank wasn’t afraid of anything.

  Maneuvering through the casino, Frank’s guards escorted them to one of the swanky lounges. Aimee reinforced her mental shields. Sometimes people could detect that she was something more than human and she wanted to make sure that she looked like nothing more than Frank’s arm candy. Aimee was aware of the many eyes following them as they strolled through the opulent casino. She often wondered why Frank didn’t tone it down when in public, but then she’d remember how much he loved an audience. In some ways he was a showman at heart.

  “Arnost has a lot of connections in Eastern Europe. A partnership of sorts between us would be incredibly beneficial, so let’s try to not be a sulky witch.” Frank stopped, wrapped an arm around her, and leaned toward her. His black eyes were penetrating behind his red-tinted glasses. “I know I’ve been working you pretty hard lately, but you’re my special girl. A rare jewel of greatest regard. You know that, right?” His most charming smile graced his sensuous lips. He gave her waist a little squeeze. “Let me see that little snarky smile again.”

  Aimee lifted her eyes in exasperation, but slid a false grin onto her lips.

  “Ah, there it is.” Frank’s fingers traced the edge of her chin. “You’re so beautiful when you smile.”

  “You’re a flatterer,” Aimee said dismissively.

  “True, but I’m a sincere flatterer.” Frank kissed her cheek, then resumed his trek to the lounge.

  The guards kept a discreet distance, but Aimee was annoyed by their presence. They were not only with Frank to protect him, but also to keep her from potentially fleeing. The vampire who claimed ownership of her was well aware of her recent discontent and what she was capable of doing when pushed. He also knew she was bound by blood to him and could not leave him if she tried. Yet, he was cautious when it came to his possessions and the guards were insurance against possibly losing her.

  The lounge had low lighting and discreet booths. The conversations were low murmurs around her and the scent of alcohol wafting through the air mingled with cigarette smoke, perfumes, colognes, and sweat. Though Aimee never considered herself a raving beauty, the eyes of many of the men and a few of the women followed her, and she became acutely aware of the patches of her bare skin visible through the thin fabric of her dress. Her face flushed when she realized Frank had probably made her wear the dress not only to show off her physique, but also to add to her discomfort. He loved toying with her.

  “Arnost, so good to see you!”

  Frank enthusiastically greeted the gloomy-looking man with dusky skin, gray eyes, and dark hair cut into a shaggy yet stylish hairdo. Dressed in a fine suit and silk burgundy shirt without a tie, Arnost didn’t rise to his feet, but merely flicked his fingers toward the other side of the booth. Beside Arnost, a sallow-looking man with pale blue eyes watched Aimee thoughtfully. A swift scan revealed he was a human infused with vampire blood. For a second she had feared he was a black witch, but though he had the potential, it appeared to be unrealized.

  “You’re a little early,” Arnost noted with satisfaction. His accent wasn’t very heavy, but it held a hint of menace.

  “I like showing my clients that I appreciate their time,” Frank answered smoothly. He slid into the booth after Aimee.

  The guards took their positions nearby, watching Arnost’s guards that were trying hard to look like mere tourists and failing.

  Arnost rubbed his chin lightly, scrutinizing Frank. “You’re not much different from the last time I saw you. Still putting on airs, still arrogant, still far too pretty. Someone should have messed up your face a little more before you died.”

  Frank mockingly frowned. “I admit to being far too pretty, but arrogant? Is it arrogant to be confident in my own gloriousness?”

  “You’re still a little shit, I see.” Arnost shook his head, smirking.

  “Not so little if you’re coming to me for your particular needs,” Frank said, his jovial tone taking on a cutting edge.

  “Fucking Nazis nearly wiped them out. The Black Forest was once crawling with the furry bastards.” Arnost swallowed his drink in one gulp and motioned to the waiter for another. “They’re even more difficult to come by in our area since the Bosnian War. We lost quite a few packs in the conflict.”

  “Werewolf blood does have that nice little kick, doesn’t it? And the aftereffects, heightened senses, additional strength, are worth the trouble it takes to capture them and keep them chained, huh?
” Frank crossed his legs and smiled coyly. “It’s a difficult addiction to kick.”

  “My she-bitch died last month,” Arnost said gloomily. He stared into his empty drink, slapping the glass back and forth between his hands.

  “My condolences,” Frank said glibly. “I’m sure she died...gruesomely.”

  “Suicide. They don’t do well away from their pack. Which is why I’m looking for not just a female, but an alpha to be at her side. I’ll have to maim him, of course, but it may keep her alive longer.” Arnost set the glass aside. “The furry shits are better at hiding now. None of my European sources can find where they relocated.”

  Aimee rubbed her arm, feeling chilled to the bone. She hated how easily the men spoke of living, sentient creatures that could easily fit into human society as mere commodities. But this was who Frank really was. It had taken years for her to gain his trust enough to invite her into his dark world. She had thought he was some sort of king of the vampires. Instead, he had revealed that he was a dealer of monster slavery. For a while she had believed that the supernatural creatures he had caught and sold weren’t much more than beasts. Then last year she had seen a teenage werecat sobbing for her mother while she was dragged away in silver chains by the vampire who had bought her. In that moment she realized how greatly she had erred in her estimation of Frank and his business. It was the first and only time she had accompanied Frank in turning over an acquisition.

  “A pair is going to cost you, but I can see what I can do,” Frank answered.

  The people at the table fell silent when the waiter arrived with a fresh drink and Frank ordered one for himself.

  Arnost studied Frank thoughtfully. “You really think you can provide what my European connections could not?”

  “I am a man of many surprises,” Frank answered confidently.

  Arnost shook his head. “I think you’re full of shit. I cannot believe I flew into this shithole city to meet with the man who used to procure human freaks for the courts of Europe. You always were a glorified ringmaster of your own circus.”

  “Yet, you need me,” Frank said, his gaze darkening dangerously. “You must be dying for another drink of warm werewolf blood.”

  Arnost snorted, shrugged, and settled back into his seat. The man beside him was very still, taking on a more menacing demeanor. Aimee remained with her hands folded on the table, her head lowered.

  “I’m desperate. I will admit to that. I deal with beautiful human commodities for wealthy, perverse individuals. It’s a dangerous game. Yet you claim to be able to find some of the rarest, most violent creatures that have ever roamed the earth.”

  “You’ve heard of my reputation.” Frank lifted a shoulder dismissively.

  “Reputations can be paid for,” Arnost pointed out.

  “I can find your werewolves, Arnost. I can procure them. All I ask is for a small stipend to begin the process.”

  “I would not call your stipend small by any definition of the word. How do I know you won’t be a conniving little bitch like you have been in the past and abscond with my money? No one even knows where your home is.”

  “I’m really not a full disclosure kind of guy.” Frank flashed his charming smile. “Let me ask you, what is the rarest creature on the face of this earth?”

  Arnost looked exasperated, but said, “A phasmagnus.”

  “Those are extinct. I’m talking about a creature rumored to still exist.”

  “A full-blooded witch,” Arnost answered, shrugging.

  “Exactly. Not the little half-breed ones that usually end up playing with demons and black magic, but a full-blooded witch.”

  “What is your point?”

  “Have you ever met one?”

  Arnost’s eyes shifted to Aimee, doubt filling them. “No. No one has.”

  “That’s where you are wrong.” Frank waited for the waiter to set his glass of wine before him and slipped him a sizable bill before dismissing him.

  “You’re going to have your little girl do a parlor trick?” Arnost and his companion laughed in mocking tones.

  “Not really. Aimee, do you mind?”

  Looking up, Aimee flexed her hands. Her power flowed out of her, white, hot and bright. She felt it wrap around Arnost and she pulled it tight. Through the surge of her power, she felt his ribs popping, splintering, and stabbing into his organs. She only did enough damage that he could heal immediately before releasing him.

  Arnost’s face flushed red and his forehead beaded with bits of blood that his companion quickly dabbed with a handkerchief. As Arnost healed, he stared at Aimee with awe, fear, and desire. “How much for her?” he finally managed to say.

  “Not for sale,” Frank said and took a sip of his wine. “But if I can find a full-blood witch what can I do for you?”

  Arnost gave his companion a curt nod. “Transfer the stipend.”

  The man quickly pulled out his cellphone and made a call.

  “I’ll be in touch,” Frank said, sipping his wine, then sliding out of the booth. “Oh, Aimee, do that one final thing.”

  Reluctantly, Aimee opened her purse and drew out the spell she had previously created. Crushing the dried bundle in her hand, she flung it in the faces of Arnost and his man. Coughing, the Serbian vampire looked at her in terror.

  “That’s just a precaution. You speak of my witch and you’ll wish you never had,” Frank said with a smile. Taking her clean hand, Frank drew Aimee to her feet. Without another word, he escorted her out of the lounge, their guards following in their wake.

  “Which spell did you make this time?” Frank asked curiously.

  “He speaks of me and he’ll bleed out of every orifice for three days straight and feel like he is dying,” Aimee answered.

  Frank laughed with delight. “You’re so wonderful.”

  Aimee couldn’t help but smile. It was one of her favorite spells. She had tried it out on one of Frank’s most despicable men. It had felt like justice.

  “I’m so glad my little bond keeps you from doing anything like that to me. Because I know you would do it in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you?”

  Aimee gave him her most innocent look.

  Frank winked at her. “I thought so.”

  Guiding her to the entrance to The Venetian, Frank had a bit more spark in his step. He was in a good mood now that he had a new client.

  “Where to now?” Aimee was hoping they’d just head home. She longed to dawdle in her garden. They’d been traveling for over a month. Partly to shop for new clothing, furniture, and other luxuries, but also to secure a few magical relics for Aimee to use.

  “The Stratosphere.”

  “How many times do you have to go up to the observation deck?” Aimee gave him a plaintive look. “Can’t we just go home?”

  “No, no. I am meeting a courier there. I managed to snag something I’ve been after for years. Just a quick exchange and we’ll be on our way home.” Frank handed her his kerchief. “You might want to wipe off that spell before we get into the limousine.”

  Aimee wanted to resist, but the compulsion of the blood bond she had with Frank forced her to obey.

  “That’s my sweet witch,” Frank said approvingly. “I don’t know why I worry so much about you. I know you’d never leave me, would you?” His kiss was searing against her lips. “My little witch. No one will ever steal you away from me,” he whispered as he guided her out of the lobby and into the night.

  Chapter 3:

  Escapes and Encounters

  Cassandra gulped down one last drought of cold vampire blood before licking the wound closed. Giddy with the power surging through her, she relished the feel of the blood expanding her nature, pushing her beyond the boundaries of mere humanity. It felt as if she had been deflated of life and now she was restored. Sliding off Leonard, she ran her tongue over her lips, feeling her sharp teeth raking it. This was the most disturbing part of her nature. She could live the life of an everyday mortal young woman, but once she fed, she
felt far removed from her humanity. The power inside her sang with the need to destroy. It was the nature of the vampire-human hybrids to kill their vampire fathers and feed on their mortal mothers.

  Closing her eyes, she fought through the need to kill and crush the vampire on the bed behind her and tried to recapture her humanity. She concentrated on her mother, her friends -- even her ex-girlfriend. The thought of them anchored her and when she opened her eyes again she was focused on her true purpose.

  “Leonard,” she said in her normal voice.

  The vampire opened his eyes slowly. His skin looked as delicate and thin as old parchment.

  “Yes, I know who you are,” she said, seeing the question in his gaze. “Where is the relic?”

  His glassy brown eyes blinked in terror.

  “Yeah. I want the relic. Just give it to me and I’ll be on my way.”

  There was defiance in his eyes she hadn’t expected.

  “Oh, so whoever this bad guy or gal that you are delivering it to isn’t one to be fucked with, huh?”

  It was amazing how much emotion and information eyes could exude when someone was reliant on them as their only form of communication.

  “Well, Leonard, I’m not one to be fucked with either. So who would you rather take your chances with? Someone who isn’t here yet, or the pissed off dhamphir sitting at the end of your bed?” Cassandra yanked the heel off her other shoe and flicked out the blade hidden within it. “I realize that certain baddies are scary in theory, but I always think the baddie sitting right next to you with a very sharp silver knife in their hand is the one you should be more worried about, don’t you?”

  The vampire’s eyes were the only thing he could move though he was obviously straining to break free of the paralysis brought on by the silver driven through his heart. She watched him struggle for about a moment before tucking the tip of her blade under his chin.

  “Oh, Leonard, time’s up. I want you to pay careful attention. I’m going to prop your scrawny ass up on this bed and I’m going to move around this suite and you’re going to blink your eyes when I get close to where you hid the relic. Understand?”