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

by Rhiannon Frater

“Oh. Well, anyway. It’s the procurement of a Chinese artifact. Our client would like it returned to his home country.”

  “Is this a norm or a super?”

  “Supernatural. The person possessing the relic is a vampire named Frank.”

  Cassandra swallowed. “Frank?”

  “Yes. Frank.”

  “Kind of a stupid name for a vampire,” she said, the déjà vu hitting her hard.

  “His name is really Francois,” Scott answered. “He’s French.”

  “French, huh?” Wincing, she ran her fingers through her hair. The dream had been real. Shit.

  “Yes, originally. What does it matter?”

  “What’s the danger level on this?”

  “Minor. He’s a low level vampire with no supernatural guards. You’ll be able to get in and out of his place relatively easily. He’s going to be out of town this weekend.”

  Closing her eyes, Cassandra pondered Aimee’s plea. “That’s really short notice.”

  “Make it work, Cassandra,” Scott said, his voice even, but full of steel. “You won’t regret taking this job. You’ll be exceedingly well paid.”

  “So the client is Chinese, huh? Did you talk to him?”

  “I talked to his people. You know how it is. No direct contact.”

  Pressing her tingling hand to her cheek, Cassandra took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. So Frank was using a dummy contact to set the trap. That made sense. She didn’t want to think of Aimee’s desperate plea, but it echoed in her soul. “Okay. Email me the deets.”

  “Excellent.” Scott hung up.

  Holding the cellphone against her breasts, Cassandra sighed. “Shit. Why do pretty women always get me in trouble?”

  Chapter 10:

  Hope

  The darkness greeted Aimee when she awakened. The heaviness of the gloom felt smothering, and threatening. Unnerved, she quickly turned on the lamp next to her bed. Light flooded the room and filled her with relief. She was alone.

  It had been risky casting the spell while Frank was awake, but she had been desperate. A lie about having a headache had excused her from Frank’s planning session. He’d been so engrossed in plotting the capture of the dhamphir--Cassandra--that he had barely acknowledged Aimee’s departure.

  It had most likely all been for naught. Aimee realized that truth now. She was trapped in Frank’s power and no one was going to save her. Why would a complete stranger come to rescue her? Even if that stranger was obviously attracted to her?

  Despite her disappointment, Aimee felt her face flush at the memory of Cassandra’s attention. It had been both flattering and unsettling. Though she was used to men being attracted to her, Aimee never felt any sort of reciprocal feelings. Her bond to Frank kept her from being drawn to anyone else but him. Or at least that is what she had believed until now.

  “Great,” she mumbled, wiping a tear from her cheek.

  Not only was she disappointed that Cassandra would most likely not risk herself to come save her, Aimee felt a surprisingly sharp stab of regret that she would not see her again. The truth could not be denied. Aimee was very attracted to Cassandra in a way she had never been drawn to anyone else. That revelation was shocking, yet freeing. For years she had thought there was something wrong with her because she could never quite connect with Frank even though he had been her first and only lover. She had definitely been infatuated with him, but it had never felt like she expected love to feel. It was only in the last year or so that she had admitted to herself she had never loved Frank at all. The touch of Cassandra’s hand had electrified her in a way that Frank’s never had.

  Pressing her fingers to her lips, she could still feel the tingling sensation of their mingled powers. More tears slid from her eyes and Aimee brushed them away. So not only was she a member of a nearly-extinct race and enslaved by a vampire, she was also most likely a lesbian who was falling for a woman she would never see again.

  The bedroom door slammed open without any warning. Frank stood in the doorway dressed immaculately in black trousers, a wine-colored silk shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and matching tinted glasses.

  “Get up. I need you. Now.”

  Rolling into a sitting position, Aimee shoved her feet into her flip-flops and sat perched on the end of the bed. “What now?”

  “I just got confirmation that the dhamphir is coming. I need you to get your ass out here, look over our plans, and tell me what spells you can cast to help capture her.”

  Stomach fluttering, Aimee pivoted around. “She is?”

  “Yes, she is. C’mon, my little witch. We have much to do. I don’t want to lose this one.” Frank gestured at her impatiently.

  Rising slowly, Aimee struggled to contain her emotions. Elation mingled with fear and gave birth to vibrant hope.

  “Were you crying?” Frank asked shortly. He despised tears, considering them a sign of weakness.

  “Migraines hurt, Frank,” Aimee curtly replied.

  When she was close enough, he gripped her head between his hands, startling her and making her freeze in place. The fingers that could so easily crush her skull slid through her hair, pressing lightly. It took her a few seconds to realize he was rubbing the pressure points on her scalp, trying to alleviate her pain.

  “Does this feel better?” he asked impatiently, yet his voice was laced with actual concern.

  She nodded mutely. Tucking her hands behind her back, she tried to hide their trembling.

  Frank drew her close, kissing her forehead, his hands sliding over her back. “God, I love you so much. Do you know that?”

  “I’m your favorite possession, I know,” Aimee answered, unnerved. It was as if he sensed her affections might be directed at another and was trying to lay claim to her.

  “I don’t want you to worry about the dhamphir. I’ve decided to keep her. It will take some time and a lot of work to bond her to me completely, but it’ll be worth it. I can ditch brokers and use her to gather all my lovely relics. And you don’t have to worry about me fucking her. I got a little more information on her. It seems she would be a lot more interested in fucking you.”

  Aimee tensed as Frank’s hands stilled on her body. There was no way he could know about the dream. Or was there?

  Frank’s voice was a dangerous purr in her ear. “Maybe, my naughty little witch, she can play with you while I watch.”

  “Spoken like a true perv, Frank,” she snapped.

  “Ah, so you weren’t serious about going lesbian?” Laughing, he released her and stepped into the hallway. “Getting my hopes up and then crushing them?”

  Rolling her eyes, Aimee brushed past him. “You’re an asshole, Frank.”

  Snagging her arm, Frank pulled her about. His lips were cold against hers as he lavished a long, passionate kiss upon her mouth. It took all her willpower not to jerk away.

  “You’ll always be my special, favorite girl,” he whispered against her lips.

  Aimee forced a smile, tilting her head slightly to one side. Beyond Frank she saw a towering figure with rippling muscles beneath a black t-shirt speaking with Ivan, the head of security. “Who’s that?”

  “That’s Michael. He’s going to help prepare my security for the dhamphir.” Frank lifted an eyebrow at her. “Did he catch your eye?”

  “Only because he’s not your regular goon,” Aimee answered, sensing Frank’s jealousy.

  Michael glanced their way, flashing a grin that was far too charming on his very handsome face. His thick curly black hair, dark eyes, and powerful physique were the stuff of bodice rippers. “I’m not a regular goon. I’m a special goon.” Sauntering over, he held out his huge hand. “Michael De Luca.”

  “Aimee,” she answered, watching her hand disappear under his fingers. His skin was very warm and it unnerved her for some reason.

  Releasing her, Michael stood next to Frank, dwarfing the Frenchman. “I’m looking forward to working with you. Frank says you’re a kick ass witch with a lot of tricks up y
our sleeve. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

  Warily, Aimee nodded. “So to speak.”

  Placing a hand on Michael’s bicep, Frank grinned. “And she’s all mine.”

  “Then you’re a lucky man,” Michael decided, winking at Aimee.

  Bristling a bit, Frank said to Aimee, “Michael is the best. I’ve been trying to woo him into my lair for years.”

  His grin broadening, a light blush touched Michael’s cheeks. “When you say things like that I feel all fluttery.”

  “He’s also a wise ass, which I love. It’s an attractive trait in men, not smart-mouthed witches.” Frank smirked mirthlessly. “Michael is one of the best hunters out there.”

  “Then shouldn’t you be afraid of him?” Aimee asked pointedly.

  “I don’t hunt the people who employ me,” Michael assured her with another wink.

  Unnerved, Aimee nodded briefly. The man was charming, handsome, and incredibly attractive, but something about him made her very nervous.

  “Are you actually worried about me?” Frank asked Aimee, his voice edged dangerously with sarcasm.

  “Of course,” she lied.

  Frank stared at her for a long moment, “That was a lie.”

  Michael sensed the growing tension and turned to Frank. “So, why don’t we go over our plans one more time before we start implementation?”

  “Yes! Let’s get to it,” Frank said rubbing his hands together, his white teeth gleaming behind his cocky smile. “Time to get to work to catch me a dhamphir.”

  Chapter 11:

  Ruminations and Revelations

  Cassandra let herself into her mother’s home after stopping by the restaurant to take care of her schedule. Buzzing from the blood she had sipped from the throat of a co-worker, her body felt like it was vibrating with the power. So much for being on the blood wagon. She had fed out of necessity. In order to head out to West Texas to rescue Aimee, she needed more time off for work. The only way to persuade the restaurant manager to alter the schedule and not fire her ass was to thrall her. Cassandra didn’t like forcing others to do her will, but she had no choice.

  Galina was in her small sewing room, bent over the machine Cassandra had bought her for Christmas. Much to Galina’s delight it was a high end model that could do a lot of fancy stitching.

  “Hey, Mom,” Cassandra said, leaning her hip against the sewing table.

  “I made you a blouse!” Galina exclaimed, holding up some pink fabric. It looked like a little girl’s top. Almost instantly, her mother’s face fell. “Oh, I made it too small.”

  A pattern for a child’s blouse and skirt was carefully laid out on the big table Galina used to cut the fabric.

  “It’s okay, Mom. We’ll donate it to Goodwill or the church. It’s really pretty. I would have loved it when I was a kid,” Cassandra lied. She was very happy her mother hadn’t taken up sewing until after she was eighteen and out of the house. She shuddered to think of the outfits her mother would have made her wear.

  “I keep forgetting that you’re all grown up.” Galina bit her bottom lip, snatched up her notebook, and scoured through the pages.

  “Ah, that’s your problem,” Cassandra said, leaning over and carefully extracting a photograph from the worn pages. “This goes in the front of the book.”

  It was a cute photo of Galina clutching a gangly-limbed little girl who was missing a few teeth and sporting a horrible Mary Lou Retton haircut. Cassandra took the notebook from her mother’s hand and placed the picture at the front of the notebook on a page that described the photo and the date it was taken on.

  “Oh,” Galina said, frowning.

  Cassandra flipped through the notebook and found the most recent photo of them. It had been taken at Christmas. Though Galina looked exactly like she had in the first photo, Cassandra was glad to see her old haircut and missing teeth were a thing of the past. “See, this is me now. I’ll put this in the back of the notebook.” Cassandra clipped it to the latest entries and handed the notebook back.

  Instantly, Galina’s face lit up. “That’s right! You’re all grown up!” Pressing the notebook to her chest, Galina smiled. “You’re so pretty. You look like your father.”

  “I look like you,” Cassandra answered, gently tucking a stray strand of her mother’s hair behind one ear. “Everyone says so.”

  “Is Felicity here?” Galina looked over her shoulder. “Oh, wait.” The notebook had several colorful tabs sticking out of the pages and Galina turned to a specific one labeled with a Sharpie pen. She read it, then said with excitement. “I remember! I don’t like Felicity because she cheated on you!”

  “That’s right, Mom.” The pain that would have stung at such a comment before was surprisingly missing. Cassandra rubbed her hands together nervously, not really sure if she was ready to accept why that was the case. She was still reeling from the dream and Scott’s phone call. The beauty of the witch’s eyes and her plea haunted her.

  “Are you staying for dinner? I have a chicken roasting. Well, not me. Teresa is roasting it, but when the timer goes off I have to get it out because she already went home for the night.”

  “Actually, I think I’ll crash here for tonight if that’s okay. I need to do a little research and I miss my mom.”

  “I miss you, too! All the time!” Her mother clasped her hands together joyfully. “I’m going to make us a wonderful dinner!”

  The beauty of her mother’s smile never failed to touch Cassandra’s heart. The simplicity of her mother’s mind was heartbreaking, but lovely. Galina’s motherly love was the power that had kept Cassandra from falling into despair and following a dark path.

  After dinner, Cassandra escaped into her mother’s second bedroom that was set up as a small office with a desk, bookshelves, and a futon. Powering up the big desktop computer, Cassandra collapsed into the swivel chair and rubbed her face. She had to be crazy to do what she was planning all because of a pretty girl and a weird dream. With a weary sigh, she logged in, pulled up Skype, then entered her password. Tugging on her lip as she waited for the program to fully load, she sat with her feet tucked on the edge of the chair. Being long, lean and a dhamphir, it was easy to fit onto the very small office chair. The way she was perched probably made her look inhuman. The vampire powers singing in her blood agreed.

  Scrolling down, she found the name she was looking for and initiated the call. Dr. Summerfield always kept Skype open behind his other windows while he worked and if he didn’t answer right away, he would call back within a matter of minutes either from his computer or phone.

  When Jeff Summerfield’s face popped onto the screen, Cassandra was a little surprised. “Hey, Boy Wonder. What’s up?”

  Shoveling cereal into his mouth, Jeff chewed vigorously. “Starving. Just got home from the book store.” His thick eyelashes hid his pretty eyes as he averted them. Unruly brown hair fell over his brow, badly needing a trim, and he wore a faded t-shirt emblazoned with the Batman symbol. He vividly reminded her of the little boy she used to run around with playing games and getting into mischief with at summer camp.

  “Still playing Giles?” She loved to tease him and giggled despite the seriousness of her situation. Jeff and Cassandra shared a secret that made him a bumbling nervous wreck around her, which amused her to no end. She supposed they should one day talk out what had happened, but she rather enjoyed his awkwardness. Maybe it was mean of her, but she couldn’t help it.

  “Uh, so sick of that joke. I think I hate Buffy now.” Jeff rolled his eyes and wiped a drop of milk from his lips.

  “Ha, I don’t believe that for a second. You have a soft spot for blondes. I’ve seen how you get all googly-eyed around them.”

  “Notice my eyes rolling sarcastically,” Jeff said, then dramatically did so.

  “So is your dad around? I need to talk to him. It’s urgent.”

  “Gonna join the gang finally?” Jeff asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “I’ll let your dad and his
cronies hunt the monsters.”

  Jeff shrugged nonchalantly. “We could use you.”

  “Ah, he dragged you in, huh?”

  “It’s kind of my legacy. Getting your leg torn off by a vampire when you’re a kid kinda makes you want to get rid of the baddies.”

  Cassandra felt a little disappointed that Jeff was entering his father’s dangerous world, but at the same time couldn’t blame him. She had beat up more than one kid for making fun of his prosthetic leg when they had been at camp or on vacation. The vampire who had ripped it off was now dead, but she could understand how Jeff would want to make sure no one else suffered his fate.

  “I’m just not on board with the whole killing the monsters thing. You know, since I’m a monster.”

  “You’re a good monster though,” Jeff insisted.

  She shrugged in response. With the blood of an innocent human singing through her veins it was hard not to feel a little like a bad guy. “So, can I talk to your dad?”

  “Sure, sure.” Jeff swiveled around in the chair and yelled for his dad.

  Cassandra could see one of the professor’s many cats walking across the bookcases in the background. The Summerfields’ Victorian was a little on the shabby side, but she always liked the library that the professor used as a study.

  Twisting back around, Jeff said, “So what are you up to then? If you’re not joining up?”

  “I’m going to go save a damsel in distress,” Cassandra responded truthfully.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  Jeff shook his head, amused. “You and the women.”

  “You’re just all mopey because I get all the girls,” Cassandra teased.

  Chewing more cereal, Jeff shrugged, blushing. “Well, yeah. You have that whole bad girl vibe going on and I’m the dweeb, you girlfriend stealer.”

  “Oh my gawd, will you ever let me live that down? I did not mean to steal your girlfriend at camp that year! When will you drop it?”

  Leaning toward the webcam, Jeff glowered playfully and said, “Never!”

  Cassandra stuck out her tongue.