Pretty When She Destroys

by Rhiannon Frater

  “Fuck! I have to go outside. Benchley, cover me!” Samantha ordered on the other end.

  Amaliya could hear the little blonde swearing, a door opening, and a terrifying sound that reminded her of Godzilla dry humping the Empire State building.

  “Okay, I’m about to it. Be ready, bitch-face.”

  “Just do what we did that night. Call to me.”

  Amaliya crouched down, buried her fingers in the earth, and concentrated on the tendrils of her power reaching out into the night. As always, in her mind she saw them as black glittery ribbons adorned with stars. Within seconds they intertwined with the wispy white mist of Samantha’s magic. Weaving into a thick web, the combined energies grew stronger. Amaliya felt it racing into her, filling her completely.

  Come to me, Amaliya, Samantha’s voice said in her head, each word throbbing with power.

  The earth opened up and dragged Amaliya down.

  Chapter 9

  Samantha never dreamed she would be so relieved to see Amaliya spew out of the earth like a zombie in a cheesy horror film. The vampire clawed at the ground, attempting to pull her legs out of the dark brown dirt. Samantha grabbed her icy hands and tugged. Meanwhile, Benchley crouched beside them wielding both a gun and spell bags.

  “Ugh!” Amaliya grunted, spitting out grass and dirt, and kicking away the remains of Mr. Kibbles. “Gross!”

  “Poor kitty,” Samantha lamented, then noticed Amaliya’s shoes. “Louboutins! You have Louboutins! Cian never bought me Louboutins!”

  “Gawd, they’re going to be ruined by the time this night is over,” Amaliya complained.

  “Could we focus?” Benchley pointed at the dark figures moving along the hurricane fence line. “You know, bad guys!”

  Still holding Amaliya’s hands, Samantha tugged the vampire to her feet. When she released the other woman, Samantha sensed their combined powers unraveling rapidly and drifting apart. In a panic, the blonde immediately clutched Amaliya’s fingers, afraid to lose their connection. Their power again surged between them, bitingly cold and full of death. In her haste, Samantha had unleashed the full force of their magic. Amaliya thrust their clasped hands forward, loosening the excess in a massive wave that swept over the ground and swelled up along the edges of the ward in a torrent of black and white energy.

  Samantha gasped.

  “Wow!” Amaliya grinned.

  Benchley grabbed both of them. “Get inside!”

  Samantha stumbled a little, still disoriented, and managed to get a sticker embedded in her big toe, but the three of them made it safely into Samantha’s bungalow.

  “Did you see that?” Samantha gasped.

  “That was crazy!” Amaliya shoved her hair from her face, bits of leaves and grass falling to the clean floor. “I’m buzzing hardcore.”

  Samantha’s hair was standing on end and her fingers were tingling. “Me too.”

  “What are you talking about?” Benchley demanded. Frustration reddened his face and made his voice surly.

  “Our magic went haywire and did this whole tsunami thing,” Samantha explained.

  “Did it hit the bad guys?” Benchley’s brows knitted into a hard line above his eyes.

  Furrowing her brow, mimicking his look, Samantha answered, “I don’t think so.”

  “It bounced off the ward! Dammit!” Amaliya’s sour expression matched the one that immediately fastened onto Benchley’s face.

  “Not a good thing!” Benchley waved the spell bags around. “If we try to use these, we’ll have to go outside the ward. Which means we could die.”

  Amaliya wiped her still dirty hands off on her dress, her dark red lips turned downward. “Fuckin’ great.”

  “Can you astral project yet?” Benchley asked, his brow puckering.

  Amaliya shook her head. “No. Not yet. That wasn’t your big plan was it? Me astral projecting and kicking ass?”

  “No, no.” Samantha grabbed a roll of paper towels off the counter and thrust it at the brunette. “We’re kinda stuck. Which is why I summoned you. I can’t shoot the bad guys, or the cops are going to show up. And how do I explain the bodies? Unless, of course, they get through the ward and into the house. Then I will shoot the assholes in self-defense. Which will totally be messy, too. Do not want blood all over my house! Plus, what if they end up being demon bodies or something? How do I explain that to the police?”

  Pacing, Benchley grumbled to himself. His old leather sandals creaked almost as much as the wood floor.

  “I can call the dead,” Amaliya offered.

  “Zombies invading Hyde Park. So not a good idea. All Night of the Living Dead there, bitch-face.” Samantha stared at the bits of dirt, grass and twigs falling onto the floor as Amaliya attempted to clean herself off. “I actually wanted you here because I think maybe your power can help me reach out to the ghosts.”

  “Eh?” Amaliya squinted at her. “What?”

  “You were in a graveyard. You’re covered in graveyard stuff. And pieces of Mr. Kibbles. So, you’re my focus to contact ghosts.” Samantha smiled at her sweetly. “Ta da.”

  “Foci,” Benchley corrected.

  “Whatever.”

  Amaliya studied Samantha for a second, then said, “So you don’t want me to go beat the hell out of the bad guys?”

  “Well, you could try. But there are probably at least two black witches and maybe a demon or two out there along with a few vampires,” Samantha said. “Can you take them out?”

  “Vampires. Yes. Witches, not too sure. Demons...” Amaliya shuddered. “Cian always told me to stay away from them.”

  “Right. So I can use invisible ghosts if we can figure out how to reach them.”

  “What if the ward keeps you from reaching the dead?” Benchley grumbled.

  Samantha shushed him so she could listen to the continuing attack on the ward. She was getting used to the heinous sound it was making, but something about it caught her attention. Amaliya had her head tilted, obviously paying attention to the magical assault as well.

  “It sounds different,” Samantha realized. “It might be weakening.”

  “Then you two need to figure it out now.” Benchley’s irritable mood was on Samantha’s last nerve.

  “We are, Shark Boy! Calm down!”

  “Okay, the way my magic usually works is that as long as I’m connected by blood to a graveyard, I can call the dead.” Amaliya stopped brushing the dirt off her dress. “So, if you can use graveyard dirt, you’re now connected to the graveyard I was just at.”

  “Oh!” Samantha hurried to get a broom and dustpan. “That makes sense. We wouldn’t have to worry about the ward because I pulled you through the earth. So there’s a...uh...Shark Boy, what’s that stupid gaming thingy?”

  Benchley stopped pacing. “Portal?”

  “Yeah, that!”

  “I got a hold of Jeff. He’s on his way with Cass, Aimee, and the new guy,” Alexia called out from the living room.

  “We got Amaliya! They’re working on a plan! Right?” Benchley glowered at Samantha.

  Wielding the broom, Samantha took a menacing step toward the pudgy guy, but Amaliya stopped her.

  Poking her head into the kitchen, Alexia’s somber face looked a bit pale. “Well, you better think of something. I have six people near the front yard all clustered together. Seriously, where are the nosey neighbors when you need them? No one’s calling the police on the creepy prowlers.”

  “Should we call the police on them? Before I shoot them?” Samantha glanced at her phone sitting on the kitchen counter as she swept up the dirt. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. She was swiftly adapting to the notion of policing themselves when it came to the supernatural world.

  “No! No!” Benchley said adamantly. “We do not want to put more people in danger. If the cops show up and the baddies get violent a lot of people could get hurt.”

  “He’s got a point. Sometimes news stories about explosions or violent gang stuff is really supernatura
l stuff going down.” Alexia checked the television screen. “We need to decide what to do.”

  Though she hated deferring to the vampire in her own home, Samantha had to admit that Amaliya was the most powerful among them. “Bitch-face, what should we do?”

  “Honestly, I don’t think The Summoner is going to care much about keeping on the down low if he’s planning to rip the veil down. I don’t want to risk anyone else. Cian should be here soon, but we need to incapacitate the black witches.” Amaliya set her hands on her hips and her fingers tapped against her hipbones. “Okay, little bitch, try to call the ghosts. I won’t call zombies. If you can get the ghosts to attack the witches, I can take down the vampires.”

  “What can the ghosts do that won’t cause a commotion?” Benchley asked.

  “The spells!” Samantha pointed at his bulging pockets. “What kind are they?”

  “White magic only. Knock out and paralysis spells.” Benchley pulled the small cotton bags out. “The red string is knock out. The blue is paralysis.”

  “Hand them over. I’ll give them to the ghosts.” Samantha held out one hand.

  Benchley obeyed her, but skepticism clouded his face.

  Bending down, Amaliya grabbed a handful of the dirt and foliage that Samantha had started to sweep up. She held it out to Samantha, arching an eyebrow. “So, little bitch, let’s do this.”

  Amaliya wasn’t one to mince words or waste time, which Samantha somewhat appreciated except for the fact she wasn’t sure how to get the ghosts to come to her. Before, the ghosts had always found her and guided her. If only she had a friendly Casper she could depend on.

  “How do you call the zombies?”

  The dirt in Samantha’s hand was buzzing with latent energy. It felt weird, yet somehow reassuring. The longer Samantha held it, the more at ease she became. Staring at the tiny bits of grass imbedded in the dirt, she felt her magicks stirring and reaching out. Not for Amaliya, but beyond her, into the night, down into the soil, calling to the dead who sought justice.

  “Well, tell her!” Benchley said impatiently.

  “She’s got it,” Amaliya said, pushing Benchley away from Samantha.

  Samantha started to raise her head at the sound of their voices, but then Amaliya’s hand rested on her wrist and refocused her.

  Once more Samantha experienced the tangible manifestation of her power as it whispered through the world, calling out to the ghostly remains. The kitchen and its inhabitants vanished from her sight as her vision filled with the realm of the dead. The world of the living disappeared until all she saw was an endless darkness spreading around her peppered with tombstones, mausoleums and other constructs to honor the deceased. Out of the gloom, the dead answered. Their translucent forms drifted closer, drawn by the feather-light touch of her power. The wisps of the spirits solidified, becoming men and women dressed in the clothing of other eras.

  What is it you need?

  Your help. Come to me.

  The ghosts drew closer and were enveloped in the white gossamer threads of her power.

  Samantha blinked.

  The world of the living returned.

  Samantha gasped.

  Four beings stood in her kitchen. Two men and two women regarded her with keen interest in their unblinking eyes. They didn’t appear quite solid, the edges of their forms blurred and pulsing.

  “Whoa,” Benchley whispered in awe.

  “Tell them what to do,” Amaliya urged in a soft voice.

  Clearing her throat, Samantha held the spell bags out to the ghosts. “Uh, there are some black witches outside the fence and they’re trying to hurt us. If you hit them with these, it will immobilize them, and then we can take care of the vampires. And demons.”

  A male ghost tilted his head, curious, but clearly not understanding.

  “Samantha, they’re figments, not sentient. You need to show them in your mind what to do,” Benchley instructed.

  Closing her eyes, Samantha imagined the ghosts throwing the bags at the black witches casting the purplish magic. The tiny cotton bags she’d been clutching in her left hand abruptly vanished from her grasp. Eyelids snapping open, she saw that the ghosts were gone. “What the hell?”

  “They’re obeying you.” Amaliya released Samantha’s wrist and headed toward the back door. “Which means I’m about to go to work.”

  Samantha scooted past the vampire, feeling a strange sense of responsibility for the ghosts. “What if the witches hurt them?”

  She hurried into the living room and checked the cameras. Alexia sat on the floor staring at the television, chewing on her thumbnail. A stack of spells and her .22 sat next to her. On the screen, the people clustered together under the trees in Samantha’s front yard were black blobs. The assault on the ward continued. The sound had altered again, which made Samantha uncomfortable. What if the dome of magic collapsed? She was about to rush for her gun when the people on the screen fell to the ground and the world became eerily silent.

  “They did it,” she gasped, surprised, yet strangely proud.

  Alexia tilted her head to regard Samantha with awe. “You totally did it. You are a phasmagus.”

  The air felt like it left her lungs and Samantha sat down hard on the coffee table. Overcome, she hugged herself, trying to calm her sudden bout of shivers. “Oh, fuck me. The Summoner is going to want me dead in such a bad way.”

  Chapter 10

  Amaliya kicked off her fancy shoes and barreled out of the back door the second the attack on the ward ceased. The neighbor’s backyard was blissfully dark, but dogs throughout the neighborhood were barking crazily. Leaping over the hurricane fence that bordered the two properties, Amaliya punched through the ward and landed next to a man clad all in black.

  A hiss and a lightning fast blow aimed at her head immediately identified him as a vampire. Amaliya ducked under his attack and rammed her open hand into his thick neck. Fingers tightening, she pivoted on one foot while she dug into skin and muscle with her sharp nails, then ripped out his throat. Blood splashed over her as she flung the hunk of flesh away. The momentum of her attack completely spun her about. The glint of a sharp silver knife caught her eye. She raised one limb in time to take the blow to her forearm. Seizing the remains of the vampire’s ruined neck with both hands, she tore his head off. Dropping it on the crumpled body, she raced toward the front of the house. The dead vampire’s blood soaked her dress, but her skin hungrily lapped it up as her body absorbed the energy of his death.

  The next attack came from above. A vampire grabbed her by the hair and jerked Amaliya into a tree. Amaliya let out a startled cry that was drowned out by the wild barking of the neighborhood dogs. As she was dragged up through the limbs of the tree, Amaliya floundered, trying to grab onto branches. The vampire, a woman, smashed Amaliya into one of the thicker limbs, pinned her, and attempted to plunge a stake into her heart.

  Again, Amaliya took the blow, raising her hand so the stake punched through her palm. The female let out a feral snarl, seized Amaliya by the back of the head, and propelled her face first into the trunk of the tree. Burning blood to immediately heal her broken nose, Amaliya braced her hands against the tree trunk and shoved her body backward into the vampire. Together they toppled out of the boughs.

  Amaliya hit the ward first, her blood sizzling against the shimmering surface. To her surprise, it didn’t yield beneath her. She skidded down the invisible dome for a second, then the vampire landed beside her. Screaming in agony, the vampire thrashed around, engulfed by the magical arcs of light emanating from the barrier. Amaliya tried to stop her descent, digging her fingers into the magic. Her necromancy tore into the ward, then the spell gave way with a loud pop, and both vampires plunged onto the roof of Samantha’s house.

  “Fuck!”

  Somehow her blood had eaten through the ward and destroyed it.

  The metal ridges of the roofing bit into Amaliya’s side as she rolled to her feet. Yanking the blade out of her forearm, Amaliya
squeezed her hand around the stake still embedded in her flesh.

  The vampire before her rose, dark hair framing a twisted, furious face. For a second Amaliya thought she was facing Etzli, then realized it was another of Santos’s female vampires. Indigenous Mexican in appearance, the tiny woman drew a silver blade and charged Amaliya. Swifter than her now dead male counterpart, the vampire danced around Amaliya, taking swipes that weren’t meant to kill, but draw blood. It was an attempt to weaken Amaliya, but the necromancer-vampire had fed so deeply on death, she was barely affected. The vampire obviously was fighting Amaliya like she would any normal vampire and not taking her necromancy into account.

  Attempting to look as pathetic and outmatched as possible, Amaliya lured the vampire closer. Her clumsy attempts to deflect the blade brought a grin to her attacker’s face. The silver blade bit cold and hard into Amaliya’s skin while she half-heartedly dodged and slashed at the other vampire. A deep cut across her abdomen doubled her over, and her attacker immediately raised her dagger, ready to hack off her head.

  With a grin of delight, Amaliya lunged forward and slapped her hand against the woman’s chest, the stake impaling her palm stabbing deep into the vampire’s chest. Amaliya then rode the woman’s body down onto the metal roof, her other hand shoving the stake all the way through her own flesh and into the vampire’s heart. The expression of shock and fear on the other woman’s face as she died took a bite of Amaliya’s conscious, but she dismissed it. She hadn’t asked for this war, but she was going to win it.

  Leaving the moldering body behind, Amaliya charged across the roof and leaped down just as Cian’s car arrived. She landed in shadows of the tall trees bordering the front yard and near the fallen bodies of the witches. Another dark figure was hunched over them, attempting to awaken one of the witches. When it raised its head, Amaliya saw eyes of red fire and a face that wasn’t quite human.