Pretty When She Kills
Page 17“She gonna be a vampire rock star like Lestat?”
Cian snorted. “No, no. She loves drumming. It’s her thing, I guess.”
“Whatever.” Samantha stalked toward the living room.
“Samantha, could we avoid a fight tonight?”
“No,” she snapped.
Amaliya was just finishing a very dramatic drum solo when she spotted Samantha. She pointed a drumstick in the blonde’s direction. “Don’t interrupt!”
“Fuck you!”
With a growl of frustration, Amaliya continued playing, her blue-gray eyes glowering at the blond stalking toward her.
“We need to talk!” Samantha shouted over the music.
“Why? You hate me.”
“Yeah? So? I still need to talk to you!”
Amaliya hissed, snatched up the remote for the stereo, and killed the music. Standing, she twirled the drumsticks around her fingers. Dressed in a tight black tank top and skinny jeans, Cian found her insanely sexy. Her feet were bare and she had painted her toenails and fingernails a bright red the night before. Dyed black hair hung in wild disarray around her face and Cian had the sudden urge to drag her off for a quickie. Instead, he folded his arms and stood to the side ready to referee.
“Okay, talk, little bitch.” Amaliya tapped the drumstick against her thigh, waiting impatiently.
Surprisingly, Samantha seemed at a loss for words. Hesitantly, she shifted on her feet.
“Well?”
“Gimme a moment, slut. I’m trying to gather my thoughts.”
Amaliya rolled her eyes.
Cian reached out and lightly touched Samantha’s shoulder. “Just talk to us.”
“What isn’t easy to say?” Cian asked, knowing that she’d answer. He knew her very well and how to get her to respond.
“I’m seeing ghosts and it’s vamp-bitch’s fault!”
Amaliya blinked rapidly, surprised. “What?”
“I drank your stupid blood and now I’m seeing ghosts! You did this to me! You made me a fucking ghost whisperer!” Samantha stomped over to the couch and sat down, clutching her purse.
“Is this making sense to you?” Amaliya asked Cian.
Stunned by Samantha’s words, Cian was trying to process the revelation. He had heard that servants of some vampires absorbed power through the transfer of blood over time. It usually took many years for those abilities to manifest. Of course, nothing about Amaliya had been the norm so far, so maybe there was something about the infusion of the necromantic power into her vampiric nature that had altered her blood.
“Cian?” Amaliya narrowed her eyes.
“It might be, though it would be very unusual for her to have abilities leeched off of your power after just one time imbibing your blood,” Cian answered.
“Well, I am seeing ghosts. And it’s her fault. I never had this before.” Samantha pointed at Amaliya with an accusing finger. “Thanks for fucking up my life once again!”
In silence, Amaliya walked over to the couch and sat down on the opposite side of it. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she set her feet on the leather and stared at Samantha with a completely blank expression on her face.
“Your fault,” Samantha repeated.
“Samantha, are you sure you’re seeing ghosts?” Cian asked. Afraid of the close proximity of the two women, Cian moved to sit on the coffee table. He could easily keep them separated if he needed to.
“Oh, yeah. Damn sure.” Samantha wrenched a folder out of her purse and thrust it at him.
“What’s this?”
As Samantha explained all that had occurred, Cian flipped through the notes Jeff had made and the information on the dead woman Samantha had seen.
Amaliya was quiet, her arms folded on top of her knees. She was obviously listening, but wasn’t saying a word.
“And these are?” Cian held up a list with dates and times.
Thrusting out her hand, Amaliya gestured for the folder. Cian handed it to her, then leaned toward Samantha.
“Samantha, Amaliya saved your life that night. You would have died. None of us knew this would happen to you.” Cian lightly touched Samantha’s trembling hand.
Beside them, Amaliya was looking through the folder.
“You know what, Cian? I was really freakin’ happy before she showed up. My life was pretty good. Except for that bitch Roberto, our life together was really great. Then she came along and everything went to hell. The Summoner showed up and what else was I supposed to do? Let him kill you? I did what I could to save you and now...”
Amaliya slammed the folder down on the table and leaped off the couch. Shaking her head, she stormed off toward the balcony. “I need a fucking smoke.”
“This is your fault!” Samantha shouted after her.
Amaliya whipped about, her hair falling around her face. “Oh, fuck, no, it’s not! Look, little bitch, I did what I had to do to save your stupid ass even though I knew you hated me. I did you a goddamn favor!”
“I was trying to save you and Cian!”
“You were trying to save Cian!” Amaliya snagged her cigarettes off the dining room table and searched her jean pockets for her lighter.
“Because I loved him! I didn’t want him to die! I would do it all over again!” Samantha jumped to her feet, dropping her purse on the floor. She didn’t even seem to notice.
Cian sat quietly, letting the two women vent. They needed to do it so all of them could figure out what to do next. Though the women in his life had been hurling insults at each other for the last few months, they had not actually spoken about what had occurred. Amaliya was the queen of avoidance; Samantha was the queen of righteous indignation. It was not the best combination.
“Then don’t scream at me for saving you!”
“This never would have happened if you hadn’t come to Austin and fucked everything up!”
“This never would have happened if The Summoner hadn’t fucking killed me and buried me in the fucking forest!”
Samantha started as if she had been slapped. Amaliya raised a trembling hand and pointed at Samantha. “Don’t you fucking dare act like you’re the only victim in all of this.” Blood-tinged tears slowly slid down Amaliya’s cheeks.
Lowering her eyes, Samantha said nothing.
“We’re all fucked because of him. Because of The Summoner. Cian is what he is because of that asshole. I am what I am because that shit decided to play a game with my loser life. You’re...a ghost whisperer because of him. Don’t lay this on me!”
“No, it’s not,” Samantha said at last. “None of this is your fault.” With a bitter laugh, she handed Amaliya a fresh tissue from the wad she was clutching in one hand. “You’re so totally right. I’m being a complete bitch to you when it’s not your fault.”
“It’s about fuckin’ time you realized that,” Amaliya growled, shoving the door to the balcony open and escaping.
Cian slid to his feet and moved to comfort Samantha. She held up a hand, warding him off.
“Please don’t.”
“Samantha.”
“No, don’t, Cian. I’m so sick of you being nice to me. I’m tired of the guilt in your eyes. You’ve said your piece.” With that, Samantha followed Amaliya, shutting the door deliberately behind her, cutting him out of whatever came next.
Behind him, his phone began to ring.
Chapter 11
The sparkling beauty of the Austin skyline usually calmed Amaliya. Seeing the UT Tower lit up beyond the glowing white countenance of the state capital building was always a reminder of her happiest days in Austin as a young, hopeful college student. But tonight, staring at the bright lights and listening to the hum of traffic only made her feel like running away. The city felt claustrophobic and her skin crawled with the desire to flee.
When the door opened and slammed shut behind her, she knew who it was. It wasn’t the smell of margaritas on Samantha’s breath or the scent of her perfume, but the anger she felt pouring out of the woman she had usurped.
“I’m sorry,” Amaliya said, exhaling a puff of smoke. She surprised herself by apologizing, but her rage had left her as quickly as it had come. The Summoner had wrecked all their lives to some degree, but Amaliya couldn’t ignore the guilt pricking at her.
Samantha stepped up to the rail and curled her hands over the cool metal. She didn’t respond, just stared outward, sniffling.
“You’re a fucking annoying bimbette, but I really am sorry.” Amaliya sighed.
“For what?”
With a shrug, Amaliya flicked ash into the wind. “All of it. I should have bailed. Left you and Cian to your lives.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">