Pretty When She Dies

Some lovely young women slipped past them, whispering softly, and giving them furtive looks of curiosity. Cian smiled at them, but kept walking. He knew that Santos kept an abnormally large cabal at his side. It was for power and for protection, but dangerous if detected.



Walking up a staircase, he entered a large room that was obviously where Santos held court. It was decorated with antiques and artwork from Mexico along with Amaliya's body suspended from the iron chandelier. Cian started at the sight of her. Obviously, Santos had questioned her for a bit before calling him. Her face was swollen and almost unrecognizable. Blood drizzled from the tips of her hair and he tried hard not to stare at her.



She appeared dead. Anger and despair began to swirl up to fill him with violence.



“She's alive.”



Slowly, Cian's gaze was drawn to the man seated near the fireplace. Santos was dressed in black slacks and a white shirt splattered with red. He was drinking from a goblet and Cian could smell the blood. It was Amaliya's. It was a pure power play and he knew it. Etzli glided to her brother's side and leaned against the chair.



“Good evening, Santos,” Cian said, and bowed his head slightly. He gained control of his emotions and embraced the feeling of relief, knowing that Amaliya still lived.



“My friend, Cian, how wonderful it is to see you again,” Santos responded and rose slowly.



Cian reached out to grasp the man's hand that was proffered to him. Santos squeezed it hard enough to crush bone. Cian matched his pressure. Santos smiled and dropped his hand.



“I found your runaway.” He motioned to Amaliya.



“I noticed,” Cian said, and put on his most neutral expression.



“She said she was dumped here.” Santos dark eyes searched Cian's expression.



“She tends to lie.” Cian shrugged.



“Really?” Santos arched an eyebrow. “She mentioned The Summoner. That he sent her here.”



Cian tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. “She was probably...” he looked up at her body. “...in pain and trying to save herself.”



“But she knows of him.”



“Of course. He made her,” Cian said and again shrugged. If he played it cool and calm about The Summoner, it would push Santos off kilter. Santos was used to him being in terror of his creator.



Santos' expression grew grim and he looked toward the young woman hanging over his floor. “So, you sent her here to deflect him from your city?”



“Of course not. But she is running from him. I've taken her in as part of my cabal, but she's used to being on her own. She ran away.” A bit of the truth, a bit of a lie. Santos would know it, but he expected Cian to lie. But he would not know which part was the truth.



“So she is not your fledgling?”



“Of course not. I do not make vampire children. I hold my city on my own,” Cian answered coolly. It was a bit of a bitch slap at Santos, but again, the Master of San Antonio expected it.



“I see, my friend. So this girl, who you take in out of the kindness of your heart, runs away to my city with The Summoner in pursuit of her? And you expect me to believe this?”



Etzli slid her hand lightly over her brother's shoulder to soothe him, or perhaps encourage him. Cian wasn't sure which.



“You know what he does. He plays games. I am his child, too, you know, and he cut a swath of destruction behind me for years,” Cian reminded him. “You remember what he did to us in Mexico.”



“So why did you take her in? She only brings him to you,” Santos said, his gaze intense and curious.



Cian looked up at Amaliya and her battered countenance. What answer would satisfy Santos? He could declare his love for her, but that wouldn't work. Or he could claim it was out of the kindness of his heart, but Santos would never believe that.



“She is what he is,” he said finally.



“What do you mean?” Santos looked confused and Etzli drew closer to him.



Cian could see Etzli's gaze grow cold and calculating as she looked toward Amaliya.



“I've only seen it once, but she can control the dead. She's not exactly sure how to control her power yet, but she can do it. I hope to hone her powers and make her my second,” Cian said.



From Santos' expression, this he believed and readily. “Then perhaps, I should keep her here. If she is what you say she is.”



“If you do, The Summoner will sweep into San Antonio and do as he pleases,” Cian answered truthfully.



From Etzli came a small cough.



Santos looked toward her curiously.



“The last thing we need is The Summoner coming into your city to kill your people. He plays with his offspring, but he destroys all other vampires with impunity. You know this,” she said. Her voice was thick with emotion.



“He'll fuck you up,” Amaliya's voice said from above them as she roused and opened her eyes.



Santos frowned up at her.



Cian nodded in agreement. “You know what he is like. You remember what he did to Etzli.”



Looking down at the pool of Amaliya's blood that was slowly snaking its way across the room along the grooves in the tile, Santos looked very thoughtful. “But if she can do what you say, I may be able to use her against him.”



“To do what?” Her voice was full of pain.



“Control the dead, Amaliya,” Cian said to her.



She laughed and twisted a little. Her body was doing a steady little loop as the chandelier swung about and her blood streamed over the leather sofa.



“I have no idea how to do that. What am I supposed to do? Go, arise ye dead fucks to torment the ones who killed you?” As soon as the words left her mouth, her eyes flashed with light and turned utterly white.



At first, Cian wasn't sure what was happening, but then the floor under him buckled. Startled, he stepped back. The tiles under his feet sunk downward and he moved again.



Santos looked stunned as the floor of the room kept heaving and buckling.



“Shit!” Etzli exclaimed. “It's all the bodies you buried under the house!”



“Whoa,” Amaliya said in awe as the first dead bodies appeared, struggling to escape their graves.



Cian stared in amazement as the mummified corpse of a woman struggled out of the ground at his feet. He sidestepped her as she stumbled forward and another corpse rose up behind her.



Etzli screamed as several lurched toward her. But most of the dead struggling out of the ground under the house were moving toward Santos. A few beat against the door to the patio trying to escape and get to the vampires partying outside. They were in various degrees of decay and some were nothing more than bone.



Santos recovered his shock and dove for a decorative sword on the wall. As the dead moved toward him with their hands raised to grab hold of him and pull him down into their grave with them, he began to slash at them.



Cian quickly leaped upward and landed on the ceiling. Crawling quickly over to the shocked Amaliya, he began to work on the rope binding her to the chandelier. She slowly looked up at him, her eyes glowing white.



“Wow,” she whispered, staring at him as he moved about on the ceiling.



He held onto her as the knot came free and swung her up next to him. He held her close as he pulled out a switchblade and began to cut through her bindings.



Santos was now sliding up the wall, slashing downward as the dead drew blood from his flesh, trying to tear him limb from limb. They were eerily silent as they reached for him.



Somewhere outside, several men and women began to scream as the dead attacked them, seeking vengeance.



Cian finally got the plastic cuffs off Amaliya and pulled her along behind him. None of the dead seemed interested in them. The corpses filled the room below them with their rotting flesh. Etzli continued to scream and leaped up onto the chandelier where Amaliya had hung.



The two vampires from Austin slithered along the tops of the walls and made their way out of the house as it filled with the dead. As they crawled upside down, they saw a few of Santos' women curled up in the corners of the ceiling, trying to evade their resurrected victims below them.



Though Cian knew the vampires could probably tear the corpses apart with their bare hands, there was something inherently terrifying about the raised dead. Even he felt it. A vampire felt pain and could be stopped. These things seemed immune to pain and even as some of them were ripped apart by the struggling vampires trying to escape them, the dead continued their assault with silent determination.



The front door was open and Cian pulled his body through, then reached back to help Amaliya out. Together, they leaped to the ground and ran to Cian's car. The dead did not even acknowledge their presence.



“Why aren't they attacking us?”



“It was your curse. You told them to attack the ones who killed them,” Cian answered, unlocking the car.



“Oh,” Amaliya seemed unaware of her glowing white eyes. “Oh, yeah. I said that.”



“Get in the car. We should be more worried about Santos than the dead.”



She wrenched the door open and crawled in. “But my bag,” she cried out. “They took it.”



“I'll buy you new things,” Cian assured her and slammed his door shut. He quickly turned on the car and began to back up.