Pretty When She Kills (Pretty When She Dies #2)(20)

Samuel gripped his eldest by the shoulder, his fingers digging into the other man’s flesh as a warning. “We don’t need trouble, Mr. Logan.”

“I’m not trouble, Mr. Vezorak. I’m looking for the truth. There is one person in this whole mess unaccounted for. That’s your daughter. Now, the police think she might be dead, but what if she’s not? What if she escaped and she’s in hiding? What if Professor Sumner didn’t kill all those kids?”

“My sister did not kill anyone!” Ray shouted.

Out of the corner of his eye, Samuel saw Damon’s hands shaking. Both of his sons were at the point of falling apart in one way or the other and Samuel didn’t like it. He did not need more trouble on his hands because of Amaliya.

“Amaliya is dead. She’s not hiding nowhere. She didn’t escape. She died. You had best be moving on before I call the police and report you for harassment,” Samuel said in a cold, terse voice.

Ethan slung the strap of his camera over one shoulder, letting the expensive piece rest against his back. “Let me ask you, Mr. Vezorak, did you see Amaliya that Easter weekend? Did she come back here looking for help?”

Samuel narrowed his eyes on the man before him. He could be very intimidating when he wanted to be, but the stranger was unaffected by the glower.

“Why would you say something like that?” Ray asked defensively.

“I talked to a few at the college. They said she drove around in your pickup. When she disappeared, so did the pickup.”

The blood drained out of Samuel’s face as he stared at the man. “Damon and I picked it up after she was reported missing.”

Ethan stared at Samuel thoughtfully, then finally said, “I’m sure you did.”

Next to Damon, Pete was staring at his feet, not saying anything. Samuel’s discomfort grew. He was afraid that maybe Pete had seen Amaliya that night. Damon would keep his mouth shut, but would Pete?

“So none of you saw her Easter weekend?” Ethan’s gaze swept over the four men, but his eyes rested on Pete much longer than on anyone else.

Or was Samuel just imagining it?

“You know, if she’s alive, in hiding, she could go to the authorities and tell them what she saw. Maybe Professor Sumner didn’t commit suicide in Louisiana. Maybe there is much more to this story, huh?” Ethan finally took off his sunglasses. His eyes are dark brown and somehow frightening. They were so intense that Samuel felt he was peering straight into his very mind, seeking out the truth.

“She’s dead,” Samuel said at last. “Dead and gone. And you best be gone now. Ray, call the police.”

Immediately, Ray obeyed his father, pulling out his cellphone.

The man named Ethan Logan slid his sunglasses back on. “If one of you remembers seeing her, call me. I’ll be in the area.” He slowly turned and sauntered away, his duster flaring out around him dramatically.

“Fuck,” Damon whispered.

“Keep it together, son,” Samuel said, gripping his shoulder and squeezing it hard enough to inflict pain.

Ray clicked off his phone without dialing, watching the departing stranger. “I don’t like it, Dad.”

“She’s dead and gone,” Samuel said firmly. “She ain’t coming back.”

Pete glanced sharply at Samuel, his blue eyes watery. The boy had it bad for Amaliya his whole life and now she was gone. Samuel hoped to God that Pete hadn’t seen her that night. If Amaliya was the reason for his strange stroke, it only confirmed what Samuel feared.

Amaliya was now something unnatural and evil.

Dust billowed up and drifted over into the yard when the big black truck pulled around and roared down the road. Samuel didn’t like people sniffing around in his business and he felt unnerved by the stranger’s visit.

“Let’s get back to eating,” he said at last and strode back toward the trailer.





Chapter 8


Jeff Summerfield, sometime vampire hunter and fulltime occult book store owner, stared at the spell with some confusion. Standing behind the checkout counter in his store, he studied the book in front of him, squinting slightly. Rubbing his hand over his brown hair, mussing it up, he reread the spell for the sixth time.

“Uh, I don’t get it.”

“It’s screwed up, right? There is no way an ice giant can deflect that spell!” Benchley’s voice was adamant, his fists curled up at his sides. His friend and sometime vampire hunter sidekick, Benchley, ran the shop next to the occult book store. It specialized in gaming and was packed with books, figurines, collectibles, and huge tables that took up the back area of the shop where gamers played massive battles with tiny armies all day and night. “The DM totally made a bad call! That’s the last time I play with that sixteen year old twerp.”

“I don’t play these games, you know that. I have no idea if an ice giant can deflect this spell, but if you say so, I’ll side with you.”

Benchley rubbed his dark blond goatee, shaking his head. He was wearing his usual long, baggy khaki shorts, a faded t-shirt advertising an obscure band, and worn sandals. “I got screwed. Now I have to make a new character and start over. My whole day is trashed.”

“I would like to say I feel your pain, but I’m an uber-geek of another variety,” Jeff answered, handing back the rulebook for the latest fantasy tabletop game.