Free Pretty When She Kills by Rhiannon Frater Page B

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.
    “Yeah, yeah. PC gamers suck.”
    “Says the former WoW addict,” Jeff quipped.
    “I detoxed when they made it too easy to level to sixty,” Benchley retorted.
    “I know, I know. You played it since the beta. You did the grind to level sixty when it actually meant something. Yada, yada, yada,” Jeff teased.
    “Don’t mock me,” Benchley said defensively.
    “I don’t mock. I observe. Sarcastically.”
    The bell over the door chimed as it swung open, a blast of hot air and a blinding flash of sunlight announcing the arrival of a customer.
    “Fuck it’s hot,” Benchley gasped, cringing.
    The door clanged shut.
    As Jeff’s eyes readjusted to the cool, refreshing gloom of the bookstore, he saw Samantha standing just inside the doorway. Wearing a white skirt, a cute pink tank top, a white flower tucked in her hair, and obscenely high pale blue wedge heels, she whipped off her sunglasses dramatically.
    “Fuck my life,” she declared.
    “Girlfriend trouble,” Benchley whispered, hiding his mouth behind his hand.
    “She’s not my girlfriend,” Jeff muttered back.
    “Did you hear me?” Samantha’s high heels clicked against the wood floor as she approached.
    “Uh, fuck your life is what I heard,” Jeff responded.
    Samantha swung her enormous Betsey Johnson purse adorned with pink skulls and sequins onto the counter, then dramatically flopped forward onto it, burying her face in her folded arms. “Fuck. My. Life. In. The. Asshole. Without. Lube.”
    “That sounds...painful,” Jeff said, lightly touching her blond head.
    “Hi, Sam,” Benchley said, awkwardly waving at her though she couldn’t see him.
    Samantha lifted one hand, gave a short wave, then let it drop back on the counter. “Hi, Shark-boy.”
    Benchley blushed, trying not to stare at Samantha’s ass.
    Jeff thought Benchley’s crush on the blond was rather sweet. He wasn’t worried about any competition. Though he and Samantha weren’t an official anything yet, he felt fairly certain that things were developing nicely. Leaning over Samantha, he pulled her bangs aside to try to see her face. She tilted her head just enough so that he could see one eye peering out at him.
    “Bad day at the office?” he asked. “Did you work today?”
    “I wish! And no.”
    “Uh, Cian giving you hell?”
    Samantha shook her head, lifting it. She rested her elbows on