Pretty When She Dies (Pretty When She Dies 1)

Even though she was worried she wouldn't make it by 11 AM to the Spiderhouse, the coffee shop where the lecture was being held, she drove carefully, and listened to her Patsy Cline CD to soothe her nerves. Despite her calm appearance, she was nervous as hell and the last thing she needed to do was have a wreck. It wasn't a long ride from her house on the edge of Hyde Park to the infamous Drag that lined one side of the UT Campus. She parked in the Spiderhouse parking lot and made her way to the old house converted into a coffee shop. It was funky and cool and very Austin. A large board covered in flyers and announcements had one big poster on it announcing the lecture, and she sighed with relief.

Two huge worn stone statues, a lion and winged leopard, stood guard on the steps leading up to the purple house. She patted them as she passed and wove her way past college students animately talking as they exited the building. Following the wrap around porch, she carefully maneuvered past small tables filled with students typing away on their laptop computers or reading their textbooks. The patio was large and full of old statues that were missing pieces here and there, old rusted patio chairs and tables, Christmas lights, and people from all sections of Austin life catching a quiet moment before returning to work or school.

Samantha found the lecture in the patio in the back of the house and there was a nice gathering of people already seated at the picnic tables. On the large screen, that was usually used to show movies or classic TV shows, there was a projected slide of of Bela Lugosi as Dracula with the words “Are they real?”.

Taking a seat at the last table, she set her bag down and took out her notebook. She noted she didn't look that out of place as she looked at the students, housewives, a few elderly people, and a large man in a wheelchair, gathered around the tables waiting for the lecture to start. Looking around curiously, she tried to figure out who was the lecturer. She finally settled on an older man having an animated conversation with a woman with too much lipstick smeared on her lips.

“Okay. I guess we should start. It's ten after eleven and I think this is it,” a young man said as he slid off a bench. He was wearing very battered jeans, a t-shirt that read “Got Blood?” and flip flops. His plain brown hair was kind of scruffy, with long bangs hanging in his eyes.

What was she expecting? Giles from Buffy?

“This lecture series is all about the different popular supernatural creatures that exist in our modern subconsciousness and where their legends originated. We'll address the possible theories as to their attributes. Such as does lycanthropy really make a werewolf? We'll discuss the possible supernatural aspects of these creatures and whether or not there is viable evidence to back up these claims. ” The young man spoke quickly, but not as confidently as he was trying to project. He looked a little nervous and he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans once or twice.

“Will we be discussing your father's works?” This came from the older man in the audience.

“Yes, we will be discussing my father's life works and his conclusions. ” The young man bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, then said, “Okay, let's start. ”

Samantha settled into her seat, ordered an Italian soda from a green haired girl wearing a white slip of a dress, and began to take notes.

Apparently she was at the first lecture and it was a basic overview of the monsters that Summerfield would be addressing through a six part series. She noticed that vampires were going to be in two weeks. Damn.

It was very obvious that most of the audience was well versed in monster legends and soon the interaction was on a level that was way over her head. She wrote down anything that was on the slides the young man was going through, but she felt very confused by some of the terms.

At noon she ordered a sandwich and another soda and rubbed her cramped wrist. To her surprise, no one else seemed tired or bored and she felt a little guilty. Despite his very youthful appearance, it was clear that Jeff Summerfield was smart, witty and knew his stuff. A few times, she noticed him looking her way, before his gaze darted away.

Finally, it was over and her plate of half-eaten food was being invaded by flies. Closing her notebook, she pondered how long she should wait before approaching Summerfield. He was immediately swamped by several people who were anxious to talk to him. He stared at them intently as they talked and nodded once or twice, but she could tell he was curious as to why she was there. She could see his eyes moving toward her in quick little glances. Maybe she stood out more than she thought.

Finally, the older man clapped Summerfield on the back a few times, then shook his hand before wandering away. The back patio was finally empty of everyone, but them.

She wasn't surprised when he walked over and sat across from her. He looked a little tired now that the lecture was over and he wasn't “on” anymore.

“I've never seen you at one of these before,” he said pointedly.

“I don't come to them,” she admitted. “But you did a really good job today. I liked it. ”

“Thanks,” he answered with a slight smile. “I don't have my father's finesse, but it went okay. ”

Samantha had managed to glean from the lecture that his father was a well-known paranormal expert, and she said, “I'm sure he thinks you're awesome. ”

“I hope so. He passed away a few months ago and taking up his mantle is not easy. ”

“Oh, I'm sorry. ”

He shrugged his skinny shoulders slightly. “It's okay. I'm Jeffery.

Call me Jeff. ”

“Samantha. People call me Sam. ”

“Like Bewitched, huh?”

“But I can't wiggle my nose,” she said with a smile.

“You're obviously sticking around for a reason. How can I help you?”

“Uh. ” She pursed her lips, and then made a face. “Okay, this is going to sound really, really crazy. ”

“Okay,” Jeff said slowly. “How could it be crazier than what we talked about today?”