The Witch and the Huntsman

by Rod Kierkegaard Jr J. R. Rain

  “But you’re the real Millicent this time, right? Not the fake?” Okay, dumb question, but it was really late at night, and I was totally wiped. It had been a long day. And somebody was stalking me—maybe even trying to kill me.

  “Of course I am—what are you talking about?”

  And this time I felt the full connection. The voice in my thoughts really was Millicent’s now. My heart lifted, and I stumbled on toward the trees. I’d come to a line of wooden service sheds when I realized I couldn’t run any more. One of the sheds had crumbled into a ruin, and I crouched inside it to get my breath back while I tried to spot the shape of the hunter against the dim gray snowfield I’d just dashed across.

  “That’s why I’m out here. Someone pretended to be you—the same voice in my head, the same physical manifestation—and told me to follow them. That’s why I climbed halfway up Mt. Hood!”

  “That wasn’t me. And to deceive you at that level, bonded as our spirits are, would require an almost unearthly power...”

  “A demon?”

  “A demoness—no male spirit could impersonate me. Either that or a very powerful witch, even stronger than us. What they used to call in the Old Country a strega or a veshtitsa...this is worse than I imagined, Allison. Even at the height of my moon-drawn strength, I’m not sure I could help you ward off that kind of evil. And now without Ivy...”

  My heart sank. I’d caught sight of something emerging from the trees, a dark outline, a glimpse of motion. And something else. I suddenly realized that this was the same view I’d ‘far seen’ in my moments of clairvoyance during Marisa’s phone call. This was where she’d been hiding, terrified and alone, when she’d been hunted down by whoever or whatever had cut our conversation off. This was the last sight she’d seen. And she’d only had me to witness it—just as I only had Millicent in my head right now if something went tragically wrong...

  A light sprang to life behind me, flooding my little shelter and exposing me to the night. It was only an LED Maglite, but it seemed as bright as a searchlight in that moment. I was so surprised—and terrified—I tried to scream.

  But the sound only came out as a loud, strangled squeak.

  The light changed, its source moving around to the open side of the lean-to, where I’d come in. “I can see somebody in there. Come on out very slowly with your arms empty and spread wide. I’m holding a gun—don’t make me use it.”

  A gun? I’d seen a crossbow. Kev had told me earlier that hunting with guns was banned at the lodge because of the fear of starting avalanches; that’s why all the guests and their guides used bows.

  “Out where I can see you.” A man’s voice, very twangy and Western-sounding, like a cowboy’s. I peeked my head out and saw the shape of a hat with a wide brim.

  “State police, ma’am.” Even as I felt a flood of relief, I was still pissed off at the ma’am! Jesus, did I really look like a ma’am?

  What happened next was like a minor miracle. The officer lowered the beam of his Maglite, and I wasn’t blinded any more. Even better, his next words were, “You wouldn’t happen to be Ms. Allison Lopez, by any chance, would you?”

  “Yes,” I said. My voice was still squeaky and my teeth were chattering from the cold.

  “I got a follow-up call from your friend Detective Smithy down in LA tonight. He told me to be on the lookout for you, and gave me your description. He also said you might be doing something hare-brained like wandering around out here all night, looking for that missing girl. I’m Sergeant Rob Doberman.”

  I’d never been so glad to see a policeman in all my life.

  Chapter Eight

  Sergeant Doberman—and was there ever a cooler name for a cop?—was maybe not as hunky as Eric Jaeger, but he seemed like a really nice guy and walked me all the way back to the annex. He gave me his card and said to call if I needed him. I snuck inside just before the sun came up and grabbed about five hours’ sleep before I had to report back to the lodge for my first ‘training’ session at noon.

  Which turned out to be conducted personally by the Wicked Witch of the East herself, Regina Jaeger. Only today she was suddenly acting like my BFF. First she took me on a guided tour of the whole place, then explained the ‘exciting new concept in resort hospitality’ I was joining. I was already a ‘valued member of the team’; she and Eric had been very impressed by the way I’d thrown myself into the work right away. She could tell I was a good candidate for promotion and had a bright future with them.

  Oh yeah? Like Marisa? I thought, but didn’t say aloud.

  “Today you will be participating in our Titanium Club corporate retreat program. We think your good looks and demeanor make you an excellent candidate to act as hostess.” Here she gave me a melting smile that I guess was intended to test my lesbian love-slave potential. “Eric will take over now and show you the ropes.”

  Had I imagined it, or was there a subtle emphasis on the word ‘ropes’? Regina Jaeger spoke with a slight foreign accent, and up close I could see she was not only older, but taller than I’d thought last night, though the last part might have been due to her four-inch Manolo heels. And she was even prettier, damn her. I also noticed that even though she was Eric’s stepmother, she made it sound like the two of them were married or something—everything was ‘we’ this or ‘we’ that. Either they were having some kind of thing, or she thought she was some kind of royalty.

  Or both, most likely.

  I didn’t like the thought of her corrupting her stepson, which, okay, was a job I wouldn’t have minded doing myself, but what really bothered me most was her spooky lack of an aura. I mean, all living things have an aura, even if they’re only visible to those with my gift for seeing them. Hell, even my Toyota gives off a slight aura—I can always see at a glance when it’s decided not to start. Or if I’m going to have to take it in to the shop.

  No, I’m not crazy.

  But Regina Jaeger was different. Maybe she was some kind of zombie robot queen from outer space, like in an old B movie. But I was pretty sure she wasn’t a demon, as Millicent had thought. A demoness, excuse me. After having met the demon that had taken over my former client Billy and his daughter face to face, I was pretty sure I could spot their kind. The evil emanations that surrounded them, their deep, altered voices, and glowing red eyes were kind of a giveaway.

  “I told you, dear—she is something different,” said Millicent’s voice in my mind. “But do not underestimate her powers, even in broad daylight. She will try to bend you to her will with seductive promises...”

  We’d reached the point in my training interview when a normal person would have asked me if I had any questions. Regina didn’t. So, as she was dismissing me and turning away, I cleared my throat and said, “I was, um, kind of wondering...exactly what is my salary here? Mr. Schreich didn’t say.”

  But she just kept on walking out the door. It wasn’t as if I was planning to stay there forever or anything. You know, like at a real job. It’s just always nice to know how much money you’re making while you’re busy busting your chops. If any money, in this case.

  And then all thoughts of filthy lucre were driven from my head when Eric walked into the conference room. Like his stepmother, the guy was more attractive than I’d remembered. If that was actually even possible in his case, I mean. Have I mentioned his resemblance to Brad Pitt? Well, today it was even more pronounced. Except he was handsomer, taller, and more mountain man-looking in his jeans and embroidered country-western shirt. And he had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen in my life, the same color as the sky outside, in fact.

  “Hey,” he said with no trace of any foreign accent. “You must be Allison. I’m Eric.”

  “Hi Eric.”

  We just stared at each other for a few heartbeats. Which turned into a few more heartbeats. Long, lingering ones.

  “Whoa!” he said finally, grinning and mock-shaking his head, like he was trying to wake up. “I saw you last night, but I had no idea...”

>   “No idea of what?” I felt like all the breath had just been squeezed out of me. It was a miracle I didn’t squeak.

  “That we’d, you know. Share a moment. That’s what just happened, right?”

  Now it was my turn to shake my head. Not like, no. But more like in total confusion, right? I just couldn’t trust myself to say anything.

  He ignored it and gave me that killer smile again. “Because I wouldn’t want you to think this happened with every new hire.”

  Damn, he was smooth. The only thing that was stopping me from falling head over heels on the spot was a flaw in his aura. Unlike his stepmother, Eric Jaeger actually had one—and on the surface, it was one of the most beautiful I’d ever read. Warm and genuine and filled with golden hues mixed with tendrils the same cornflower blue as his eyes. I could see his open trusting nature and his need for love, his honesty...and then I hit a wall. There was a darkness underneath, a cold iron-gray well of reserve and secrecy like a locked bank vault.

  “Okay, my bad. I came on way too strong, I guess. You just took my breath away, Allison. Can’t blame a dude for drowning in those dark eyes of yours a little, right? I guess we’d better get on with your orientation. What do you know about our Titanium Club service?”

  Um, like totally nothing. So off we went to the William F. Cody Room, while Eric told me about corporate retreats. And how hunting big game in the forest with crossbows built team skills that came in handy for executives in the business world. And how all these high flyers had to be kept feeling toasty and well-lubricated with samovars of Irish coffee and flasks of single malt served up by a smiling hostess in a fetching fur-lined company parka. That would be me.

  “Was that Marisa’s job, too?” I asked.

  He stopped suddenly and scowled like he didn’t understand the question. “Who?”

  “You know. The girl that worked here before me. Marisa?”

  I was sort of hoping he’d fill in the blank for me—you know like “Oh, right, Marisa Smith” or “Oh, right, Marisa Jones” or whatever. But all he did was nod and stop scowling.

  “Oh, right,” was all he said. And for an instant his whole aura turned that dark slate-gray color.

  “This hostess business...” I said as we entered the Cody Room together. “It isn’t like being a cocktail waitress or anything, like in Vegas, right? Because I totally won’t do that.” As in, I won’t be nice to the customers. Basically, my years doing shit like that in Las Vegas felt like one long wrestling match when I looked back.

  It took him a minute to get it, and when he did, his face turned bright red.

  “No way!” He sounded almost angry. “We would never ask any of our employees to do anything like that! In fact, it’s expressly forbidden here. That’s partly why we’ve got security cameras everywhere—for your protection.”

  I just hoped they could protect me from getting my heart stolen.

  Okay, that was corny, but that’s exactly how I felt.

  Chapter Nine

  “Heard you got to play hostess out on the slopes today,” Brittany said to me as we started our supper shift at six. Her tone was envious.

  “Yeah, I guess they chose me because Marisa used to do it. Did you ever know her last name, by the way?”

  “I think it was maybe Rodriguez or Lopez..?”

  “My name’s Lopez,” I said.

  “Oh, right. Well, it was something Hispanic, anyway.” Her tone made it sound like Eric only had a taste for tacos. Which, aside from being sort of insulting, also instantly made me wonder if Eric and Marisa had had a thing. Jeez, girl, I said to myself, you’ve only known the guy five minutes, and you’re already jealous?

  Maybe. Maybe not. There was something there, I think.

  Besides, there was Marisa’s psychic hotline habit. The reason I couldn’t remember her as a client got explained during my break, when I got through to my friend Bernice. Marisa had been one of her regulars, not mine; Bernice said that the girl couldn’t buy a dress without calling her first—and that she’d given Marisa my direct number for emergencies.

  “She must have gotten confused and somehow thought you were me,” Bernice told me. “Believe me, if she’d been having a thing with anybody at that resort, she would have talked my ear off about it.”

  “Did she say anything at all that might help us figure out what happened? I mean, did she feel scared or threatened? Was anybody here harassing her?”

  “No...” Bernice sounded vague, like she was already focusing on more important stuff. You know, like giving birth. “She was bumming about the food there, I remember that. She kept going on about some kind of illegal game they were running.”

  Illegal game? Did she mean illegal game-hunting, like out of season? Or that they were hunting for illegal game—you know, animals that were protected species? Or something else completely. Like gambling, for instance.

  It wasn’t until I started my shift that I realized something else was bugging me about my conversation with Bernice. Marisa hadn’t thought she was talking to my friend—she had called me Allison! So she knew exactly who I was—and said that I’d helped her through her mother’s passing, not Bernice! Which totally wasn’t true. Now nothing made sense...

  “Everything makes sense once you put the pieces together, Allison,” came Millicent’s voice in my ear.

  “Well, why don’t you tell me everything I need to know, then, for once?” I shot back at her while I loaded one of my silver serving trays with what looked like fatty pork.

  “Because we can’t be certain of our facts yet, dear. This is a puzzle we’ll have to solve together. I just hope we’re given enough time...”

  Grrrrr...

  “And here, as promised, is your Langschweinefleisch, sir,” I said to the rude red-faced fat guy in the Givenchy sweats from last night as I laid his dish in front of him. Tonight he was dressed more Hugh Hefner in purple silk pajamas and Chinese slippers. “I hope your guests will enjoy it.” It smelled more like chicken than pork, I decided. Everybody at the table beamed at me like I was Angelina Jolie.

  The truth? I was still totally aglow from the afternoon I’d just spent on the slopes. Most of it was just hard work, as I putt-putted around from one hunting blind to the next on a snowmobile in the dazzling sunshine, pulling along a little trailer-truck of food and drinks. The only fly in the ointment—aside from the ever-present bluebottles—were the business executives in the hunting party, who came in every assorted flavor of annoying jackass under the sun. To make matters worse, they never managed to bag anything, not even the gray squirrels a couple of them took pot-shots at.

  Most of them had been here before, according to Eric, but a few of the younger guys—and there were also two women executives with them this year—hadn’t ever shot a crossbow before. Eric took a few minutes to show them how to operate their bows.

  “You, too, Allison—part of your job will be to teach the newbies.” He was towing a rack of stacked cases; out of them, he handed each of us our own huge crossbow. Mine turned out to be about half as tall as I was. It must have weighed about ten pounds and was covered in camo paint. “We hunt with only the best here at La Chasse,” he went on to everybody. “This is the gold standard in crossbows, the Tenpoint Pro Elite. It requires only five pounds of weight to draw and cock, and uses a laser sighting scope. I want all of you to take your first shot at that tree. The one with all the gashes in the bark. Remember to wait to retrieve your broadheads until everyone’s finished shooting. And also remember: these babies are lethal.”

  “So how come you’re carrying a rifle in your case?” asked the younger and sassier of the women execs, a redhead.

  “Because the one thing a crossbow won’t stop is a full-grown bear. That’s why I carry a .357 at all times, too.”

  He showed us how to load and draw the broadhead—that’s what the arrow thingy was called—to the cocked position, and then peer through the laser scope-sight, which was actually pretty cool. I aimed at the magnified birch
tree and pulled the trigger. The recoil was really weird—down and forward, then back again, which was called ‘kickback.’

  Oh yeah, and I completely missed the tree.

  “Not bad for a first try,” he said, after we all trooped through the snow to get our arrows back. “Now listen up! Today, you’ll all be shooting from blinds, everybody but you, Allison—you’ll be in charge of feeding us. Watch your fingers and thumbs with the drawstring, and do not try to shoot one-handed! Disable the sound on your cell phones; you can text, but no voice calls. Is that clear? And do not pull the trigger until your prey is less than thirty yards away—we have range-finders you can use. Most of the animals you’ll hopefully be seeing today are legal this time of year, pretty much, except feral pigs and wolves. And do not shoot at bears or cougars, okay? Seriously!”

  Eric looked pretty scary when he was being serious.

  “What about squirrels?” someone yelled, obviously making a wisecrack.

  “No more than three,” he said with a smile.

  The rest of the afternoon was long and boring. My job was to show up and serve refreshments whenever I was signaled that there was no game around. I wore a brilliant orange ‘La Chasse’ cap to make sure no one thought I was fair game. Along the way, I spotted a few wild turkeys and some deer, and I’m pretty sure a fox, but nobody managed to bag anything. Not even the gray squirrels that kept stealing the salt and mineral blocks that were supposed to attract deer. But there had been enough time spent with Eric to make the whole afternoon feel almost like a date. He’d never lost that smitten look in his eyes every time he looked at me, and just before I knocked off and drove back to the lodge, he said that his new ambition in life was to teach me how to ski.

  “It might be safer if I stick to the Ski-doo,” I said.

  He laughed. “Hey, if you can dance, you can ski. You do know how to dance, don’t you?”

  “You have no idea,” I told him with a grin. I had moves he’d never seen even in his dreams. Especially if he had a pole in his room...