Of course, knowing me as she did, she’d probably already glimpsed them in my mind.
“Look,” I said, getting a mouthful of bath oil, “after you’ve been alive or corporeal or whatever you call it a while more, you’ll understand. The heat between us was amazing. And he’s a great guy—plus, I’m pretty sure he really cares for me.”
Okay, okay, busted. I knew I sounded like I was seventeen again. Just like the first time. I’d even had pretty much the same argument about it afterwards with my older sister Priscilla. But not in the shower.
“Little privacy here?” I asked.
Fat chance. “I thought better of you, Allison. I never imagined, after all we’ve been through together over the centuries, that you would betray our triad this way.”
“Whoa, you never said celibacy was part of the deal! Are we supposed to act like nuns or something?”
“I meant emotionally, not merely sexually. There’s a reason why it’s traditionally believed that witches cannot fall in love. We have to put our loyalties to our sisters and our craft first and foremost. We can’t just gallivant with every handsome child who comes along! You and I and Sam have been married many times in the course of our many lives, but our husbands and even our children occupied a different, earthly place in our affections, one that never threatened our powers—or our reliance on each other. And we could never afford to draw attention to ourselves by behaving wantonly; in most of our lives, we saved our virginity for our husbands on our wedding nights.”
“Well, that ship sailed a long time ago, soul sister. And I wasn’t gallivanting, whatever that is, and Eric isn’t a child.” I turned off the shower, which had been blowing as hot and cold as our conversation. “Hand me that towel, if you want to actually do something useful. Okay, I admit that Eric’s nine—well, actually only eight and a half years— younger than me. So what? This is the modern world, Millicent. Things have changed since we were hunted down in Salem like dogs back in the good old days. So stop bitching me out! I have real feelings for Eric, and I’m pretty sure he cares about me, too!”
Was I? Suddenly I felt like having a good cry.
I guess Millicent must have vibed that, because she apologized. “I’m sorry, dear. It’s just that I care so much—and I’m so worried about you. Your very presence here was dangerously vulnerable from the start—and now you’ve weakened yourself even more with your feelings for this—for Eric.”
It was like he’d heard his name being mentioned; suddenly Eric tapped on the door again and when I answered it, bustled in with a silver tray full of coffee and orange juice and almond croissants and even a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, because he knew somehow that was what I liked best.
“Is somebody in here with you? I thought I heard voices.”
“I know—right? That’s what I mean about this place being haunted,” I told him. “I keep thinking I’m hearing voices, too.”
Eric thought I was just kidding. I guess he must have thought the same thing about an hour later, when we had our first fight. This happened because, after he’d been tutoring me with the crossbow for a while, I asked him what the cops had said yesterday. He got that look that you’ve probably seen on the face of pretty much any guy you’ve ever been with. Or raised. Or been raised by. Or even just been waited on by at Starbucks—you know, that “uh oh, I’ve been busted” fake-innocent look.
“Actually, I never called them,” he said apologetically. “The thing is—when I came back up here to look for it, the bloodstain was gone.” At least he had the decency not to be like, “What cops?” or “Technically, I never actually promised you I’d call them.” You know, the usual lame male excuses.
“Show me,” was all I said.
And when we got to the spot—if it really was the same spot; how could anyone be totally sure in those acres of whiteness—I saw he was right. The blood was gone, as if it had never been there. Was the area around it disturbed? I couldn’t tell that, either; the day was brightly sunny, and there were pockets everywhere where the snow was melting, revealing wet brown earth beneath them.
Another thing I couldn’t be sure of: Eric. Had he come back up here yesterday, and just cleaned the blood up himself? Then again, how the hell do you clean blood of out snow? I didn’t know, but something happened.
As if he could read my thoughts on my face, he said, “Look, Allison—I know you’re upset about this, but realistically, what else could I do? All traces of the kill had disappeared when I got back up here, and honestly, we had no proof it was even human blood, unless you know something you’re not telling me. What was I supposed to say to the cops? Besides…” He paused, looking guilty. “Regina tears me a new one every time the cops get called up here.”
For the first time, I felt like his mom, not his girlfriend.
“Okay. So tell her this time, it’s all my fault.” I took out my iPhone and turned it on—I’d killed it while I was with Eric overnight and this morning because I didn’t want any interruptions, but now I was furious at him. Instantly my scroll filled up with all my missed messages, mostly from Sam, Ivy, and Bernice—and Smithy. I called up Sergeant Doberman’s number at the Government Camp State Police office and dialed it before I could change my mind.
“Wait a minute!” I said to Eric. “You mean there have been other times? How many? Hello—Sergeant Doberman? This is Allison Lopez at La Chasse. You know; Detective Smithy’s friend?”
“Of course I remember you, Allison. To what do I owe the pleasure? Found any dead bodies up there lately?”
“No, but we found a huge bloodstain in the snow yesterday—and it was human blood, I’m pretty sure of it. It looked like someone had been killed and dragged a little ways.”
“What made you think it isn’t just game trace? One animal killing another?” Doberman’s tone had turned patient, like he was dealing with a crazy cat lady.
“Wasn’t. It’s gone now. Somebody removed the evidence. But if you’ve talked to Smithy again, then maybe he’s told you that I can tell the difference.”
“Yeah, he said you have a real talent for investigative work.”
“It could be connected to Marisa. Also, we’ve had a second disappearance here—the receptionist, a young Slavic woman named Ivanka. She went AWOL the night before last.”
“Jesus Christ. Okay, I better swing by. See you in about an hour.”
When I got off, I found Eric staring at me—with a mix, his aura suggested, of anger and betrayal. “You’re a cop?”
“No, no, of course not,” I said. “Haven’t I been totally honest with you about everything? Like my age. And, you know, my preferences in bed. Trivial stuff like that.”
“But you’re working with the police? That’s what it sounded like from your call.”
I sighed. “Look, I admit I came up here looking for Marisa. She and I were...well, friends, sorta. And it’s true, I have helped the LAPD out with a few cases. But seriously, I’m not a policewoman or a PI or anything else in law enforcement. I promise! I haven’t been leading you on, Eric. You really think anybody as flaky as I could get through the Police Academy?”
Our gazes caught and held.
“Right,” he said. “Sorry. You’re not the only one with trust issues here, Allie.” Sometime during the night, he’d started calling me that. I decided I could get used to it. He took my hand and pulled me into another of those dreamy kisses of his.
After our lips finally unlocked, I said breathlessly, “So about those other times—how many were there? And why were the cops called in before?”
He laughed at me. “That’s my girl—one track mind,” he said. His hand brushed my butt suggestively. “How about we go back to your room and discuss it?”
“Look who’s talking about one-track minds! And yeah, I’d love to—but I can’t. I need to be on the desk in less than ten minutes, and I’m still not dressed. Hey, your desk, your rules.” Hand in hand, we started walking back toward the lodge. “Meanwhile, answer the questions, du
de!”
Chapter Fifteen
But by the time I made it to the reception lobby, the circus had already started without me.
I spotted a very familiar silhouette at the front desk in a little shipwreck of suitcases and shopping bags. It was Ivy Tanner, the third “witch sister” in our triad, tapping her nails loudly against the polished surface while she checked her messages. That $60 gel manicure she got once a week was so worth it, I thought. And the peacock blue color was nothing short of fabulous with the outfit she was wearing and her matching Alexander Wang heels. I felt totally bargain basement with my cheap hand-me-down clothes from Ivanka, and work-roughened hands with their chipped polish. Sigh.
Before I had a chance to say hello, she turned to the young moussed guy in the Hugo Boss suit beside her and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’ll call you!” she said, and he left, dragging a yappy purse-dog on a leash.
“I can’t keep the dog—I’m allergic!” she hissed at me in a stage whisper. “The agency tried to dump him on me, the Yorkie, I mean, not the guy, and I had to put my foot down. It’s so exciting, though—it’s the first time my agent’s ever sent one of his flunkies to schlep me around. They even hired a charter just to fly me here from Cabo! And a limo to meet me.”
She air-kissed me on each cheek and then went on without missing a beat. “It’s because they signed me to do an Apatow next week. Didn’t you get any of my messages? Crap, what’s the matter with you, Allison? You look different...”
“Shhhhh!” I protested. “We’re not supposed to know each other, remember? We’re both here undercover.”
“Right, like spies.” Ivy looked contrite.
I couldn’t get over the change in her. Normally, she was the most down-to-earth, unpretentious chick in Hollywood, as well as one of the most naturally gorgeous. But now she looked like a major movie star and for some weird reason was playing the part to the hilt. Of course, she was an actress—but I was getting the distinct feeling that this new Ivy wasn’t all an act. Maybe the fame she was rapidly acquiring was starting to affect her. I sure hoped not.
And I sure as hell hoped Eric never saw us side by side. Aside from being about twice as brainy and beautiful as Hilary Duff, Ivy also looked ridiculously glamorous in her fringed suede jacket framing her ‘JUST SAY OK’ T-shirt—she was the face of the “SAY OK: Save Australia's Young Orphaned Koalas” campaign—and even her designer jeans had a Gucci label. So she was also a famous philanthropist. Plus she was taller than me. Life is just so not fair sometimes. She’d better have some Chanel sneakers in one of those bags, though, I thought, or she was going to find our great outdoors pretty hard to navigate.
With any luck, Eric would never set eyes on her.
“I know what it is,” Ivy said suddenly. “You’re in love!” She made it sound like an accusation.
I groaned. “Not you, too. Jeez, gimme a break, huh? Millicent just spent half the morning giving me hell about it.”
“Seriously?” she said, taking off her sunglasses and stared at me in shock. “You mean—it’s the real thing?” She lowered her voice to an urgent whisper. “OMG, Allison. Will you lose your...powers because of it?”
“Of course not!” I snapped. “That’s just a myth.” But was it? I honestly had no idea.
However, Ivy continued to look shocked. That was another unexpected aspect to her personality. In addition to the simple, earthy young woman who loved to cook and could be super-practical, and the glamorous film siren who seemed to be slowly taking over her public personality, there was also this wide-eyed, kind of prudish little girl in her. Ivy toyed with guys to get her way, and I’d seen her torchy glances melt them into puddles of helpless flesh, but I’d never known her to have a single serious relationship. She totally fit the profile of the witch Millicent wanted me to be.
Well, I didn’t care! If I could still hang on to Eric after he clapped eyes on my friend, then, damn it, I was going to, and I didn’t care what anybody else said. Even if no man could resist the sight of Ivy. Even if they were pretty much the same age. Crap, Ivy was even younger than he was...my heart sank even farther at that realization.
“Okay, well, I want to hear all about it!” she said. “So when can you get off?”
Typical of Ivy; she thought that every job was a fake one like in the movies, and you could just chill and kick back between takes. I’d thought I’d feel nothing but relief if and when she showed up to back me up—but now I was discovering that it brought a ton of emotional complications with it. And not only that, but a lot of prying eyes. I guess all movie stars get that—but I was suddenly sensitive to it because I could spot Regina Jaeger’s eyes boring down on us from the top of the stairs like twin laser beams.
“Not now,” I said to Ivy under my breath; then loudly, “You’ll be in the Roosevelt Room, Miss Tanner—I think you’ll find it’s one of our very best with a log fireplace and its own view of Mt. Jefferson. I’ll just call one of our chasseurs to carry your bags up.” And I dinged the desk bell.
“One of your what?”
“That’s what we call bellhops here, Miss Tanner—chasseurs. I guess because the name of the lodge is La Chasse.”
Long before I got a chance to have a heart to heart with Ivy, though, I snuck out during my first break and phoned Smithy back. I’d asked both him and Samantha Moon—who was a former federal agent (and never let you forget about it)—to work their contacts at the FBI and Homeland Security to find out what they had on their computers for Regina Jaeger. Or Schreich.
“Nothing on Schreich,” Smithy said in my ear. “Nobody’s ever heard of anybody under that name. But I did get a few hits on Regina Jaeger, nee Bose. She’s got an A and H out on her in Switzerland for fraud, but it’s non-extraditable. Also a string of priors in Austria and Hungary for Black Widow cases back in the 1950s and ‘60s, but I guess she’s way too young for that to be the same Regina Bose, right?”
“Black Widow cases?”
“You know, marrying decrepit old geezers and then murdering them for the insurance or inheritance.” That sure as heck sounded like Regina’s style. But just how old was she, anyway? The only way I knew of prolonging life and youthful beauty was through vampirism, like Samantha Moon, or else being a werewolf, like Sam’s boyfriend, Kingsley Fulcrum. And I could spot either type of supernatural entity right away. Which meant Regina wasn’t one or the other.
“We had better luck with your receptionist friend Ivana Draganova,” Smithy was saying. “Twenty-four, Bulgarian national, several visa violations, failure to file with the IRS. I’d say she has plenty of reason to just pull up stakes and vanish in the middle of the night.”
“Not without packing a suitcase,” I said.
“Yeah, there’s that. So when are you coming back, lady? I’ve got a bunch of ghostbuster cases piling up on Sunset Boulevard that need your special attention.”
“Don’t try to be funny, Smithy, it’s just not you. Oh, I better go—Doberman’s just pulled up.”
Now that I’d called the state trooper in, it suddenly struck me just how feeble my so-called evidence was. I went over to his car and described exactly where I’d found the bloodstains, then told him about Smithy’s ID-ing Ivanka. “He says it’s too soon to file a Missing Persons report on her, but he finally did for Marisa.”
He nodded. “In the meantime, I’ll put a BOLO out on the Bulgarian girl. Young woman, I mean,” he said. “Actually, I was sort of wondering, I mean...” The dude suddenly turned bright red and sounded like he was strangling. Or maybe choking to death on his regulation necktie.
“Are you okay?”
“Sure...I was just going to, um, ask you out to eat. You know, dinner. If you’re not busy or anything...”
I was so startled, I actually couldn’t think of anything to say for a few seconds. “Aw,” I finally managed. “That’s so sweet, except I have to work. And...well, the thing is, I’m sort of seeing someone, so...”
It never rains, but it pours, right?
Take away the red face and the stuttering, and Sergeant Doberman really wasn’t so bad-looking. He just wasn’t in Eric’s league.
But then, who was?
Meanwhile, Doberman was nodding and getting that sulky, just-slapped-in-the-face look around his jowls. “Right, right, I should have guessed. Well, I’ll just get out of your hair, then. I’ll probably swing by sometime tomorrow—just to make sure nobody else goes missing.”
Like me, I guess he meant. But he roared off in his police cruiser before I could tell him about the night hunts.
Chapter Sixteen
“And this is where they make you sleep?” Ivy stood in the doorway of my little room, staring incredulously.
“Shhhh—you’re not even supposed to be here!” I said, wrestling her inside and shutting the door behind us. Honestly, I wasn’t even that crazy about her insisting on seeing the room, either; I still had hopes Eric might show up later. “Keep your voice down so nobody can hear us.” We’d almost gotten caught sneaking into the staff building by Conrad the Stick Man.
“My dressing room in Cabo was three times as big as this. And they don’t even give you a dorm fridge?” She stuck her head into the bathroom. “EEEEK!”
So much for keeping her voice down.
“You can see her, too?” I said. Up to that point, I hadn’t been sure if anyone else could.
“Sure I can see her, too. What the hell’s a naked girl doing in your bathroom?”
You really wouldn’t expect a Hollywood actress to be such a priss, would you? I mean, Millicent totally wasn’t naked—she was wearing a pair of my panties and a T-shirt, but I told her to put on some sweatpants, too.
“This is Millicent, Ivy. Millicent, meet Ivy.”
“Wow,” said Ivy as Millicent, beaming and smiling, came into the bedroom and took her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you—I just never thought...Oh crap, you’re even prettier than I am.” I couldn’t believe it; tears had sprung to Ivy’s eyes. “It’s just that you can speak inside Allison’s mind and not mine, so I just thought you and I could never meet or be joined together.”
The Witch and the Huntsman Page 8
