The Witch and the Huntsman Read Free

tense.
    “ No, I’m afraid I can’t do that, Allison. I’d like to help—you know I don’t doubt your, um, abilities and instincts about the supernatural, not after what we’ve been through together. But it would take a court order to cough up your Psycho Hotline company’s caller records, and even if I could get a judge to sign on, which is never gonna happen, it would still probably take another week to get PacBell or whoever to comply.”
    “ What about the tower? Can’t you trace it that way? I’m always reading on the Times site that you guys are running your own illegal towers to snoop on cell calls. This is an emergency! Somebody’s life may be at stake!”
    “ You shouldn’t believe everything you read on the Internet, Allison. Besides, even if unsubstantiated rumors like that were true, we’d still be looking for a needle in a haystack. She didn’t call you on your own cell, right? If she had, things would be a lot easier.”
    My heart sank. I knew he was right.
    “ Look, it will be twenty-four hours before I can even put out a MisPer BOLO out for her.” This was cop-talk for a “Be On the Look Out for a Missing Person.” That much I knew from hanging around the station. “In the meantime, do some of your witchy stuff and try to bring me in something a little more solid—shall we say first thing in the morning? There’s nothing more either of us can do right now. Might as well sleep on it, am I right? You’ll feel better about this in the morning, I promise.”
    “ Yeah, okay.” Like I had a choice.
    “ Goodnight, Allison. Sleep tight.”
    Was it my imagination or had his voice sounded sort of tender when he got off? Big deal, I told myself. It’s just that he’s as lonesome as you are.
     
    ***
     
    He was right. I did feel better in the morning.
    Maybe it was just the coffee, or maybe it was because I was a woman on a mission, but I felt freshly charged up and energized like a little Eveready bunny as I drove over to the Beverly Hills police station bright and early the next morning. Somehow, things looked better in the daylight —though I knew Sam wouldn’t have agreed, being a vampire and all.
    Sam was not handicapped like poor Victor, who could only go out at night—which worked because it was actually kind of normal for Las Vegas, where we lived, but still was a giant pain for both of us. Sam, on the other hand, possessed a magical ring to ward off the effects of the sun’s rays. This had been forged for her by the occult librarian at Cal State Fullerton, Archibald Maximus.
    The very cute librarian, even if he was really, really old. Because he totally didn’t look it.
    Actually, right now, even as I drove down North Rexford to the station, I was wearing a ring he’d made for me, too. The thing was, I wasn’t quite sure what it actually did. I was still learning its powers. Whatever they were, they certainly didn’t include getting a good non-metered parking space anywhere near the stationhouse.
    “ So what have you got for me?” Smithy asked after I finally found a spot for my banged-up old Toyota Camry and walked into his office. He was the only Robbery-Homicide detective at Beverly Hills, so that meant he got his own office. It was called the “squad room” or the “bullpen” in other stations, he’d told me; the main one downtown was half the size of a football field.
    His wasn’t—it was about the size of my kitchen.
    “ Consulted all your spooks and spirits?” He meant Millicent.
    “ Nope.” I cleared a stack of file folders off the seat of the single chair across the desk from him and sat down. He’d cleaned up for my visit, I could tell; shined his shoes, put on his newest suit, and even trimmed his nose hairs. I felt flattered.
    “ I still can’t raise Millicent. She’s not a morning person, anyway.”
    “ What about your human partner, Ivy?”
    He got that hungry, wistful sound in his voice that all men get when they ask after Ivy. She’s a