The Witch and the Huntsman Read Online Free PDF Page A

you’re right,” said Millicent. “It’s just that there is one like that here—one who has become dark and evil. Demonic, if you will. I sense this presence everywhere, and I’m just not sure your raw and untrained powers are enough to deal with it alone. Not without the two of us at your side.”
    “ Hey, I left another message on Ivy’s voicemail before I got here. She’ll probably get back to me tonight. And after her location shooting wraps, maybe she can even join me here—plus you’ll be getting stronger and stronger as the week goes on, right? So just chillax, babe.”
    “ Chill what ?”
    I sighed. I kept forgetting how long Millicent had been dead. And let’s face it, she’d been around a long, long time, even before her last life. She and I had even been at Salem together, according to her, so I probably should be using Shakespearean dialogue or whatever when I was trying to get through to her.
    No way I wanted to deal with that Euro-trash bitch at the front desk again, so the first time she was distracted by a phone call, I humped my suitcase up the stairs to the main lounge. This was where the action was, it turned out. Unlike the front lobby, all six fireplace sides were lit up here, and the chimney, shadowed by rafters like spokes, rose up several stories to the tower ceiling. The décor was sort of Wild West mixed with Vienna hunting lodge and Grimm’s fairy tale; little gossipy gangs of moneyed guests sat around the glowing hearthstones or rough-hewn ox cart wheel tables complaining about their hedge fund subscriptions and Lear jet maintenance fees, while their trophy wives talked trash about each other’s clothes. I couldn’t spot anybody in charge.
    I couldn’t spot any waitresses, either, which boded well for me getting the job. Not that there appeared to be much competition.
    But I had better luck inside the Krystall Ballroom, where more fires blazed between rows of windows sharing a view of a glowing white-covered mountain against a dark sky. It was called Mt. Jefferson, I later found out. A single waiter and waitress, both wearing identical salmon-pink silk shirts and black pants, were rushing around, trying to set about a hundred dinner tables under the supervision of a man wearing John Lennon sunglasses who looked like the vampire in that movie Nosferatu . Well, kind of a cross between him and Tim Gunn from Project Runway .
    “ Achtung , Peo- pull !” he said several times, clapping his hands loudly. “Ve haff only ten minutes to showtime! I am not seeing any salad forks now, but I am seeing dessert spoons everywhere already. Vhy is this, vill someone tell me please? It is all like a bad dream!”
    He sounded like he might get hysterical at any second. His voice was fluttery and shrill and had, you might have guessed, a German accent. Anyway, I won’t try to imitate any more here. You get the idea. I figured this was the dude I needed to talk to.
    “ Looks like you could use another server, sir,” I said, trying to seem as motivated and energetic as I could and waving the sheet of paper at him. “I’m here to apply for the job.”
    “ Gottsei dank !” He dabbed dramatically at his face with a napkin. “I thought you were another of the local prostitutes. We are always having so many troubles with those here.”

 
    Chapter Five
     
    “ Walk this way, please,” said the man, and I followed his rustling black Brioni suit and clacking Prada dress shoes across the ballroom and past the kitchen into his little office. It was like stalking a giant insect. A giant insect with thinning pomaded hair, covered in makeup powder and with blusher on his white cheeks.
    I’d thought at first he might be a vampire, but thanks to my need to give blood, I’m able to sense the vibes they give off, and he wasn’t one. But he was something similar, I just couldn’t tell what. My intuition told me that whatever he was, he was very, very old.
    “ I am Schreich,” he said, sitting behind a