WILLEM (The Witches of Wimberley Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

presume?”
    I smiled. “Call me Will.”
    “Against the rules, Mr. Draiocht,” she said as she opened the door to the back seat. “I’m Chatsworth.”
    “Good name for a chauffeur.”
    As Chatsworth closed the door and went around the car, my fingers ran over the mocha-colored leather. Let me just say that I’d never been able to shop in a store that sold jackets made with that quality of leather. It was buttery smooth, supple to the touch and I was thinking that I would have no trouble giving up acting and bartending for a life that included rides like that.
    When she pulled away, I said, “Where are we headed?”
    “Malibu.”
    “Malibu! On a Friday night? I hope you have snacks and a full tank because that’s going to take hours.”
    She giggled. “We’ll see. I have some waters and wine coolers on ice. Are you hungry now?”
    “No. I’m fine.”
    “Please let me know if you change your mind. Would you like to listen to music? Eagles maybe?”
    I watched her glance at me in the rearview mirror. What kind of spooky guess was that? Nobody my age listened to Eagles. But it just so happened that I did. They formed a bridge between the country my family listened to and the pop most women gravitated to.
    “How did you know I like The Eagles?”
    She smiled. “Hey. It’s a beautiful California evening. What could be more perfect for a drive from Hollywood out to Malibu?”
    Well, she had me there. Nothing could possibly be more perfect than that. “Yes. I would love to listen to Eagles on the way. So, how long have you been driving for this, um, outfit?”
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Draiocht. I’m not allowed to talk about myself. I will, however, listen if you would like to talk about you.”
    I laughed. “Eagles it is,” I said.
    I would have expected the usual stop-and-go gridlock because we were on the road at the busiest traffic moment of the week, and you’ve seen the L.A. freeways in the movies and on TV, right? But we sped through town, hit all the lights and turned onto Pacific Coast Highway One at Santa Monica. It was nice gliding along next to the water, listening to The Eagles. It was so nice that, when we pulled through a gate onto the circular drive of a house tucked back in the Malibu Hills, I couldn’t have begun to tell you how we got there. Either I’d been lost in thought or enchanted by music.
    The most miraculous thing was that it was not yet seven thirty when the car pulled up to the grand entrance of a structure that looked more like a palace than a home. It was impossible that the drive could have been made in that time. And yet it had.
    “Here we are,” she said as the engine went silent.
    I waited for her to come around to my door. If she wanted to play the role to the hilt, I wasn’t going to be a barrier to performance. She opened my door and, as I was getting out of the car, one of the two massive doors opened. A guy who looked way too much like Lurch from the Addams Family came out and stood on the landing, apparently waiting for me. The fact that the entrance was up six steps made him appear even taller than his sock-feet seven foot height.
    I turned to the little redhead. “It was a pleasure, Chatsworth.”
    “Likewise, Mr. Draiocht,” she smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be admitted to the Orientation, but I’ll wait just in case.”
    I took that as reassurance that I was not about to be dinner, although the lyrics of “Hotel California” were suddenly at the forefront of my mind.
    Sensing my reticence, Lurch gestured toward the entry and said, “This way Mr. Draiocht.”
    I went ahead and stopped a few feet inside, awaiting instructions. The foyer was every bit as palatial as I’d suspected, given the price-per-square-inch of the property the house was sitting upon. I didn’t have time to take everything in before Lurch said, “Please wait in here.”
    He’d shown me into a small comfortable-looking office behind French doors to the right. Nothing sinister-looking.