The Witch and the Huntsman by Rod Kierkegaard Jr J.R. Rain

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