whiskey witches 01 - whisky witches (3 page)

C
HIEF WHITE DROVE
her to the local clinic. The doctor diagnosed her as dehydrated and sleep deprived, gave her an IV, and left. Playing coroner and doctor had him hopping.

Paige was exhausted. She didn’t need this cramped hospital room, no matter how cute the small town clinic was. She needed a bed and sleep. Real sleep, the kind she couldn’t get with what had to be an entire bus of kids rampaging in the hallway outside her room. Weren’t there any parents around? Each thunk and clunk and bang ricocheted in her already pounding skull. She yanked her IV out and headed for the door.

White intercepted her at the door where he’d obviously been waiting. “Where are you going?”

She peered around the otherwise empty hallway. Where was all the noise coming from? Her mind scrambled as memories fumbled just out of reach, as if she should know where the noise came from. She swayed on her feet. “The doc took bloodwork.”

The chief nodded. “Toxicology will call later. Are you okay?”

A gun shot sounded. Paige’s ears rang as she crouched, blinking at the empty hallway.

White raised an eyebrow and stared at her like she’d lost her mind.

“Where is everyone?”

“No one’s here except Mrs. Hammond and the two nurses.” He slipped his fingers around her elbow. “Let’s get you back into bed until the doctor can have another look at you.”

The cacophony went eerily quiet. Maybe her mind was trying to make sense of what she’d seen at the crime scene, which wasn’t plausible. Maybe she was just really tired.

Or maybe, some latent gift of her Whiskey witch line was making itself known. Finally.

“I’d take it as a personal favor if you drove me to the inn.” She’d been there long enough to drop off her bags before the chief had shown up to escort her to the crime scene.

He frowned at her.

“Look, Chief, the truth is, I’d just gotten off a long night before I got on the plane. The flight wasn’t that comfortable. Had a chatty guy sitting next to me the whole way and a bratty kid in front of me. The drive was long. The heat is getting to me. I just need sleep.”

After a long, silent moment of him assessing her, he led the way down the wide, empty corridor. A woman in scrubs smiled at them as they walked out the door.

The sunlight stabbed Paige’s eyes. She raised her hand in front of her face and winced through the pain. The drive was short. She must have drifted off; it seemed to only take a matter of minutes before they pulled up to a regal, white plantation house. “We’re here.”

She nodded dully and fumbled for the door handle.

Chief White banged his fist against the steering wheel. “What happened back there?”

Paige struggled to focus her eyes as her head suddenly stopped throbbing. She needed to get to bed soon. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Chief—”

“Detective,” he said harshly, “I need answers.”

She swallowed. “I don’t have any.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Get some rest.”

A wave of dizziness assaulted her. She got out of the car, doubling over, her hands on her knees.

The driver side door slammed shut. Gravel crunched.

Sound met her ears as if she was in a tunnel. She opened her eyes, but didn’t see what she knew she should be seeing. No plantation. No sunshine. No trees, for that matter. Just . . . darkness.

“Whiskey, are you okay?”

“Chief White,” she said, her voice miles away. “You should go. Now.”

“Was there something at the scene, a drug?”

“Don’t kn—”

“Paige,” a familiar voice called. Dexx, a demon hunter and family friend.

“What are you doing—” She stopped, unable to continue. She held out her hand, grabbing only air as she fell.

Fell.

Fell.

What are you doing here? the deep, British-sounding voice asked.

“Dexx.” Her head wobbled on her neck. She hadn’t fallen to the ground like she thought she had. She remained partially upright, though how—hands. Hands held her up, pressed against her ribs, dug into her arm. “Something’s—”

A vessel?

“No.” Her voice shook.

A force pushed against her mind, searching for a chink in her soul, for a way in.

“Shit.” Dexx’s rough hands gripped her tighter, almost painfully, but a cleaner pain than the one in her head. “Help me get her inside.”

“I need to take her to the—”

Paige felt her head fall back. A gutteral roar sliced its way from her throat. Holy shit.

That couldn’t have been her voice. Couldn’t . . . have . . .

“Now,” Dexx demanded. In a softer voice he said, “Damn it, Paige. What the fuck did you let in?”

“WHO ARE YOU?”

Dexx spared the cop a glance over Paige’s still form then proceeded to ignore the question as they cleared the front door. “Fanny,” he shouted to the owner of the inn who he’d been flirting with for the last two hours, digging for information. “Grab my bag.”

Alarm slashed across Fanny’s round face as she scrambled to her wide sandled feet. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Just grab the goddamned bag.” Paige was heavy. He’d carried her before. They’d gotten into a scrape or two in years past, but she’d never felt like a brick ton before.

Did possession come with weight? How much did a demon weigh?

The cop stopped him on the second-floor landing with an iron grip on his arm. “I need answers.”

Paige’s eyes shot open, the rich nut-brown gone replaced by pure black. A grimace twitched across her face. “This vessel belongs to me.”

The words might have come from Paige’s mouth, but the voice had too many layers to be human.

That was the first time Dexx had ever seen a black man turn white.

Dexx got Paige into her room. Fanny shambled next to him, her grey eyes wide as she crossed herself. He removed his duffle from her arms and dumped Paige into a chair.

He didn’t have everything he needed for a full-on demon’s trap.

It could be something else.

No. He rummaged through his bag. This was Paige. It was a demon. Couldn’t be anything else.

“What’s going on?” the cop asked through gritted teeth.

Paige stared at him with her jet-black eyes and smiled a sickly smile.

Yeah. Demon. Dexx threw the contents of his bag onto the bed, then walked to the door. He scribbled a few, quick protective sigils on the wall with a Sharpie.

“What are you doin’?” Fanny asked. “Is that permanent marker?”

“I’ll paint over it when I’m done,” Dexx muttered, moving to the windows.

The cop watched for a moment, then took Fanny’s elbow, pushing her toward the door. “Don’t tell anyone what you just saw.”

“But I don’t even know what I just saw. What is—”

“There was a trap at the scene and Detective Whiskey was injected with a drug.”

“Oh, my God,” Fanny said, her hands going to her mouth. “Chief, is she gonna be all right? Don’t lie to—”

“She’ll be fine, Fanny.” He pushed her the final step out of the room.

“I’ll call the doc.”

Dexx shot her a feral grin. “Did I forget to mention I’m a doctor?”

“She’ll be fine.” Chief White closed the door firmly in the woman’s face.

“Thanks for that.” Usually, when the police got involved, the situation turned into a gagglefuck, which was why he loved having Paige on investigation.

“Don’t thank me yet.” He stared at Paige, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Her head jerked to the side, her brown eyes wide. “Dexx,” she whispered. “Oh, shit.”

Dexx knelt beside her. “Is he gone?”

Paige shook her head. “Still. Here.”

“How did he get in?”

“What is he?”

Dexx pursed his lips in surprise. “You don’t have your gift back?”

“Don’t.” She ground her teeth. “Have one. Wha—”

Fury leapt in his chest. “I’m going to strangle that woma—”

“She is my vessel,” the demon said in a thick, British accent.

Dexx scrambled away, his hand over his mouth.

Alma, Paige’s grandmother, had bound Paige’s gift and made her forget about it years ago. They’d all agreed her ability to summon demons at will was too dangerous, especially after the Pilmner case. She’d summoned several demons and then left them to run wild in Dallas. She’d claimed they were after the killer. She’d said she had things under control, but she’d let them go free, unchecked, off the leash, off the reservation. But that hadn’t been the real reason her gift had been bound.

No. In a fit of wild rage, she’d summoned a demon to kill her mother.

Though, if he had been standing in front of Paige, the Whiskey demon summoner, Dexx’d have had a chance. As it was, he faced a woman who didn’t know her own strength, or her gift, and who housed a demon inside her. Without containment. If the demon discovered who she was—

What demon didn’t know who she was? She was the talk of Hell, apparently.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Did she summon it?”

The police officer pulled his attention away from Paige, startled. “What?”

“The demon. Did she summon the demon?”

The cop shook his head.

“Did someone touch her? Someone who might have already been possessed?”

“She touched a—a mandala.”

“A mandala? Seriously? Mandalas are made for keeping wallets safe. Then what?”

“And then?” Chief White stared at Paige. “She threw up acid that smelled like sulfur.”

“Well, that’s very helpful.” Dexx opened the door and pushed the police captain into the hallway. “If you think of anything else, call me. I’m sure you have the number?”

A guttural roar filled the room as Dexx slammed the door.

He crept the five steps toward Paige.

Her lips curled. “You do not want to get in my way, little man.”

Dexx slammed his fist into her jaw.

D
EXX HAD KNOCKED
out his fair share of people, so he knew what he was doing. Paige was out cold. He maneuvered her onto the bed, then sat beside her, grabbed his flask of holy water out of his bag, and poured some into her palm.

Nothing happened.

Recapping the flask, he grabbed a ball point pen. The demon hadn’t gotten in somehow. Maybe her gift was working to keep the thing out. He wasn’t taking any chances. His phone was in his hand before he’d finished the thought.

“Hey, Dexx,” Leslie Whiskey said, her voice full of laughter. “No, Mandy. Please, I’m on the phone.” Dexx could hear the girl in the background, but couldn’t make out what she said. “Later. Okay. Sorry about that. What’s up?”

“It’s a demon.” He started a protection sigil on Paige’s wrist.

“What happened?” Leslie asked, all distraction erased from her tone. “Is she okay?”

“For now.” He studied the blooming bruise on Paige’s jaw. “But I don’t know for how much longer.”

“Okay. Where is she? What happened? Did she summon?”

Which question was he supposed to answer first? “No.”

“Then what happened?”

He filled in the outlines of the mark. “Les, who else knows about her gift?”

“No one outside the family.”

“I know.”

“You’re family. Dexx, what’s—”

“There was a trap spell. At least, I think.”

Silence. “It could have been for anyone.”

“Why weren’t there any trap spells before this? He’d murdered two others prior to her being asked on the case.”

“It could be that this guy just didn’t know what he was doing and set something up on accident.”

“How many times does accidental magick happen? On this scale?”

Leslie was quiet on the other end of the line.

“I’ve seen would-be practitioners do some pretty dumb things in my day, but this? People who kill people are serious about something.”

“Buckets of beans!” Something clunked on the other side of the call.

“Les, such language.”

“Don’t make fun, Dexx. How’re the shields on her gift holding?”

“Damn it.” Dexx pressed his lips together as he fought to refrain from saying what was really on his mind. “Les, why didn’t you take the memory blockers down years ago? Do you realize how open for attack she is right now?”

“Do not blame this on me. I released them before she left, but . . .” He heard her take in a deep breath. “It was worse than last time. I had to put them back up.”