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Authors: S.M. Blooding

Tags: #Whiskey Witches Novel Number 3

A Barrel of Whiskey - (An Urban Fantasy Whiskey Witches Novel) (3 page)

BOOK: A Barrel of Whiskey - (An Urban Fantasy Whiskey Witches Novel)
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Alma, however, had raised her. She’d loved her. She’d treated Paige like a daughter. And Paige had trusted her more than anyone.

To be betrayed on that level by someone she trusted with not only her life, but the lives of all the people she loved? To be betrayed like that by someone she loved almost more than life itself? By someone she looked up to? By someone she hoped one day to emulate?

Yet, here she was. Back home. Why?

She had nowhere else to go.

The latest demon she’d been tracking had possessed the governor. So, when the DNA results had come in, there was no helping the man.

However, he’d died before Paige could try to clear him. She’d been trying to cast his demon out, but the demon in question was one of the oldest demons she’d ever encountered. Oriel, Hell’s scribe. When he’d left, he’d destroyed the governor.

Her boss had fired her on the spot.

But that case had done more than left her jobless. It had uncovered a lot of information. Information on the war between witches and shapeshifters, about Hell’s plan for her, about Sven’s need for power.

The only place she could go was home.

But she couldn’t stay. Not with Merry freakin’ Eastwood in town. She’d started the war between the shifters and witches a hundred and fifty years ago.

Paige couldn’t let her start another one.

But first, Paige had to check on her family and not kill her grandmother.

“We could get a hotel room,” Dexx offered. “Sleep. Try this again tomorrow?”

“With whose money?”

“Whoever’s in my wallet right now.”

Demon hunters didn’t have the luxury of a paycheck. He didn’t have money rolling in. He resorted to identity theft.

Leslie had just been scammed. Her identity hadn’t been borrowed, but she’d been one of those nameless faces that people like him ripped off. “Do you ever stop to think about the person you scammed?”

“Hey, I make sure to choose credit card companies who aren’t going to take all their money. They have insurance against this kind of thing.”

“Yeah? And what about the hassle to the person whose name you’re borrowing?”

“It’s one phone call, Pea, and then all the charges go away and the insurance company pays.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s always that easy.” It wasn’t. Not even close.

“It is. That’s the whole reason these insurance companies exist.”

“I’m pretty sure they exist to
not
pay out the money. They investigate. They make the person’s life you scammed a living hell.”

“And then, they pay.”

Thick head. “One day, you’re going to get caught.”

He shrugged. “Just saying. We could hole up.” He peered out the windshield, his crow’s feet deepening as he squinted.

Two tall, wide-trunked oaks stood guard in the front lawn. A large swath of green grass dominated the yard, but along the edges and around the base of both trees sprawled a garden of bushes and flowers that were the envy of most of the neighbors. The “house” was actually a small mansion. Three stories. Wide front. Small porch. Ornate wooden door. Pale brown with a darker brown trim.

Memories clattered around in Paige’s mind. She’d learned almost everything in that house. Love. Loss. Magick.

But not her demon summoning skills. She’d had to develop those outside of this house. Alma had been terrified of it. Leslie’s ability to speak with the dead was perfectly acceptable. But Paige’s ability to summon demons and send them back with ease? No. Unnatural. What kind of witch had the ability to speak to demons?

Paige had come to terms with who she was, with who she’d become.

Well, she was about to find out if Alma was able to do the same.

Taking in a deep breath, Paige unclicked her lap belt and opened the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Okeydokey.” He exited the car and met her on the sidewalk. “Wait for bags later?”

“Probably a good idea until we know how we’ll be received.”

He nodded and gestured with his arm for her to lead the way.

Paige walked up the winding sidewalk to the front door, the voices of memories playing along her ears. She recalled Leah’s laugh as she learned to run outside. She heard Leah’s screams as she dragged her bike back from the bottom of the driveway after crashing.

This was the biggest reason Paige hadn’t wanted to come home. Too many memories.

That wasn’t the biggest issue, though. The thing that tore at her heart was that she’d missed five years of Leah’s life. Five years of firsts. Five years of developing, growing, learning, morphing into the young woman she now was. And Paige still didn’t know who that person was. Leah was twelve now. What was she like? What had she shaped out to be?

The door greeted her, dark and imposing.

“How is it that facing a pack of shapeshifters didn’t seem as hard as knocking on a door?” Dexx asked softly.

Good question.

It opened before she could force herself to raise her hand.

Leslie stood in the doorway, a baby in her arm. Her long, brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. She wore no makeup around her dark eyes. She shoved the baby at Paige. “Here. It’s your turn. Get yer ass in here.”

Paige took the baby then carefully maneuvered through Leslie’s not-so-gentle guiding.

“Where’re your bags?” Leslie thumped Dexx’s arm. “Go get ‘em. Go on.”

Dexx widened his eyes. “Missed you, too, Les.”

“Oh, right, you big baby.” She released Paige’s arm to give Dexx a hug. She swayed a bit, hugging him tight. “I missed you, too. Now, go get your damned bags.”

He chuckled and looked at Paige. “You okay with that?”

She smiled tightly and raised her eyebrows. No. She wasn’t okay with that, but Leslie wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Also, she knew how to invoke Mom-voice a lot better than Paige. Second only to Alma.

So, yeah. She wasn’t fighting that battle at the moment.

“I’ll keep them by the door.”

He knew her so well.

Leslie wrapped her arm around Paige’s waist, tucking her close, and herded her toward the living room.

It didn’t feel big, largely due to all the furniture inside the room. Two sofas; one maroon and eggshell white striped, the other covered in blue and orange flowers. Three over-stuffed chairs; one finished in worn leather, the middle one a pea green reminiscent of the 1970’s, and the third a velvet maroon. A large china hutch dominated the far wall with old plates and other knickknacks. The other wall housed the large bay window with bookcases adorning either side. And tables. Tables everywhere, though most only held one or two things. They weren’t the crap catchers the tables in her apartment were.

She’d spent many happy moments in this room.

Leslie shoved her onto the striped couch and sat down next to her. “What do you think of Kamden?”

Paige stared into the cherub-faced baby in her arms. He had dark fuzz on the top of his head. He looked a lot like Leslie. “He’s—”

“Careful of what you say because he can read your thoughts.”

“You mean be careful of what I think.”

Leslie smiled impishly.

Paige was glad she hadn’t been around when Leslie had been pregnant. The woman adopted the gifts of her children while she carried them in her womb. Hormonal raging woman ready to pop any day setting fires to everything, singing—okay that one might have been safe—and reading people’s minds? No.

“You should’ve seen the nursery at the hospital,” Leslie continued. “All boys except one girl. Poor thing. Oh, and you wouldn’t believe who was there with me.”

Paige frowned, her mind scrambling reluctantly. There were other things it wanted to think about.

“Heather. You remember her. You were inseparable during high school.”

And after. Heather had been Paige’s rock through Mark’s death, through the custody battle with Rachel.

But when Paige had left for Denver, she hadn’t called Heather, hadn’t written, hadn’t even friended her on Facebook. She’d forgotten all the things they’d gone through as adults. “Wow. She had a baby?”

“Boy. He’s such a cutie, too.” Leslie clasped her hands between her knees, releasing a silent squee. “You’re really here.”

Paige smashed her lips together and nodded. She wanted to be as excited as her sister obviously was, but there was just too much going on, too much in her head.

“Yes, she is.” Alma entered the room from the wide doorway behind them. It led into the kitchen. She dried her gnarled hands with a dishtowel. “Now, ain’t that just somethin’?”

Excitement and hurt tore at Paige’s heart.

Alma walked around the two side-tables and the other couch, then stopped in front of Paige. “Well?”

Paige looked into Alma’s white eyes. When Paige had been possessed, she’d released her powers on her grandmother in anger. Alma’s eyes were completely white and really eerie.

“Ah, shush it and just you never mind,” Alma said, grabbing Paige’s elbow and pulling her off the couch. “Ya got rid o’ them cataracts and now I can see real clear. I can even get back to m’ cross stitch. You don’t even know how many years it’s been since I’ve been able to do that, now, do you ya?”

Paige shook her head.

But Alma wasn’t paying any attention. She wrapped Paige and Kamden in a tight hug. “Now, how long you stayin’?”

“Couple days.” Paige pulled away, not angry exactly. Just not ready to put everything to rest, to sweep what her grandmother had done under the rug. “Am I safe here?”

“Well, safe as you’ll be anywhere else, I reckon.” Alma waved one arm, turning away to claim the other sofa. She sat with a groan. “Shit’s getting’ crazy here, what with the politics shiftin’. The police department can’t even accept our charitable contributions anymore. We get heckled at the store. Our cars get graffitied. It ain’t real perty.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Paige sat back down, Kamden resituated in her arms. She hadn’t realized just how
empty
her arms had felt until they were filled. The word “empty” was so small, so insignificant to what it felt like to have a child ripped away from you. Her arms ached to hold, to cuddle, to comfort, and soothe.

“I know it, child.” Alma sighed, her large shoulders sagging. “I can’t say I completely understand everything you do, what with the summoning of demons and all. I don’t. It don’t make any sense to me at all.”

“That’s not a good reason for what you did.”

“No, it ain’t. Not that, rightly. But your gift destroyed my momma, Pea. Don’t you forget that. It broke her soul. Shattered it right in front of me, like she was nothin’.”

She’d been the demon summoner before Paige. “I’m not Great Grandma.”

“No. No, you’re not.” Alma bowed her white-haired head. “No. You’re not. But you summoned a demon to kill your mother.”

“I would have summoned a ghost to haunt her ass,” Leslie offered, her fingertips trailing along Kamden’s fuzzy dome. “To death.”

“That ain’t the same, and you know it.”

“No, Grandma.” Leslie resituated so she could address them both easily. “What Rachel did was inexcusable.”

“She’s still my daughter!”

That didn’t ebb the anger in Paige’s heart. “She abandoned us, Grandma.”

“I know it.” Alma’s tone was filled with age-old regret. “A day don’t go by I don’t realize what I did.”

“In what?” Paige demanded. “Sometimes, people just come out wrong.”

“Would you say that about Leah were she to do somethin’ God awful?”

Paige didn’t know what she would say either way, but she doubted it. Even though she no longer knew her daughter, even though they were apart, she didn’t think she could condemn her daughter for anything.

“That’s what I thought.”

“It’s not the same, Grandma.
I
don’t know my daughter.”

“And, apparently, I didn’t either.”

“Okay.” Leslie slapped her hands against her knees. “This isn’t gettin’ us anywhere. Can we bury the hatchet or not?”

Alma turned her white gaze to Paige.

Paige met it, yearning bursting through her chest. She
wanted
to come home. She
wanted
to go back to her old bed, her old life, her old family. She
wanted
dinner at the Whiskey house.

She
yearned
to cast spells into chocolate chip cookies, and fix a bad day with an apple pie. She didn’t want to just come back for a couple of days. She wanted to stay.

And she didn’t.

At the same time.

“I need to be able to trust you again, Grandma.”

“Are you tryin’ to tell me you ain’t big enough to take care o’ yourself yet?”

Oh, she was more than big enough, and powerful enough, too.
She
could take care of herself.

And she didn’t have any children with her who couldn’t. She wasn’t likely to, either. She didn’t want to have another child. She was terrified that Rachel would fly in on her broom and take that child from her as well. She’d had no legal justification the first time and she proved she could do it. No. If it was just her, Paige, she could protect herself.

“Look, Paige,” Alma said, her shoulders stooping further. “We’ve gotta keep our family tight now. Tighter’n ever. We gotta keep each other safe.”

If only she knew the worst of it. “Even though I’m a demon summoner?” And have a shifter as a lover?

Alma shrugged, shaking her head. “Even then. I shoulda realized I knew the woman instead of only seein’ the gift. It scares me, Pea. It broke my momma. It scared my daughter away. And I’ve read the Bible. Demons ain’t no saints.”

“Angels are no better.”

“This is true, but you weren’t raisin’ angels.”

“No. Rachel was.”

“Rachel never raised ‘em. Never summoned ‘em. Never sent ‘em back, neither. She just heard ‘em. That’s all.”

Paige chewed on that in silence as Kamden mewed in her arms. It was just her and Dexx. No kids, no innocents. She nodded once. “We’ll stay…for now.” But only for a couple of days. Then, they had to take the threat of war away with them.

Alma clenched her knees. “Best news I’ve had all day.” She groaned, getting up off the sofa. “Who wants a cookie?”

BOOK: A Barrel of Whiskey - (An Urban Fantasy Whiskey Witches Novel)
13.45Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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