whiskey witches 01 - whisky witches (18 page)

P
AIGE PACED THE
space between the bed and the door, from the table to the bathroom. She needed to act. She needed to do something, but what?

Anything! Good God, seriously!

There were things she could do with Dexx if he were there.

No. Not that. So, not anything.

But why not?

Because . . . it would complicate their relationship. She needed to be able to focus on the job and she couldn’t do that if she was boning her partner.

She hadn’t had sex in three years. Three years. Parts of her body were drying up with rust.

It didn’t matter. Concentration. Job first.

Sex could be just sex.

Not with Dexx. She—good grief. She respected the shit out of him, enjoyed talking with him. No. She couldn’t imagine simply sharing her body with him. That would complicate things.

However, once she got back to Denver, he wouldn’t be her partner anymore. She had a partner in Denver. A cop.

No. She needed to do something else, something smart. So what was the smart thing to do?

She had no clue.

A knock sounded on the door. Shit. She cracked open the door.

Her grandmother’s wrinkled and worn face peered at her through the slit.

Paige stepped back to let Alma into the room. “Did you get a chance to review the runes I sent you?”

“I did.” Alma’s voice was raspy like a smoker. “Though I don’t know why you had me to look into them. You’ve already deduced what they meant, I’m sure.”

“Right, except that when you splice them together, it changed their meaning.”

Alma sank into the comfortable chair with a groan. “Merge them, maybe, but not change them.”

“Who is this guy?”

“Let’s talk about somethin’ else.”

Paige sank carefully onto the edge of the bed, her back tweaking with the effort. The expression on her grandmother’s face said she was ready for a rather unpleasant conversation. Great. Because she needed to be beat up a little more. A physical ass whooping wasn’t quite enough. A berating was required. Yay. “I don’t want to talk about it, Grandma. What’s done is done.”

“Nope. We’re not putting the mind blockers on you again, so we need to get this out in the air.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “What do you want to hear, Grandma? You hid all my memories of my daughter, and you and Balnore locked away my gift, banishing even more of my memories. Like ones where I worked similar cases to this one, only I solved them. For the past three years, I’ve felt like the worst damned detective the world’s ever seen. I couldn’t close a case to save my life because that’s what it said on paper.”

Alma pursed her wrinkled lips.

Paige tugged her hair free of her tight ponytail, her heart carefully cool. “Leah was just the frosting on the cake. I knew there was a hole in my heart. I just didn’t know what or who had left it. Or what was wrong with me.”

“Nothing was wrong with you.”

“Really.” Paige dropped her jaw, her lips closed as she stared pointedly at the window. The calm folded away like a slow moving fog. “Nothing. Then why did you hide me?”

Alma narrowed her cataract-ridden eye. “What does that mean?”

“I scared you so bad, you hid me, the parts of me that made me who I am, so you’d feel safer at night.”

“You were never this level-headed before. Every time I tried to discuss this with you, you’d overreact.”

“Overreact.” The rage rumbled in her gut. She let out a chuckle to mask it. “So what are you trying to tell me? I wasn’t supposed to grieve for the daughter I lost? What? Was I supposed to feel less? Move on faster?”

“Not summon a demon to kill your mother?”

Paige bit her bottom lip and grinned through the pain. “Yeah. That wasn’t right. I get that, but you know what the real kicker was?”

Alma blinked, her nostrils flared.

“I summoned one I knew wouldn’t do it.”

Alma tipped her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Paige shrugged. “I didn’t even realize it till just now. I summoned Balnore, knowing he’d understand, that he’d help in any way I needed him to. But a part of me knew he’d never go through with what I wanted him to do.”

Confused surprise settled across Alma’s features.

“Yeah.” Paige stood, pushing on her leg with the butt of her hand to get her back to fully straighten. She didn’t want to get too close. She didn’t know what she’d do, rationality a bare thought in her rage-clouded mind. “I don’t want to hear how scared you were. I was in pain and I handled it. No one, and I do mean no one, was hurt. Except me. Watching my entire family, everyone I loved, everyone I trusted turn on me? Yeah. And you know what’s weird?”

Alma didn’t move.

“In those three years, I wondered why I had trust issues, why I never let anyone in. Now, I know. A part of me never forgot that. So, yes, I’m hurting, not that I think you really care, and yes I’m pissed, but I’m able to deal. I know what my gift means. I comprehend its full impact on humanity which is something you don’t because you never fucking bothered to fucking ask me about it. And no, I don’t need you if all you’re going to do is judge me. Now, then, do you have anything else you can add to the case?”

Alma ran her gnarled fingertips along the tabletop, her gaze following the movement. “You never talked about your gift.”

“Because I could see the fear in your eyes every time I mentioned it, let alone talked about it. The lack of faith in me cut me like a dull, rusty blade every . . . single time. Well, thank you for your love and belief in me. The one thing I discovered in these three years is that I’m better off without you.”

“Paige.”

“No. If you have information that could help, or if you have a way to find the real killer, let me know. But if you want to do the family thing . . .” Paige let the rest of that statement drop.

“I raised you.”

“That’s not counting in your favor right now, Grandma.”

Alma ran her hand over her head, her shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, Peanut.”

The emotions in Paige’s chest were dangerously quiet. “I’ll let you know when that’s enough.”

A key jiggled in the door.

Her hand dropping to her empty side, Paige faced the door. She’d left her gun in the drawer of the table beside the bed.

Dexx stepped into the room, stashing the key in his jacket pocket. “I’m back. Miss me?” He jerked to a stop at the sight of Alma.

Not knowing what else to do or say, she focused on the job. Always fall back on the job. “Tell me you discovered something about the ghost.”

Dexx shed his over-shirt, tossing it to the bed.

The sleeve clipped her head. “Hey!”

He smiled angelically. “Yeah, anyway, she died in California with no connection to this location.”

He bubbled with too much excitement for him to come up empty. “So what was the connection?”

“Hell.” He grinned, propping himself against the bureau. “Probably the key and the gate.”

Paige closed her eyes. “Whatever they were doing, they managed to open the Gates of Hell.”

“At least a little. That little bitch of a ghost got through, so what else did?”

“Son of a—” Paige bit off the rest of her curse and bit her lip. “This is bad. We’ve got to get that key back before they try it again. Chief White hasn’t returned my phone calls.”

“I saw him briefly in town today.” Dexx yawned, tucking his chin to his chest. “He’s calling in the police officers from a local town. He says he has tails on Mike and Malika, people he trusts.”

It was so weird to hear colleagues called by their first names. It took her a second to remember Lieutenant Jones was “Mike.”

“He’s hopeful we’ll find something.”

“Good.” Paige rose from the bed. “We need to do—”

Someone knocked on the door.

Dexx frowned. “You expecting anyone?”

She shook her head.

“It’s probably just Tru,” Alma said, dragging herself out of the chair. “He said he’d come get me if he found anythin’ else out on his evidence.”

Alma was right. There really was no reason to be antsy. Well, if she didn’t count the fact that the murderer had lured her there so she could free Lucius’ soul, the very same soul that had very nearly succeeded in possessing her the night before. Right. She needed her gun.

“Not so fast, Detective,” Jones said in a gruff tone.

Her hand on the handle of the drawer, Paige stilled.

“Bring it back, nice and easy.” Jones maneuvered through the door, pushing Alma out of his way.

Dexx rose from the dresser and inched toward the door, just out of Jones’ sight.

“I know you’re here, hunter.” Jones closed the door with his foot.

Dexx launched himself at the man.

“Grandma, get down!” Paige dove for the floor.

Dexx kicked Jones’ knees in. They toppled to the floor.

The drawer finally released enough for Paige to extract her gun.

A shot ricocheted through the room.

She spun, her eyes searching both men.

A bloody hand on his gut, Dexx rolled onto his back.

Alma inched toward him on all fours.

Paige took a step toward Dexx, her gun pointed at Jones. She thumbed the safety off. “Grandma, I need you to call 911.”

The older woman fumbled with the pocket on her blouse.

“No.” Jones rose to his feet, the gun pointed at Dexx in one bloody hand. His lips twisted in a sick smile. “No. You’re going to put your gun down and you’re going to come with us.”

“You put your gun down.”

A full grin exploded on his face. “You’re not going to shoot me.”

“I’m not?”

“No. You know why? Because you’re good and that’s what good people do.”

Maybe before. She dropped her aim to his knee. “You just shot my friend.”

“Your lover, you mean?”

“He’s not my lover yet.”

Jones’ eye ticked. “Fine.” He turned the gun on Alma. “Shoot me in the knee and see how quickly I pull the trigger on your dear sweet grandmother.”

Reality was this. Sure, she could take out his kneecap. It felt like the thing to do, but his finger would twitch in reaction and that gun would go off. Alma was too close to the end of the barrel for him to miss. Paige clicked the safety on and tossed her pistol to the bed.

“There’s a good girl. Now, come along with us.”

Paige growled low in her throat. “Bal—”

Jones closed the space between them faster than humanly possible and slammed the butt of his gun against her temple. “I don’t think so, Summoner. Night, night.”

P
AIGE JERKED AWAKE
. Dexx! Her arms and legs refused to budge. She blinked, trying to get her eyes to focus. Ropes.

Something sharp stabbed her arm.

Lieutenant Jones removed a syringe from her arm.

She tried to get up, but her sluggish mind said no. This was no time to be sluggish. She needed her mind in full working order. “What’s that?”

“Something to help you relax.” He dropped the syringe on a table behind him. “Don’t worry. You should feel it in a few minutes.”

The windowless room had rough, earthen walls. Underground. Great. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere safe.” Something clanked above her head, metal on metal. “We’ll be starting soon. Relax. Everything will be fine in a few minutes.”

Somehow she doubted that. “What are you doing? Are you really prepared to kill me too?”

“You’re really not that good a detective, are you?”

This definitely wasn’t one of her shinier moments. “You won’t get him to possess me, is what I’m saying.”

“You will and if you don’t then, yes, I will kill you. The end more than makes up for the means. The price—” The tone of his voice rose in pitch. “So small when compared to what’s coming.”

She had to figure out a way out of there, but her mind was drifting further and further away from her. She shook her head to clear it. “It’s not gonna work.” Her words slurred together. It felt like she’d downed a half-bottle of rum.

“You’re going to let him in because you can’t help yourself. You should have let him in the other night, but you fought back. You shouldn’t do that. We need him.”

“So you can open the Gate to Hell?” The only light came from a bare bulb on a string directly above her. It swung slightly, causing the shadows to stir. “For why? Are you insane?”

He chortled. “Oh, yes, you’re nearly ready now. Not as insane as some would have you believe, m’dear.”

“It’s nuffin.” Her eyes closed in what was supposed to be a blink, and would have been had she been able to reopen her eyes. She just had to open her eyes. Open . . .

“I want the power, Detective. I want the knowledge hidden behind that gate.” He leaned against the wall just inside her line of sight, and cocked a foot against the earth wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest.

He was so gummy and fluid and . . . stretchy. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“I know what’s out there. Home. I don’t know why I’m here, why I was born as a human, why I was put on this path. I need to go home. I need to be where I belong.”

“You tol’ Malika . . .” Her thought drifted off. She opened her eyes, fighting to focus. “The key? You tol’ her abou’ the key?”

“Yes.”

She fingered the knots binding her wrists. Her fingers felt like they were made of rubber, though, like all the bones had been jellified. She had to get out of there. “You started this? You? No. Seriously?”