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Authors: s m blooding

Tags: #Whiskey Witches Season One: Episodes 1-4

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T
HEY SPENT THE
better part of the morning collecting evidence from the three scenes. Brian eventually allowed three of his officers to assist, but Duke wasn’t one of them. He remained suspiciously absent.

Paige should ask why, but she didn’t care. She did, but didn’t. Too many other things, bigger things, were more important at the moment.

Like sleep.

Then, figuring out how they were going to catch Sven.

Dexx closed the door behind them, dropping his keys on the table next to the door.

“How are we going to catch Sven?” Paige asked, kicking off her boots.

“We’ll figure that out in the morning.”

“It is morning.”

“Your clock is drunk, Pea. It’s seven o’clock. You’ve been possessed. I’ve been up for two days? The two hours I slept before discovering you’d disappeared don’t count because the freak-out nullified any sleep I got. We need rest.”

She sank onto the edge of the bed. Her mind fought to remain awake, alert. People were dying. It could get much, much worse. She didn’t want to close her eyes, to delve into her subconscious.

Her mouth fell open in a huge yawn that kept going and going and . . . When it finally released her, all her energy to remain awake evaporated, and the only thing she could think about was going to sleep.

Dexx gave her a tired nod, his eyes half open. “Pea, let me sleep in the bed. I’m begging you.”

She was too tired for anything to happen and she trusted that man with her life. She nodded. “Just, don’t snore in my ear.”

He took off his green button-up—that hadn’t even been buttoned—and shucked his pants, leaving him only in his blue briefs, green t-shirt, and socks. He fell into bed on the other side and covered his eyes with his arm. “I make no promises.”

“Will the protections hold?” She flopped an arm at the Sharpie marks on the door jam.

He reached under his pillow and pulled out a gun. “If not, this’ll slow ’em down.”

Wasn’t much else she could do. She shuffled to the window and drew the curtains closed, then hobbled to the door, slipped the chain, checked the deadbolt, and shoved a chair under the doorknob. Feeling mildly secure, she thought about it for two long seconds, then removed her pants, slid off her socks, and reveled in the freedom of having no bra.

With the warm comfort of Dexx lying beside her, she was asleep before her head did more than kiss the pillow.

She woke to Dexx breathing softly in her ear. His arm was thrown over her midriff, one leg nestled between her own. Her bladder screamed at her to get up. To move. To find relief.

Paige toyed with the idea of staying up as the toilet flushed, reviewing the case files again, trying to get a feel for Sven and who he was, but Dexx had been right. She was beat. The past few days had really taken it out of her. She returned to bed, Dexx curling around her as though she’d never left, holding her tight, surrounding her in warmth.

When she woke again, light streamed through the cracks in the heavy curtains. The shower played a song to her bladder she couldn’t ignore. They’d never been intimate, and to walk in while he was showering to take a piss? No. Not happening.

As soon as the water stopped and the door opened, she plowed past him, shoved him out of the room, and took complete advantage of the room.

He was dressed and writing down notes when she emerged, showered and a great deal better. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her into the chair next to him. “Let me check your wounds.”

She sighed and let him. She hadn’t removed the bandages and they were more than a little damp. She should have removed them, probably, or attempted to protect them from water, but there’d been a lot of not-caring involved in her shower. A blatant disregard for caring, actually.

The bandage on her chest peeled away easily. He froze, his brow furrowed.

She glanced down with a slight belch. The only thing that remained of the mark carved into her flesh was a slight, pink scar. “I heal fast.”

“That fast?”

No. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Hmm.”

“What about yours?” She reached for his shoulder.

He kept it out of arms reach. “I just dressed it. It’s fine.”

“You’re a baby.”

He shot her an angelic expression. “Yes. I am. I’m going to check in with Brian. You stay here behind the protections. I won’t be gone long.”

“Fine.” Time to figure out what she could piece together on Sven.

His mark, his calling card had to be on the victims. Malika and Jones were his puppets. Not to say they couldn’t come up with a few details on their own. Jones didn’t seem like the kind of guy who followed blindly without bucking the system a bit here and there, but the Gates of Hell? He wasn’t that kind of genius.

What did Sven want with the gates open? That question could lead to a considerable part of his name. What was the end game? What could arise from having the gates opened?

Demons would flood through. They’d wreak havoc on the world of mankind, have all kinds of fun at Man’s expense.

Payback on God for casting them out of Heaven, maybe? That seemed a bit farfetched, but everything from the Bible did. After all, it claimed the world had been made in seven days. Seven. Days. And depending on which version of the Bible one worshiped from, depended on whether or not Jesus was a man or a god. All very confusing. Whatever. Biblical reasons seemed contrived.

So, what if this was more like a personal vendetta?

Against who?

How about the person who’d killed him almost two hundred years ago.

Two hundred years ago.

Hadn’t Lucius been killed around that same time?

“We need to talk.”

Paige nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun toward the open door of her room. “Bal, it’s good to see you, too.”

He sighed and leaned against the door. He looked a lot better than he had the last time she’d seen him. His face was healed. His violet button-up shirt was immaculately tucked into his grey slacks.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“No.”

“Okay. Well, at least close the door so Fanny isn’t eavesdropping.” She headed toward the door.

Balnore backed away from her, his hands raised.

“What’s going on?” She stopped as her stomach twisted. Something had been off with him ever since he’d helped extract Lucius.

“We have a problem.”

Paige pursed her lips, trying to buy time. Time for what, she didn’t know. She had a feeling, though, that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “Tell me something I didn’t already know.”

“You’re an open wound.”

“You’re looking good too, Bal.” She knew something was wrong. She could feel it in her blood, as if it were boiling in her veins the closer he got to her. But she didn’t want to admit what it could be. She had a guess. A scary one. “Is it your hair? I bet it is. You did something different. No, wait. It’s your face. You did something different with your face.”

“Every time you get close, I am—” He stopped.

She raised her eyebrows. “If you’re trying to tell me you’re secretly attracted to me, let me say that I see you more of a father figure and that’s just gross.”

He winced. “No. I—I’m being sucked into you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Come again?”

“It’s hard to control. I need to possess you.”

“That’s—” She crossed her arms over her chest and took a step back. “No. That’s gross. You have your own body. Keep it.”

“I know,” he said, his arms open. “That’s what I’m trying to say. Whatever they did to you, it’s working with your gift somehow and it’s . . .” His voice trailed off as he looked away. “You need to stay away from demons. Don’t summon. Don’t banish. Just stay away.”

“I don’t understand. You rode back with us. I was right there in the same car with you. It’s been two days. This is the first time you thought to mention that the demon summoner can’t summon demons?”

“I don’t understand it myself. On the ride back, yes, I was drawn to possess you, but you’d just been exorcised. That’s natural. Of course, no demon would want to be in your body after something like that.”

“Seriously?”

He raised his eyebrows. “But it was better then. I don’t know. You’re—you’re more powerful now.”

“This is great. Just great. I have a town full of demons and no way to send them back.”

Balnore shrugged. “They’re not all demons.”

Paige closed her eyes, knowing where he was going. “How many are angels?”

“About half.”

A black hole of ah-shit entered her stomach. “How did they get through? They can’t use the same door you guys can. They don’t have a direct link to the soul.”

“Some of them do.”

“That’s scary.”

Balnore looked up at the ceiling. “I think some got through when the gate was open.”

“When that scary girl-bitch ghost came through?”

The demon nodded.

“That’s awesome.”

The demon licked his lips and shot her a look of expectation. “We’re going to have to figure something out. It’s my job to protect you and I can’t do that if I have to stay away.”

Yeah. Well, neither could she.

P
AIGE KNEW SHE
should tell Dexx. She’d just gotten her powers back, and now she was broken? How was it even possible to break a demon summoner?

Somehow, Sven had figured out how.

What was his endgame? Why did he need to break her? What did he intend to do? If he needed her to open the gate, to power the key, to bring demons over, she couldn’t do that if they were all desperate to possess her. That was just . . . dumb.

Or maybe she was looking at it all wrong. Perhaps he simply needed her out of the way.

Out of the way for what?

That question terrified her.

Her phone buzzed on the table. She picked it up. “Whiskey.”

“White. We have a new body.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. You want to come down on your own, or should I send Dexx to come get you?”

“Is he with you?”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t need to know why. She stood and searched for her boots. “I’m on my way. Location?”

“Afton Villa Gardens. Plug that into your phone. I’m sure it’ll come up. If not, call me. I’ll guide you in.”

She knew where the gardens were. All the websites for the area promoted them. She’d decided that if she’d had a spare three minutes, she’d go as a tourist. It appeared someone had been listening to her. Why not leave a body at the garden?

Grabbing her keys, she hurried out the door and down the stairs. The gardens were a short drive along the highway past the Metley Plantation. She pulled off the paved road and passed through the metal and stone gate. Old oaks studded either side, Spanish moss dangling from the branches. The driveway continued for another half mile or so, then spilled out into a courtyard of sorts with four statues of what might have been Greek gods or something. Two males. Two females.

Amazing how women of that era were strong and revered enough to have statues made of them.

She parked behind Jackie and two other unmarked cars, and followed the sounds of talking. Past the statues stood the jagged remains of the villa the gardens had been named after. She couldn’t recall more than that.

Dexx looked up and broke away from the group of cops. “Have a hard time finding this place?”

“Nope. What do we have?”

He raised his eyebrows. “A new body.”

“Any clues left around the body?”

He shook his head and led the way around the cops, behind one of the crumbling walls. Pulling back several branches of a trailing vine, he revealed the victim.

A bright haze blinded her. She stooped to see under his arm. Symbols or lettering flowed in a burning fire, moving like fast-flowing lava. There wasn’t a single symbol she recognized, but words entered her mind in her own voice.

Somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which I cannot touch because they are too near.

E. E. Cummings? Why would she know that? She’d never been a fan of poetry.

The fiery letters shifted, changed, morphing again, her own voice translating the words flowing along the body.

One day, you will understand. We complete one another. You will be mine and I will be yours.

Until that day, Paige, be well. I will protect you as only I can.

Paige took in a sharp breath. What . . . the fuck?

Dexx turned toward her and in that moment, she realized he’d been talking to her.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What just happened there?”

She stared at the body, but it was now only a body. No writing. No words. Her internal voice remained quiet. “Nothing?”

“Liar. What happened?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Me. Right.”

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then reopened them, studying the body. Male. Mid-thirties maybe. Good looking. Clothes in good condition. “There was a message for me.”

Dexx’s eyebrows shot up.

“Did you see anything?”

“Just now?”

She nodded.

“No. I saw nothing.”

“How’d we discover this one?”

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