whiskey witches 01 - whisky witches

by blooding, s m

  Dexx looked at Tru “You catching anything? Is this paranormal, or is she safe?”

  Tru pulled another camcorder out of one of his other pockets. He turned it on and placed it on a shelf, pointing it to the corner. He pulled out the LCD screen. “I got a shadow. Maybe we should just go. Let the evidence talk to us in the morning.”

  “Could the shadow be one of ours?”

  “Nope. Not us. Dude, I’m spooked, and I don’t spook.”

  Dexx returned his attention to Paige, a worried frown furrowing his brow. “How often do people get pushed? Violently pushed in a house your wife cleared?” His gaze flicked in the direction of the far corner. “Set your equipment quickly. We need to get out of here.”

  Tru stopped, his EMF reader out in front of him. “This thing’s spiking. The energy’s building. We’re in double digits. Guys.”

  “My arsenal’s in the trunk of my car.”

  “We’ve gotta go!”

  Paige shuddered, her entire world shrinking. The lack of oxygen to the brain distorted everything. Dexx’s and Tru’s voices sounded like they were under water.

  “Let’s get her out of here. Now.” Dexx took her arm, shoving her up the stairs.

  A guttural roar echoed through the room.

  Dexx stumbled. “What the fuck?”

  Paige’s world tilted, angled to one side. Sound sliced through her head like a knife; a river, a tree breaking, a car door, a woman screaming.

  “What the hell are you doing, man?” Dexx shouted.

  Chief White stood at the top of the stairs, one of the doors of the cellar in his hand. “You’re not going anywhere.” A crazed gleam boiled in his eyes as he let the door drop.

  Scrambling up the remaining steps, Dexx leapt through the door, tackling the larger man to the ground and out of sight.

  Tru’s eyes widened. “Shit.” He pulled her into the cool night air.

  White leaned over Dexx’s prone form. He turned toward her, his face twisted into a crazed mask.

  Paige’s mind worked as if being dragged through mud. She could almost hear something. Someone spoke to her, saying something she should understand. She blinked lazily.

  The tall, dark man came to her, picking her up by her upper arms. He held her that way for a long moment, her feet dangling off the ground. His eyes held an almost visible flame of fury. “You won’t be dashin’ off, love. We can’t have that, now can we?”

  “Fuck.” Dexx stood up, holding his abdomen. “Tru, man, you all right?”

  “Oh, shit.” Tru’s eyes were glued on Paige and White. “Is that—that can’t be—”

  Dexx started toward White.

  The chief threw Paige down the stairs as if she were nothing more than a ragdoll. Each step bit into her body as she hit it; back, leg, back, arm. Her foot kicked one of the many shelves. Her head slammed against the hard dirt. Dazed, she watched in stunned and almost detached amazement as the doors slammed solidly shut.

  Light-headed, she dragged herself painfully to her feet. Dear God in Hell! Her head.

  At last, a rich, darkly masculine voice said in a slight accent. My release from this torment. I can stop the witch now as I could not before. You shall be my instrument. You will save lives.

  “No,” Paige swayed where she stood.

  A glass jar levitated in the far corner. It paused for a moment before racing toward her. Paige raised her hands to protect her face, but the jar hit her head, shards of glass raining down on her as she crumbled to the ground. A horrible odor covered her. What had been in that jar? Cold leeched into her where the foul liquid made direct contact with her skin.

  Pain iced through her face and arms. Daggers of fire laced her back where she lay on pieces of broken glass. The pitch black room was silent.

  She felt a sharp ache in her left ankle where she had twisted it on her way down the stairs. The first time. She heard a loud thump on the cellar doors. Tru shouted her name, but the heaviness in her chest wrapped tighter, cutting off any air.

  She lay there dazed, helpless and unable. A pungent odor sent her mind scurrying deeper into the far caverns of her mind. A cold, invisible hand caressed her arm. She whimpered.

  I will not fail this time, love, Lucius promised. Your sacrifice will not be in vain. I will keep the gate closed.

  “Not through me,” Paige said softly. She stared into the darkness, fighting for control of her thoughts and emotions. “Not through me.”

  Yes, love. I’m very sorry. Through you.

  His arms wrapped around her as he pulled her into his ethereal lap. His presence seeped through her skin, deep into her body. A branding iron of will pushed her back, deeper and farther away, severing the connection between her body and her mind. No!

  His ethereal hand brushed against the spot on her back where Dexx had traced his protective mark. The assault paused, retracted and then hit her full-force, pushed at her soul, tearing at her with a ferocity she had never felt before.

  The harder he fought, the more ground he lost, power leeching from her tattoo. With a growl of rage, he flung himself away from her, disappearing from the room, from her thoughts, from her heart, and even from her gut.

  She collapsed onto the ground, air finally filling her lungs in huge gulps. He was gone.

  But for how long?

  PAIGE HAD BEEN coherent enough to mutter, “Gone,” before she passed out. The EMT’s had tried reviving her at the scene, and again in the ambulance on the way to the clinic, but no luck.

  Dexx sank into the chair beside Paige’s hospital bed. They’d just brought her in. They weren’t sure what else to do with her and another emergency had just shown up. Someone shot. That trumped a comatose woman who, by rights, could simply be sleeping.

  Sleeping. Dexx didn’t know what to do. She looked like she’d lost thirteen rounds in a match with a heavy-weight. Her wet and straggly hair had a thick aroma that left a bad taste in his mouth. Had something been dumped on her? When had that happened? It had to have happened when she’d been alone in the cellar. Maybe that was why they couldn’t wake her.

  A dark dread grew like a fast-moving storm in his chest. He needed help. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the recent contacts.

  “Mmm?” Leslie mumbled.

  “I need your help.”

  “Hello to you too. Do you have any idea what time—Jesus, Dexx. It’s three o’clock in the morning. Don’t you have anything else better to do? Sleep is a precious thing.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Paige was coated in an oil of some kind and now she won’t wake up.”

  Leslie rustled around. “I’m lost. What happened?”

  He ran his fingertip over Paige’s forehead, then rubbed the oily substance between his thumb and forefinger. “Looks like she was doused in something. She was attacked by a ghost before and then something strange happened in the cellar. Could be possible possession? Though, nothing like I’ve ever heard before.”

  “What?” Leslie demanded. Her bright and alarmingly alert voice blared through the phone. “I need information. Now.”

  Dexx wiped his fingers on his pants. Whiskey women. They scared the crap out of him. “We were investigating the haunting of the Metley Plantation—”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary. Paige went with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s out of the ordinary.”

  “We hit a wall in the case, so I figured this would be a good, safe thing for her to do. It should have been a clean investigation.”

  “But it wasn’t?”

  He ran his hand over his head. “Things were active, Les, and it was centered on Paige, and then when we went down to the cellar, things got fucking weird as shit.”

  “Define fucking weird as shit,” she said in a hard tone that sent gooseflesh down Dexx’s spine.

  He swallowed hard. “We saw an anomaly on the thermal. The EMF had a really weird spike. Then, Paige started acting weird. And then there was the thing with the c
op.”

  “What thing with the cop?”

  “He—well, he, um—hmm.” How to say it out loud while remaining alive. Could mediums kill people over the phone? “I think he was possessed. I talked to him afterward and he didn’t remember a thing.”

  The line was silent.

  Dead silent.

  Dexx began to sweat. Maybe he should have called the scary one, Alma. “Look, we had no idea a demon would show up on a ghost haunt. Okay? Could you not kill me?”

  Leslie didn’t answer.

  His eyes flickered around the pale blue painted room. “Please?”

  She didn’t breathe, didn’t move, didn’t make a sound.

  “Pretty please?”

  “Was she okay before she was doused?”

  “Yeah.” Relief swept over him. “She was a bit freaked over what happened in the attic, but—”

  “What happened in the attic?”

  “She was attacked by a ghost.”

  Her voice rose in considerable decibels. “She was attacked by a ghost? Are you freaking kidding me?”

  “No. Did you want to wake the kids?”

  “Don’t worry about my kids, Dexx. So you have a ghost attacking a demon summoner in a place with no ghosts. Are you two boneheads fine? Were you attacked?”

  “Nope. The thing completely ignored us boneheads.”

  “And you’re telling me you went in teams, or did you decide to go in like lone wolves.”

  “I was up there with her.”

  “Before or after?”

  “Um.”

  “Uh-huh. And after she was doused with the whatever, how’d she act?”

  “Confused and drugged.”

  “How’s her gift? You’ve been with her a couple days.”

  “Working really well.”

  Leslie paused, her tone hedged and deep. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean she’s handling things emotionally well, except for not talking to Alma. She refuses to do that. But she summoned Balnore quite well and then there’s that globe thing. Did you know she can see all creatures of magickal ability?”

  “Yeah. It was actually one thing I’d hoped she’d be able to keep.”

  “Oh.” He frowned, staring at the blue blanket under Paige’s jean-clad legs. “Well, she’s good. Her gift’s under control.”

  “Okay,” Leslie said. She made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Sounds like someone set up a trap for her.”

  “No shit.”

  “Shut it. Could be a lot of things, though. Grandma’s best with the herbs, so make sure she gets her hands on whatever they threw at Pea. How’s she now?”

  “Uh.” He puffed his cheeks out.

  A nurse bustled into the room. “Let’s see if we can wake her. If not, the doctor will want to run some tests.”

  Dexx shot her a grim smile. “Not doing so good, actually. She’s comatose. I need help, Les.”

  “So, it hit her hard, whatever it was.” Leslie growled low in her throat. Her phone picked up the sound really well. “It had to be primed for her. That’s not good, Dexx. This is all very bad. I should be out there.”

  “You’re like ten months pregnant.”

  “It only feels that way. I’ll call Grandma and have her meet you there.”

  The nurse shined her pocket light in Paige’s eyes.

  Dexx rose from the edge of the bed, unwilling to leave the room. “Les, what do I need to do in the meantime?”

  “Where are you?”

  “At the local clinic.”

  “Do they have showers?”

  Dexx lowered the phone to his chest. “Do you have showers in here?”

  The nurse looked up. “No. We usually don’t have people stay that long.”

  “That’s a big no,” Dexx said into the phone.

  “Well, get that stuff washed off her somehow. Get her into a clean set of clothes. Wash her hair. And I’ll get Grandma to bring some Fever Few.”

  The nurse pulled a small capsule out of the large pocket on her white and pink scrub shirt.

  Dexx had seen one of those in a movie or something. Was he going to have to invest in smelling salts? Was that even a thing he could buy? “Would she have Fever Few?”

  Breaking the capsule, the nurse waved it under Paige’s nose.

  “I hope so,” Leslie said. “Call you back.”

  Paige jerked her head away, her eyes blinking open.

  Dexx closed the phone. “Nurse, we’re going to need to use your bathroom, and we’re going to need one of those really fancy paper gowns you guys like to give out.”

  The nurse frowned. “What’s going on?”

  “She was doused with an oil, and I think this is an allergic reaction.” Dexx put his hand on Paige’s shoulder to keep her in the bed. “I think we should wash that off first and see if she has any further reactions.”

  The nurse sniffed Paige’s hair, her lip curled. “I’ll help her with that. You, sir, need to leave unless you’re her husband.”

  “I am not.” Dexx shuffled out of the room, ignoring the twinge in his heart. Husband. That thought had never crossed his mind, but this was Paige. He should be able to help her. Out of her clothes. Right. “I’ll be right out here.”

  Alma bustled down the hall with Tru in tow not long after. “Where is she?”

  Dexx cocked his head to the door behind him.

  She shifted a heavy bag onto her shoulder. It looked like a cloth grocery sack everyone and their grandmother used now. “How is she?”

  “Awake. The nurse is cleaning her up.”

  “Is she coherent?” Her Texas drawl thickened as her voice lowered minutely.

  “Didn’t stick around. The nurse is a sergeant.”

  “Good for her.” Alma pushed Dexx out of the way and stormed the room. “Hello. I’m her grandmother. What do we have here?”

  The door closed, shutting out any remaining sound.

  Tru shoved his hands in the pockets of his wrinkled cargo shorts. He looked around uncomfortably. “Weird being in a hospital and not having someone trying to break my hand.”

  Dexx leaned against the door jam, folding his arms over his chest, keeping guard. Tru might have good memories of hospitals, but Dexx didn’t. The smell. The look. The sound. He’d visited his brother in the hospital. He’d been in a hospital when his brother had died. All Dexx wanted to do was to grab Paige and get her out of there, get her somewhere safe.

  The doctor appeared from down the hall. “Excuse me, son.”

  Dexx let the man in. With each passing minute, his heart raced faster, his blood boiled hotter. He fought not to react. Paige was safe. She’d be okay.

  She’d be safer in their room behind his protections.

  She’d be safer in his arms.

  Dear God. What was he thinking?

  After a few minutes, Alma exited the room, followed by the nurse who quick-walked to another room. Alma ran a shaking, gnarled hand over her frizzy white and black hair. “She’s calling for you.”

  He entered the hospital room to find Paige sitting on the bed, her skin slightly pink. He resisted the urge to gather her in his arms, to rock with her. She was the closest thing he’d had to a real friend. When they were apart, he missed her smell, the noises she made when she was lost in thought, the constant clicking of a pen when she was confused. He didn’t want to lose her.

  He shook himself and took a step back. No. He had to stop thinking like that. It was just the hospital playing with his mind. Or the fact that he’d nearly lost her that night. Or . . . No. He had to stop thinking like that. She was a demon summoner. He was a demon hunter. What kind of relationship did he really think they could build?

  “She has a mild concussion, bruised ribs, a sprained ankle, and several minor lacerations,” the doctor said.

  “Does that mean I can leave now, Doc?” Paige jutted her jaw to the side. She tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear.

  The doctor sighed. “Well, I guess if you still want to l
eave, you can. But I don’t recommend it. I think it would be best to stay for observation.”

  “I’ll be fine, doctor. I can’t lay around just to lay around, though.”

  “Sounds like someone’s got a hero complex.” The doctor took a pen out of his jacket pocket and picked up the clipboard.

  “I have a killer to catch.” Her tone didn’t leave room for argument. “I don’t have time to sit around. I’ll heal standing or sitting. I’d rather be standing.”

  The doctor looked at Dexx. “You make sure she at least gets a good night’s rest. I mean rest.”

  The images of Paige lying in bed ramrodded through him. He swallowed hard, pushing down the heat rising in the lower regions of his body. “You said she has a concussion. Is it safe for her to sleep?”

  “Best thing for her. The body’s an amazing thing when you let it work as it wants to.”

  “I’ll do my best.” She still looked beat to shit and the only thing he could think about was protecting her. “I’ll do my best.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, Paige woke up sore. How had the doctor put it? Beat to hell? Yeah. She felt it. Her arm bumped into Dexx lying beside her on the bed. She pushed not-so-gently on his shoulder. “Get your own room.”

  He smiled sleepily and rolled over, pinning her to him with one arm. “But I like it here so much better.”

  “Good grief.” She shoved him off. Her body complained as she dragged herself out of bed.

  Her memories of the night before were chaotic, almost as if she had lived through a tornado. A part of her mind struggled to rationalize everything, to tuck all the memories into neat little files, but the events of the previous night refused to obey.

  Someone banged on the room door. She finished brushing her teeth and stepped into the room, limping slightly. Her ankle still hurt, but not nearly as bad as the day before. A couple of Ibuprofen and she’d be set.

  “Dude.” Tru pushed into the room. “You have so gotta see what we caught.”

  Dexx frowned, barely awake. He glanced at his watch. “Have you been at this all night?”

  “And all morning.” Tru wiggled his eyebrows with a sly grin. “It’s nearly noon.”