whiskey witches 01 - whisky witches

by blooding, s m

  “She’ll do fine,” Jones said, his voice clipped. “She was born for this moment.”

  Paige giggled, enjoying the warmth of the light and sound of the voices around her. “Born for this,” she repeated, her words slurred. “Yes, I was born for this, this moment, this right now. Yes.”

  “Bloody hell. Let’s just get on with it.”

  “YOU’LL BE A good girl, right, Paige?” Jones asked.

  “I’m a good girl, I am.” Paige giggled again, her heart beating like the frantic flutterings of a trapped butterfly. “I heard that in a movie once. What movie was that?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” Malika said, stepping into view.

  “You’re so . . . so pretty.” Paige smiled, her head rocking with the motion of the world around her. “Everything’s so pretty.”

  “That’s good, dear.” Malika raised her face to the light. “Sven, it’s time to start the ceremony.”

  “Is someone getting married?” Paige blinked slowly, the fingers of her right hand twitching. “I hate weddings.”

  “Knife,” Malika said shortly.

  Jones reached over Paige, handing Malika a curved, dangerous-looking blade.

  Fear wiped the feeling of blissfulness out of Paige’s heart like a sledge-hammer. Her eyes opened wide. She attempted to back away only to find herself still strapped to the table. “What are you doing?” One moment of pure clarity overtook her mind. She remembered who she was, what she was doing strapped to a table, and what that knife meant.

  It didn’t last long.

  The knife drew closer. The people that had surrounded her, the flowers, the sun, everything slipped into a pit of dizzying darkness. She lifted herself onto her elbows as much as the ropes would allow, inching further from the blade.

  Harsh hands grasped her shoulders, pinning her to the slab. A grotesque face emerged from the void, his eyes black, his nose slitted down the middle, his forehead red and creased. His blonde hair stood in blood-tipped spikes on top of his head. He sneered at her and said something she did not understand.

  She screamed with every ounce of energy she had left, pulling against her bonds.

  The others talked to her in nonsense words, her mind filled with fright. Another demon stepped out of the inky blackness, his eyes shooting red flares of light. His long, clawed hands ripped at her shirt.

  She gulped air and kept screaming, looking from one demon to the next. The knife settled on her chest. The woman chanted something above her.

  The second demon pinned her down.

  Unable to move, unable to breathe. The heat of her tears slid down her face and into her ear, amplifying the sounds around her. Her screams turned to whimpers as she lost the ability to gain enough air. The dark world spun. Everything crowded around her. The blonde demon’s hand bit into the flesh of her arm.

  The world stilled. Time stopped. The knife quivered where it lay against her breast. Paige stared into the Malika’s brown eyes, and found peace in the maelstrom.

  Malika’s face twisted into a cruel sneer. The vision shattered with an explosion of dust and the tinkling of glass. Paige pushed off of the slab beneath her, driving the knife into her skin. The pain sent her skidding out of control, back into the hellish nightmare around her. Hot blood slipped from her frozen body.

  She shivered on the slab, helpless, unable to move, unable to stop what these monsters were doing. Terrified. She couldn’t figure a way out. She couldn’t think of a way to stop them.

  A light grew from the size of a firefly to a blazing door. A hesitant calm blanketed her as she watched it approach. A face unraveled from the light’s grace, a chiseled and handsome face accentuated with an intense network of tattoos.

  The pain disappeared, pushed into the dark recesses of the nightmare. Malika’s voice seemed far away. Paige floated up, past the claws tearing at her, and the rough ropes that had held her pinned.

  His body drifted towards hers, draped in an exquisite robe of burgundy velvet. The intricate embroidery of blues, greens and gold along the edge drew her attention to the robe opening, to the ripped expanse of muscled manliness. Tight black leather pants were buttoned securely at his waist, a trail of soft black hair stopped like a rivulet of water pooling at the base of a mountain.

  “Paige,” he crooned, his accent giving her name an exotic ring. “Come to me.”

  “I know you,” she whispered. “You’re dangerous. A ghost. A demon ghost.”

  “You know me.” The deep rumble of his voice caused her to shiver. “As I know you. Now, come to me.”

  She closed her eyes. Fire licked at her in a way it hadn’t in three long years. She felt alive, empowered. Impassioned. “No.”

  His strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close, one arm draped around her waist, the other holding her head cushioned against his chest. He smelled of wood and something else she could not place.

  Safe. She belonged here as she belonged nowhere else. Accepted, not feared, not manipulated.

  “You must trust me now.” He pulled her head back to capture her gaze.

  She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his, trapped and helpless in the depths of his soul.

  “Help me, Paige. Help your world. Be my instrument so I can stop the madness, the killings. Your pain.”

  “You can stop them?”

  “I can,” he said gently. “But not without your help. Will you help me?”

  No, came a voice from somewhere inside her mind.

  She fell into his bottomless black eyes. “Yes,” she breathed softly. Every cell in her body cried out with her. “I will help you.”

  He smiled at her and cupped the back of her head, drawing his lips towards hers. “Thank you, Paige.”

  She watched his lips tread dangerously, wonderfully near. She needed to feel what it meant to be a woman again, to feel alive and emboldened.

  His breath feathered across her lips. “Thank you.”

  She took the breath he offered, closing her eyes as her body answered him.

  His lips brushed her cheek. “Paige.” He groaned, his tongue encircling her earlobe in wet heat. “How long have I waited for you? How long have I yearned to feel this?”

  She clung to him. Her head fell back into the comforting support of his hands. She was his, powerless to stop him. She had no wish to. His lips trailed down her neck, leaving a path of burning passion in its wake as she moaned, wordlessly begging for more.

  He pulled back.

  She opened her eyes, looking at him in askance.

  A soft smile softened his features. “You are sure you are ready to help me?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Open to me,” he commanded. “Do not fight me. Let me in.”

  She swallowed, watching his frustrating descent. She ran her hand over his bald head. “I’m not fighting you.” She claimed his lips with the power of her passion.

  His lips were firm, at once gentle yet demanding. She closed her eyes, pushing herself closer to him, needing more of him than one small kiss. She needed the feel of his hands on her body, to feel his skin against hers. She needed him.

  He teased her mouth open. His tongue invaded, sending streams of energy coursing through her. She devoured him, taking as much as he would give her. She moaned, exhilarating in the feel of his hard, muscled body pressed tight to her own.

  He wrapped his arms around her. Squeezing her tightly, he deepened the kiss still further.

  Then something changed.

  He wasn’t just pressing his body against hers. His body was entering hers. His mouth morphed into her own. His arms blended into her back. His torso sank into her chest.

  She tried to pull back, to disengage. They had become one like a half-formed Siamese twin. She tried to raise her hands, but her arms clung to his neck, refusing to budge. She blinked, seeing only his eyes, those huge, deep pits of darkness. What was happening?

  Do not fight me, love, she heard his voice say inside her mind. You are going to be my ve
ssel. You are going to help me fight these demons.

  Demons. Her heart raced as she suddenly recalled the full gravity of her situation.

  Lucius.

  This was Lucius, a demon trying to possess her body to open the Gate to Hell. Rising fury gave her the strength to push back. She gained the freedom of one hand.

  You will be my vessel.

  No. A firm sense of reality slammed into her. I will not.

  You leave me no choice, he said softly, pausing in his assault to overwhelm her body. I am sorry.

  SHE WONDERED WHAT he was talking about for a long moment. From the back of her mind, a door opened with a sickening crack. Emotions and memories that had been forgotten even with the wards down flooded through her mind.

  Leah.

  She sat in the rocking chair outside her room at Grandma Alma’s house. The house was dark. Paige’s eyes were heavy with exhaustion as she held her daughter in her arms, rocking her, singing her back to sleep.

  “Dancing bears, painted wings. Things I almost remembered. And a song someone sings. Once upon a December.”

  She kissed her daughter’s fuzzy, warm head. The little girl’s bright blue eyes were so close to shutting. “I love you,” she whispered before continuing with the song.

  The memory shifted.

  Paige returned home. Leslie met her at the door, her arms full of baby, Amanda on one arm, Leah in the other. “Here, take Lee. She needs changed. I’m making dinner. How was your day?”

  “Okay, I guess.” Paige smiled at Leah who giggled in her arms. “And how was your day? Huh? Were you a good girl today? Momma missed you.” She hugged her daughter tightly to her. “Momma missed you a lot.”

  “Momma.” Leah wrapped her chubby hand in Paige’s hair and tugged.

  “Leslie,” she called, rushing to the kitchen. “Did you hear that? Lee just called me Momma.”

  Leslie beamed, Amanda on her hip as she stood at the sink rinsing off a spoon. “Oh, what a smarty.” She shut off the water and turned to the stove, Amanda as far from the hot burner as Leslie’s body would allow. “Mandy still hasn’t said word one, but I can tell she’s close. She has so much to say, I can feel it.”

  Paige tossed her daughter in the air, peals of giggles settling in and over her. “You’re such a smart girl, Lee. I’m so proud of you.”

  Pain lanced her heart, choking her. She struggled to the surface of her mind, concentrating on the demon in front of her. She collapsed to the ground.

  You made me do this, love, Lucius said softly. I gave you a chance.

  She fought the overwhelming sorrow shredding her heart, crippling her, tearing her down.

  He was still for a long moment. I am sorry.

  The next memory hit her so hard, she nearly fell back.

  She stared at a judge, fear ripping through her, her hands trembling.

  The woman in the black robe sat in her chair on the high platform. “Ms. Whiskey, I cannot in good conscious allow you to keep your daughter. The allegations that your mother has brought to the court seem justified. The evidence shows that you could bring great danger to the development of your daughter. You have to think about her. Do you honestly think this is the way to raise a child?”

  “I don’t practice magick, Your Honor,” Paige cried out. “I am not a witch.”

  “That is not the issue.” The judge picked up a piece of paper.

  Paige didn’t know exactly which paper the judge held in her hands. She only knew it was covered in half-truths. Damning half-truths. She wasn’t a bad mother. She wasn’t.

  “This?” Incredulity exploded on her face. “I don’t want to do this, Ms. Whiskey. I don’t feel it is right to take a child away from her mother, but in this case?”

  Then don’t, Paige cried inside her mind.

  The judge sat up straighter and gestured to the other side of the room. “I side with the plaintive in this matter. Leah Marie Whiskey will live with her grandmother, Mrs. Rachel Whiskey. Request to move out of state has been granted.”

  “No.”

  The old pain flooded through her, squeezing the air from her chest.

  Yes. Lucius took final control of Paige’s body.

  Paige didn’t feel anything. She was trapped in a drug-induced hell, unable to escape. I have to stay in control. You can stop this. You can stop them from killing anyone else and from opening the Gate, and you can go home.

  I can’t. I need you to concentrate. This is your fear. This is what you must face. Your daughter is gone.

  I know all that.

  You cannot see her.

  His words were a knife to the gut.

  You cannot be with her.

  The knife twisted.

  You cannot watch her grow, listen to her voice, look into her eyes, bandage her hurts.

  The word-knives lodged behind her breastbone.

  This you must face on your own. The time of hiding is behind you.

  I won’t let you win.

  “Demon,” Malika’s voice resounded clearly in Paige’s ears. “I feel you. Have you succeeded?”

  “I have,” Paige heard her voice say.

  She tried to clench her hand into a fist. She could feel what her mind remembered the sensation to be, but her eyes only saw the twitching of her fingers. Visually, everything was distant, disconnected as though she were there, yet not there. She tried again. This time her fingers remained perfectly still.

  Do not fight me, Lucius warned. I do not have to keep you in here. I can throw you out and keep the body for myself.

  No. She had let the demon in. She had let the demon in. Oh, God. What had she done?

  “Open the gate,” Malika commanded.

  “Unbind me.”

  “I don’t think so.” The woman sneered at him.

  “Then show me the key.”

  Paige watched the world through a window. A very small window to a dark and abysmal room.

  “Again,” Malika said, “I don’t think so.”

  Lucius, what’s going on?

  Malika began singing, swaying in place. Paige could see the magick the other woman spun in a haze of reds and oranges. She felt the spell’s intention even though she could not understand what the woman said. Compulsion. It’s a compulsion spell. She’ll trap you and you’ll be forced to do whatever she says.

  She heard a roar. The voice was somewhat hers, but wholly unearthly with its multiple tones. She watched through the windows of her eyes in amazement as Lucius broke through the rope one arm at a time. He swung her fists, connecting with Sven and Mike, sending both men tumbling against the walls.

  The stairs. They’re behind us.

  She heard herself groan. Her fingers fumbled with the knots around her ankles.

  Just break the damn rope.

  Malika’s spell grew more intense, more furious and desperate. Paige, I cannot—she’s—

  Suddenly, Paige was thrown to the forefront of her own mind and body. She had control. Her fingers. Not his. She shoved the last knot away, her body twitching, her heart racing, her breathing out of control. She blinked, her mind still muddied with the remnants of the hallucinogen that coursed through her blood. She fell off the table and stumbled toward the exit.

  “Stop,” Malika commanded.

  Paige tripped up the stairs, forcing her to use all four limbs to make it to the top. She shoved the cellar doors open. Cool air rushed her. Solid dirt welcomed her back, the grass tickling her arms in greeting. Birds called out to her. The night sky beckoned.

  “I command you to stop, demon.”

  Lucius clawed his way to the front, ripping, pulling her out of her limbs.

  “No!” Paige maintaining control. “This body is mine.”

  I warned you!

  She gained her feet and ran with energy she didn’t have. The moon was weak in its crescent stage of death. The tall, sick trees rose from the ground around her, leering and snarling at her, reaching for her as she ran. Sobs choked her. She forged on, pushing away
the pains of her body, the snags as the limbs scratched her already over-sensitive skin. She had to get away.

  “Paige,” someone cried ahead of her.

  Blinding light seared her eyes, shooting a stabbing pain through her skull. Lucius recoiled inside her.

  “Demon,” Malika shouted behind her. “I command you to stop.”

  “Paige,” a new voice said.

  She jerked away, half seeing the new person in the bright glare of headlights. The world swirled, tossing her about. Who? Friend or foe? Friend or foe? His hands came toward her again, but she slapped them way, growling.

  “Paige,” he said again. “It’s Chief White.”

  “Chief?” Help? A way out? An escape? “Brian?”

  “Yes.”

  “Demon,” Malika commanded.

  “Go.” Paige sobbed from the pain, the emotional hurt, the confusion, the relief. She pushed at White. “Go.”

  “Who’s attacking you?”

  “Witch. Demon. Go.”

  He opened the car door, and shoved her into the back seat. She lay in a huddled lump as he tore out of the gravel driveway, away from Malika, away from Mike, and Sven, and the horrible dreams.

  But not away from Lucius.

  No. She had let him in.

  She had let him. God help her. She had let him in.

  LUCIUS RAMPAGED THROUGH her mind.

  Chief White glanced over his shoulder for a brief moment before returning his eyes to the road. “That’s a lot of blood. Are you all right?”

  Lucius’ will slammed into Paige, making her head pound. He threw memories at her, forcing her to eat her own emotions. She lost resolve with each blow. It would be so easy to just . . . slip . . . to let him take control again.

  She straightened slightly. Those memories made her weak, giving the demon something to exploit. She had to stay strong. She couldn’t let him win.

  She concentrated on the arm of the door digging into her side.

  Ground.

  The feel of the leather seat under her hand, the odd groaning sound it made under the gentle massage of her drumming fingers.

  Center.

  The cool of the window at her cheek.

  Ground.

  The streetlights passing by.