Witches of the West - (An Urban Fantasy Whiskey Witches Novel)

by S. M. Blooding

  Merry still claimed that someone else had set up the restaurant, trying to pin her for the murders.

  Paige had to agree. That scene hadn’t been Merry’s MO.

  But maybe that’s exactly what Merry had done. She’d done something with Paige’s magick without her even knowing. She’d regained her ability to use blood without needing clean witches. Maybe she’d set up the set up.

  It was all conjecture, though. No one was talking.

  Lovejoy had given Paige and her team forty-eight hours to build their case. That wasn’t a long time. She didn’t spend a lot of time at home with her kids, with her family. They seemed to understand.

  Mostly.

  The paranormal courthouse was located in the middle of the woods just north of Troutdale, in the mountains. The structure looked as though it had been around since Wild West times. There were few places to park. The place looked like a goddamned zoo.

  People of all kinds gathered to watch the proceedings. The previous night, Paige had tried to turn over all her evidence to Lovejoy and her team of lawyers.

  “That’s not how this is going to work, Captain.”

  What? Why not? “Then, how is it going to work?”

  “You will present the evidence. You will call on your witnesses. The council will question you and your witnesses. And at the end, will, hopefully, put Merry Eastwood away for good.”

  That sounded all fine and dandy except that Paige wasn’t a lawyer. She’d never been a lawyer. Their lawyer was still in New York.

  And, apparently, if this was the way things went, she was going to need his help. She prayed to whoever was listening that she not fuck this up.

  It wasn’t set up like a courtroom. Big, round room. Plenty of space for people to stand and sit along the perimeter.

  One table inside the oblong circle of tables.

  And, apparently, that’s where she had to go.

  Fuck.

  Paige’s nerves rattled her gut, making her wish she hadn’t slammed her latte. A regular coffee might have been better. She took in a deep breath as everyone settled in their chairs around the oblong ring of tables.

  She searched for familiar faces and found two. Chuck and Lovejoy.

  Holy crapballs. What was she doing?

  An older woman raised her hand, waiting.

  Silence filled the room.

  “We are here to try the witch, Merry Eastwood, on forty-three counts of murder, irresponsible magickal practices, and ripping the souls from sixty-eight people. Bring forth the defendant.”

  Paige turned as Merry was brought through the single opening. She was made to stand in the center.

  A smirk settled on her lips.

  “Ms. Whiskey,” the older woman said. “I am Elder Tralla. You may begin.”

  Paige didn’t know what Elder Tralla was and she was a little too scared to look. She swallowed her fear and ran her fingers along the folders. Evidence. Just give them the evidence. Calm settled over her. “Elder Tralla,” she didn’t know how to address the rest of the circle, “and everyone else.”

  Lovejoy winced.

  One man who looked like the wizard in Legends of the Seeker smirked in good humor.

  “I don’t know what the proceedings are in a case like this. I don’t know what the rules are, what you want to see or hear. So, as I progress…” Paige paused, asking herself again what the hell she was doing there, “please let me know if I overstep my bounds.”

  “We will guide you,” Elder Tralla said.

  “Let’s start by introducing ourselves,” the old wizard-like man said with a smile. “We are the Council of Elders. We watch over the paranormal community and keep order.”

  “And where were you through Merry Eastwood’s reign of murder?” Paige asked without thinking. She bit her tongue, wishing she hadn’t said that out loud.

  “We haven’t had much say over witches.” His smile slipped, turning serious. “Until you came along, Ms. Whiskey.”

  Uh-oh. What had she done?

  “When the animal spirit chose you, a witch, you and your kind re-entered our world.”

  “I don’t understand why witches would be outside of your world in the first place.”

  “Because,” he turned his gaze to Merry, “she made it so over two hundred years ago.”

  Paige shook her head.

  “She created the chasm between witches and the rest of the paranormal world. She took herself out of our reach and when we attempted to bring witches back, when we realized what a grave mistake that had been, it was too late. She created the war between the witches. The shifters and three surviving witch families maintained their distance from the paranormal world.”

  It made sense. Finally. “What does it mean to be inside your paranormal world?” Because, well, now might not be too late to figure out the full ramifications? The damage was already done. She couldn’t undo what Cawli had done for her. She couldn’t rip open the seams and hope she managed to keep Hell’s gate sealed within her soul.

  “It means there will be law and order in the paranormal community. Real law and order.”

  “And on our magicks?”

  “Yes.”

  Paige swallowed. That was a good thing. But what would these rules be? Who would make them? Who would enforce them? What would happen if her children broke them?

  Or the Eastwoods?

  Or the Blackmans?

  Merry settled her flat gaze upon Paige and sneered. “And this, Paige, is what you’ve done. Their ‘rule’ is restrictive like a noose.”

  Says the woman who killed so many people in an effort to remain young. “I’m sure we’ll work through it.”

  The male elder nodded. “I’m sure we will.”

  “And your name?”

  “Elder Yad.”

  She was going to have a hard time trying to remember that name. “Okay. What’s next?”

  Elder Tralla raised her head. “Present your evidence.”

  Paige took in a deep breath. Just look at Lovejoy and present it to her because she knows the same rules you know.

  Right.

  “There isn’t a lot of ‘evidence’ dating before this year. No one knew what they were looking at a hundred and fifty years ago. They didn’t know how to put a case like this together.”

  Lovejoy nodded, holding Paige’s gaze.

  Thank goodness. “We’ve been able to string together several deaths that look suspicious and who seem to follow Merry Eastwood’s path.”

  “But that,” Elder Tralla said, “is conjecture.”

  “It is. The real proof came after Merry Eastwood murdered Shelia Blackman.”

  “Do you have any proof of this?” Elder Tralla asked.

  Not really. “We have a witness.”

  “Who? Her son? How reliable is his word?”

  Did Elder Tralla want Merry behind bars? Paige shook herself. This was kind of a court of law and the character of the witness was always questioned. “He seems so.”

  “Wouldn’t he want her removed from power so he could take her place?”

  Paige dipped her head. To tell them about her daughter or not. “He has someone else in mind who could lead his coven if he can’t.”

  “Who? Someone we could trust?”

  “Possibly.”

  “So, his sights are not on power.”

  “He only wants his mother’s reign of terror to end.”

  Elder Yad raised his bushy eyebrows. “Sounds promising and menacing at the same time.”

  Time to get them to move on. “Eastwood magick is blood magick. Like vampires, they don’t have to bleed their victims dry in order to get what they need. However, Merry Eastwood did. She would find a person connected to several children. Then, she would claim her victim’s blood, and feed off the souls of the children and their parents who were close to the victim.”

  Elder Tralla straightened.

  Lovejoy smiled slightly and gave Paige a curt nod.

  “That’s how we know sh
e claimed Shelia Blackman’s blood. The Blackmans have death magick. So, when Merry claimed Shelia’s blood, she also claimed her magick. However, when she tried to continue with her spell—feeding off the souls of children and taking other blood victims—she would leave the location dead.”

  Elder Yad frowned, bringing in his bottom lip.

  Paige brought out the map that Tarik and Quinn had worked on, coordinating the locations of the dead spots to Merry’s itinerary. “This shows each of the dead zones around the surrounding areas and shows where Merry Eastwood was when each of these were formed.”

  “So, in each of these locations, she…” Elder Tralla shook her head in question.

  “In this location, as you can see by the notes, she killed Shelia Blackman.” Paige turned and retrieved Shelia’s case file. “Shelia’s blood was tied to the scene, though her body was found miles away.”

  “Anything tying Merry Eastwood there?”

  “Forensic evidence? No. Magickal evidence? Yes.” Paige retrieved several other folders. “This is Jill and John Coover and their daughter Anna. Anna went to the same school Shelia taught at and they’d gotten close.” She pointed to the next location on the map. “After soccer practice one day after Shelia’s murder, this spot was created. That was the day Anna’s parents noticed something was wrong with their daughter. She was acting differently, without emotion.”

  “Without a soul.” Elder Tralla narrowed her eyes at the map. “And these other three points?”

  Paige set down each folder as she laid them down. “Mark Strudt, Tracy Smith, and Apple Gorze. All soulless within the next week.”

  “And you believe you can tie this Merry Eastwood how?”

  Paige retrieved another folder, Merry’s. “Here’s video surveillance photos of Merry Eastwood taken before Shelia was murdered.” She looked young. “After she was murdered, captured by a camera two blocks from the crime scene.” She’d aged about a decade. “And after each of the children’s souls had been taken.” At the end of the week, she’d looked like a hag.

  Elder Tralla looked at Merry Eastwood, blinking in confusion. “I thought this blood spell was to help her retain her youth.”

  “Shelia’s magick altered the spell, turned it around, taking years from her instead of giving them back.”

  “And how,” Elder Yad asked quietly, “did she fix that?”

  “With the murders of these three victims.” Paige set the files on the table. “They have what is called clean magick. It’s grey. It hasn’t been tempered by bloodline or use. It lays dormant in the blood. She used these people to clean Shelia’s magick from her spell.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  Partially. She wasn’t certain Merry had used Paige to reverse the damage or not. It didn’t make sense and she couldn’t prove it. If she could explain it, she wasn’t going to bring it up. “Yes.”

  “And the restaurant?”

  Another scene she didn’t fully understand. “When the people died, the blood sought her. It crawled to her and was soaked into her. She visibly lost years.”

  “I can see that.” Elder Tralla fingered the folders in front of her. “And was there any evidence, real evidence, at any of these scenes that ties Merry Eastwood to any of this?”

  Cold washed over Paige. She’d secretly hoped that what she’d presented would be enough. The recording she’d attempted to make on her phone hadn’t been helpful. Her phone had shut off around the time she’d taken her fateful sip of whiskey. So, she only had one card to play. Her palms broke out in sweat. “Sarah Evans. Merry Eastwood’s DNA was found under her nails.”

  “And was there a new death spot?”

  Paige shook her head. “She was murdered in the same location as Shelia Blackman.”

  “Why?” Elder Yad asked.

  “I don’t know.” Paige licked her dry lips. “Maybe she thought she could reverse it faster if she went to the place it all went wrong.

  “And then she left the body instead of relocating it.”

  “She was interrupted.”

  “Witnesses?”

  Paige shook her head. “None that we have found to date.”

  Elder Tralla turned her gaze to Merry Eastwood. “This is pretty damning.”

  Merry raised her eyebrow, pressing her lips closed in disdain.

  “Do you have anything to say?”

  Merry turned her cold gaze to Paige. “Just be careful of my son. He is not the man he says he is.”

  Paige released a breath.

  “And…” A slow, cold smile slid into place on Merry’s lips. “If you think you can put your daughter in my place, you are wrong.”

  “That,” Paige said in a tone that made her point very clear, “will never happen.”

  Merry sneered. “I certainly hope not.”

  Elder Yad raised an eyebrow at Paige.

  Paige bit the inside of her cheek and turned away.

  “Well, if that is all.” Elder Tralla gathered the folders. “Merry Eastwood, you will be held in a secure location until we’ve reviewed all the evidence in more detail.”

  Paige’s heart raced. If they reviewed the evidence, they might figure out Vivien’s involvement, which could blow the entire case since that DNA was the only forensic proof they had.

  “This hearing is over.” Elder Tralla thumped the table with the folders. “Have a good day.”

  Just like that? Was the case on Merry Eastwood closed?

  Would the Eastwood coven turn out to be a bigger problem with her out of the picture?

  Would the elders figure out what she’d done to get Merry behind bars?

  Whatever happened, Paige would figure out how to deal with it. She had to.

  Lovejoy hadn’t come out to see her. She’d disappeared with the rest of the elders into a back room, probably to review the evidence. Someone came by and took Paige’s folders.

  Well, at least Lovejoy knew about the DNA being a plant. Good, bad, or indifferent, it didn’t really matter. Lovejoy knew and she understood how important it was to keep Merry in jail. She’d protect the integrity of the evidence the best she could.

  Paige hoped.

  Paige drove back to the Whiskey home not quite sure if she should get excited. They’d won. Woohoo.

  Right?

  But something still…tickled, like she’d missed a sticky note on her to-do list or something.

  Leah met her at the door, her eyebrows pinched together and raised. “Yay or boo?”

  Paige let go of the pent up breath inside her and hugged her daughter close. She rested her head on top of Leah’s and stared into their home. Their home. The forgotten shirt on the floor. The lonely sock hanging off the table next to the stairs leading up. A pair of grown men’s boots sitting on the floor that looked as though Dexx had just walked right out of them.

  The sounds of laughter coming from the kitchen. An argument ensuing from overhead. Soft talking from the living room.

  Home.

  Relief washed through her so overwhelmingly, she almost sagged with it. This was what she’d been fighting for. This was what she’d pushed herself so hard for. This.

  And the girl in her arms.

  “Kool-aid or wine?” Leah asked, pulling away to look into her mother’s face.

  She really did look like her father with the blonde hair and the blue eyes. Paige shook herself and smiled. “Wine. Always wine.”

  “Then, we lost today?”

  Paige cupped her daughter’s cheek. “Nah. We won. I think.” She wrapped an arm around Leah’s shoulders and they walked to the kitchen. “But if you’re going to offer wine as an option, I will always take the wine.”

  “Really?” Leah asked, her voice pained. “Kool-aid is so much better and it comes in cool colors.”

  Paige chuckled.

  Leslie looked up from the island, a smile on her face. “And here’s our conquering hero.” She raised the orange bell pepper she’d been chopping into the air. “Hazah!”

 
Leah pulled away and went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine. It was Leslie’s and not Paige’s, but she wasn’t going to say anything. Leah was being helpful, which was nice.

  Leslie went back to chopping.

  Alma turned away from the stove and gave Paige a level look. “Did it really go well?”

  Paige nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think so. She is behind bars for a very long time. They’re just reviewing evidence, but, yeah. It looks good.”

  Dexx came in from the garage, his grease-covered work buddy in hand. “Well, hey, Mom,” he said in almost adult voice. “Bobby just did his first oil change.”

  Bobby’s eyes were huge and his little fists were still.

  Paige released a silent chuckled and went to rescue her son.

  He reached for her as soon as she got close enough.

  Paige laughed, again silently, and looked at Dexx. “I don’t think he liked it.”

  “Don’t let him lie to you.” Dexx claimed her lips in a brief kiss. “He loved it.”

  “So,” Leslie said, scooping the chopped peppers and dumping them in Alma’s pan. “What’s next?”

  Leah handed Paige a very full glass of wine.

  Paige took it, contentment—real contentment—flooding through her. She leaned against Dexx, who wrapped one arm around her and Bobby and the other around Leah. This was exactly where she wanted to be. “Now?” she smiled. “We live.”

  Leslie raised her own wine glass and beamed a grin at Alma. “Hazah!”

  SM Blooding lives in Montana with her Darling Dork, Tesla the Ninja Kitty. They’re spending a lot of time discovering the gorgeous Montana landscape and meeting new people. So far, this has been a great change for them.

  She’s dated vampires, werewolves, sorcerers, weapons smugglers and US Government assassins. Yes. She has stories.

  Find out more about at: www.smblooding.co

  She’ll probably be starting up her own paranormal investigation group soon…because, you know, ghosts!