Nothing moved on Brian’s dark face. His eyebrow didn’t twitch. His fingers didn’t flex. He didn’t wince or flinch. After a moment, he nodded. “Who asked you on the case? Detective Whiskey?”
“No. When Alma found out Paige was coming, we did some quick research into your situation. Paige isn’t called out of her jurisdiction lightly, Brian. When she’s requested, something big is going down. We both decided Paige could use some backup.”
A slight frown furrowed Brian’s forehead. “What happened yesterday?”
“More truth?”
“I’d prefer it.”
He’d handled the hunter bit rather smoothly. Perhaps he could actually handle this. “I think she was attacked by a demon.”
“Why do you suspect that?”
However, no matter how well the other man handled things, there were aspects to a paranormal existence that just didn’t lend well to a civilian life. “There are some jars that, once opened, can’t be re-sealed. Are you sure you want to know?”
Brian lifted his chin, his gaze falling to his desk. “My mom had the sight. It wasn’t much, but she could see things sometimes, things we couldn’t explain to the rest of the world. I’m not saying I completely buy into demons and whatever else might be out there, but I do know one thing. I’ve got a killer in my town who’s bringing the devil with him. I don’t have the leisure to fear what doesn’t make sense.”
Dexx leaned back in his chair. “That, sir, earned you a lot of respect, right there.”
The chief lifted one beefy shoulder, sunlight from the high window blaring brightly on his white button-up shirt.
“Okay, well, I’ll read you in.”
Brian raised an eyebrow.
Dexx grinned, then grew somber. “Sorry. We have a bad situation. Paige is a demon summoner.”
“She’s what?”
“Yeah.”
Brian ran his hand along his bald head slowly.
“It gets worse. Alma—the matriarch of the Whiskey Witches, if you will—put a shield around her abilities. She had her reasons. They were valid at the time. However, having her here is a risk. Whatever this killer is doing allowed a demon to slip through Alma’s defenses.”
“I don’t completely follow.”
Dexx placed his elbows on his knees. “Your killer might not be summoning a demon like you thought.”
“How’d you—”
“Trust me. I have my ways. Your murderer might have been luring Paige here to use her to summon for him.”
Brian sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him.
“I know you need help with your investigation, but you’ve got to send Paige away. For her safety. For yours. For your town.”
“What if it’s too late?”
“Let’s hope it’s not.”
IN THE DRIFTING darkness, Paige could make out the vague outlines of houses and trees. She knew this street. Her head hurt too much to concentrate, though. The setting morphed. Walls grew up around her from the fog.
“Paige. What took you so long?”
Paige spun in a slow circle. She was dreaming, right?
A tall, well-dressed man with black hair and eyes walked toward her with a warm, welcoming smile. He almost looked relieved as he clasped her hand in both of his. She found herself smiling at him before he even opened his mouth. There was just something . . . very comforting about him, like a favorite sweatshirt that you found buried in the back of the closet.
“You didn’t have to make an appointment to come see me. You know that.”
“I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
He turned from her and walked into an office. “They’ve been gathering. I was hoping to see you much sooner than this. What was so pressing in Denver? I haven’t heard of anything rising there. This should have been your first priority. Someone is obviously trying to get your attention.”
Her eyes narrowed. “My attention?”
“Did you miss the connection to the Pilmner case? This killer’s using the same symbols, but we know it’s not the same guy. He’s in prison serving several life sentences.”
“Pilmner? What?”
“Paige. You’re better than this.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We need to figure out who knows about you and—” He interrupted himself and raised his chin. Disappointment filtered across his face. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
“Dr. Balnore Ramirez.” Paige suddenly recalled his name. She’d seen it in the case files. “You were seeing Ashley Fort, the second victim in the St. Francisville murders.”
The doctor’s open expression slammed shut as he pulled back and took a careful seat in his leather chair. He crossed one leg over the other, one elbow propped on his desk. He picked up a pen and rolled it in his fingers as he watched her warily.
Paige knew she was dreaming. This wasn’t the first time she’d replayed interviews. This was the first one she’d initiated one in a dream.
“Are you sure you’re dreaming?”
She jerked in surprise. Was he reading her mind?
“Detective,” he said, his tone stern, his expression hard. “How can I be of assistance?”
A brown leather chair materialized behind her. Sinking into it, she took in a steadying breath. “Am I supposed to know you?”
His nostrils flared minutely. “Do you?”
She narrowed her gaze and shook her head.
He shrugged, his cheeks sucked into an expression of dark brooding. “Then you do not.”
What the hell was this guy’s problem? “Dr. Ramirez, I am here to investigate the murders of three individuals. You were the psychiatrist for Mrs. Fort—”
“I was Ashley’s psychologist.”
Paige gestured with her hand, brushing off his affront. “Psychologist. I need to know if she mentioned seeing anyone new. If maybe she mentioned something she and the victims were working on. I don’t know. Anything that might be helpful.”
The doctor rubbed his nose with his index finger. “Perhaps. How much do you believe?”
“What do you mean?”
“You are the witch detective.”
She rolled her eyes. That never got old.
“They found a key. Malika brought it out. They were scrying. Ashley was scared. Didn’t like what she saw.”
Something about how he said the word key sent a chill down her spine. “What do you mean?”
“Ashley had foresight. Do you know what that means?”
“She believed she could see into the future.”
He tapped his fingers on the desk in a pointed staccato. “You don’t believe in that.”
Paige shrugged. “It could be she was just really good at logic puzzles.”
The doctor studied her. Whatever conclusions he came to remained locked behind his unchanging face. “She was scared. Said something dark was coming, that the magick was turning toward the left-hand path.”
“What did she tell you about the key?”
The sudden weight in his gaze pinned her in place. “Only that they were trying to open it. Does that make sense to you?”
“No.” She tapped her pen on her notepad, squirming under the power of his attention.
“Check Mike and Malika’s alibis.”
“Who are they?”
“Lieutenant Mike Jones and his girlfriend Malika Moore.”
Those names hadn’t popped up in the case files.
“No. They wouldn’t have.”
Good goddamn! Was he reading her mind again? What was going on?
“Brian pulled Lieutenant Jones off the case when Ashley was killed.”
“So?”
“The two had been friends, but what the good chief didn’t know was they were a part of a coven.”
That was important information, but wait. What? “Coven?”
Dr. Ramirez nodded.
How was she getting this information in a dream?
“Are you sure this is a drea
m?”
Paige’s pulse quickened. “What else could it be?”
“You sought me out like you used to. We’re communicating like we did before Leah.”
Her heart clenched and she swallowed. “I don’t—I don’t understand.”
Dr. Ramirez pursed his lips. “Why are you still blocked?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re missing years.” He opened a book on his desk and idly trailed a finger down the page.
Her entire body stilled. “How do you know that?”
“Have you tried to get your memories back?”
“How,” she repeated moving to the edge of her seat, “do you know that?”
“Are you waiting for them to magically reappear?”
“Who are you?”
“Do you realize what your inaction has cost? To those around you? To the world?”
“What are you talking about?”
Dr. Ramirez closed the book and breathed several times. With a sudden movement, he slammed his flat hand against the desk, his gaze boring into hers.
Paige nearly leapt out of the chair to get away from him, but his pure black eyes held her in place.
Demon!
Her mind went sideways, like she’d had one too many glasses of wine. Her ears rang. She couldn’t focus.
“What are you doing, Peanut?”
A flash of light hit her eyes. Visions swirled through her skull. Conversations ricocheted into her ears.
“Peanut.”
She turned and glanced up at Balnore Ramirez dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. The sun shone bright. They stood outside Grandma Alma’s large house. She smiled and hugged him in greeting. “Bal, I couldn’t do any of this without you.”
His expression filled with worry.
Paige blinked, pulling herself out of the Twilight Zone, white-knuckling the arms of the chair.
He rolled his chair around the desk. “Why did you call me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Her heart raced. She had to get back some semblance of control. She gripped her pen and fell back to what she knew best. “Investigating a series of murders.” Her voice trembled. Anger flared within her, burning the fear away slowly. Too slowly. “What are you doing here?”
“Keeping an eye on things.” His hands clenched. “As I’m supposed to. As you’re supposed to.”
“Who are you?”
His fists opened. His jaw tightened.
“Dr. Ramirez?”
He closed his eyes, his body visibly relaxing.
As soon as his eyes closed, it felt as if a chokehold had been released. She took in a deep breath, though her pulse continued to race.
“If you’re withholding something that could help my investigation . . .” she said, her words strong, her tone barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I could hold you in contempt of court.”
He stared at her, his eyes shining with familiarity and something else. Desperation. “Damn it, Peanut. Please, break through.”
She blinked at him.
“Peanut.”
“A war is coming.” Balnore stood in front of her, desperation filling his black, human eyes. “You have to be ready.”
“Bal, I am,” Paige heard herself say.
“You’re not.” He took a step forward and held her shoulders. “I’m glad you have Leah, but you have to be careful. She can be used against you. You’re a weapon and someone is going to find a way to use you. Or get you out of the game.”
Paige rolled her eyes in the bright afternoon sun. “The demons? I doubt it.”
“Paige, don’t do this.”
“Peanut,” the doctor whispered, putting his elbows on his knees.
“Stop calling me that.”
“Do you want me to help you remember? Or do you want him to break those memories open for you?”
“Who?”
“The thing currently possessing you.”
Her frantic heartbeat screamed at her leave. “Do I know you?”
“Yes,” he answered just as quietly.
“How?”
The doctor was still for one long, silent moment. “We worked together.”
Paige swallowed hard. Her hands trembled in her lap despite how she tried to still them.
“Ask for my help. Ask me to return your memories.”
“Why?”
“You’re vulnerable without them.”
“Then why didn’t you give them back before?”
“I can’t—” His expression folded in torn sincerity. “Peanut, you have to remember.”
Paige couldn’t look away. “What’s going on?”
“Something a lot bigger than you and me. A lot bigger than a couple of murders.”
“What could be bigger than murder?” Paige demanded. “People are dying.”
“That’s what you need to remember.”
Paige clenched her jaw. “Where were you on March eighth at two a.m.?”
“Goddamn it, Paige,” the doctor said, slamming his fist against the desk. “Don’t do this. Not now.”
Her heart skidded to a halt as she prepared to flee.
“Don’t put up these shields. Don’t bury your head in the fucking sand. Don’t pretend you’re in the world of the real. You’re not.”
Her entire body shook.
“Ask me for help.”
“Why? Who the hell are you to me?”
“You’re in way over your head.” He sat forward. “And you’ve been out of the game for far too long. You need me. And you need to clue the fuck in. Now. Before it’s too late.”
“What is going on, Dr. Ramirez?”
His gaze captured hers again—hard. “You used to call me Bal.”
She struggled to breathe around the invisible hand closing around her windpipe. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Remember me, Paige.”
Something pushed against her mind. “I don’t—” His two eyes swam and became four. The room shifted around her.
“What was the last conversation we had, Peanut?”
“ . . . Peanut.”
“I’ll be fine. Leah’ll be fine. Grandma’s watching her. No one can get through her.”
“Just because you can fight them with ease doesn’t mean that she can.”
“I think you underestimate my grandmother. You have met the woman, right?”
She wrapped her fingers around her head and closed her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“We were talking about the war. Remember.”
“War? I don’t under—” Paige stood, dizzy. She had to get out of there.
He was in front of her as if he’d teleported, his hands around her wrists with an iron force. “Demons.”
She’d seen his eyes shift earlier. Hadn’t she? Didn’t that make him a demon, too?
“There’s an uprising. The key is important. Find it. Do not let them open it.”
Don’t let them open the key or what it opens? “What is it for?”
“It opens the Gate.”
“The gate to what?”
“Get the key and then get the hell out of Louisiana as quick as you can until you get your memories back.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Remember, Peanut,” leaning forward to whisper his words in her ear. “You were never normal.”
She tried to pull away.
“If you stay, you will die. If you die, you’ll let them in.”
“The demons?”
“Yes.”
She tried to jerk her arm out of his grasp. “You’re insane.”
“You’re wounded and you’re broken.” He let go of her and turned back to the papers on his desk. “You can’t win this battle. Not like this.”
Paige stepped away from him, walking backward to the door so he couldn’t grab at her in the last minute.
“I thought you were stronger than this, Peanut.” He refused to look at her. “I thought you were better.”
&
nbsp; Paige fled back into the waiting darkness.
“THANKS FOR UNDERSTANDING.” Dexx opened the door to Paige’s room, supper in a bag in his teeth, his left arm full of folders.
Brian followed him into the room carrying an over-filled case box. “To be honest, the fewer people who know how many rules I’m breaking right now, the better.”
“Right.” Dexx dumped the folders on the small table and stashed supper in a chair. He pulled the round table closer to the center of the room, then wiggled the crocheted Brian doily out from under the paperwork, setting it on the bureau. He took the bottle of sedatives out of his jacket pocket before draping it over the back of a floral canvased chair.
“How’s she doing?”
Dexx sat on the edge of the bed and checked her pulse. Not that he counted her heartbeats like someone who actually knew what the hell he was doing. Half of him checked to make sure it was still beating in the first place. The other saw to the sigil on her arm. Black ink, just the way he’d left her. Good. He popped the top off the orange drug bottle and poured two little blue diazepam pills into his palm.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Sure.” Dexx shoved the two pills down her throat, feeling her tongue work as she fought to swallow and throw up at the same time. “Hand me that water bottle?”
Brian touched the bottle to Dexx’s shoulder. “Tell me again why she’s not at the clinic.”
“You really want a demon-possessed person running rampage in the clinic? Trust me.” Dexx dribbled some of the water down her throat, watching her swallow. “Also, I’m fairly certain the good doctor would try to tell you that the dosage we’re giving her would kill her.”
“Will it?”
“Doubt it.”
“Doubt it?”
“Demon.”
“Right.”
Dexx stood, screwing the cap back on the water bottle. “Okay. Where do we start on the case?”
“Shouldn’t we wait for her?” Brian’s gaze stayed on Paige’s form.
“I need to see if she’s really in danger or if we have someone out there mucking with stuff they don’t understand.” God, he hoped it was just some stupid person.
“You both are really on that kick, aren’t you?”
“Let’s just say we see it more often than not.”
“Okay.” The chief turned to the table. “What do you need to see?”
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