whiskey witches 01 - whisky witches (5 page)

Hope loomed heavily in her chest as she walked up the steep concrete stairs to the front door. Would Leah be happy to see her? Would Rachel allow them to play games or sit and hold each other? Would they be allowed to talk? How tall had she grown? She was almost four. What size pants was she wearing? Was her favorite color still pink?

She clutched Leah’s early birthday gift a little tighter. She’d spent two hours trying to pick out the perfect gift, not knowing when she’d be allowed to see her daughter again. It had to be perfect, something Leah’d want to keep with her, to remember her by. She took in a calming breath and knocked on the door, pasting on a hopeful smile. She heard footsteps and the doorknob rattle. Nervous excitement shot through her. Did she still like daisies? Had she grown out of Blue’s Clues? Did she like Dora the Explorer? Was she into Barbie yet, or My Little Pony? Did she like CareBears or maybe Rainbow Bright? It was coming back. So was Strawberry Shortcake.

“Ms. Paige Whiskey?” a male voice said.

Paige looked up in surprise to see a uniformed officer standing in the doorway. “Yes.”

“What are you doing here?”

Paige’s mouth opened and that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach grew. “Rachel told me to come. She said I could spend some time with my daughter.” She knew. She knew what was going on. She saw the trap for what it was now.

“Please don’t do this,” she whispered, her eyes filling with hopeless and heart-broken tears. “Please.”

“Ms. Whiskey,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”

Silent sobs wracked her body as she shook her head. “No. Rachel told me to come. She said I could see my daughter. Please, don’t do this.”

“I have a restraining order. You were supposed to have been served with it yesterday.”

“I was on the road yesterday. Rachel knew this. I called her when I left.”

“If you don’t leave now, I’m going to have to arrest you.”

Paige looked up to the sky as tears fell from her eyes. “Can I—Can I just see her?”

He looked at her, his dark eyes filled with sympathy as he shook his head. “You know the law.”

She tried to still her sobs as she attempted to look behind him. “I’ve been driving for two days for this.” She looked him in the eye. “Please. Please.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Whiskey,” he said, opening the screen door and taking her arm. “Really, I am.”

As soon as he stepped through the door, Paige was able to see her.

She’d grown. The top of her blonde head was even with Rachel’s abdomen. Her hair was in poofy pigtails and she wore a bright blue shirt with matching shorts.

Her baby.

Rachel wrapped her arm around Leah’s shoulders. The woman’s expression was smug.

Leah’s expression was . . . crushed.

Paige broke. She reached for the door even as the officer pulled her away. “Leah.”

“Momma,” Leah screamed with all the sorrow and heart-ache one little girl could muster.

“Leah,” Paige cried, trying to fight the officer, trying to get one last glimpse of her girl. “I just want to hug her. Please, just let me hold her.”

“I’m sorry,” the officer said, taking his arm around her middle and practically carrying her down the steps.

“Momma,” Leah screamed again.

“Leah,” Paige cried. “I love you.” She twisted in the officer’s arm. “I got you a present.”

“Stop. Paige.” Dexx ran up to the officer holding her. “I’ve got her. I’ll take over from here.”

“Just keep her away from the house,” the officer said. “Or I will have to arrest her.”

“Yeah,” he said, fighting her resisting, sobbing body. “I’ve got her.”

The vision stopped.

“Oh, God.”

The link between their arms broke. The fire racing along the rune went cold. He held her close as she slept. He felt ragged and tired, like he’d just gone nine rounds. “Jesus Christ. What did we do to you?”

D
EXX DECIDED TO
tranquilize her. He didn’t know what she would do, how she would react, and the demon had gotten too close. Leslie and, hopefully, Alma were on their way. He just had to buy time till then.

He needed a few things in town. First stop, vet’s office. He pulled his 1976 Dodge Challenger up to the vet’s office. He shut off the rumbling engine of his 1976 Dodge Challenger. Taking a moment, he pinched the bridge of his nose before sliding his fingers along the bottom rim of his eye sockets. How could he call himself a friend if he’d never understood how she’d felt? They’d banished her emotions, acting like she didn’t have the right to remember her own daughter. And why?

Because she’d raised a few demons to kill her mother? If Dexx had lived through that, he wouldn’t have had to summon anything. He would have killed the woman with his bare hands.

Swallowing, he got out of the car. The hot, muggy air greeted him gently, beckoning to him with the promise of shade from the nearby tree. He walked through the door. The dinging of the bell to herald his arrival and he waited at the counter.

A teenage girl in a black t-shirt and jeans entered from a door in the back. “Can I help you?”

Dexx plastered on his charm. He had a face that could get him anything and he knew it. It was his weapon of choice when dealing with the mundanes. Wait. What was it the Harry Potter crowd called them? Oh, hell. He couldn’t recall. “I’m getting ready to go on a long trip, but my dog doesn’t handle car rides well. I’m out of diazepam, which is what I normally give her. I was wondering if I could get some more.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” the girl said with a smile. “What’s her name?”

His eye twitched. “Doxxie.”

“And what breed is she?”

“Great Dane.”

“Oh, she’s a big dog.”

He nodded, keeping his expression relaxed and genuine. “We’re actually getting ready to leave right now. I was getting ready to give her the dose so we could go when I discovered I was out. I just forgot to reorder. It’s so silly of me.”

She winced as if suddenly recalling something. “I shouldn’t do this.”

“She gets really anxious and tears up the back seat of my car.”

She peered over his shoulder at the parking spaces, returned her attention to him, then did a double-take. “Is that your car?”

Pride surged through him. Having an older car had been a good idea when he rebelled against his mother. His hands had needed something to do, and re-building the old junker had been ideal. Now, with all the time he spent on the road, getting a car with better gas mileage would be more cost effective, but then he’d have a harder time fixing it himself. Also, there were the reactions. He’d never get over that.

“Well, um, I’m sure Doctor Tom will understand.” She blinked, probably not even realizing she was giving him a flirt, and went to the rear door. “I’ll just be right . . . back.”

Dexx thumped the counter with his thumb. “I’ll be here.”

Paige, of course, was his Great Dane and she was the one she’d given his last dose to. He felt certain she’d be out for another few hours. A normal person would be out the rest of the day with the dose he gave her. She had a demon trying to get in. The idea of what that thing could do scared the crap right out of him.

With the refilled prescription in hand, he exited the office, and was on his way to the police station.

St. Francisville wasn’t that small a town, but it was quaint. Downtown had a real earthy feel to it, and even had more than a few white picket fences. The police station wasn’t much to look at. Most really weren’t. He walked up to the front desk.

A man in a police uniform worked it. Well, he was actually reading a comic book. He put it away, offering a smile. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Chief White?”

“Is he expecting you?”

“No, but he has questions for me.”

“Name?”

“Dexx Colt. I’m with Detective Whiskey.”

The police officer frowned, but picked up the phone and spoke into it. After a brief moment, he nodded and gestured Dexx back.

Chief White was a big, burly guy who dwarfed the array of desks. In a fist fight, Dexx wouldn’t necessarily lay money on himself. This guy looked like he had the strength and the know-how to take Dexx down, no matter how scrappy he might be.

Dexx offered his hand. “Dexx Colt. I’m with Detective Whiskey.”

“Nice to put a name to your face.” The chief’s low voice carried. “Follow me.”

His office looked like just about every other police chief’s office Dexx had ever visited. Desk. Files. A lamp. A computer. Awards on the walls.

The chief closed the door behind Dexx with a tapping of the blinds against the glass. “I hope you’re here to explain a few things, Mr. Colt.”

“Dexx, please, and, yes. I am. What do I call you?”

“Brian. Or Chief, or White. Whichever you prefer.”

Dexx had never understood why Paige preferred to address her colleagues by their last name. “How much of the truth do you want to hear?”

Brian gestured to a chair and sat behind his desk. “All of it. I know about Detective Whiskey’s association with the Whiskey Witches. I know about her investigations, her knowledge on the arcane. I’m even aware of some of the more elusive aspects of her Dallas investigations, and some of the events that led to her moving to Denver. What I don’t know is what you do for them.”

“Them being the Whiskey Witches?”

Brian nodded.

“Well, let’s start small. I’m a demon hunter.”

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.”

I
N 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.