whiskey witches 01 - whisky witches

by blooding, s m

  “I know how to handle a gun, Dexx.”

  He shrugged. “Be safe. Lucius, do you need schooling?”

  “No.” Lucius took the gun Dexx offered. “I caught up on a fair bit of know-how on my sojourn after jail. Besides, what I really need to do is find a place to hide. If I’m using this toy, I’m not protecting Paige.”

  “Good point.”

  Balnore sighed at his gun. “Innocent people will die this way.”

  Dexx shot him a look of consternation. “Are you sure you’re a demon?”

  Paige took the ankle holster and gun Dexx offered her. She hoped she’d remember it in the heat of battle as she’d never trained with one. “Shoot to stun.”

  “Bullets don’t stun, Pea,” Dexx said, slamming the trunk shut.

  She sent him a dirty look and crossed the empty highway. “Aim for legs or arms. Shoot to wound.”

  “When all else fails,” Dexx said, sending Balnore a tight smile. “Just try hitting something. Preferably not us.”

  Paige quirked her lips at the demon and chugged her chin in the direction of the mill. “Let’s go.”

  They managed to make it as far as the building without conflict. They didn’t have much to hide behind, so stealth was out of the order. The night was still, quiet. No birds. No animals.

  Dexx leaned against the pealing white painted wall. “Do you think anybody’s home?”

  “Balnore, how many did you see?”

  “A lot. Twenty or so, maybe?”

  “If we’re done chatting?” She got three nods. “Then let’s go. Stay out of each other’s lines of fire.”

  “Right.” Dexx gestured with his gun. “Lucius? Try not to get too shot up, okay. Remember, you’re her shield. Without her, we’re fucked.”

  Lucius frowned in concentration. “Yeah. Got it.”

  “Let’s go.” Paige put her hand to the door. It was heavy and old. A pile of dead leaves from the previous fall lay against it. If this really was the place, the demons obviously weren’t using the front door. There was a slight groan as the door fought to remain still and then it gave with wild squeal.

  A shout rang out.

  A gunshot echoed through the room.

  “Shit!” Paige ducked behind the door. She peeked inside, flinching with each bullet. Cover. She raised her gun and ran in a crouched position to a large metal desk. Glass rained over her. She slammed into the drawer side of the metal desk and grunted as the handles found ribs.

  The gunfire paused.

  Dexx dropped and rolled, finding cover beside her. He sighted down the barrel of his gun around the corner of the desk. Orange flashes burned briefly from the end.

  The sound of gun fire overwhelmed everything else. Paige tried to pierce the darkness of the huge room. Two lamps swayed overhead, not casting a whole lot of light.

  A woman screamed.

  “Goddamn it,” Dexx shouted. “I hate it when people shoot at me.”

  A man roared and charged the desk, a red blossom blooming in his chest, legs and arms.

  “If you’re going to do something,” Dexx shouted as he emptied his clip into the still advancing man. “Now might be a good time.”

  Paige peered over the desk and popped a couple of rounds into a woman running toward their position. “I’m working on it.”

  Dexx released the clip and dug in his pocket for a fresh one. “Work faster.” He slammed it into place and continued to fire

  Concentration didn’t come easy. Harder to hear or see. Every time she stood up to protect her position, bullets whizzed a little too close and sent her scurrying back to her hiding place. Whatever her intentions were going in, she had no wish to die.

  Lucius collapsed against the desk, his face going red. “This is a bit harder than anticipated, love. Put a hurry on it, would you?”

  “Balnore,” she shouted. She needed one moment. “Help.”

  Dexx waved at Balnore, saying something Paige couldn’t hear, and ran for the line of bins. Mini explosions of trash ricocheted all around him. He hopped as he ran, shooting blindly at the din of orange flashes.

  Someone shouted orders high above their head.

  Balnore stood in front of Paige, a bored expression on his face.

  A man popped his neck and started walking toward them.

  Balnore raised his gun and pulled the trigger. “How long are we supposed to keep this up?”

  The sound of a semi-automatic ricocheted through the large room.

  “God fucking damn,” Balnore said, diving behind the desk and fingering his chest, glancing around the corner. “I liked this shirt.”

  “Shut up, show off.” Paige handed him her shot gun. She rooted around her pockets for shells, retrieving bullets for the pistol instead. She pushed them back in her pocket, hearing the tink as several fell to the concrete floor, and reached into the other pocket. She slammed the red slugs on the floor beside the demon. “No one likes a braggart.”

  “Paige,” Dexx shouted. “Now—” Garble, garble, “—really good.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Paige gritted her teeth. She gathered her will and concentrated.

  The tendons on Lucius’ neck rose. “Hurry,” he mouthed, beads of sweat popping out on his skin.

  “Concentrate.” She gathered the energy around her gift and stood up.

  A hand grabbed her wrist. “I cannot protect you from bullets,” Lucius said.

  Paige heard Dexx shout something that sounded like it could have been “flash bang.” Her eyes widened and she tugged on Balnore’s arm. “Don’t look.”

  “At wha—”

  An ear-ripping pop split the air and the wall in front of her lit up with an intense white light. Shadow people stopped, their arms raised to cover their face.

  Now.

  She reached deep inside and focused. The shouts and commands, the bullets and gunfire all disappeared. The smell of gun smoke tickled her nose. The bright light of the flash bang died, sending the room into deeper shadow than before.

  Balnore left her side, her arm suddenly going cold. Her vision narrowed as she stood. A red aura surrounded each body. A purple light emanated from her. On the stair, ran a shadow with a yellow light pulsating around him. The woman lying on the ground thrashed, blood pumping from her neck.

  Paige called upon the power of Hell and reached out with clawed fingers only she could see. She grabbed the demon within the woman and yanked.

  Fear slashed across the woman’s face. She shook her head, her heals digging into the concrete floor as she pushed away.

  “Leave,” Paige commanded.

  A flash of hellfire, a widening of the woman’s eyes, and then the red aura changed to a fading green. The woman slumped and fell into a slumber.

  Paige faced the next demon, reaching with her clawed hand, power tearing through her veins.

  Balnore shoved her to the floor behind the desk, his words flowing slowly to her ears. “Youuuuuu’re sssssssshot.”

  Paige couldn’t feel it. She shrugged him off and stood, her power reaching. First one demon. Red aura changed to blue. Then another. Flash of orange that melted into darkness.

  A single moment of stillness wracked the moment.

  Dexx shouted. His gun went off. Another man roared. Something crashed. Dexx’s voice let out a long trail of agony as a single body fell from the second story landing.

  Paige clenched her jaw and forced all her remaining power into focus. She reached and pulled, reached and pulled. Red auras faded all around her. Cold beads of sweat trailed down her face.

  The lump on the floor moved. Dexx moved. An orange light flashed from the end of his gun.

  He lived. Relief swarmed through her.

  Paige’s body jerked back. Bullet. She turned her attention away from Dexx and looked at the possessed woman before her.

  Balnore shot the woman in the leg. She cried out, her hands raised as she backed away.

  Paige tipped her head and reached, sending the demon back to Hell. The woman fell
to the floor, cradling her leg and crying in pain.

  “Fall back,” a male’s voice shouted. Sven’s voice.

  The demons scurried away, still shooting as they disappeared through a back door Paige couldn’t see.

  She continued to reach for each demon, sending them back one by one, the human host falling to the concrete. Some shouted in pain. Others were silent and dark.

  Sven stood on the landing, staring down at her as the last of his minions disappeared into the shadows.

  Paige allowed herself to smile. She reached with her hand of power, calling him back to—

  Balnore batted her arm away and shoved her onto the floor.

  The connection to the demon realm was severed. She collapsed onto the floor.

  “Don’t, Peanut,” Balnore said into the near silence. The survivors moaned. A door slammed shut somewhere in the distance.

  “We almost had him, Bal. What did you do?” Paige used the desk to haul herself to her feet.

  Balnore knocked her back down again. He placed one knee in the pit of her stomach.

  Paige thrashed beneath him, but every movement, every breath brought pain. “What are you doing?”

  “Preventing you from being stupid.”

  “Well, played, Talker,” Sven called out into the sudden silence. “Well played. We’ll see how well you do next time.”

  Paige ground her teeth and glared at Bal. “Thanks to you there will be a next time.”

  Balnore nodded, his black eyes blazing. “Yes. Thanks to me.”

  Somehow, she didn’t think he was talking about a next time for Sven. She somehow got the impression he’d just saved her life.

  IT DIDN’T TAKE long after that for the pain to hit and it hit hard. It didn’t help having Balnore’s knee digging into her abdomen. She tapped him on the leg.

  He rose, his eyes narrowed as he watched her.

  She put her head on the cold concrete. Her left hand rose to gingerly touch her upper right arm, but stopped when pain flared through her lower left side. She bled from at least three locations. One on the upper right arm, another on her lower left side and one on her—

  Why hadn’t her hip hurt until she’d actually seen the darned thing? She touched her hip and pressed down on it, taking the pain from an almost dull, pulsating ache to a sharp-as-needles almost itch. Not much better.

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  She sought out Balnore. She didn’t have the energy to fight him. She found Lucius. Sweat dripped from his face and his blue silk shirt was drenched. She swallowed. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “I saved your fucking life, love. Be thankful.” Lucius slurred his words.

  Balnore stepped into view. “We have wounded.”

  “I’ll call it in.” Paige said, pulling her phone off her belt as she tried not to wince. “On it. How many injured? How many—” She used the desk to haul herself to her feet with a groaning grunt. “—dead?”

  Balnore knelt on the floor in the middle of the room. “Check for yourself.”

  It was time to stop being a baby. She wasn’t badly wounded. Others weren’t doing so well.

  She walked around the floor, getting a count of the dead and wounded as she dialed.

  “White.”

  “Whiskey. I’m at the old paper mill outside St. Francisville. We need ambulances.”

  “Plural? What happened?”

  “Followed a lead. Found Sven. Mass casualty incident. I count . . .” She paused to look at the silent man at her feet, her heart heavy with guilt. “Six dead. Ten gunshot victims, at least four critically injured.”

  A woman Paige had thought was dead due to the amount of blood on the concrete beneath her turned on her side.

  “Make that five critically injured.”

  White said something at the same time the woman on the floor reached out. “Help me.”

  “I am.” Paige limped toward the woman and knelt. She took off her top shirt, and pressed the cloth to the woman’s bleeding abdomen. “White, how long ‘till help arrives?”

  “Five minutes.”

  “Great, thanks.” Paige stashed her phone in her pocket and used both hands to apply pressure, capturing the woman’s gaze. “You’re doing great. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “I know what you—” The woman’s eyes closed. She blinked them open and smiled tightly. “I know what you did for me. For all of us. Thank you.”

  Paige frowned. “You need to stop talking. Conserve your strength.”

  The woman’s bloody hand gripped Paige’s wrist. “You saved me. I am . . . I am free now.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “I know what it was.” The woman’s eyes seemed to brighten. “You removed that thing out of me.”

  Paige looked away. She’d made all this possible.

  The woman smiled, her fingers losing some of their strength. “Go with God.”

  Paige let out a quick breath.

  “He walks beside you,” the woman said. Her eyes drifted closed. Her fingers twitched once, twice and slid to the floor.

  Paige stared at the now—

  She looked up the ceiling fighting the reality of the moment. The brutal truth. She’d known these hosts were human, that some might die. Going in, they were faceless, nameless. In here, they spoke, had families, friends, lives.

  Sirens sounded in the distance.

  Paige shook herself and stood painfully. “Dexx? Dexx.”

  “Over here,” Balnore shouted.

  A man whimpered.

  Another cried out for help.

  People called to one another as those who weren’t hurt as bad pulled themselves out of their dazed states and started helping each other.

  “The ambulance is on the way,” Paige shouted. “Be calm and patient. They’re almost here.” She limped around the bodies, and evaded the clawing hands of those desperate.

  Dexx lay on the floor, one foot propped up, his arms and shoulders tight. He gasped loudly, his body jerking with every breath.

  Paige hurried to his side and knelt down. “What’s wrong?”

  “He had the wind knocked out of him.”

  Paige looked up at Bal. “Wind knocked out of him? This is worse than a bit of wind.”

  “He fell from a pretty good distance, Peanut.” Bal’s eyes softened. “How are the others?”

  “One more dead. Four critically injured.”

  “Then go look after them until the medics show up. I’ve got Dexx.”

  Dexx’s mouth opened. His body jerked with another loud breath. His feet flailed on the floor before he closed his eyes.

  “Peanut,” Balnore said. “You can’t do anything for him.”

  That wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

  “Get Lucius out of here and go deal with your people.”

  My people. She let out a breath as an instant wave of dread entered her chest. Brian was going to want to know why there were so many dead people in his town. Shit.

  She went to the desk, but Lucius was already gone. She spun, her side aching with the movement. “Lucius?” she called. “Luce.”

  No answer, just a smear of blood along the wall that disappeared out the door.

  Paige went to the door as the sirens closed in.

  A red and white box truck plowed into the parking lot, lights going. Two men jumped out of the cab and one out of the back. The driver walked over to her. “Are you injured?”

  “Not bad.” She changed direction and led them into the mill. “Detective Paige Whiskey, Denver. The scene is clear. Everyone injured was shot. There are four critically wounded.”

  The medics ran to attend the others.

  “Where were you shot?” the first medic asked.

  “I’m standing,” she said, her eyes glued to the bodies littering the floor.

  The man nodded and hopped into a run toward the nearest victim. He shouted questions to his partners and talked into the mic on his shoulder. They had it under c
ontrol.

  “Whiskey,” Brian called from the door.

  The shine of headlights hit her in the face when she looked at him.

  “What in the hell happened here?”

  She moved to meet him half-way. “Followed a lead that turned into a trap, sir.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

  “Sven was here.”

  “You didn’t call it in.”

  Paige shrugged. “Demons. Did you want your guys or New Roads facing that?”

  “I see your point, but, damn it, Paige. We’ve got protocol for this for a reason. Why so many dead?”

  “Possessed. They were shooting at us, as forensics will prove. We defended ourselves.”

  “That’s Mrs. Gardner. When I was sixteen, she was my English teacher.”

  Paige rubbed her forehead with her good hand.

  “And that over there? That’s Bob. He’s our mechanic. He just installed the new brakes on my wife’s car last week. And that over there? That’s Ray. He and his wife are on the church committee.”

  “Sir—”

  “Do not ‘sir’ me!” He pressed his fingertips into his closed eyelids. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap. How the hell do I explain this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Brian’s jaw clenched as he folded his arms over his chest.

  The paramedics wheeled a man out on a stretcher, calling to another person on the floor.

  Brian’s nail beds went white with the pressure he was applying to his arm. “This has got to stop, Detective. The body count is higher than it’s ever been in this parish. You have no idea how to bring Sven in.”

  “We think we discovered a way to kill him.”

  “You think. Right. And kill. Not try. Not jail. Kill.”

  “Unless you know of a better way to deal with demons.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Well, unfortunately, this is it.”

  Brian stared at a space above her head. “Tell me something good came out of all this.”

  “The good news is that the people who are lying here . . .” She rolled her jaw, the coppery smell of blood assaulting her nose. “ . . . are no longer demons.”

  Brian’s eyes widened. “That’s the good news?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Sven. Where the hell is he?”