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

by S. M. Blooding

  Alma opened her white eyes as they approached, a smile on her lips. “You found your broom handles.”

  “We did.”

  Alma frowned in confusion.

  Paige chuckled and motioned for her to step out of the sound protection.

  With a sigh, Alma did so.

  “Sound protections.”

  Alma’s eyes widened. “I want them. On my room.”

  Paige bowed her head, nodding. “That can be done.”

  “Good.” Alma took in a deep breath and shook her head, face pointed toward the ceiling. “Let’s do this, shall we? Where do you want the center of your wards?”

  Paige thought about that for a moment. “My office.”

  “That’ll provide natural weaknesses in the portion of the wards furthest from ya’.”

  Paige had wondered about that. “Except that this isn’t a tent, you know, being held up by a stick. This is more like a—oh, crap. I don’t remember what it’s called. But that guy who made the lightning thingy.”

  Ethel gave her a dry look and perched Tarik’s desk. “That would be Nikola Tesla and his Tesla coil.”

  Paige snapped her fingers. “Yeah. That thing. Couldn’t our wards work more like that?”

  Alma shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re even talking about, so I got no idea how you’re even gonna make it work.”

  “Yeah, sis,” Leslie pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. “You didn’t even know what it was called.”

  “Just because I didn’t know its name doesn’t mean I don’t get the basic idea of how it would work.” But the idea was taking off.

  Alma showed them how to make their brooms and how to charge them as protection devices. Ethel watched, her eyes wide, her hands clasped between her knees like she was watching something exciting instead of watching three women tie branches of broom corn to a stick. Paige hung the broom from the ceiling above the double front door. She could have mounted it to the wall, but Alma suggested she use the ceiling instead.

  “Brooms were meant to fly, not be parked.”

  As if brooms really flew.

  Eventually, they were finally ready to create the ward.

  With Alma’s direction, Paige reached inside of herself. She touched her mind to the sage bushes at each of the entrances, asking for their assistance in protecting the people inside the building.

  The plants wilted, but then perked up as energy rose from the earth, filling their silver leaves with power, the tips of the fuzz glowing slightly in Paige’s witch vision.

  Releasing a breath, she focused her will. This, Alma said, was the most important part. This was the strength of the ward. Her will would be the steel and if there was any doubt in her will, the ward would be weak.

  She closed off all other sounds and focused. She stopped hearing Ethel’s foot tap against the desk. Or Leslie’s nails as she tapped them against the arm of her chair. Or Alma’s inconsistent “hmm” as if she’d seen something she didn’t approve of.

  The hum of some fan or something in the ceiling ceased to exist.

  The kids yelling at each other on the other side of the wall disappeared.

  Silence.

  When she opened her eyes, she found herself surrounded by white fog.

  And a question in the voice of the All Mother. What do you will?

  What did she will? She almost wished for a spell at that moment, words she could memorize so she didn’t get this wrong. One wrong thought, one wrong emotion, and the people who had decided to work with her would be dead.

  Your thoughts will not harm them.

  Except that her thoughts could. She was casting a spell, a ward, with her will.

  Yes, the All Mother’s voice said. A figure formed in the white clouds around her. Your will, but your thoughts are not your will.

  But her thoughts did shape her will.

  A lot less than you might think. Your will is shaped most by your emotions.

  So, she needed to be careful of what she felt? Oh, that was much better.

  The cloud woman tipped her head. Your emotions are a lot truer than you might expect.

  Except for the time she’d been so angry she’d wanted to kill her mother.

  Those emotions were still true. They simply weren’t what you wanted them to be.

  Paige now understood why Alma had been so adamant about focusing and how important being the first ward was. Connecting to the All Mother meant understanding that what you knew wasn’t always right, that it was okay to feel what you felt, but that acting on that wasn’t necessarily wrong either. Not according to the All Mother, anyway. Society? Yes. Murder was bad.

  With the All Mother, killing wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. Sometimes, it just…was.

  Which was confusing. Murder was bad. Killing was murder.

  The All Mother didn’t necessarily agree or disagree with that. She saw death all the time. She saw how good could come of bad and how bad could rise from good. So, why are you so bound by what is good and what is bad? Humans are the only ones to draw those lines.

  But how could she create a place, a home, by ignoring that? She couldn’t. She refused. It wasn’t a part of who she was.

  Power surged from her core and flared out from her.

  She believed in right and wrong. She believed in protecting others, in keeping them safe. She wouldn’t allow evil or bad stuff to flourish. Not here. Not in her precinct. Here, people would be safe.

  The cloud figure stepped back into the cloud. And that is the steel of your ward. Your protection. Your heart. Your will. It is done.

  The shimmering power of her ward raced out of the exterior of the building and flew through the town, creating an ever-growing dome of protective magick.

  “Whoa!” Alma yelled. “You can’t maintain that.”

  It wasn’t all Paige, though. Her magick flew along a network of magickal protections that had already been in place, similar to what she’d done in Texas when she’d strengthened Alma’s wards.

  Whose protections were these?

  Something wispy touched on Paige’s mind. Soft at first, growing stronger as Paige’s magick rolled over and through the remaining ward.

  Whiskey, a ghost of a voice whispered.

  Could it be? another asked.

  Who?

  Feels strange, tainted. Blackman ilk.

  Paige’s magick stopped flowing with an explosion of light. The energy rippled back toward her.

  “Brace yourself,” Alma cautioned loudly.

  How? Paige stiffened her arms and shoulders.

  Electricity shot up Paige’s fingers, laced along her arms, and captured her neck in rigid strength.

  Blackman ilk, the female ghost voices chanted, the power in their combined voices growing.

  “What’s going on?” Leslie asked, her voice sounding very far away.

  Not… Paige forced her mental voice outward, struggling to do so as if there was a vice grip on her mind’s voice box. …Blackman.

  You have the blood taint.

  My father. Paige staggered as the force, whatever it was, released her.

  Explain.

  Who the Hell was she talking to? My father was a Blackman.

  The force pressed on her.

  But I never knew him. Grandma raised us in Texas, far from here, far from him.

  The force released her again. Grandmother. What is her name?

  Paige wanted more than a few names herself. Alma.

  The voices seemed to breathe a sigh of relief almost as one. Alma. That dear, dear child.

  Dear, dear child? How do you know my grandmother?

  We touched her soul when she was born.

  What? When she was born? Who are you?

  The ghosts of Whiskeys past.

  You’re…kidding me. Right?

  The voices didn’t answer.

  How did you “touch her soul when she was born?” She was born in Texas and she’s not that old.

  A beam of light d
anced in front of Paige’s eyes and slipped into the form of a woman Paige had only seen in pictures. Alma’s mother, Paige’s great grandmother, the one who had gone crazy because of the demon summoning gift.

  Oh. Paige glanced around her office as more women formed from the light of her ward. Well, uh, it’s me, Paige, Alma’s granddaughter.

  A taller woman, dark hair in a bun, long dress of, like, the Wild West days, stepped up to Paige and reached up to touch her cheek. Such power.

  A shrewder looking woman tipped her head to the side, her hair pulled back in a loose bun, making it look like she had big hair. She folded her hands in front of her prairie dress and pinched her lips. Someone bred to gain this one.

  If you mean by “bred,” that my mother had sex to create babies, Paige said with a sour note of disgust in her tone, then you are one hundred percent correct. My mother made babies. Three of us.

  Where are the other two? The shrewd woman turned.

  And looked right through Leslie. Paige frowned, her head hurting from the oddness of the situation. You’re looking right at her. That’s Leslie. My sister.

  The shrewd woman turned up her lips and pulled away. Your half-sister.

  You don’t have to say it like that. Asshole.

  The woman with the light blue traveling dress smiled tightly at Paige. Breeding is important to keep the line pure and powerful.

  So, that was the reason for the grimoire with the heritage lines. Awesome. Nothing like being a prude.

  Your heritage is troubling, however.

  Oh, really. Great. I have no control over that.

  The woman held up both hands, keeping them low, and bowed her head. Understood, but the type of gift you have…

  The death door magick?

  It is dangerous.

  Paige turned to her great grandmother. You were able to summon demons, too. Surely—

  Rose, the sour woman said, turning away from Leslie, was not like you. She had to summon demons. She couldn’t create a portal to another dimension and pull them through.

  Create a portal to another dimension. When put that way, were there other dimensions Paige could open portals to? Heaven, for instance? The faerie realm?

  You are very powerful, Blue Dress said, clasping her hands in front of her again. With great power comes the ability to turn bad.

  Blackman are always bad, Sour Mouth said.

  Paige stared at Sour Mouth with narrowed eyes. How much of that was based off of real information Paige could put credibility to and how much of that was old hatchets that needed to be buried? We’re possibly making a treaty with the Blackmans to fight against the Eastwoods.

  Ah, Sour Mouth said, her expression turning bright. Fight the Eastwoods. Finally.

  Paige frowned.

  Blue Dress sighed. All of our fights against the Eastwoods have been lost.

  You don’t say? Paige couldn’t hide the sarcasm.

  But if you are truly here to bring the fight to the Eastwoods… Blue Dress looked toward Rose.

  Who couldn’t tear her eyes off of her daughter.

  Blue Dress blinked and regained Paige’s attention. We will assist.

  Great. How?

  By letting you add your magick to our protections.

  The light of Paige’s magick fluttered, sputtered, then continued to encapsulate the town.

  The Blackmans have not won our protection.

  Whatever that meant.

  But we will not harm them should they enter town.

  Too kind. Hard to build relations and treaties on that kind of negative incentive.

  But we will not help them. The wards extend past our property and stop at theirs.

  Sounded…good.

  They will protect the town. You will be warned the next time any of the Eastwoods enter our town again.

  That would be a bonus. Thank you.

  Sour Mouth disappeared into the light of Paige’s wards.

  Paige.

  She looked up at Blue Dress. Yes?

  Be careful of Cawli. He has plans you cannot yet see.

  How did she know Cawli’s name?

  He is not malicious, but he can sometimes forget to see the soul of a person beyond his goal.

  Almost as if she knew Paige’s animal spirit. Was that weird?

  Paige narrowed her gaze at the woman, really looking at her. Are you the one the war started over?

  Blue Dress shook her head. I am her mother. Just…be careful. She disappeared, reaching to grasp Rose’s shoulder to pull her into the light of the ward as well.

  Paige blinked and met the startled gazes of her grandmother and sister.

  “That was…interesting,” Leslie said, her tone slightly breathless.

  Paige closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. “You have no idea.”

  “What—”

  A male voice interrupted Alma. “Captain Whiskey! Are you here?”

  Chief Tuck? What was he doing there? She stepped out of her office into the bullpen. Sure enough, there he was, lugging a large file box around the desks, staring up at all the greenery.

  “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

  “Well.” He set the box on a spare desk, shaking his head as he looked around. “I had to see how you were setting up. Looks like you just moved right in.”

  She was a little nervous on his take of her approach to the whole Red Star Division Headquarters thing, but at the same time, she couldn’t be. The paranormals were different. They had to know stepping into her headquarters that they wouldn’t be treated the same as they would in Tuck’s.

  He met her gaze and smacked his lips. “Interesting.”

  That wasn’t a “get rid of it and make things normal.” She’d take what she could get. “That was kind of the plan.”

  “Well,” he said, pulling himself off the desk and popping the top of the box, “I was hoping so. Got a whole bunch of cases with your name written all over them.”

  That many bodies? There were a lot of folders in that box.

  He pulled out a handful of them and handed them one by to Paige as he talked. “B&E, some DWI’s, larceny, and more than one assault case.”

  Not…homicides. Well, on one hand, yay. On the other? “I’m a homicide detective.”

  “Not anymore, you’re not.” He grinned, perching against the desk again, crossing his arms over his chest. “And you’re going to do with a smaller crew, unless you have others who can step in for those that didn’t pass.”

  Rainbow. “Didn’t pass?”

  “Tell me you didn’t know about Winters’ activities.”

  Oh, shit. “I did, but told her they had to stop.”

  “She’s breaking the law.”

  “Technically, sir, no. She’s not. She’s not selling her body for sex.”

  “She’s just swindling men out of their money.”

  “She does…” Paige struggled to find the right words. “…get them to voluntarily relieve themselves of money fairly easily. Yes, but that kinda happens when you have a siren’s voice.”

  “It wasn’t that pretty.”

  He obviously wasn’t getting it. “No, sir. She’s a siren. As in…a siren.”

  He frowned at her and jerked. “Oh. Really.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

  “It sure does.” Paige needed to make the case to keep the woman. “But we need to keep her. She’s great at interrogations.”

  “Illegal interrogations.”

  Paige winced. “Not really. No. She’s not hypnotizing people. She’s just talking.”

  “And somehow getting them to do what they weren’t going to do in the first place.”

  “She can’t make you do something you don’t already want to, sir. So, technically, she’s just helping people.”

  “Relieve themselves of money.”

  “Donating to charity to help in their karma.”

  Chief Tuck raised his eyebrows and pulled his head bac
k. “That was a stretch.”

  It really had been. Like, really. “I’ll get her to stop.”

  He glowered. “I’ll let her stay. On probation.”

  Paige nodded.

  “And there will be rules about the use of her voice.”

  “Moral rules?”

  “Yes.” He held up his finger.

  “But not the kind of ‘moral rules’ that implies a woman is a whore for being a woman.” Paige smiled. “Because, may I remind you, I am a witch and I do know voodoo.” She really didn’t, but she understood the power of keeping a few dolls around to stick pins in them to prove a point. Well, she did in theory. Practical application, she hadn’t.

  Because she’d had to remain hidden. Here, she didn’t have to. Here, she was free to be herself.

  Okay. So, voodoo dolls laying around could happen.

  “Fine. We’ll make real moral rules, but she will have to follow them or she’s off the team.”

  “Okay. Who’s the other one.”

  He lowered his head and gave her surly look. “Do I even have to say it?”

  Paige let her head fall back. How to save Rainbow? She reached out her hands, looking at his in earnest. “She’s a good investigator, Chief. She can see her way through a case like no one else on the team. Yeah, Tarik’s got the maturity. Being ancient will do that for you.”

  Chief Tuck tipped his head in question.

  “I told them to be honest with you.”

  “And they were.”

  “So…” Paige narrowed one eye. “You didn’t ask them what they were?”

  Tuck scratched at his scruffy neck. “No.”

  “Well, you should have. Tarik’s a djinni.”

  Tuck shook his head.

  “Like a genie in a bottle, only evil?”

  “And he’s on your team because?”

  “He’s not evil?”

  “And you know this how?”

  “Because he didn’t kill me? Or make Michelle a slave?”

  Tuck closed his eyes, his lips pinched. “Why would he do that?”

  “She’s a dryad, and that’s, apparently, something they do to dryads.”

  “A dryad.” He opened his eyes.

  Paige nodded.

  “Like a naked, dancing in the trees…woman?”

  “I think you’re thinking wood nymph. Dryads are part tree. Like, she shifts into a tree.”