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

by S. M. Blooding

  “You’re kidding me.” It sounded like a damned soap opera.

  “No. Vivien thought she could enlist my help. It was a fruitless cause. I knew my mother would never let Vivien in. She just doesn’t have enough power.”

  “Oh.” Doubly shunned witch.

  Tuck rubbed his eyes, then pinched his nose.

  Good to know she wasn’t the only one having a tough time with this story.

  “So, now Vivien thinks she can get into Eldora’s circle by bringing Mother to justice. Now that you’re here, of course. This was, of course, when we thought you were going to follow it up like all of your other cases. We didn’t realize you’d gone to the Council.”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “Well, for one thing,” he said carefully, “in your normal cases, you relied on normal evidence. DNA, for instance. With the Council, you can bring magickal evidence.”

  No, that was something to consider and something she hadn’t even thought about. “So, that crime scene in Portland?”

  “Which one—oh, yes. The one by Mother’s favorite restaurant. Yes. And one of her old stomping grounds.”

  “The bleach magick?”

  “You caught that?” Oliver smiled, raising his head. “No one else has ever seen it before. I can’t even see it. Vivien can.”

  “I can.” Paige scratched her nose, which suddenly itched. “That was a body Vivien dumped?”

  “Yes.”

  Crap. The one case they had the most evidence on. Well, not really. They had a chance to gather evidence because she’d been there and it was the freshest. “Then, what about the soulless people?”

  “The what?”

  “The soulless. There were five kids at the scene. No aura.”

  Tuck watched Oliver through narrowed eyes.

  “Ah.” Oliver took in a sharp breath. “They were responding to the blood.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Eastwood magick is…well, it’s hard to describe. The Blackmans have death magick. The Whiskeys have life magick.”

  That didn’t make sense. A witch who talked to the dead, a witch that summoned demons, and a witch who conjured the dead? That wasn’t life magick.

  “Our magick is more…black, and with Mother’s propensity toward sacrifices, we now own the corner on blood magick.”

  That, Paige knew. “Including you?”

  “Yes.”

  He’d said that without hesitation or regret.

  “You don’t have to kill to practice blood magick.”

  Well, that was news to her, but what did she know about blood magick in the first place?

  “Mother has a spell that keeps her young.”

  “We’ve noticed.”

  Oliver flicked his eyebrows. “It starts with one person. She harvests that person’s blood and then syphons the souls from those around her. Children’s souls are the easiest. The mother’s next—or the father’s, depending on how close either one is to the child.”

  She’d already figured that out, but it was nice to have someone back her logical deduction. “How many complete the spell?”

  “I don’t know. There isn’t a set number. The spell works as though someone were on the other side, setting the price on a whim when she casts it. Sometimes, its three, sometimes eight. One time, there were over a dozen.”

  And this was the price of youth. Paige’d grow old, thank you very much.

  “When was the last time Merry killed?” Tuck asked.

  “Weeks ago. She’s trying to find a way around Shelia’s magick.”

  “And the…soulless?”

  Oliver shrugged. “Mother can’t finish the spell with her magick tainted. The spell isn’t working. It’s taking years away from her, not adding.”

  “So, when she collects souls through Shelia’s blood,” Paige asked, “she dies a little?”

  Oliver nodded. “Basically? Yes.”

  Perfect. “So, why doesn’t she try to claim someone else’s blood?”

  Oliver ducked his head, licking his lips. “To counter Shelia’s death magick, she’ll need the blood of a Whiskey to use her life magick.”

  The air caught in Paige’s throat.

  “So, let’s hope Mother doesn’t think of that. Because she will go after Leah.”

  Paige swallowed hard. “What can you give us?” It was time to put Merry behind bars. For good.

  Oliver provided Merry’s itinerary. It wasn’t enough. Probably. Might be a start, though. She could use that information, track through the older murders, the ones that actually belonged to Merry, and then tie her to them. Visit the old crime scenes. See what kind of magickal evidence she could even gather.

  Magickal evidence. How did one even gather that?

  But, honestly, she only needed one. Tie just one murder that Merry actually committed to her and pin it on her.

  Might as well start with Shelia’s. After all, that was probably the easiest one to track.

  Oliver stood, but didn’t leave.

  Tuck looked between the two of them. He raised an eyebrow at Paige and shrugged, gesturing to Oliver as if asking if Paige wanted Tuck to leave them alone.

  She shook her head minutely. She needed to talk to her boss before he left to do his other work and that was more important than what Oliver might have to say.

  Tuck nodded and settled back in his chair.

  Oliver pulled his lips over his teeth, not happy. “You need help with your magick.”

  “Yeah, probably not.” Besides, she didn’t know what an Eastwood could teach her about her Blackman magick.

  He grimaced at her. “So, you know how to control your death magick? Leah is being trained on how to use her blood magick?”

  She needed a teacher to help Leah. That was true, but Oliver Eastwood? “What would you know about Blackman magick?”

  “Your father and mine are the same.”

  Ew. Did their family tree intertwine? Wasn’t that illegal? “I didn’t realize Merry Eastwood would bed a Blackman.”

  “He put an illusion spell on himself. She thought he was someone else.”

  “And she didn’t see through that?” Paige rather doubted that.

  “She’s not as all powerful as she’d like you to believe.”

  Well, that was certainly pleasant. “So, you and I are…siblings.” How many fucking siblings did she fucking have?

  “Yes.”

  Who the hell wasn’t?

  “I’m sure the Blackmans invited you to their compound for training.”

  “They have.”

  Oliver dropped his gaze to the floor, his chin jutted forward as he clamped his lips shut for a moment. “May I recommend against it?”

  “You can recommend all you like.” She’d already decided she wasn’t taking up their offer. Something just didn’t feel right.

  He met her gaze. “Let me teach you two.”

  Her immediate reaction was to shoot out of her chair and strangle hold him to find out his true motives.

  But his body language was open, his expression sincere.

  Was she reacting to the fact that he was an Eastwood—who had to be evil because of Merry?—or because there was something about him, personally, that threw her off?

  “We’ve tied several murders to the Eastwood family. Not just to Merry.”

  He took in a deep breath, the corners of his lips tucked in as if displeased.

  “Are any of them yours?”

  He held her gaze for a long moment. “One.”

  She didn’t say anything. She merely waited for him to continue.

  “It happened when I was ten. My gifts had just come out and Mother was teaching me the ways of the Eastwood magicks. I…” He looked away momentarily. “The magick was too much and I took all of her blood.”

  Paige knew what it was like to lose control of her gifts. She’d never killed anyone because of a lack of restraint, but that didn’t mean she’d be judgmental when others failed to control theirs f
irst time out of the chute.

  “Her name was Lila Rogers.”

  “What’s your gift?” Paige asked quietly.

  “Besides death?”

  She didn’t even nod.

  “I control air. I can take the oxygen out of the room. I can raise or lower the temperature. I can bring storms, create wind.”

  Sounded like elemental work. She wanted to know what his gift was.

  A brief smile flicked over his face. “Not all witches are like the Whiskeys, Paige. Some of us just get to call on air and kill people with our abilities. We’re not all born demon summoners, angel whisperers, bards, telepaths. Necromancers.”

  Tuck’s eyes widened as he listened.

  She couldn’t worry about him. Not then.

  Why couldn’t she trust him? He seemed legit. So, if it wasn’t anything she could see… Cawli? Maybe it was something he sensed?

  But, of course, Cawli was silent.

  Great. What was the point of having an animal spirit’s wisdom when you couldn’t tap into it?

  She mentally kicked herself. Cawli was a person. Just a non-corporeal entity who happened to be sharing her body…sometimes. But still a person.

  “Not all blood magick is evil, Paige. It’s strong, but doesn’t have to be evil.”

  “Killing isn’t evil?”

  “You don’t have to kill to use blood magick. I haven’t killed anyone else since Lila.”

  Tuck met Paige’s gaze briefly as if to ask if they were going to just let him get away with that murder.

  She really didn’t have an answer for him.

  “You’ve met vampires. They don’t kill to eat unless they’ve gone mad. It’s the same basic principle.”

  Paige watched him for a long moment, then shook her head. “I’ll consider your offer.”

  Oliver opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a business card. “Here is my number. Please call me. I will help where I can.”

  She took his card. “Okay. Thanks.”

  He offered her a brief smile. “And your wards?”

  “You did well in this conversation, Oliver. That doesn’t mean that you weren’t playing us both and that you’re going to come in later after I’ve freed you from the ward. No. The ward will trip every time you enter into our territory until I get a better feel for how sincere you really are about helping.”

  He grimaced, but bowed his head. “I understand.”

  She hoped he did.

  He turned and left.

  “Did you want to escort him out?” Tuck asked.

  Paige thought about it. He could leave all kinds of things behind. Listening devices, spells. She’d just have to do a sweep later. “Before you go, we should talk about the cases.”

  “Before I go, we should talk about what we just learned.”

  There were too many things to consider. Yes. He’d killed someone. When he was ten and his gifts had just arisen. Yes. That was bad. Yes. He should be punished.

  But how many other paranormals accidentally killed someone the first time they tried out their gifts?

  This was a brand new world for her.

  And…she should say the next thought out loud for Tuck’s benefit. “We need someone to take Merry’s place when we hold her accountable for her actions.”

  “And that person has to be Oliver?”

  “You’d prefer it was one of the other Eastwoods who are still killing? He killed once. As a child.”

  “It’s still murder.”

  True. “And what happens when we remove the head from this snake? You’ve seen how powerful the Eastwood coven is.”

  “Actually, no.” Tuck leveled a hard look at her. “I haven’t.”

  Really? She hadn’t shown him? She ran through the events that had happened since the last time they’d talked and sure enough. She hadn’t. She stood and led him to the white boards.

  He stared at them, his arms folded over his chest, his feet shoulder-width apart. “What am I looking at?”

  “This board over here are the murders we think are tied to Merry.” She waved one hand in front of the board on the left. She couldn’t find a lot of white space through all the pictures. “The people she outright murdered, and the people she sucked souls from.”

  Tuck’s eyes widened minutely in surprise. “That’s a lot.”

  “It is, and it’s why taking Merry Eastwood off the streets is so imperative. But this board,” Paige said waving her right hand in front of the other board, “are all the murders we can’t tie directly to Merry. My two death-touched investigators that you hate so much?”

  Tuck nodded once. “Yeah?”

  “They could tell that these murders were committed by other people, attached to Merry, but not her.”

  “How?”

  “One’s a rusalka and the other’s a siren, Tuck. It’s just what they can do. For them, it’s nothing more than what breathing is to us.”

  He walked over to the board, shaking his head in wonder. “That’s a lot of murders.”

  And it was. Not nearly as many as the number of photos that covered Merry’s board, but they hadn’t gone back over a hundred years looking for their murders, either. These were all recent. In the last five years.

  “This is the reason we may need Oliver on the outside, leading his coven.”

  Tuck stared at the two boards for a long, silent moment. “He’s the evil that could control them?”

  Paige shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “But your daughter is the last female heir.”

  That thought shot a tendril of pure chill through the center of her soul. “No, Tuck. She’s not. She’s a Whiskey and that is all she will ever be.”

  “But for the safety of our society?”

  “You’d ask a twelve-year-old girl to run a blood thirsty coven?”

  Tuck drew himself up. “When you say it like that.”

  “Yeah.” She forced the fear away. “When you say the truth…out loud.”

  “So, we’re letting him walk.”

  “I’m seriously considering it.”

  Tuck turned and walked back into her office. “Glad I’m not in your shoes. Let’s talk about the other cases.”

  An hour later, they were done as everyone filed in.

  Tuck saluted Paige with his coffee cup. “Glad to have you on board, Captain. Have a nice day and I’ll be talking with you again real soon.”

  She had to admit, it felt nice having someone to answer to in this. Tuck wasn’t a bad boss. She could have done a heck of a lot worse. Like, a lot. “Sure thing, Boss.”

  He smiled and turned away from her office.

  Paige stepped into the bullpen. “Winters—Quinn.” Crap. She had to make a decision and stick with it. Were they police and followed the naming rules of the police, or were they more civilian? Civilian. “Quinn, what did you find out yesterday?”

  “Not much more than what we already know.” Quinn shook her head, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, and perched on Rainbow’s desk. “They’re all connected through Shelia, who was their teacher.”

  “Okay.” She really hadn’t thought they would learn more. “How are they doing?”

  Dexx entered the room from the kitchen and sat on the loveseat.

  Rainbow shook her head. “Jill Coover is getting worse. Much worse. Her spirit is shredding. It’s so thin.”

  Quinn raised her face toward the ceiling, watching Rainbow, her green eyes thoughtful.

  “Anything else to add?” Paige asked.

  She shook her head.

  Really? Because it looked like it.

  But Quinn remained pensive.

  Fine. “Michelle. Tarik. You’re still standing. Did you figure out how to work together?”

  Michelle shot Tarik a quick glance, her forehead slightly furrowed, her lips pinched as if confused. “I think so.”

  “Good.” Paige really hoped they would make it as a team because, as far as playe
rs when, they had the strongest skillset. “What did you find out? Was the body even in the morgue still?”

  Tarik shook his head. “It was as we guessed. But the Great Ash was able to glean information still.”

  “If you call me that again—”

  “Michelle,” Paige called softly.

  Michelle looked at Paige, her lips tight.

  “I doubt seriously he’s going to stop since he hasn’t yet. So, just find a way to get used to it. He’s not calling you anything horrible, now, is he?”

  “And what if he called you Great Witch?”

  Paige pulled her head back and widened her arms to either side of her. “But I am.” It would be frustrating, though.

  Michelle released her pinched expression in exchange for her mask of professionalism. “I caught a scent of the victim and tracked it to the Eastwood manor. We were not able to do anything further. Their house resides on an island in the middle of the river.”

  Oh. Well, a moat. How handy. Merry had chosen well. “Were you able to determine anything?”

  Michelle shrugged. “Merry’s smell still resided on the body when she lay in the morgue.”

  “You could tell that? Aren’t the tables made of metal?”

  “He had not washed her slab before I arrived.”

  Paige didn’t know enough about morgue procedures to know if that was good or bad or neither.

  “It is possible Merry killed that woman.” Michelle shrugged. “A smell, however, is not evidence.”

  “Not in a human court of law.” Paige held up her hands, palms out. “But, remember, we’re taking this to the Council of Elders who understand our world. I don’t know what’s admissible in their court, so we throw nothing out. Include your findings, including the fact you caught a scent, in your file.”

  Michelle’s eyes widened in alarm.

  “I know. It seems really weird. But…just trust me. Do it.”

  Michelle held up her hands, palms out, mimicking Paige’s gesture. “All right. We’ll play it this way, if you say it’s okay.”

  “It should be. Okay. New assignments. I’m taking the Portland murders. I’m calling in the FBI to assist.” Mostly because of Banes. “This is a witch problem. So, I’m better suited for it. There might have been clues you missed.”