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

by S. M. Blooding

  A police officer approached the restaurant door.

  Paige took a step forward. “Don’t open that!”

  The officer stepped back, glancing at his captain.

  “Tape off the area,” Captain Banes directed. “Don’t open that door until I say.” He turned toward Paige. “And when will that be?”

  Hell if she knew. This whole damned situation had blown up. Fast. “When we can get Merry out of here.”

  A trail of blood tracked its way from the alley, rolling along the sidewalk.

  “Shit.” Paige stepped out of the way. She didn’t have blood magick, but she could still feel the power in the spell.

  More blood seeped from the windows from the floor above.

  Banes pointed. “What do we do?”

  Fuck if she knew. She reached for her phone.

  “What do we have here?” Lovejoy asked approaching from behind.

  “Thank the goddess.” Paige glanced at the blood trailing down the building. “You need to get Merry out of here. Now. To that place that you have set up for people like her. Pronto.”

  Lovejoy’s eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses, but she frowned. “What’s going on?”

  Paige pointed to the blood inching toward the car. “I interrupted a blood spell. Or, rather, a blood spell interrupted our lunch.”

  Lovejoy tipped her head, her lips pursed, a look of question on her face.

  “Eastwood magick. Remember? She uses blood magick to stay young. Over a dozen people in there, Director. Dead. Blood draining from their bodies and heading toward Merry.”

  “Seems a bit balsy,” Lovejoy said, watching the blood trail.

  And a bit futile. Paige turned to Merry in confusion. Maybe the reason Merry didn’t want contact with the blood was because of Shelia’s magick. With Shelia’s magick running in her veins, she would turn older. Not younger.

  But Merry had taken some of the blood and she didn’t look any older.

  Had Shelia’s blood worked itself out? Had Merry somehow cured herself? Hadn’t Oliver said she’d needed Paige’s blood to do that?

  “Evidence doesn’t lie,” she said confidently, though, inside, she wasn’t sure. Had Oliver done this to get his mother caught?

  Or had Merry orchestrated this for some reason Paige couldn’t even fathom?

  “Okay.” Lovejoy pointed to the trailing blood. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

  “I’m hoping,” said Paige, her mind scrambling for an alternate solution, “that when you get her out of here, that the blood will stop trying to find her and that we can clear the scene.”

  “That’s a lot of hope.”

  Paige held out her hands, palms up and widened her eyes. “Do you have any better ideas?”

  Lovejoy shook her head. “No.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “But you’re the witch and that’s the reason we wanted you.”

  Captain Banes narrowed his eyes, lips flat as he gave a brief single nod.

  “I understand all that,” Paige said. “But even in all my witchly years, I’ve still never come across that.” She pointed to the restaurant with a straight arm, anger rising through her, giving her flagging soul more fuel.

  Lovejoy relaxed her stance and gestured behind her. “Agent Horner, please escort Ms. Eastwood to our facility. Quickly.”

  A man in a suit stepped forward and opened the door.

  “Be careful of the blood.” A chill ran through Paige.

  The blood from the crime scene had pooled under the car. There was no way for Merry to get out without being touched by the blood.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Paige crouched, her witch hands at the ready with her death magick.

  Like Shelia’s magick, the only thing that seemed to work against Merry Eastwood.

  Agent Horner stepped gingerly around the pool and opened the car door.

  Merry stepped out and stood, her pumps in the pool, a slight smile on her face. She was gloating.

  The blood ran up her legs and disappeared into her skin.

  The grey hairs disappeared.

  The wrinkles receded.

  Years seemed to flow from her as if they’d stepped into a time warp.

  “You can’t stop me, Paige.” Merry’s voice was low. “A Whiskey, your blood so tainted.”

  What about wanting to be allies? What had that been? A ploy? “Why the charade in there? Were you planning on doing this the entire time?”

  Merry chuckled. “I knew my son would do something stupid.” She sneered through her smile. “I simply ensured I wouldn’t lose when he did so.”

  “Whiskey,” Lovejoy shouted. “Do…something.”

  Paige did the only thing she could think.

  She touched Merry with her death magick and pulled.

  Merry’s death date fought her, struggling to remain in place, fueled by the power of the blood.

  Paige wouldn’t lose. She couldn’t. She pulled harder, fighting to put an end to all of this.

  The power of the blood was too much.

  Damn it!

  Paige put her hands—her physical hands—on Merry and pushed, shoving her away from the blood’s power.

  Merry chuckled as if drunk. Wind howled around them. “You think you can stop me? I have Shelia’s magick inside me, Paige. What do you think I was doing in there today?”

  Paige had no idea what she was talking about.

  “I…” Merry leaned forward. “…was draining you, leaching your life magick and fixing my spell.”

  No. How had that happened and Paige hadn’t even noticed? That was impossible. Right?

  Except that she was tired, more so than she should have been even as a mother with a baby at home who didn’t sleep through the night.

  Shouldn’t she have felt something more? Shouldn’t she have known?

  The whiskey. The warmth and the electricity? Had that been a little much? But…it had been excellent whiskey.

  “Ding, ding, ding.” Merry chuckled. Then, she blinked, giving Paige a dimpled smile. “You will never catch me.”

  “Oh,” Lovejoy said, fire streaming from the tips of her hair, smoke smoldering from her eyes. “I believe we will. Merry Eastwood, you are under arrest for the murder of the people inside, and for the murder of Sarah Evans, Shelia Blackman, and many, many others.”

  Merry lowered her head. “As if you could stop me, little shifter.”

  “She’s not a shifter.” Paige borrowed energy from the surrounding winds and helped push Lovejoy through the maelstrom Merry had raised to defend herself, hoping Lovejoy had something more than words and her firebird flame.

  Merry shrugged, her hands still bound by Paige’s standard issue handcuffs.

  Lovejoy pulled out a set of manacles, and slapped them onto Merry’s wrists.

  The winds abruptly stopped.

  “Iron,” Lovejoy said softly to Merry. “And spelled. You’re not getting out of those until I say.”

  Paige released a breath of relief. Thank the gods.

  Lovejoy looked at Agent Horner. “Get her out of here.”

  Horner’s eyes were wide as he took Merry’s arm again and led her to his car.

  Lovejoy turned to Banes and Paige. “Okay. We have her. Now, how do we pin her to this? Because I don’t want that woman getting out for a very, very long time.”

  Neither did Paige.

  The blood, as Paige had hoped, had stopped seeking out Merry Eastwood when there was enough distance between her and it. The only thing to have gone well.

  Iron handcuffs and spelled? Why hadn’t Paige thought of that? She was seriously going to have to pull her head out of her ass and think if she was serious about making any of this work.

  Lovejoy and her team were combing through the crime scene. Banes and his team were maintaining the perimeter. Banes didn’t want his men in there and Paige couldn’t disagree with him.

  Paige could barely stand on her own two feet. Whatever Merry had done, she was w
iped out. She had no backup energy, no reserves. She was running on E.

  Lovejoy, after grilling Paige for more details, told Paige to go home, get some sleep, and to hit the case hard again in the morning. They had Merry Eastwood in custody and she wasn’t going anywhere.

  Paige called Margo for a ride. She’d left the keys to Jackie with her just in case. Good plan since she’d needed to be picked up.

  Margo pulled up to the crime scene and got out, still barefoot. “What happened?”

  Paige shook her head and headed for the passenger seat. She was too shook up, too distracted, and too exhausted to drive. Especially to drive Jackie. Dexx would kill her.

  Margo waited until they were out of the city limits. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “I still don’t know yet.” And she didn’t. That’s what really ate at her. She didn’t know what had just happened. No epic battle.

  Just…poison? And a blood spell? Performed by who? Oliver? Merry? Vivien? Well, Vivien couldn’t perform blood magick. Or could she?

  Paige picked up her phone.

  “Lovejoy.”

  Paige nodded, as if the director could see her. “I’m going to send over my CSI to run some tests on the scene.”

  “Ethel?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve already taken the liberty of collecting her. She’ll be working with my team of CSI’s on this one.”

  Good idea and something Paige should probably know more about. “We need to work on our communication.”

  “Yes.” Lovejoy’s voice was firm. “We do. When were you going to tell me that you were headed to Portland to interview Merry?”

  Shit. “Um.”

  “Yeah. Probably could have avoided all of this if you had.”

  “Really?” Paige had had just about enough of all of this. This witch shit was way over her head and she had no idea how to deal with any of it. And to add insult to injury, she was starting up a paranormal department, which she had no clue what she was doing there either. “You think you could have saved those lives today?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  Lovejoy made a sound as if she was about to speak.

  “By making sure I didn’t drink the whiskey Merry offered me?”

  “There was whiskey?”

  “Or by making sure I didn’t go to lunch with her?”

  “Or making sure someone was there to keep a weathered eye out.” Lovejoy’s tone was harsh. “I could have saved those people.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, Director.” Paige balled her free hand into a fist and glared out the window. “The truth of the matter is that these damned people have been battling for years, decades. Hell, for centuries. People—many people—want Merry Eastwood out of a position of power. They’re willing to orchestrate events, kill innocent people and plant evidence on their bodies, and worse. I don’t know if today at the restaurant was Merry or if it was Oliver.”

  “What?”

  “Oliver has been planting evidence. I went to Portland to see if I could get Merry to admit to murder, and she did. She did. But can we pin Sarah Evans’ murder on her? No. We can’t. Because Oliver planted her DNA under Rose’s fingernails. Can we pin the murders of the patrons of that restaurant on her? I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. I don’t know what kind of spell was needed. I don’t know who set it off. I don’t know who the true killer was today.”

  “Goddamnit.”

  Paige breathed. Her sentiments exactly. And, since she hadn’t had to close out of an application in order to call the director, she didn’t know how much of her conversation with Merry had even been recorded.

  “Then, you better find out,” Lovejoy said quietly. “Because that woman isn’t setting one foot outside of my jail.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Build a case. The right case. Don’t worry about bringing it to a mundane court. This will be tried in a paranormal court. So you build your case as if you were talking to a courtroom of us.”

  That had been the plan.

  “And, Whiskey.”

  “Yes, sir?” Paige asked, dreading to hear her next words. Paige had fucked up over and over again since arriving in Oregon. Hell, for the last several months.

  Lovejoy didn’t speak for a very long moment. “Good work.”

  For what? Paige disconnected the phone.

  Margo glanced at Paige, but didn’t say another word until they got to the precinct.

  Paige barely remembered getting out of the car and into the division headquarters.

  Dexx met her at the door, seething.

  She held up her hand and breezed by him. “Not now,” she growled.

  Margo took his arm and said something low in his ear.

  “Rainbow,” Paige barked. “I need you. Now.”

  Rainbow had been talking to Quinn and Tarik. She jerked upright and scrambled to follow Paige into the back room. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, sir. I mean, ma’am.”

  Paige stared at the two white-boards, then grabbed a pad of paper and started adding the details that had just transpired to Merry’s board. “We’re getting to the bottom of the Eastwood murders. Today.”

  Rainbow let out a squawk and disappeared.

  “What’s going on, Captain?” Michelle asked as she entered the room.

  Thank goodness Paige had the good sense to hire one real detective.

  Michelle closed the door and held out her hand. “Whatever the fuck is going on here, sir, you need to calm the fuck down.”

  What Michelle said was true. She did need to calm the fuck down.

  She couldn’t.

  The energy built and built inside her. Every thought she had inside her head crashed into another. All the hardships she’d faced since finding out about the other witches, about the shifters. Everything that had happened since she’d bonded with Cawli.

  “Uh, Captain.” Michelle’s voice held a tone of panic.

  The terror she’d faced with the threat of Merry fucking Eastwood looming over her.

  And here she was, hours on the clock, a box full of files somewhere in this office, her not knowing enough of the details to be of any assistance, and if she failed, Merry Eastwood would be released.

  “Dexx!” Michelle shouted. “Get in here now!”

  And if Merry Eastwood was released, she was going after Leah. She was going to kill Leah. She wasn’t just going to take Leah away and never let her see her again. Merry was going to kill Leah.

  “What’s—oh, shit. Fuck. Shit. Paige.”

  Paige’s skin buzzed with electricity. Her soul surged with it. She needed a release. Everything had been building to this moment, this day. And when it mattered the most, she was out of control. Per normal.

  Warm hands pressed onto her arms. Sharp claws bit into her flesh.

  Something inside her roared as if answering a call. She needed to be released. She needed to find a solution, a way out. She needed to…get rid of some of this energy.

  “Listen,” Dexx shouted directly in her ear, half human, half growl, “to my voice!”

  Paige panted, latching onto the sound of his voice like it was a lifeline.

  “Feel the energy coursing over your skin.”

  It was hard to ignore.

  “Feel the power of the animal inside you.”

  What animal? Cawli? He was just a voice.

  But, no. There was an animal inside her, wanting to get out. And it had nothing to do with Cawli, or his wisdom or his experience.

  Primal need.

  Wanton energy.

  Readiness to…kill.

  The solution to the Merry Eastwood problem was staring her right in the face. Had been all along. If she couldn’t build a case against her, one that would stand in a court of law she’d never tried a case in before, then…

  She could rip the witch’s soul from her body, feed upon it, and then tear her beating heart from her aging chest.

  “Hey,” Dexx said in that half human,
half growl voice. He brushed the hair out of her face. “Stop feeding the rage. Remember the love.”

  “She’ll kill us when she gets out,” Paige said, but her voice came out as a partial whisper, partial growl as well.

  “She won’t get out. You won’t let her.”

  “What if I can’t—”

  “Stop it. You’re feeding your rage with fear and doubt. Stop it.”

  Paige opened her mouth, panting, breathing in the heady scent of him. Warm and musky, tainted a little with motor oil. The electric energy cooled a little as if she’d grounded herself.

  “You’ve built a fantastic team here, Paige. Let them do their jobs. You need a case against her. Let them build it.”

  “I’m the detective.”

  “So is Michelle. I’m not too bad at it myself. And let’s not forget that Rainbow is a pretty damned smart detective, too. Tarik is good, or you wouldn’t have hired him. And Quinn’s got skills you haven’t even seen yet.”

  The energy left her faster than it was upon her. She sagged against him, resting her head against his shoulder.

  He held her close. “All we need is a timeline.”

  A timeline?

  “A deadline,” he clarified.

  Oh. Yeah. She could provide that. Well, she’d have to call Lovejoy and get it, but she could do it.

  “And you let us do the jobs you hired us to do.” He pressed a kiss on top of her head. “And stop trying to do everything your goddamned self.”

  That sounded like a damned good idea.

  Folding tables were brought in from somewhere. Another white board was brought in. Rainbow, Quinn, Michelle, and Tarik worked together, talking the case through.

  Paige needed to be in the middle of that, but could barely keep herself upright. She needed sleep. As in the real kind. Maybe she could get Dexx to take her home and then take care of Bobby so she could do just that.

  The exhausted heroine routine wasn’t doing her any favors.

  Dexx had been studying her. She figured he was waiting for her to tell him she was ready to leave and get some sleep. That kind of propelled her forward, though, as if she wanted to prove him wrong. She was stronger than this, she said to herself in her superhero voice.