A Barrel of Whiskey - (An Urban Fantasy Whiskey Witches Novel) (34 page)

So, Rachel didn’t know Alma’d been stabbed. Was someone playing her as well? If so, then who? Merry Eastwood? Why? “Yes. She took Mandy and Leah to the library and she had a heart attack right there at the entrance of the library.”

Rachel looked at Leah. “Is that what happened?”

Paige didn’t turn to see what the girl did or said.

But Rachel turned back, all cold pretenses evaporating from her expression. “How is she?”

“She’s in surgery right now. We won’t know until after they’re out.”

“And when will that be?”

“Could be a few hours. We just don’t know.”

“I’m going to stay.”

Paige would kill her. “No. How about you go?”

“She’s my mother.”

“Didn’t mean a whole lot to you the five years you took Leah and didn’t call or write or Facebook. Or the twenty some odd years before that when you dumped Leslie and me. So…” Paige shrugged.

King and Wrick entered the waiting room from the hospital side.

“If you don’t leave, I’ll have the police escort you from the hospital.”

“I’m trying to be here for my mother, Paige.” Rachel’s expression filled with hurt, but Paige couldn’t discern if it was real or fake. She just couldn’t tell anymore.

Paige shook her head and walked toward her detectives. “Don’t be here when I get back or I will have you escorted from the building.”

“She’s my mother.”

“I’m glad that means something to you right now.” Paige’s expression widened, then resettled as she shifted masks and put on her comfortable detective mask. Calm. Cool. Under control. “What did you find out?”

“Not much,” King said, her tone clipped. “Just that she was attacked from behind. The description of the one man she saw matches Dan Galsbory.”

So, nothing new. “So, she confirmed it.”

“I don’t like it, Director.”

That term was going to take some getting used to. Director. She didn’t feel as though she’d earned it. Directors normally had a lot more grey in their hair. “I don’t either.”

“This was planned,” Wrick said. “Coordinated.”

Paige nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. “I need to know Rachel’s connection to all this.”

“Huh?” King asked as if she’d been hit in the face with a baseball. “Who?”

“Rachel Whiskey. My mother.”

King’s face registered understanding, then widened as she connected the dots. “What’s going on?”

“Chuck’s shifters can’t shift, so a witch is involved. Right now, we have two witches in the area who we can’t trust; Rachel Whiskey and Merry Eastwood.”

“Well, let’s go question Merry Eastwood.”

“Except I don’t want to tip my hand to her and let her know we’ve broken the treaty.” Paige clamped her lips shut for a moment. “Just yet.”

King studied Rachel from across the room.

“Look, she’s—” Paige leaned in and whispered, “she’s an angel whisperer and she wants my children. So, she’s got all kinds of motive. She could have tipped the kidnappers to our situation with the treaty. She could be trying to escalate this so that Merry Eastwood sees what’s going on. She could be trying to start the war.”

“I didn’t know you had kids,” King said.

“Yeah. Two.”

“Congratulations,” Wrick said.

King kicked him. “That’s not something you say.”

“I don’t care,” Paige whispered. “Five years ago, she used angels to back her legal case against me and won. She took my daughter out of the state. But since she’s been here, I’ve turned the tables. I have my daughter back temporarily and now she’s after my son.”

“When’d you have him?” Wrick asked, his brow furrowed as he tried to keep up.

Time to live the lie. “A few days ago. He’s about a week now.”

“Wow.” King raised her eyebrow and appraised Paige with a look of respect. “Just…wow. You bounce back well.”

“Not really. You haven’t seen my PT’s, yet.” And that was something Paige was going to have to take into consideration. She couldn’t ace her physical tests, not that she typically did anyway. But if the world was going to believe she’d just had a baby, she needed to make
her
world believe that. She wasn’t the young pup she had been when she’d had Leah. She was almost forty and if she couldn’t just bounce back after drinking a bottle of wine by herself, there was no way she was “bouncing back” after having a baby.

King chuckled. “Okay, well, if you need someone to spar with, you let me know. You kick ass, ma’am. I’d be glad to.”

Oh, the things that people caught and made their day. “I might just do that. But. The case. My mother
could
be tied to the case. Someone might be playing us both. I need to know.”

King straightened, her face losing all emotion as her detective’s mask—which looked a lot like resting bitch face—slammed into place.

Wrick glanced at her, then over Paige’s shoulders.

Rachel walked up to them and stopped, her face twisted in a sneer. “You’re running out of time, Paige. I will prove you are a horrible mother. I will have those children.”

Children. Oh. The rage. Burned. Paige whuffed a chuckle. “Really? You might want to talk to your good pal Michael about that.”

Rachel smiled, her dark eyes lighting up with triumph. “You can bet I already have.”

“Oh, really? And what did he have to say? Did he say he wanted to protect Leah?”

A muscle at Rachel’s eye twitched and her smile dropped minutely.

“I know something that you don’t,” Paige sing-songed softly to her mother and smiled a sickly sweet smile. “I know why Michael won’t help you.”

“She’s my child.”

Paige leaned in to whisper against her mother’s lips. “She was never your child. I was. Leslie was. You abandoned us.” She pulled back. “Just like you’re going to abandon Leah. Wow. If you thought Michael hated our gifts, you just wait until he tells you what he thinks of Leah’s.”

“What did you do to my child?”

Paige pierced her mother’s gaze with every ounce of restrained hate she had. “I gave her life.”

Rachel’s lips curled. She tossed her head and stomped out of the ER. “I want to know how my mother is doing.”

“I’ll send you a message via the same courier pigeon you used when you had Leah,” Paige muttered under her breath.

King took in a careful breath, watching Paige with cautious blue eyes that held just a hint of mirth around the edges. “So, that was your mother.”

Oh, shit. Embarrassment washed over Paige like a trickling brook. There wasn’t a lot she could do about it, but still. “Yeah.”

“The one who—” King lowered her voice to mimic Paige’s “—gave
you
life.”

“Oh, for the love of Pete.” She was going to have to watch herself around King. The woman had a detective mask that read “supreme bitch,” but underneath, she was a joker. “Purge that from your mind.”

King laughed silently and shook her head. “But I do see what you mean. We’re adding her to the list of people to check out. We’ll figure out what the connection is. But Michael? I’m guessing he’s not in the Google.”

“Oh, he’s there. Check Wikipedia. But no. You won’t find his cell phone.”

“Dude.” King scratched her nose. Her smile disappeared as she leaned to the side. “Um, ma’am, not to disturb you or anything, but where’s the people your mother was standing by?”

Paige spun. Leslie, Mandy, and Leah were no longer in the waiting room. Chill washed through her. They’d been standing right by the door.

Just chill. They probably went to the bathroom.

Something inside her told her differently. They were gone.

Rachel. Had she distracted Paige on purpose? Had Paige risen to the bait?
Was
Rachel involved?

First thing first. Check to see if Leslie
had
just taken the girls to the bathroom.

Paige pulled out her phone and hit Leslie’s contact information. She listened as the phone rang and rang. It stopped ringing before it could go for a third. “Leslie,” Paige said, relief slamming into her gut. “Where are you?”

“Gone,” a male voice said with a thick Texan drawl. “Can’t talk now. I’ll call you later.”

Paige couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Every nerve froze, filling her with ice.

“What’s wrong?” King asked.

Shit. Shit. Dear gods. Blessed Mother. Someone. Anyone. “They’ve been taken.” Fucking a-hole! He took her fucking daughter!

“W
e need to get back to the office,” King said. “See what we can find.”

Oh, hell no. Her grandmother was stuck in this hospital with no protection. Her son was in their home with only the protections of a bard, a baby telepath, and a geek who was better with a radio than a gun. Her daughter had been kidnapped, but at least she was with a firestarter and a woman who knew how to whip up water out of nothing.

Dexx.
He
was at the office because she’d sent him away. Fuck.

“Or not,” King said, following Paige out of the glass door. “Where are we going?”

Paige couldn’t speak. Too much rage clogged her vocal cords.

Cawli stirred inside her, but didn’t come forth.

Great. Of all the times for her spirit animal to take a siesta. But she wouldn’t really need him anyway. He’d healed her soul and
that
was what she needed.

She found a shadowed spot beside the entrance. The sun was setting, casting the world into grey that was hard to see through anyway.

“Um, sure. Yeah. Okay.” King flopped her hands. “Find the darkest place we can find because you’re a witch and you’re going to do something witchy.”

Paige didn’t have time for the woman. Frankly, she didn’t want the woman there. Something inside her brain kept her from snapping at King and flinging her away with a strong gust of wind.

Maybe Cawli
was
there, just being silent.

Cawli? Silent? That was just weird.

She reached inside of herself and drew on the powers of the gate that resided inside her soul. She touched the spider web of Cawli’s soul that sewed her soul back together and whispered, “Balnore. I need you.”

“Huh?” Wrick asked.

An answering tick flicked across Paige’s intellect as a man solidified out of inky blackness. His black suit pants were pristine as were his shiny black shoes. He tipped his black haired head, his eyes flashing ebony before melting into dark, human eyes. “Peanut, what did we say about you summoning? You can’t. You’re—” He stopped himself and reassessed. “My, my. Look what you’ve done.”

“Balnore,” Paige growled.

“Oh.” The demon took a step back, one finger raised. “I’m not killing her. Though, I’d really like to this time.”

“Bal, I didn’t summon you to kill Rachel.”

“Oh,” King said. “You could?” She thumped Wrick on the arm. “I would have.”

Balnore studied the two humans. “Peanut, what is going on here?”

“Not good things.”

“I gathered that.” Bal rubbed the corners of his mouth. “Well, you came home, at least.”

“Are you still in Portland?”

“You mean
was
I still in Portland?”

Paige really didn’t have time for his chit chat.

“Yes.”

Shit. “Is the situation handled?” She didn’t know what the situation was. He hadn’t explained.

But she knew more, so maybe the situation had to do with the Eastwood witches.

“An influx of shifters are pouring in and the local alpha is trying to contain the situation before the rest of the, shall we say, political force of the area goes into a panic. Things are delicate there at best.”

She’d have to remember to tell Chuck, if he survived, to head to Portland immediately and talk to the local alpha there. “Can you stay for a few hours?”

“I—” the demon’s angular expression softened. “Yes. Yes, of course. What do you need?”

Paige filled him as quickly as she could.

“You want me to stay and protect Alma.”

“Yes.”

He nodded once. “Consider it done. Do you know where to go to get Leah back?”

Paige bit her lips. “No,” she said finally. “But I will.”

“Where are you going?”

Paige turned and walked away at a quick clip. “I’ve got work to do, Bal.”

King and Wrick scurried after her. “Where are we going?” King asked.

“Home.” Paige paused at the parking lot. “But it would be faster if you drove.”

“You can’t use your broom?” King asked.

Paige growled, though her mood lightened a little. “I left it at home.”

“You should come up with a spell,” King said, following Wrick. “To retrieve it when you need it.”

“Yeah,” he said, unlocking the car with the key fob. Headlights flickered at them. “Something like in Harry Potter.”

Emotion flooded her ears so she could barely hear them. How was she going to figure out where her daughter, niece, and sister had been taken? “Real magick doesn’t work that way.”

“Ma’am,” Wrick said, pausing with one foot in his door. “You just summoned a man out of air. I think you can figure out how to ride a broom.”

As much as she wanted to find the humor in that, there just wasn’t any room. She wanted to find the man who had her daughter and maim the sonofabitch. She’d just gotten her daughter back. “Call Parris. What has he found out on the Galsborys?” It wasn’t a huge leap to take to figure Dan Galsbory was the man who had her family.