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

  “If another body pops up, I’ll put together a task force to get you in.”

  “Captain Banes isn’t going to like it.”

  “He rarely does.”

  Oh. So, it’d happened before. Awesome. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  Paige cleared her throat, ready to hang up.

  “And, Ms. Whiskey?”

  “Yes, Director?”

  “I’m not your goddamned Google.”

  Oh. Shit. “Yes, sir.”

  Lovejoy hung up the phone on her end.

  “Whoops.” Paige got to work. Now that she knew where to go, she had a lot of work to do.

  Dexx and Ethel showed up at about eight, chit-chatting about something.

  Paige got up from the desk in the middle of the bullpen and perused the room. She could set it up any way she wanted.

  Anyway…she wanted.

  Huh.

  It was time to make this place a second home.

  There were three offices in the back and two large rooms. One could be set up as a break room. The other as a conference room. They really needed an interrogation room and some holding cells.

  Three men and a woman walked through the front door. “Director Whiskey?” the woman called.

  “Yeah.” Paige gave them her undivided attention.

  “We have a delivery for you.”

  All the furniture had already been delivered. “What kind of delivery?”

  The tallest of the three men grinned, showing off a rack of offset teeth. “You’ll see.”

  Paige’s hackles rose.

  Dexx came to stand beside her. “What’s up?”

  “Don’t know.”

  The four of them disappeared.

  Paige followed them.

  A big stake bed truck was parked outside, with several large, potted plants.

  Plants?

  The tallest one smiled at her again.

  Paige couldn’t tell if he was leering or just had a goofy, creepy smile.

  “A few of us got together and got these for you.” He chuckled a little, reminding her of Goofy from Disney. “We know how you like plants. Well, we read books and the books say witches like plants. Not all kinds, but the ones with leaves and stuff.”

  “That’s Garek, Ms. Witch Twitchy Fingers.” The woman walked up to Paige and squared off with her. “Some of us think this thing with us, the shifters and your family, could be good. We want to support it.”

  Paige swallowed her suspicion, forcing her expression to relax.

  “But we won’t take any of your bullshit either.”

  There were many definitions of bullshit. “What kind are you referencing?”

  “The kind that could get him killed. For smiling.”

  Oh, crap. Paige took in a deep breath to calm her red-alert nerves. “I don’t know who to trust.”

  “You could start by not distrusting everyone.”

  Paige met the woman’s hazel gaze. “And when that trust gets my family killed?”

  “We’ll be there.” The woman held out her hand. “Margo. Those’re my brothers, Garek, Clem, and Boot.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “And we’ve volunteered to be your damned personal body guards. Or your personal fucking assistants, if that’s what you need.”

  Whoops. Paige closed her eyes for a long moment. She hadn’t even realized until that moment just how much fear had been coursing through her. She’d been terrified the moment they got in the car to drive to Oregon and that hadn’t deteriorated. She opened her eyes.

  Margo tipped her head to the side, her expression relaxed.

  “That would actually be really nice, Margo, thanks.”

  Margo clamped her lips closed and bowed her head. “Guess we both have a bit to learn about each other.”

  “Yeah.” Paige grinned. “We do.”

  They set to work, putting the place together. The three boys—men—got a plan together on how to make her some holding cells.

  “It’ll take a few days,” Boot told her. The reason he’d gotten that name, Paige was fairly certain, was because he had a boot print on his face as if his face had been rubber and had set around the boot of someone stepping on him. He seemed okay, otherwise. “So, don’t arrest no body until we get it done.”

  Paige saluted him and kept on with what she was doing.

  The plants had been an amazing gift. She used a little breath of life to extend the plants, building living walls to give the people in the bullpen a bit more privacy. Dexx went and got grow lamps with Clem, and they worked on refitting the fluorescent strip fixtures hanging down with chains with the grow lamps.

  Margo smiled, her hands on her hips. “Impressive.” Her eyes took in the roots, penetrating the floors. “That could be an issue, though.”

  Yeah. That was something Paige really hadn’t taken into consideration. “Uh, do we tell Chuck? Or just oopsy-daisy it?”

  “Oopsy-daisy?” Margo’s face crumpled with incredulity.

  Okay. Maybe not. “So, tell him.”

  “Yeah. Tell him.”

  Working to set up the work space had given Paige the time she needed to figure out what she wanted to do and how she wanted to set up her team. She made each desk area a bit different using plants that were better for her teammates. Different flowers, herbs. Each one had a different scent and could be used to curb tempers that might flare.

  She even had a desk set up for the harpy, the valkyrie, and the chameleon. If things went well, she’d need to expand, and she wanted Scout. Immediately.

  She’d just have to figure out how to get them into the pretty restrictive budget.

  But joining forces with the Troutdale PD wasn’t a bad idea. Not at all, and would save them a lot of expense.

  Well, it was time to go meet their acquaintance.

  On her way out the door, her phone rang. Steve Barnsworth, the coroner in Denver who knew a little more than he probably should. She answered, stepping into the bright—not burning—sunlight. Chuck had told her how to act with him. She didn’t like it, but…if it saved his life? He was a good man and would be a great asset. She’d play it the way Chuck called it. “Barn. Hey, buddy. What’s up?”

  “I hear,” he said with a know-it-all tone, “that someone is starting up a new division and doesn’t have a coroner.”

  “Oh, really.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  She needed to reconfigure the budget to see if she could even include him, but they probably wouldn’t even need a full-time coroner. She’d have to discuss the matter with Chuck and see what he thought. “I don’t have a budget for a full-time coroner.”

  “Well.” He cleared his throat. “Does that town have a doctor?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. Probably. It’s not that small a town, Barn. Like, seriously.”

  “I’m not talking about a normal doctor. I mean, a doctor.”

  Paige’s eye twitched. “You can’t come up here and be Dr. Frankenstein.”

  “I’m not—dang, Paige. Seriously. Where does your mind go? No. I mean, has anyone done research on how to keep these guys alive? Scientifically?”

  “You’re not going to lab coat them, are you? Because that would be creepy.”

  “Seriously. It’s like you don’t know me.”

  She…did. “Sorry. It’s been an interesting move.” An interesting move? Could she have said anything more lame?

  “I guess. Anyway.” She could almost see his eye roll. “I have some money saved and wouldn’t need any moving assistance.”

  Which was good because that definitely wasn’t in the budget. She had to figure something out. Otherwise, he was dead. That thought was hard to get through her reality filter, but…how could this society just have him killed because of what he knew?

  What about Danny, the reporter in Denver? He was tracking down the case of his sister, which Paige needed to follow up on. But what could she do to keep him safe?

  One person at a time.


  Oh. Idea. “Hey, you know what?” She didn’t know how it would work, but… “Leslie is starting up an apothecary.” She unlocked her sedan. Everyone had cool cars. She had a plain Jane, boring car. Great for stake-outs and getting to and from work, but not much else.

  “Okay?”

  “The reason for that—” This fucking society of information killers. “—is because the local alpha wanted someone to help keep the locals healthy.”

  “See?” His tone perked up. “This is what I’m talking about.”

  “We can’t guarantee income, Barn.”

  “That will be an issue, but we’ll work something out. As long as they keep getting sick and the dead keep showing up, I’ll be set.”

  There was something not right with his head.

  “Okay. Well, uh, I’ll start looking for a place.”

  “If you need a temporary place to stay, we have a spare room.”

  “Excellent. I’ll get stuff tidied up here and see when I can relocate.”

  “When are you thinking?”

  “When will you need me?”

  She knew he had a lease. He rented, same as she had. So, he was going to need at least thirty days. But…the sisterhood of psycho killers could decide he wasn’t valuable at any time. “I have a body already. It’s currently with the Portland PD.”

  “Portland. Honey, I could get in there.”

  That would be an awesome in. “You sure could.”

  “So many options.”

  What a relief to bring someone in who could be a real asset and not have to be financially responsible for him. And save his life while she was at it. “So many.”

  “Okay. So, this week?”

  “Shouldn’t you give two weeks?”

  He paused. “I gave my two weeks two weeks ago. I was just thinking you’d call me sooner.”

  A bit presumptive.

  “You seriously had someone else lined up who could do autopsies and fill out the paperwork on people with fangs?”

  No. She got out of the car. She didn’t even know why she’d gotten in it. Used to being in the city, she guessed. The Troutdale PD was only a couple of blocks away. She could walk. “Okay. So, see you when?”

  “Two days?”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’m packed, Paige. I’m ready. I’ve been looking at real estate. Okay. So, I can’t afford anything up there right now. But I’ve been looking and now I know I need to look for a job. So. Yeah. Two days.”

  “Okay. I’ll have the room ready for you.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  “Bye.”

  “Yeah. Bye.” One problem dealt with. Time to knock another one off the list.

  She didn’t have any misconceptions about the conversation she was about to have, however. This one wasn’t going to be pretty.

  She walked into the Troutdale police station. It looked and sounded like a real PD. Yeah. Hers, with the plants. What had she been thinking? That had been a stupid idea.

  The desk clerk looked up. “Can I help you?”

  Paige smiled at her. “I’m here to see the chief?”

  The desk clerk gave Paige the once over. “Appointment?”

  “Drive by.”

  “Name?”

  “Whiskey. Paige Whiskey.”

  The desk clerk’s eyes widened and she picked up the phone, swiveling in her chair so Paige couldn’t hear what was being said.

  Great.

  The desk clerk hung up the phone and smiled tightly at Paige. “He’ll be right out.”

  “Thanks.” Her gut was doing rotations in her belly. She really needed to poop. Nerves did that to her every time. What was it about her? She could go into magickal battle with demons and solve murder cases, but talking to a police chief was a thing that raised terror in her?

  A man walked out from the back, maneuvering through the bullpen. He reminded her of the beer man. The sexy grey-haired one in all the memes. “I don’t normally drink beer, but when I do…” Crap. What did they call they call him? The most interesting man in the world? Yeah. That guy.

  Full head of grey hair, well-trimmed grey beard, sharp blue eyes, great physique. The man was hot. He stopped behind the desk clerk and waited.

  Awkward. Awesome. “Detective Paige Whiskey.” She offered her hand.

  He raised his chin and then turned away, heading toward the back again.

  Fuck. Great. Crap. She followed him, closing the door to his office behind him.

  His office looked like most of the chiefs and captains offices she’d been in before. Medals and awards sat on shelves and hung on walls. Pictures of his family. A picture of his wife and son held a treasured space on his book shelf. Her dark brown skin did little to reflect the sunlight, but his son’s paler skin did. Pale eyes. Brown skin. That boy was going to break hearts.

  But…that also meant that maybe he wasn’t the good ol’ white boy she’d assumed he’d be. Not to be a racist ass, but if a white man married a non-white woman, it typically meant he wasn’t one of the “good ol’ boys.”

  By saying, “not to be a racist ass,” had she just been a racist ass?

  Or was that like asking what came first? The egg or the chicken?

  “Chief,” she glanced at his name plate, “Tuck.”

  He grunted and took a seat behind his desk.

  She took one of the two chairs in front of it. How should this go? Should she be a dick and just tell him what she needed and keep the mystery? Or should she try to build a team of honesty?

  She didn’t want to have to maintain that air of mystery and Chuck had said that the Sisterhood of Shadows, or Shadow Sisterhood, or the Sisterhood of Creepy—what the hell ever—had already allowed the human police department some knowledge of the paranormal. Well, nothing for it. She had to give it a try. “I’m going to tell you some information that shouldn’t be shared.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m trusting that you can handle it because we need a good partnership.”

  He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk. “What are you offering?”

  This would be the kicker, the moment she understood she’d taken the wrong path, or the right one. “I’m talking about witches, shapeshifters, and other mythological people.”

  He remained still.

  She let him have his time to process.

  “Okay?”

  Okay. So, maybe the sisterhood had done well. “I’m sure you’ve noticed some odd things.”

  He nodded once.

  “Your town is about half human, half…not human from what I can tell.”

  He blinked.

  “I’m setting up a division that would handle the kinds of situations they bring up to better assist you.”

  “And you didn’t come to me first?”

  “That’s…” She sighed. “I’ve never done this before.” Better to be honest. He seemed like the kind of man she could be honest with. “In Dallas, I headed up a special crimes division, but when I say I headed it up, what I really mean is that my boss was a lot better at directing me than I was in making things happen smoothly.”

  Chief Tuck pulled the corners of his lips down, but nodded.

  “I came out here thinking I had a job with the Portland PD.”

  “But Banes shot you down.”

  “Yes. He did.”

  Tuck leaned back in his chair.

  “The paranormal community, or a large part of it, is here in your town.”

  “How so?”

  Oh, hell. “You have two of the three ruling witch families here, the regional high alpha, an entire dryad grove, and a society of paranormals called the Shadow Sisterhood.” She was pretty sure she’d gotten it right that time. “Here. And those are just the ones I know of. I’m still learning. Apparently, there’s a dragon, too? I haven’t met him, though.”

  “Ruling witches?”

  She winced. She’d mentioned a dragon and he hadn’t pi
cked up on that? “Yes. Though, one of those doesn’t rule anything. But, I guess, we’re still one of the big three. The Blackmans own a lot of real estate.”

  Tuck frowned. “The Blackmans? Yes. They do. Keep to themselves, mostly. And they’re witches?”

  “Yes. They are. The other major witch family are the Eastwoods. They own banks, schools, real estate. I don’t even know what.”

  “Banes is investigating them for gang related violence.”

  Gangs. Yeah. She wouldn’t be surprised. “But that’s only the cover on their cherry bowl. They’re also a very powerful coven of witches.”

  Tuck rubbed his chin, studying her. “The third would be the Whiskeys?”

  “Yeah. Kind of. Like I said, we’re not ruling anything. We barely own our house.”

  He watched her quietly for a long moment. “What’s your part in all this?”

  “Well…” The honesty thing seemed to be working out so far. “I’m the first witch in recorded history that also has an animal spirit inside me.”

  “What?”

  “I am…partially a shape shifter?” In layman’s terms. “So, I’m bridging the gap between the witches and the shapeshifters.” Sounded stupid when she said it…out loud.

  “Gap?”

  “They’ve been…at war for a long time.”

  Understanding bloomed on his face. “That—a lot of things make sense now.”

  She bet they did. “Yeah.”

  “What do you need from us?”

  “Well, some jurisdiction for one.” She swallowed. “I’d like to be a division of the Troutdale PD.”

  Chief Tuck bit in the inside corner of his mouth, studying her.

  “We’d like to utilize your call center. You have a medical exam office. I have a coroner who’s been introduced to all of this. He would like to help.”

  “I can’t hire him. We have a coroner.”

  Bummer. “He could still help on the special cases. You could use him. He and I are still working out the finesses of his salary.” But, unfortunately, she had to bring him in.

  He gave her a long, hard look. “What’s really eating you with this one, the coroner?”

  She flinched. The man was good at his job. “I told him about this—all this, the vampires and shapeshifters and witches and stuff—before I knew that I wasn’t supposed to.”