Excerpt: Demons Are Jackasses
This case sucked.
Detective Paige Ansley pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and lit up, sipping her latte as she leaned against her rented sedan. She rubbed her eyebrow with the hand that held her cigarette, making sure not to burn any of her long brown hair.
She couldn't get anything figured out. Nothing fit. Nothing made sense. Why would he kill three people in three weeks and then just stop? Why was he targeting the coven? What about this thing he thought he was raising? What was it? What required blood rites of this magnitude? She shook her head and glanced up.
Someone was watching her. He stood a block away, leaned up against the café, one booted foot propped up against the wall, his blond hair feathered back, shades hiding his eyes, his hands shoved in the pockets of his dress slacks. He even wore a tie. A tie.
Paige watched him through her lashes. Lieutenant Mike Willis was the person who had dragged her happy butt out of Denver in the middle of a wonderful spring snow to the burning heat of Louisiana. She was a walking database of the occult and he said that’s what they needed.
Course, he wasn’t counting on the fact that her very first move was to take him off the case. He was either too close to the case, or he was guilty. That much she knew. You don’t royally screw up an investigation like he did after making it to Lieutenant unless you were stupid in love or guilty. That’s just fact.
But kicking him off might have been the wrong move because now every time she turned around, one of his guys was there to stall her. St. Francisville was a small community and they protected their own, even if he was a possible murder suspect.
It didn’t help that no one thought he was capable of it.
Mabel flipped the Open sign in the window of the antique store. Paige smiled, crushing her cigarette in the butt can and stepped inside, the bell heralding her arrival.
“How’s Fanny’s fried cabbage sidin’ with ya?” Mable asked as she ambled behind the counter and hopped onto the high stool, patting her wavy white-blue hair.
“It’s…” Paige winced. “...still burning its way down.”
“You’ll need ice cream later today,” Mabel warned as she picked up her knitting and shook her head. “I always tell her to not make it so dang-gummed spicy.”
Paige chuckled. “We are in Louisiana.”
“You say that like a damned Yankee.”
“I’m a westerner,” Paige said, leaning up against the counter and setting her latte on the counter. “Does that count?”
“North is north,” Mabel said as she pulled out a paper towel.
“Hmm.” Paige took the towel and put it under her cup. “Hey, I got a question for you.”
“Shoot, darlin’.”
Paige looked up at the shelf above Mabel’s head that was filled with antique dolls. “What do you know about Malika?”
“Well,” Mabel said, her gnarled and slightly shaking hands twitching on the glass. “I guess I don’t know too much about her.”
“Really?” Paige frowned. “I thought you knew everything about everyone.”
“I do. I just don’t know if there’s anything to really know about Miss Malika.” Mabel squinted into the morning light shining through the big store window. “She’s a quiet gal. Well kept, and really don't share too much about herself with others. I reckon it might have something to do with the fact she’s a witch.”
“But she feels comfortable here.”
“She's still a witch and it don’t make no matter how well she gets along with other people. Most of us are God fearin’ creatures and, rightly, the only reason we ken to Malika is probably because she keeps her weird ways to herself.”
“Hmm.” Paige sipped at her coffee and stared at the lid as she set it down again.
“She seems nice enough, but I don’t know as I’d trust her.”
Paige narrowed her brown eyes at the older woman. “Because she’s a witch?”
Mabel was quiet awhile. “I reckon I been around a bit longer’n most and I also reckon I might could tell a good person from bad.” Her green eyes grew steely as she met Paige’s brown-eyed gaze. “But I can’t button that woman down. She changes her face and most times, you don’t see it.”
Paige nodded. “Yeah. That's kinda my take, too.”
The older woman picked up her knitting in her shaking hands and waved Paige out the door. “You got work to do. I want these killers caught and these damned ghosts gone before they destroy anymore of my merchandise. Call that ghost talkin’ sister of yours. Get her out here to take care of these unsightful demons.”
Paige saluted and walked out the door.
The traffic along the highway leading to Baton Rouge wasn’t bad. Dr. Ramirez’s office was on the northern outskirts of town and was easy to find. She got out of the car, the midmorning heat already unbearable. She’d die out here if she didn’t have air conditioning.
She took the elevator to the second floor and walked down the hallway looking at the suite numbers. She stopped at 201 and walked inside.
A tall, well-dressed man with black hair and eyes walked to her with a warm, welcoming smile. He almost looked relieved as he clasped her hand in both of his. She found herself smiling at him before he even opened his mouth. There was just something…very comforting about him, like a favorite sweatshirt that you found buried in the garage.
“Paige. What took you so long?”
Her eyebrows shot straight up. “I’m on time for our appointment.”
He chuckled. “You didn’t have to make an appointment to come see me. You know that.”
Her spider senses swung into high alert.
He turned from her and walked into his office. “They’ve been gathering. I was hoping to see you much sooner than this. What was so pressing in Denver? I haven’t heard of anything rising there. This should have been your first priority. Someone is obviously trying to get your attention.”
Her eyes narrowed. “My attention?”
“Did it completely slip your mind that the murders stopped when you showed up? Paige.” He stopped what he was doing and turned to her. “You’re better than this.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We need to figure out who knows about you and—“ The doctor blinked and raised his chin, disappointment filtering across his face. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
“Dr. Balnore Ramirez,” Paige said firmly. “You were seeing Ashley Fort, victim number three in the St. Francisville murders.”
The doctor’s open expression slammed shut as he pulled back and took a careful seat in his leather chair. He crossed one leg over the other and tapped his foot, one elbow propped on his desk. He picked up a pen and rolled it in his fingers as he stared at her. “Detective,” he said, his tone stern, his expression hard as he shifted papers on his crowded desk. “However can I be of assistance?”
“Thank you.” Paige sat in the brown leather chair opposite him. She wasn’t sure what to make of the man. At all. His face wasn,tt quite angular, but it wasn’t quite boyish either. He held within him a strong and quiet power.
“Am I supposed to know you?” Paige asked.
His nostrils flared minutely. “Do you?”
She narrowed her gaze and shook her head.
He shrugged, his cheeks sucked into an expression of dark brooding. “Then you do not.”
Paige nodded and picked up her notebook, her detective face firmly in place. “Dr. Ramirez, I am here because I am investigating the murders of three individuals. You were the psychiatrist for Mrs. Fort—“
“I was Ashley’s psychologist.”
Paige looked up from her notes and nodded. “Psychologist. I need to know if she mentioned seeing anyone new. If maybe she mentioned something she and the victims were working on. I don’t know. Anything that might be helpful.”
The doctor rubbed his nose with one finger. “She might have mentioned something.” He tipped his head. “How much do you believe?”
Paige shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“You are the witch detective.”
She rolled her eyes.
“How much do you believe in the Craft?”
“I believe that others believe.”
His lips flattened. “Even though your entire family has gifts?”
She shrugged. “You did your research.”
“And you honestly think that you’re the only one without a gift, that you alone in all your family cannot practice magick?”
Paige stared at the man. “What does that have to do with the case?”
Dr. Ramirez closed his eyes and shook his head. “Nothing.” He set his pen down and pulled at the corner of a piece of paper on his desk. “They found a key. Malika brought it out. They were scrying. Ashley was scared. Didn’t like what she saw.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ashley had foresight.” He looked at her. “Do you know what that means?”
“She believed she could see into the future.”
He tapped his fingers on the desk in a hard staccato. “You don’t believe in that.”
Paige shrugged. “It could be that she was just really good at logic puzzles.”
“You read her journal?”
A chill went through Paige’s body.
The doctor studied her. “She was scared. Said that something dark was coming, that the magick was turning toward the left-hand path.”
“I already knew that.”
“So you did read it.”
Paige didn’t answer. “You knew she kept a journal?”
“I recommended it. She was having a hard time telling the difference between what was real and what wasn’t.”
“She was suffering from some sort of psychosis?”
“Not really,” the doctor said, settling back in his chair. “She was…” He cocked his head to the side and let out a breath. “She was seeing something her mind couldn’t comprehend.”
They were both silent for a long moment.
Paige rubbed her jaw with her index finger. “What did she tell you about the key?”
His gaze pinned her in place. “Only that they were trying to open it. Does that make sense to you?”
“No,” she said, tapping her pen on her notepad.
“I don’t have to ask if you’ve checked Mike and Malika’s alibis,” the doctor murmured.
Paige shook her head once. “Checked out. Solid.”
Dr. Ramirez pursed his lips. “Why are you still blocked?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your missing five years.” He opened a book on his desk and idly trailed a finger down the page.
Her entire body stilled. “How do you know that?”
“Have you tried to get your missing memories back?”
“How,” she repeated moving to the edge of her seat, “do you know that?”
“Are you waiting for them to magically reappear?”
“Who are you?”
“Do you realize what your inaction has cost? To those around you? To the world?”
“What are you talking about?”
Dr. Ramirez closed the book. He breathed several times, his nostrils flaring, and with a sudden movement, he slammed his flat hand against the desk, his gaze boring into hers.
Paige nearly leapt out of the chair.
His black eyes held her in place and something happened. It was as if her mind went sideways, or she’d had one too many beers. Things were fuzzy, her ears started ringing and she was having a hard time concentrating.
“What are you doing, Peanut?”
Something twisted in her mind. A flash of light hit her eyes. Visions swirled through her skull. Conversations ricocheted into her ears.
“Peanut.”
She turned and glanced up at Balnore Ramirez dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. The day was sunny. They stood outside Grandma Alma’s large house. She smiled and hugged him in greeting. “Bal, I couldn’t do any of this without you.”
His expression was filled with worry.
Paige blinked, pulling herself out of the Twilight Zone, gripping the arms of the chair so hard, her knuckles were white.
“What are you doing here?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
Her heart was racing and she had to get back some semblance of control. She gripped her pen and fell back to what she knew best. “Investigating a series of murders.” Her tone was slightly uneven. Try as she might, she couldn’t drop his gaze. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes had an iron grip. “Keeping an eye on things.” His hands clenched. “As I’m supposed to. As you’re supposed to.”
“Who are you?”
His fists opened, fingers flexing. His jaw tightened.
“Dr. Ramirez?”
He closed his eyes, his body visibly relaxing.
As soon as his eyes closed, it felt as if a chokehold had been released. “If you’re withholding something that could help my investigation,” she said, her words strong, her tone barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again, trying to regain the upper hand. “I could hold you in contempt of court.”
He stared at her, his eyes shining with familiarity and something else. Desperation. “Damn it, Peanut.”
She blinked at him.
“Peanut.”
Light flashed behind her eyes, the room before her disappearing.
“A war is coming.” Balnore stood in front of her, desperation filling his black eyes. “You have to be ready.”
“Bal, I am,” Paige heard herself say.
“You’re not.” He took a step forward and gripped her shoulders. “I’m glad you have Leah, but you have to be careful. She can be used against you. You’re a weapon and someone is going to find a way to use you. Or get you out of the game.”
Paige felt herself roll her eyes in the bright afternoon sun. “The demons? I doubt it.”
“Paige, don’t do this.”
“Leah?” she whispered, shaking her head. She pulled herself out of the vision or whatever it was. Her body shuddered as she looked down at the notepad in her lap. This was insane. She had to get it back together. “Do you have any further information that could help in my investigation or not?” She wasn’t really feeling the control.
Neither was he. “You do.”
She straightened her shoulders and realigned her detective mask. “We can continue this interview at the station.” Where things made more sense, where she knew which side was up.
“Peanut,” the doctor whispered, putting his elbows on his knees.
“Stop calling me that.” Only family called her that. How did he know that?
He sat back and watched her, templing his fingers in front of him. “I can help you remember.”
Her heart was frantic, screaming at her leave. “Do I know you?”
“Yes,” he answered just as quietly.
“How?”
The doctor watched her for one long silent moment. “We worked together.”
Paige swallowed hard. Her hands shook in her lap. “Is it a coincidence that you know me, and that you’re here? Now?”
“No.”
She looked up. “Then why didn’t you come to me?”
“I promised I wouldn’t.”
“Promised who?”
The doctor said nothing.
“Who are you?” Her eye twitched. “What’s going on here?”
“Ask for my help, ask me to return your memories.”
“Why?”
“You’re vulnerable without them.”
“Then why didn’t you give them back before?”
“I can’t—“ His expression was torn, his tone sincere. “Peanut, you have to remember.”
Paige couldn’t look away. “What’s going on?”
“Something a lot bigger than you and me. A lot bigger than a couple of murders.”
“What could be bigger than murder?” Paige demanded. “People are dying.”
“That’s what you need to remember.”
Paige clenched her jaw. “Where were you on March 8th at two am?”
“Goddamn it, Paige,” the doctor said, slamming his fist against the desk. “Don’t do this. Not now.”
Her heart skidded to a halt as she prepared to get out of the chair.
“Put up these shields. Bury your head in the fucking sand. Pretend you’re in the world of the real. You’re not.”
Her entire body shook.
“Ask for help.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“You’re in way over your head.” He sat forward. “And you’ve been out of the game for far too long. You need me. And you need to wake the fuck up. Now. Before it’s too late.”
“What is going on, Dr. Ramirez?”
His gaze captured hers again - hard. “You used to call me Bal.”
She was having a hard time breathing around the invisible hand closing around her windpipe. “Who the fuck are you?”
He stared at her hard. “A friend.”
“I—“
“Remember me, Paige.”
Something pushed against her mind. “I don’t—“ His two eyes swam and became four, the room shifted around her.
“What was the last conversation we had, Peanut?”
“…Peanut.”
“I’ll be fine. Leah’ll be fine. Grandma’s watching her. No one can get through her.”
“Just because you can fight them with ease doesn’t mean that she can.”
“I think you underestimate my grandmother. You have met the woman, right?”
“Who is Leah?” She wrapped her fingers around her head and closed her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“We were talking about the war. Remember.”
“War? I don’t under—“ Paige stood, dizzy. She had to get out of there.
He grabbed her wrist and stopped her with an iron force, his eyes pinning her into place.
“Who the fuck are—“
“Demons.”
Paige blinked at him.
He was so quiet and sure as he stared at her. “There’s an uprising. The key is important. Find it. Do not let them open it.”
“What is it for?”
“It opens the Gate.”
“The gate to what?”
The doctor didn’t move except to tighten his hold on her as he stood, his eyes level with hers. “Get the key and then get the hell out of here as quick as you can until you wake up.”
“Wake up?”
“Remember, Peanut,” his words whispering against her ear. “You were never normal.”
She tried to pull away.
“If you stay, you will die. If you die, you’ll let them in.”
“The demons?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
She shook her head and tried to jerk her arm out of his grasp. “You’re insane.”
“You’re wounded and you’re broken.” He let go of her and turned back to the papers on his desk. “You can’t win this battle. Not like this.”
Paige stepped away from him, walking backward to the door.
“I thought you were stronger than this, Peanut.” He shook his head, refusing to look at her. “I thought you were better.”
Paige turned away…and fled.