High Priestess Page 13

  “He’s not like Gregor.” Mick’s eyes were drawn together in that puppy dog sad way.

  Pity. That’s what she read in Mick’s face, in her eyes. Raven turned to stare out the driver’s side window. Just make a damn decision and get it over with. Adara or Kiran? Since they both lived relatively close, Raven started the car and drove in the direction of their homes. It wasn’t until she dove past Adara’s quaint little house that she realized she made her decision before she even got in the car. She glanced over at Mick and caught her smiling.

  “It’s only because I want another look at the crime scene.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Damn Mick and her psychic abilities. Raven turned into Ena’s driveway and the first thing she noticed was Ena’s black Mercedes SUV wasn’t there. Even better. She’d get a look around without having Kiran Hayes as a distraction.

  “You still need to talk to him.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Between you and Ena I have no friggin’ privacy. Get the hell out of my head.” Raven got out of the car and slammed the door then kicked the tire for good measure. Damn it. She hopped around on one foot until the pain subsided. Now she could add a sore toe to her list of aches and pains.

  Mick stared at her over the hood of the car then dropped her eyes when Raven glared at her. “I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right. It’s an invasion of your privacy and I’ll try my best to block it.”

  “You can turn it off?” Raven narrowed her eyes to slits.

  “I can try. I think I’ve just kind of tuned into you. I can try to tune out or block it.”

  “What the hell does that mean? You can try?”

  “Okay.” Mick’s hands came up, palms out, and she took a step back. “I’ll tune out. Okay?” Her eyes met Raven’s then she dropped her head and stuck her hands in her coat pockets.

  “All this time you could have just tuned out? Is that what you’re saying?” Jesus. Total invasion of her privacy. Why the hell had she taken this kid on? The quick glance and hurt she saw in Mick’s eyes told her she hadn’t quite tuned out yet. “Get out of my head.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I really can’t.”

  Raven remembered being able to tune into people’s thoughts. Why anyone would want that particular power, she had no idea. She started blocking it all out when she was very young. She wasn’t even sure when. Before Gregor? Possibly. She’d definitely blocked it by the time he moved in with Ena. That’s what her mother had meant when she said, “You have great powers, Rave. You’ve only to open yourself to them.” She didn’t want to open herself to it. She didn’t want to hear what people were thinking. They’d looked at her like she was some kind of freak and she supposed she was. The little witch. The daughter of the whore witch who lived on the hill. Yeah. She didn’t want to know what people thought of her or her mother. She’d just wanted to be a normal kid that fit in. That’s all. Was that too much to ask?

  “Raven?”

  “Yeah?”

  Mick nodded toward the house. “Are we going in?”

  “Yeah.” How long had she been stuck in her head, lost in memories long forgotten? Blocked out? Suppressed? Why had she done all that? Because of what the community thought of them? She combed her fingers through her short, black hair leaving it spiked up and unruly and looked up at the house picturing that bubble gum pink bedroom. God, it made her sick just picturing it. Why the hell hadn’t Ena changed that miserable room?

  She walked up to the kitchen door and paused there with her key in the lock. She’d escaped Gregor one night by sneaking down and spending the night on this porch. The next time she tried it though, he found her and dragged her back up to that horrid bedroom.

  She had a flash of that last night, of the nasty fight she had with Ena, the things she yelled at her. She’d regurgitated all of the horrible things that people thought about her mother. And she was ashamed of herself as she thought about it. She lashed out and hurt Ena as much as she could just because she was hurting and couldn’t tell Ena why. She hiccupped when her emotions caught in her throat and struggled to tamp it all back down. Not here. Not now. She steeled herself and turned the damn key, flung the door open and stepped inside.

  The forensics team had left black finger print dust on just about every surface. Raven’s first instinct was to clean it, but that was for Kiran now.

  Raven turned in a circle, taking in all of the dried plants hanging down from the ceiling, the huge kitchen with all of its rustic pine, and the massive island where Ena spent much of her time.

  “I love this kitchen, the feel of it,” Mick said in a quiet voice.

  There were more happy memories in this room than bad ones. Raven tried to see it from Mick’s perspective. Taking it all in as if she’d never seen it before. She was drawn to Ena’s Book of Shadows. What did the forensics team think of that? The massive leather-bound book contained all of Ena’s spells and potions in her own fancy hand writing. It contained everything she’d learned from her own mother, spells and what-not that had been in the family for generations and passed down from mother to daughter time and time again. Raven ran her hand over the worn leather. She used to have her own Book of Shadows where she wrote the spells and recipes for potions her mother was teaching her. Every witch had their own, written in their own hand. It was an old tradition brought into being to protect witches during the times they drowned them, hung them, or burned them at the stake. If a witch was caught, her Book of Shadows couldn’t incriminate other witches as it was written only in her own hand.

  Still to this day, witches fiercely protected their own. It was a hard lesson learned during desperate times. Most of those who were put to death for the crime of practicing witchcraft were not even witches. Such was the paranoia of the times. Odd, that she still remembered much of what Ena taught her and that her Book of Shadows could draw out those memories of times spent together while Ena entertained her with simple spells and silly potions. “Hmm.” Raven smiled and drew her hand away from the book.

  Mick leaned against the counter with her thumbs stuck in her duty belt watching Raven with a smile.

  “It must have been pretty cool growing up with Ena for a mother.”

  You would think so, Raven supposed. And she guessed it had been up until she began to feel the wrath of those who didn’t approve of who they were. She’d been stupid, really. When she looked back on it now, she had been a fool to let what other people thought of them rule her. “I guess,” she answered.

  Raven studied the surface of the island counter. Beside the Book of Shadows were the tools Ena used on a daily basis. Her athame with the three moons at the hilt of the black handle and the pentagram at the end of it. The blade was curvy and sharp on both sides. At the top of the workspace sat a white marble mortar and pestle, a fat white candle and, beside it, an incense burner with several sticks of patchouli scented incense scattered at its side. A large platter sat in the middle of the workspace with hand drawn symbols in ink and a pentagram carved into it. Next to the platter sat a scourge made of soft leather with eight trails, each having five knots. A white hilted knife sat next to that. Bottles and jars of Lord only knew what were scattered about the space.

  Resting on the platter was Ena’s weathered wand made of old willow. Raven traced the pad of her finger down its smooth length and Ena’s power sizzled up her arm. She drew her hand away, puffed out her cheeks and blew out a breath. Wow. Tingles shot down her spine.

  The only things missing from the space were a bottle of wine and the elusive chalice. Just as she was bending to open the cupboard below the island, her cell phone rang.

  “Bowen.”

  “It’s LaCroix. We didn’t get the warrant, Rave. I’m sorry. There just wasn’t enough for reasonable grounds.”

  “Goddamnit.” She whirled around, barely surpassing the urge to throw her phone across the damn room. “He’s friggin’ well got Sabrina, Grayson.”

  “Get me more and I’ll get you the warrant.” He end
ed the call.

  She didn’t have to tell Mick what LaCroix told her. Mick looked as pissed as she was.

  “Are we just supposed to stand by while he rapes and kills that poor girl?”

  “Let’s pay Gregor Paigo a little visit.” Raven was just angry enough to go face to face with the bastard.

  CHAPTER 9

  RAVEN WINCED EVERY time the Charger hit a pothole or bump in the dirt road leading to Paigo’s cabin. It had the upgraded suspension of the police package, but she still hated taking it over this God forsaken road. Her last ride had been a heap of junk with over 400,000 kilometres on it. She didn’t want to trash this one and risk getting another junker.

  She pulled over at the same spot they’d left the Suburban on their first trip out here and they made their way through the woods. They were still a good fifty metres from the cabin when the sound of anguished screams echoed all around them.

  “That’s probable friggin’ grounds,” Raven growled. She picked up her pace and pulled out her cell phone. When LaCroix answered she asked, “Is a woman screaming bloody murder enough? We can hear her from a good fifty metres out from Paigo’s cabin.”

  “Jesus, Rave. Stand down and wait for backup.”

  “Get a damn ambulance rolling, too.” She shoved her phone back in her pocket and drew her weapon. She wasn’t waiting another half hour for back up to arrive. He’d had Sabrina for a good sixteen hours now and God only knew what condition they’d find her in. She came to a stop just inside the tree line and listened. Branches cracked in the breeze, water sloshed against the shore, Mick’s breaths staggered, and her own heart pounded in her ears. Gregor’s truck wasn’t in the driveway. “He’s not here.”

  “What do we do?”

  Raven turned to Mick who had that deer in the headlights look. “Take a few deep breaths, will you?”

  Mick nodded and sucked air in through her nose.

  “We’re going to get her out. Okay?”

  Mick nodded again.

  “Draw your weapon out of your holster, Warren.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Got it.” She fumbled for her Sig, pulled it out and pointed it in front of her which just happened to be at Raven’s belly.

  Raven grabbed the barrel and pushed it to the side. “Have you ever drawn your weapon in the line, Mick?”

  “Oh, um. No.” She shook her head furiously and shifted her weight from foot to foot.. “No, I haven’t.”

  Oh, man. She was in trouble. “Why don’t you stay here while I go in? If Gregor pulls up, call my cell.”

  “If he comes back, he’ll see our car on the road.”

  Placing a hand on Mick’s shoulder, Raven met her eye to eye. “I’m not leaving her in there. If he comes back, you call me and we deal with it. Okay?”

  Mick nodded. “Have you done something like this before?”

  “I’ve been in dangerous situations.” Enough with the questions already. They were wasting time. “I’m going in.”

  “Oh, geez. This isn’t good.”

  Of course it wasn’t friggin’ good. Raven made her way to the back door, keeping her ears peeled for the sound of a vehicle approaching. She pulled herself up on the dilapidated deck that looked like carpenter ants had finished with it years ago and sidled up to the sliding glass door just as another ear piercing scream burst out from inside. It faded to nothing then began again, scratched and weary. Raven pushed on the door handle and the door slid open about six or eight inches then caught on something. She was thin, but she wasn’t sure if she could fit through the narrow opening. She went in with her gun hand first, levelling it around the room until she was sure she was clear. The road rash on her jaw tore open as she tried to squeeze her head through and all she could think about was how many germs from the filthy door were crawling into the wounds.

  “Eew, eeeww, eeewww.” She should be wearing a freaking hazmat suit.

  The kitchen sink and counters were piled with dirty dishes, take out containers, and empty beer bottles with bugs and flies circling. Raven’s delicate nose screwed up at the phenomenal stench of rot. The floor looked like it was made of dirt.

  Another round of screams began as she rounded the corner into the living room. It didn’t look much better than the kitchen. She could tell there was carpeting under her feet, but the colour was anyone’s guess.

  Metal springs creaked as the screams drew weaker and Raven followed the sound down the short hallway. There were two doors. A door on the left led to a bathroom that hadn’t seen a bottle of Lysol in it’s entire existence. The door on the right was closed.

  “Sabrina? I’m a police officer. I’m coming in to get you out of here.”

  “Wait,” a gravelly voice yelled. “He rigged something up to the door. You have to come in from the window.”

  Crap. “Tell me what you see on the door?”

  “There’s a string tied to the handle and it runs over a hook then there’s a thing. It looks like a grenade or something.”

  Double crap. “I’m going to try the window. Okay? I’m not leaving you here.”

  “Okay. Okay. Thank you. Thank God.”

  As Raven made her way down the hall Sabrina’s sobs echoed behind her. She went to the front door, checking in all directions before she came out and rushed down the porch steps. The window leading to the bedroom was a good six feet off the ground. Raven holstered her weapon and dragged a couple of old tires over to the window. Using the wall to keep her balance, she bashed the window with her elbow and did little more than give her funny bone a good jolt. “Goddamnit.”

  Scanning the yard, she eyed a rusty tail pipe about three feet long. She jumped down from the tires and retrieved it then climbed back up. With one good whack the glass shattered and she used the pipe to clear the remaining shards. Sabrina was still crying inside. Raven grabbed onto the window sill, realizing too late she’d missed a shard of glass, and hefted herself up and into the room.

  “Oh, thank God. Thank God,” Sabrina cried.

  Raven pushed to her feet, took one look at Sabrina and stumbled back as the room began to spin. Sabrina’s wrists were bound with grey duct tape to the spindles of the headboard. Her ankles were similarly bound, her legs spread wide open. Raven pulled a pocket knife out of her front pocket and hacked away at the tape around Sabrina’s wrists, which were covered in blood, fresh and old. She hoped to hell Sabrina didn’t have blood born diseases because she had an open wound on her hand from the glass shard in the damn window.

  “Okay. You’re okay.” She tried to keep her voice soothing despite the blood racing through her veins and her heart beating a tattoo. One hand freed, she moved to the other side of the bed then freed each of Sabrina’s feet.

  Sabrina sprung herself up from the bed and into Raven’s arms.

  “Okay. I’ve got you,” Raven whispered. “We’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

  Sabrina clung to her and sobbed. Raven scanned the room for clothes or shoes, but found nothing except the sheet on the bed. She grabbed it while Sabrina clung to her, drawing the sheet around her as best she could then carrying her over to the door. She studied the string from the grenade back to the door then shook her head. The string was looped over the door handle with enough slack that she could just pull it off. She could have just eased the door open and removed the string from the handle. She supposed that was exactly how Gregor would have gotten back in the room.

  When Sabrina loosened her grip, Raven placed her hands on Sabrina’s shoulders and pulled back. “Do you think you can walk?”

  Sabrina nodded. She swiped her arm over her face and sniffed. They just stepped out into the hallway when Raven’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket at the same time she heard the sound of a diesel truck roaring up the road.

  “Oh, shit.” She ducked down, put her shoulder into Sabrina’s waist and pushed back up to her feet with Sabrina folded over her shoulder. She doubled stepped through the living room and kitchen to the sliding door. With the toe of he
r boot, she knocked the stick blocking the sliding door out of the way, threw open the door, and then closed it behind them.

  Her phone had stopped ringing, so she dialed Mick and waited, pressed up against the back of the cabin. When Mick answered, she whispered, “Where is he?”

  “Shit. Shit. Just going in the front door. Get the hell out of there.”

  “We’re coming to you.” She ran down the steps, thanking the Goddess when they didn’t give out and she didn’t trip, then she charged for the tree line with Sabrina weeping against her back, Raven’s right leg screaming where Jaxon’s truck had hit it. She made it to the tree line just as a shotgun blasted somewhere behind her.

  “Go, go, go,” Mick shouted.

  She stepped in behind Raven and Raven was sure she was pushing on Sabrina’s back. She stumbled then got her footing again and pushed on with the leaves crunching under their feet. Denuded branches and twigs grabbed at them and tore into exposed flesh. Sweat trickled down Raven’s back. Or was it Sabrina’s blood? She gagged and ran on, her boots thundering over the ground. When she caught sight of the Charger, she felt that odd sensation in the back of her throat again. Oh, dear God. She was not going to cry.

  “Keys.” Raven stopped and turned to Mick, poking her hip out so Mick could grab the keys from her pocket. Mick pulled them out and unlocked the car just as she heard the rumble of the diesel truck starting up. She pulled open the back door and Mick helped her get Sabrina onto the back seat before she pulled open the front passenger door and drew her weapon.

  Gregor’s white truck accelerated up the lane. She aimed for the right front tire as the truck came barrelling towards them. Her shoulder jerked as the loud crack of her Sig repeated through the trees, the pungent odour of gun powder burning Raven’s nostrils.

  The tire blew and the truck veered to the right, away from them, and slammed into a tree releasing a great bang and the crunching and twisting of metal. A hiss sounded and then the driver’s door creaked open.