by Jason Winn
“Sean,” she said into the phone.
“Go.”
“Jane’s in some shit, got to go check on her.”
“Oh, shit. Yeah, go get her.” He sounded scared for the first time. The veneer of confidence had been ripped away.
“Go!” shouted Jane. “Get the fuck outta here!” Her voice was distant, separated by two floors.
A pile of three naked bodies tumbled down the stairs. They were women, bruised and bloody, just like the bikers. Only these were young. One looked really young, maybe fifteen, but it was hard to tell with her battered face.
Madison wished she wasn’t invisible. There was only one option. She bolted upstairs. A rush of nausea hit her. Her stomach roiled. Saliva filled her mouth.
“Sean, get over here.”
“I hear shooting.”
“Get the fuck over here. I need you to get these women.”
“Women?” He was running now, breathing heavy into the phone.
“I’ll explain later. Come in through the garage, take a left and you’ll see them at the end of the hallway. Get them to a hospital.”
“Got it. What’s up with Jane?”
“About to find out.”
Madison crested the top of the stairs to see Jane limping toward her, arms clutching her stomach. She obviously couldn’t see Madison. A hulking man was limping after her. He was naked, covered in coarse black hair, sweat and old muscle.
“Get back here, you bitch!” he shouted.
Blood trickled from Jane’s mouth. Her face was contorted in agony. The corners of her mouth turned down, eyes closed to slits. Madison didn’t need to see anything else. She raised her pistol and put three rounds into the naked pursuer.
“Jane. I’m here.”
Jane looked around and held out a bloody hand.
“Madison, get out of here. There’s two more.” Jane collapsed.
Madison looked up. Two more thick men came out of the room at the other end of the hallway. These two were at least in their clothes, carrying pistols. They opened fire immediately. Bullets whizzed past Madison’s head. She returned fire. It was enough to get them to duck back into the room.
She grabbed Jane by the collar and dragged her toward the stairs. She felt light. Jane tried to help, but she wasn’t much use. Madison managed to pull Jane to her feet and nudged her along.
Returning her attention to the other two men, she saw pistol barrels scanning the hallway for a target. Madison wanted to charge these assholes, but common sense pushed her back to the stairs. She followed Jane slowly.
“Are you there, Madison?” asked Jane. She was breathing heavily now.
“I’m here. Sean and Sarah are on the way.”
Tires screeched as Sean pulled up in the parking lot. He and Sarah appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Sean gasped, seeing the three battered women.
“Get them out of here,” Madison shouted to the two of them.
Sean helped them get to their feet and led them to the garage. Heavy footsteps came from above. Sarah aimed a pistol down the hallway, covering Madison and Jane.
“Come on,” Sarah shouted.
Madison grabbed Jane under the arms and pulled her to the garage.
Doors slammed and Sean’s car pulled away.
The window of one of the cars cracked as a bullet punched through it.
“Shit,” said Madison. She whirled around to see the two men at the other end of the hallway, firing at her and Jane. Sarah opened fire.
Jane, seeming a little stronger now, dug into her pocket, producing a Zippo lighter. She lit it and tossed the flaming metal back into the hallway where the two men were shooting.
“Go,” said Jane.
Madison couldn’t help but watch the lighter arc through the air and hit the concrete floor. Blue and yellow flames spread across the floor.
The three of them tore out of the garage into the street as flames blasted from the windows of Hampton Corner’s first floor. Madison threw up. As she did, she could make out the faint outline of her arms and hands.
“Too much excitement for you?” asked Jane.
“Must have been something I ate earlier.”
Back to the alley, they got into Madison’s car and sped off.
Chapter 23
Madison looked at herself in the mirror. She wore white slacks with a white linen jacket over a black silk shirt. Pride forced a smile on her face. Last night, she and Jane had taken out a warehouse full of corrupt cops and saved the lives of three girls, not to mention the bikers. What would Nancy Mosby have said about that?
“Maddy,” said Sarah. “The caterers are here. Waste of money if you ask me.”
“I didn’t.” Madison regretted the snipe as soon as she said it. Sarah looked away from her. “Hey, I’m sorry about that. Nerves, you know. Look, tonight is about relaxing with everyone, not us buzzing away in a kitchen. I know you alone could do all the cooking, but that’s not us anymore.”
Sarah finally smiled. “No, I’m anxious too. I like a house full of people. Besides, we haven’t seen everyone all together in months.”
Madison thought about that. All of these people worked for her now and not Nancy Mosby. She knew they didn’t see her as the iron queen that Nancy was. The thought opened up a hole in her gut. Phony bosses didn’t last long, at least that’s what Sarah and Jane hinted at from time to time.
“You shouldn’t be nervous,” said Sarah. “You look beautiful.”
“Really? Shit, I wanted to look gangster, not beautiful.” Madison immediately felt like an idiot.
The two stared at each other.
“Scarface?” Sarah finally asked.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Ugh!” cried Sarah, rolling her eyes. “Oh, before I forget. You look fine. Where do you want the bars set up?”
“Up here,” muttered Madison as she fidgeted with her collar. She wanted to start drinking now. “Tell them to set up in the ballroom.”
“All right, but Maddy, you need to watch it with the drinking tonight. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m only saying this as a friend, who loves you and wants the best for you.”
“I know. I know. I’m not going to drink until after they’re all out of here.” Madison turned to look Sarah in the eyes. “And that goes the same for you. No sneaking off to the poolroom to get baked. We’ve got to be alert once everyone gets here.”
“Deal. How do you think it’s going to go tonight?”
“Hard to say. I’m sure everyone will complain about something.”
***
An hour later, Madison entered the ballroom to subdued applause from her top lieutenants. The space smelled of rich food from the kitchen, expensive perfume and a hint of cigar smoke. She didn’t care about the smoke, with Sarah lighting up from time to time. And in the old days, as Madison remembered, everyone smoked at the parties. A little cigar smoke wasn’t going to do any harm.
Amanda Tate, a stern, professional woman who always talked more with her hands than her mouth, was the first to comment. Madison couldn’t help but notice Amanda looked a little annoyed that she was forced to break off her conversation with the towering Greg Benson.
“Oh my god, you look wonderful, dear,” said Amanda. Madison felt Amanda’ eyes scanning her, perhaps looking for some kind of weakness in Madison’s dress or body language.
“Thank you,” replied Madison. Amanda’s smile faded instantly as she turned and attempted to finish her thought with Greg.
“Now, I’ve forgotten what I was saying,” said Amanda, pressing her palm to her forehead.
“It will come back to you,” said Greg, turning to greet the hostess. He reached for Madison with his huge hands and took hers. “I’m so happy we’re all together, again.” His voice had the tone of a sleepy undertaker, as if he had the power to lull you to sleep by reciting the alphabet. “How’s your family?”
“They’re good.”
“Good. Take care of them, Madison. Your gra
ndmother loved you girls. Keep them safe.” He squeezed Madison’s hands on the word “safe.”
Safe from what?
Greg pulled her in close and whispered in her ear, “I thought we might have a chat in private, later.”
“Of course,” Madison replied. This wasn’t unexpected.
Just as she was about to lead the towering Mr. Benson off to the study where they could speak, a hand fell on Madison’s shoulder. “Madison, honey, you throw a hell of a shindig.” This time it was Woody O’Neal with his sharp suit and thick black hair slicked back. He leaned in to kiss each of Madison’s cheeks. She’d forgotten he did that and almost lost her balance as she awkwardly kissed him back. “Is this bum trying to keep you all to himself? My god, the place looks great. And when did you get that car?”
Madison tried to answer.
“That thing is amazing. I love Audis. I must get one for myself. Where did you get it?”
“I...”
“Because if you ever need someone to come with you to buy a car, let me know. I’ve got loads of them.”
“Well, thank...”
“Have you ever been down to my place in Panama City? Oh, wait, no. Well, let’s set something up, maybe for August.”
“That would be...”
“Woody,” said Joey, wearing his usual huge grin and blue blocker sunglasses. “Jeez, quit hogging all the blow, man. The rest of us might need some before the night is over. Do you ever stop for a breath?”
“It’s fine, Joey,” said Madison. She was relieved to see someone close to a friend.
Woody looked embarrassed.
“I’ll get with you later,” said Greg as he strolled off to look out at the garden.
Joey wore a blue suit that looked strikingly similar to the one he was in at Club Sage, so wrinkled it looked like he had slept in it for the past week. His jewelry was different, though. At least he changed that.
“I’m just fucking with you, man,” said Joey as he slapped Woody on the back.
“I see,” said Woody. “I was just remarking on her car. That’s a beautiful auto, you know, and...”
“You’re doing it again,” said Joey with a huge smile. “Maybe another drink will slow you down. Come on.”
Joey led Woody away to the bar, leaving Madison open for another attack. This time it was Vincent West, the only Brit in the room and easily the best dressed, with his white dinner jacket. He smoked a small, thin cigar, ashing into a decorative ashtray the size of a crumpet.
“Madison, how long has it been? I can’t say.” He said “been” like “bean,” drawing out the middle.
“Oh, gosh, three four months?”
He lowered his voice and leaned in close. “I thought you might like to discuss a few things in private, before the evening’s frivolities. Perhaps we could repair ourselves to the library, or some other corner of your lovely home.”
She pulled him toward the back of the room, out of earshot from the rest of the guests.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked, not really wanting to know.
“I fear your customers are growing ever bolder.”
“How so?”
“Demand is picking up considerably.”
“So? That’s a good thing. More business.”
“It means they are casting more spells. More spells cast, increases the probability of public exposure. You cannot risk that, right now.”
“What did Grandmother do about that? There were way more customers in her day. Plus, all of the pilot stones are locked away.”
“First of all, Nancy kept things under wraps using intimidation through the White Union. They were her secret police force. She had an understanding with her customers that any exposure of magic in a public forum would result in being blacklisted or worse.” His eyebrows lifted. “From what I can tell, you don’t have that capability in your current operation.
“Remember it has been almost eight years since the customers have had access to product such as yours. Time marches on and people forget. People become exuberant, and dare I say, careless. And that’s when they make mistakes. The pilot stones are another issue. Nancy knew where a great many of them resided, but she did not control them. I know your government’s Fort Knox has a wealth of gold. But I cannot just walk in and take it.
“Who’s to say that the guardians of the pilot stones, hearing word that the Rose Widow has returned, don’t unlock them and start turning out sorcerers for a price—a heavy price? Then you would have a considerable challenge on your hands.
“You’ve done well, serving Nancy’s old customers, but I caution you with supplying them with too much of a good thing. The laws of Murphy and the like could unhinge the status quo.”
Vincent pursed his lips and waited for Madison to take in his words. She thought for a moment and the world seemed to expand. She hadn’t considered any of this. It was looking more and more like she was Nancy’s impostor, rather than her successor.
“I hadn’t thought about that. Let’s talk more later. I have to finish saying hello to everyone.”
Vincent nodded and took a step back to let her walk away. She wondered what the man thought of her now. Was he measuring her, rethinking his association with her? Was that what they were all doing? Suddenly her triumphant evening was starting to look more like a game of survival. How to get these people to understand that she was in control? How to make them feel safe? Could she even do that?
Madison walked over to Veronica Ross, standing by herself, admiring an old photo of Nancy Mosby with her brother, Robard and her parents. The four of them were dressed up, standing in front of the family’s modest lake house on the Eastern Shore.
“Regret having us all over yet?” asked Veronica. “You don’t look too thrilled.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” said Madison.
“You need a drink. Want me to get you a drink?”
Madison needed about six drinks.
“Yes, diet Coke would be great.”
“You got it.” Veronica sauntered off towards the bar.
“I say, Madison,” said Hugo Durden, a confident little man who spoke in a polished mid-Atlantic accent, the kind used by FDR and Katherine Hepburn. He sported a turtleneck and tweed blazer. “Good evening. Lovely party. I dragged the rest of the rabble over to say hello. Cedric here, it seems has forgotten his manners.”
He had Cedric Wolfe and Hank Mahoney in tow.
“Oh, you stop that,” said Cedric. “Hank was showing me pictures of his new girlfriend.”
“Hmm, yes, newfound wealth will do that,” said Hugo as he stole a knowing glance at Madison.
“I met her at church,” snapped Hank. “And Moonmilk isn’t my only business.” He gulped half his scotch and looked around in all directions. “Where’s this Langston I always heard about?”
Madison started to speak, but Hugo broke in. “Mr. Stavro,” said Hugo, “is occupied, I’m afraid. He is currently training. Isn’t that correct, Madison?”
“Yes, that’s what he said he was doing,” Madison said.
“Excuse, me,” said Hugo. “I must talk to Miss Ross about something.” He walked off.
“Training what?” asked Hank. “You should get a handle on him. He’s always struck me as someone who’s going to go off the reservation. You need to keep an eye on that one.”
“That one.” Langston wasn’t “that one.” If anything, Hank needed to be watched. Madison felt uneasy around him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the two of them couldn’t ever get on the same wavelength. In their meetings, he was always a gruff, almost condescending man, who never talked to her as his superior. Their meetings always ended with her reminding herself that she needed him, more than he needed her. His clients generated several million dollars a month and he was clamoring for more Moonmilk every time they met.
Hank sneered, drained his scotch and went off to get a refill.
“Jesus, that guy can an asshole sometimes,” said Cedric. He lowered his voice
and put his hand on her shoulder. “Madison, tell me, are you sure we’re going to be ready for tomorrow?”
“Yes. Sarah will have everything over to you in the morning.” Madison resented the familiarity of Cedric’s hand on her shoulder. He wasn’t her father.
“Good. I want you to know, I think these folks are going to be long-term with us. But I believe they are a bit skittish, with the purge in the past years.”
“I’m sure we can make them comfortable.”
“Good, and when we’re all swimming in cash at the end of the year, remember me, come Christmas. Nancy and me go way back, and she always took care of people at the end of the year.”
“I’ll do my best to remember.”
Greg Benson appeared again. He shot her a “come hither” look and Madison went up him.
“This is urgent, Madison,” he said.
Madison nodded and led him out into the main hallway, away from the party.
Chapter 24
“I’m sorry for the cloak and dagger bit, Madison,” said Greg. “It’s just that something has come up.”
“All right, what?”
“Some of my associates in New York have reconnected with the Molden family up there.”
“Who are they?”
“They’re the main suppliers for the area. I hear they might be interested in a meeting with you, looking to buy very large quantities.”
“How well do you know these people? Did they used to work for Nancy?”
“Yes and no. If memory serves, they were a little too keen to take over the market when Nancy left us. She had people up there, but they disappeared soon after she did.”
“So the Moldens killed those people?”
Greg lowered his head. “Probably. But consider this: they control the market and you don’t. Eventually you’ll have to deal with them. Either up there or here, if you know what I mean.”
Madison considered this. Kill or be killed. “I’ll think about it. Who else is out there?” This was something she hadn’t really considered. The money was good and while a few couriers had been threatened by angry customers, Madison wasn’t looking at the larger picture.
