Madison Mosby and the Moonmilk Wars

by Jason Winn

“Go for it,” said Shelby, getting a little tired of the buildup.

  “Magic.”

  Okay. Shelby stifled a giggle. Surely, this was bullshit.

  “Magic,” he continued, “is real. As real as baseball and apple pie.” He sat up and turned toward her, growing serious in his tone and body language. “Magic is real, and that ‘Moonmilk’ you saw in the files is used by real sorcerers to replenish their abilities. It’s like gas for a car. It keeps them going. Well, that’s a bad analogy—it’s more like super sleep. I mean some of them can revive themselves, but most of them need the Moonmilk to get back to full strength. They cast spells, they drink the Moonmilk, they can cast more spells. It’s actually pretty incredible.”

  “And what kind of spells do they cast?” She wanted to believe him, but he was sounding like a scam artist medium, convinced he could talk to the dead.

  “Well that for one.” He pointed into the dining room. “That’s a time freeze spell. I knew the sorcerer that cast it. Cody Pritchett was his name; a little punk kid Trask was in charge of. Trask convinced us all it didn’t happen, but I suspected that kid wanted to get back at him for one thing or another and froze Trask’s family. And there it is.”

  “You mean these are real people?” She got up and walked over to them, studying them as if they were a museum exhibit.

  “Yes, you might not want to touch them though. To be honest, they’ve probably been like that for over a decade.”

  Amazing, Shelby thought.

  They looked so lifelike. She’d seen ultra-realistic sculptures like these before. They looked so close to real people, down to the arm hair, freckles, and eyelashes. It was crazy. But these were real. The thought was enough to take her breath away. She cleared her head and focused back on Connolly.

  “So, the US government had sorcerers working for it. Do we still have those?”

  “Not anymore, I’m afraid,” Connolly said with a mix of regret and relief.

  “What happened?”

  “Well we almost nuked ourselves, for one.” Connolly went on to describe how a sorcerer, sympathetic to the Soviets, had infiltrated an ICBM missile crew and almost launched one of America’s nukes on itself. “He was a shapeshifter, and he looked exactly like the man who was on the crew.”

  “Where is he?” Shelby wanted to meet one of these sorcerers. What a powerful asset they would be for her. She couldn’t help but think about her job—she still had one, after all.

  “Dead.” Connolly stared off into the distance. “All the ones I used to know are dead.” Then he looked down at the floor, ashamed. “All the ones I knew about were part of one of the government’s most secretive projects, Ajax. I was on the congressional committee that oversaw the funding.”

  “And we just shut it down? How do you abandon something like magic?”

  “We had to.” Connolly’s voice was low, sorrowful. “It was more by accident than anything else. One of the funding reports got into the wrong hands. Today, we’d call that mishandling of classified information. Back then we just called it a mistake. The results are the same though. When something of that nature gets in the wrong hands—in this case, it was misplaced in a brief for another senate committee—you have to clean up.” He growled the last words, like a father telling a mother their son was dead.

  “What do you mean?” Shelby’s voice was down to a whisper now. She was captivated by Connolly’s words.

  “Seven...seven men died because of that mistake. Ken Lomax, Dane Appleton, James Henderson, Lyle McCallister, Bennie Shriner, Oscar Helms, Ike Schwartz. All of them within a month.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Senators, like me. I authorized their deaths. CIA did the rest.” He took a deep breath, held it, and let it out in one slow exhale, before looking up at Shelby. “I don’t want to die with that secret. You can have it now.”

  “I don’t want to know this shit.”

  Connolly stood up. “You’re already in the know—you just didn’t realize it. When you found those files, you became a part of this.”

  “And what exactly is this?”

  “A world of magic, where the US Government tried to use sorcerers for the good of the country. And now Shelby, from what you’re telling me, someone has figured out magic is real again.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “And that makes this video all the more disturbing.” He brought up his phone and played a video, showing a man robbing a bank where police officers’ firearms turned into white flares. “I had hoped this was some sort of online stunt, but it looks like the robber used an old alchemist spell to turn the officers’ weapons into liquid metal.”

  “Oh my God,” was all Shelby could manage. Her knees felt weak. She’d seen the video on social media but waved it off, thinking it to be some viral marketing attempt for the latest superhero movie.

  “And God help us all if the public figures this out.” He looked Shelby in the eyes. “I’m too old to protect us from this. Almost all the people I used to give orders to are dead. You need to hunt these people down and get rid of them. Because if you don’t, the country could fall; the secrets of magic will be discovered in a way we can’t control. In the 80s we could contain it. In the Internet age and with a divided country, I’m afraid we can’t.”

  How the hell was she going to do that? She had a family. She had two young boys and a husband that needed her. She couldn’t go out and hunt phantoms. But then again, who else was more suited to the task? She had a vast network of domestic assets she could tap. She had the weight of the FBI’s surveillance as well as contacts in the NSA, DIA, and state law enforcement. The conflicting thoughts between family and duty pulled at each other.

  “Doesn’t sound like that worked at all, the last time.”

  “Exactly my point. After Ajax, we tracked a few sorcerers, but over time, they just seemed to disappear on their own. Maybe they died out, or something took them out. It doesn’t matter, they’re gone and good riddance.”

  “How do I know this isn’t all bullshit?” Even as she asked the question, doubt crept into her head. She didn’t want to believe magic and spells were real, that a man could just will pistols into molten metal, that somehow three people were frozen like statues. How was all that possible? And yet, three people stood frozen behind her.

  “I can imagine this is a lot to take in all at once,” said Connolly. “I was overwhelmed when I found out, some sixty years ago. Maybe we can meet again and I can go over everything in more detail. In the meantime, you can research me and see that my story checks out, at least the details that are verifiable.”

  Then Shelby remembered something. “What about me and my sisters being mentioned in the files too?”

  “You got me on that one. How well do you know your family history?”

  The question jerked Shelby’s thoughts to her grandmother. She’d been missing for eight years. That was a mystery that had never been solved.

  Nah.

  “Maybe,” said Connolly, “you need to ask your sisters if they know anything about all of this. Just a thought. But I’d leave out the stuff about magic. As you see, people seem to have a hard time with that.”

  Connolly gave a wan smile and turned to leave.

  “One more thing, sir. Who or what is the Rose Widow?”

  Connolly froze. Without turning back to Shelby he said, “A phantom. I don’t think she ever existed. But if you do run into her, shoot first.” He turned to look her dead in the eyes, his face pale, but stern. “Because you won’t get a second shot.”

  With that, Connolly turned and walked out of the house.

  Chapter 44

  Madison pulled her car up in front of Bonshaw’s Used Books. Wrench was going to meet her at the restaurant in thirty minutes. The idea of a date turned her stomach with all the work she and Sarah had to do, but she could tell Wrench was about to call it quits trying to date her, so she decided to take the afternoon off and go see a movie with him.

  Madison found Joey surveying the occult
section of his used bookstore. The place was empty. Everyone was probably emptying grocery store shelves, before the hurricane hit the Mid-Atlantic region.

  “What’s up, boss?” he asked, his head tilted to read a faded title.

  How did he know it was her? Was the force of her presence that obvious?

  “Did you see the robbery video?” she asked.

  “Everyone’s seen it and probably forgotten about it by now. Thank your lucky stars the news is full of that talk show host that killed her family and then herself last night. Fucking mess. That, and the hurricane of course.”

  The dead woman was Wanda Wilkins, the sassy ex-radio host turned daytime talk show diva, who was found swinging from a rope in her basement the previous night.

  Joey slid a book from the pile in his arms onto the shelf. He looked over to Madison. “Otherwise, we’d be in some hot water. All those bored Internet sleuths would be dissecting the video.” He turned and walked toward the front counter and put the rest of the books down.

  “How can you be so calm?” she asked.

  “What do you want me to do? Run up and down the street, screaming, ‘Oh my God wizards are real?’“

  “No. I mean, what do we do now?”

  “That’s your job to figure out.”

  Madison was taken aback by his response. That was a little standoffish. Joey was a smart guy. He had to have thought something of the video.

  “I just sell the Moonmilk. I don’t get involved in reprimanding clientele.”

  “Was he one of your clients?”

  “I have no idea. He was wearing a ski mask.”

  “You’re not being a lot of help here.”

  Joey looked up at her. “Look, you’re freaking out. I get that. But, this was bound to happen. Somebody decides to go back to their old tricks, now that they can do their old tricks again. Quality Moonmilk out in the world again, with eyes everywhere—this sort of thing is going to become commonplace now. People will eventually figure it out, and the motive behind Nancy’s disappearance starts to become obvious.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That she didn’t want to get caught. She didn’t want some idiot customer’s kid or grandkid figuring out how spells work and doing something stupid in public. Eventually that would lead back to her. And when that happens, the US government, or worse, a foreign government takes a special interest in everything she knows and owns. That would be reason enough for me to get out of Dodge.”

  The words hit Madison like a hammer. Carl had said something similar, some of his clients worked for governments. In the abstract, that didn’t really seem quite so scary, but looking at it from Joey’s perspective drove the message home. This whole thing, selling Moonmilk, was going to get her into more trouble than she’d ever imagined. She had been blinded by the money.

  “Why didn’t you say that before?”

  “I did. Victoria did. Hell, I’ve overheard Jane warning you. But you didn’t want to hear any of that, did you? You just wanted to make as much money as you could, as fast as you could. And now, you could be staring at a real problem. I’m not the boss. Okay. You showed everyone you’re the boss with that little display at dinner the other night, but shooting a loudmouth is one thing. Now you have an event outside of pistol range.” He paused to look at Madison, who was getting redder and redder in the face. “Uh-huh, starting to sink in now, isn’t it? You’ve been thinking tactically. Now you have to think strategically, big picture. I’ve got my exit plan. As soon as the heat gets turned up past my threshold, I’m gone, like a fart in the wind.”

  “Oh, just like that you’re going to run away?” Madison was getting pissed now. Joey was a friend. Wasn’t he?

  “And that friend of yours you’re going to meet, is he in the know?”

  “How do you know I’m going to meet someone?” Madison’s voice trembled.

  Joey really could read her thoughts. She looked down at her tennis bracelet, studded in crystals. Had they lost their protective power? The thought of a soul diver getting into her head was terrifying.

  “You’re wearing makeup,” said Joey. “You never wear makeup.”

  “That’s none of your business if I’m going to meet someone.” She was both relieved and pissed that he’d spotted something so obvious.

  “Oh, yeah? Maybe not. But, how well do you know him? Mighty interesting he shows up right around the time the latest round of trouble starts. I’m not trying to piss you off, or tell you to dump him, assuming he is your boyfriend. I’m just trying to tell you that you can’t trust anyone right now.”

  “Even you?”

  “Madison, everyone’s in this game for money and power. There is no one here working for the greater good—never has been. There’s too much money in people being able to move shit with their thoughts, or teleport, or keep the geezers in power alive longer, or whatever.”

  Madison wanted to say something, suggest that there had to be some good sorcerers out there, but Joey was right. All of them were pretty terrible. Even Langston had just vanished once he got what he wanted.

  “You’ve got to be able to handle all of that, and be okay with being a part of something that at its core is pretty nasty. Nancy knew that. She kept everyone in line through control of the resources and intimidation. Do you want to be that person?”

  “Well, it doesn’t sound like I have a choice. Fuck. If I leave they’ll just come after me for what I know. And if I stay, I’m part of some shitty machine that’s just in it for the money.”

  “Yeah, but isn’t that why you got into this game in the first place, money?”

  “And now I’m fucked.”

  Joey sighed. “It doesn’t have to be that way. Nancy found a balance for a while, and she was respected by thousands of people. But she had all of Blue Petal at her back. Maybe there’s something buried in that company that helped her with that.”

  “If there is, I haven’t found it yet. Plus my dad still owns the company.”

  “But he hates it. Your dad is a hillbilly at heart. He’s not cut out to run a billion-dollar company.”

  “He’ll never hand it over to me, not in a million years.”

  “Uh-huh. And when was the last time you talked to him about it?”

  “Never.”

  Joey smiled and raised his eyebrows. “You never know. And since your survival may depend on it, you might want to consider having that conversation.”

  “I might.”

  “In the meantime, I don’t think you need to worry too much about that robbery video. Once the storm hits, the news will be falling all over themselves to tell everyone how fucked they are. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go check my sump pump, to make sure the basement here doesn’t flood.”

  “Thanks, Joey. I’ll call you in a few days.”

  Madison trudged back to her car, fresh thoughts of enemies around every corner. Her phone buzzed with a text.

  Wrench: You still coming?

  She was five minutes late. Shit.

  Madison: Just had to make a stop. Be there in 5.

  The car launched out of the parking space as she gunned the engine toward the restaurant. It was time to do some thinking drinking. Wrench would understand, or at least he would when she apologized profusely.

  Chapter 45

  Dana hauled another load of groceries from her car. Provisions for the storm. Not that the mansion really needed anything. There was enough food, water and toilet paper in there to last a couple of months, but they were dangerously low on Coors Light and Pop-Tarts.

  The house was quiet. Madison was off on a date with Wrench. These days, everyone got to hang out with her big sister more than she did. She did everything around this place, cleanup after strangers left, grocery shopping, airport runs, signing for packages, all the stuff Margaret should be doing. Why did she have to do any of it?

  I fucking died for all of this. And like Jesus, Dana had risen from the dead, to do what exactly? Sit behind a cash register all day,
like a high school dropout.

  She placed the grocery bags on the counter, and opened a box of Pop-Tarts. Only losers needed to toast them. It was four thirty in the afternoon, late enough to crack a beer and binge-watch some TV. At least the TV was always there for her.

  Dana’s blood boiled and she almost dropped her beer at the sight of Sarah sitting in the TV room, reading one of her grandmother’s notebooks.

  I’m better than you. I’m blood, she reminded herself before clearing her throat loud enough for that little blonde hick to notice her.

  “Oh, hey Dana. I was reading this cookbook and…”

  Dana cut her off. She didn’t need Sarah telling her anything about her grandmother. “I want to watch TV in here.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll go somewhere else. This is just such a nice place to read. So quiet.”

  “Yeah, there’s a library, you know.”

  “I know.” Sarah dipped her head and started out.

  Watching Sarah go, Dana couldn’t help but blurt out, “You know, you’re not family.”

  “I know, Dana. I’m sorry if you don’t like me.”

  Sarah was almost to the door before Dana fired back, “It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s that you spend so much time here, it’s like you live here. And you don’t.”

  Sarah stopped. “Madison likes having me here. And I need to be here to help her. I apologize for my existence.”

  “Yeah, well…” Dana tried to think of something that would hurt Sarah, maybe make her leave. But she couldn’t.

  “And I like being in a house full of people. It’s pleasant.”

  Pleasant. She wasn’t that innocent. What was it about her that was so annoying? Dana wanted her eyes to bore into Sarah, to make her understand that being Madison’s blood was more important to Madison than an outsider was.

  Sarah fidgeted with her hands and looked away. She wiped a tear from her eye. “Dana, I’m going to tell you something that Madison doesn’t even know. Something that I haven’t told anyone. Maybe you’ll look at me a little different.”

  This was unexpected. Dana had braced for a string of curse words, followed by Sarah throwing something at her. Then she’d have something on her. Then maybe Madison would wise up and get rid of her.