Madison Mosby and the Moonmilk Wars

by Jason Winn

  Madison wouldn’t miss the cash. But to be fair, Madison did give Dana a few grand a week to do whatever she wanted. She spent most of the money on clothing, gambling, and eating out.

  Just hush money.

  Madison’s voice invaded her head. “Hush Dana. Don’t worry your little head with all the big-girl stuff I’m doing. Oh? You don’t like our little arrangement? Well, go off and tell anyone you want and watch it all evaporate. You’ll be working at Hot Topic or Yankee Candle by the weekend.”

  That was it, too. Madison was buying off her stupid little sister with a free room, a bullshit job and a couple grand a week. Meanwhile, Madison was building an empire off the work of Nancy Mosby.

  Dana found the stack of large rubber tubs, marked “Easter Decorations,” tucked into a dark recess of the basement. She opened the lid. The smell of money filled the air, overpowering the ambient odor of dust. Inside, was a chaotic stack of wrapped and lose hundred-dollar bills, from where Madison or Sarah had dumped them, to be counted later.

  Her heart raced. Was she really going to do this?

  “Power is taken.”

  Madison wasn’t going to give it up and the cash probably wouldn’t be missed. Besides, there was no one around to see her taking it. She jammed her hand into the tub and grabbed several stacks of bills.

  She considered how much she’d need to make herself whole. Fifty thousand would be a good start. Dana took two handfuls and shoved them into her purse. If Madison wasn’t going to give, she would take.

  Moments later, Dana heard the rustle of feet and plastic grocery bags as she stood at the top of the basement steps. Across the hallway, she could see a shadow moving in the kitchen. She wondered what someone might ask her if they saw the big purse slung over her shoulder. Her pulse shot to a million beats per second before settling back down as Margaret shuffled past the kitchen doorway.

  Believing Margaret would be more kind than curious, Dana slipped into the kitchen. It was still morning and from the kitchen windows she could see Han watering a patch of grass and beyond him, sail boats out on the river. Margaret’s back was to her as the old woman shuffled out the old servants’ entrance to her car.

  Dana wanted to swipe something to eat from the grocery bags, and disappear unnoticed into her room to plot her next move. Instead he banged her knee on a cabinet and cursed. Margaret stopped in her tracks and spun around. Her mouth was hanging open for a split second before breaking into a smile.

  “Oh, Dana honey. Can you give me a hand with the groceries?”

  Dana thought for a moment too long, and finally said, “sure.” She didn’t need Margaret reporting back to Madison that she was being rude or unhelpful. She could haul in some groceries and then she would be off to fun town with her new cash.

  As they two plodded down the stairs, towards Margaret’s car, the old woman huffed. “I’m so glad you’re around, sweetie. I’ve got a little job I need help with.”

  Margaret stopped at the car’s open trunk. She put a hand on Dana’s arm. “It’s for Maddy. She needs our help.”

  Madison could go pound sand for the way she’d been acting lately, Dana thought.

  “And,” Margaret continued, “you need to keep this between us girls.” She lowered her head and looked up at Dana, over her thick glasses. “It’s time you learned a thing or two about your Grandmother’s life, I think.”

  Dana mustered a crooked smile.

  Margaret didn’t smile back.

  Chapter 51

  “I don’t know why Nancy kept this stuff all the way up here,” said Margaret thought gasps. “Give me a second, hun.” She flopped down on a bench at the top of the third-floor steps, gulping air. “I really hate these stairs.”

  Dana never came up here. Mainly because it was hot and a little spooky. There was an attic above and she hoped Margaret wasn’t going to drag her up there. No telling what was lying in wait under the spider web covered eves. The faint scratching of raven claws on the roof tiles could be heard over Margaret’s huffing. Pictures lined the wide hallway, frosted with a coat of dust. There was little chance Margaret was coming up here to clean up, since no one lived in or came up here.

  “Break’s over,” said Margaret with a renewed sparkle in her eye.

  She got up with a grunt and led Dana down the hallway to a plain-looking door and pushed it open.

  Inside, they were greeted with rows of shelves, filled with small gray, cases. They were uniform in size and each was about the size of a paperback book. Margaret shuffled over to a shelf and started running her finder along the cases, talking to herself.

  Dana stepped inside. She immediately noticed a couch facing a large television on the far side of the room. The television had to be thirty years old. The screen had yellowed with age. Bulky electronics sat on shelves on either side of the boxy thing.

  The place was stuffy and she couldn’t help but go over to a window and open it to let in some air. The wooden frame protested, but finally went up with a clamor. Cool air rushed in.

  “What is this place?” Dana asked.

  “The old TV production room,” said Margaret. She turned, holding a thick cassette tape. “I think this is what we’re looking for.”

  “We’re going to help Madison by watching an old movie?”

  “TV show of sorts.” Margaret pushed the tape into one of the players, next to the TV and flopped down on the couch. Dana joined her.

  The TV came to life and a test pattern appeared. A timer started running in the lower righthand corner.

  “She had a show?” asked Dana.

  “Several. But these were never meant to go on television.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “These were just for her.”

  Dana leaned forward on the couch. She wanted to ask more questions, but decided to just watch. A kitchen appeared, similar to a one on cooking shows. Along side the standard cooking apparel were strange objects that looked more at home in a chemistry classroom or a mad scientist’s lab in a horror movie.

  “Is it running, Langston?” asked a woman off-camera.

  “Ready when you are,” said a deep voiced man.

  A moment later, there she was, the legend, Nancy Mosby. She was slender with short brown hair with only hints of gray. She wore a blue blouse, under a stained apron. She looked at the camera for a moment, with that intense stare Dana remembered. It felt as though her grandmother was inside the TV, staring out at Dana; almost shaming her for being a lay about.

  Dana’s heart jumped. Her muscles locked. She hadn’t seen her grandmother in almost nine years. It was easy to forget a person. Memories of her childhood flooded back. Like the time Nancy chastised her for being “so boring” for not wanting to come with her on a hike up to Mount Vernon. Dana had been ten or eleven. Now she regretted a decision she’d forgotten about for over a decade. That was lost time with a woman she wished she knew better. They would have talked and maybe even Nancy would have imparted some sort of life-changing wisdom as they hiked that Northern Virginia trail. But, instead Dana wanted to watch her grandmother’s big TV. Nancy went on the hike alone.

  Margaret’s hand found Dana’s back. “I miss her too, sweetie.” Margaret took in a shaky breath. “Goodness, I thought this was going to be easier.”

  Dana looked over at Margaret to see a tear rolling down her wrinkled cheek. She leaned her head on Margaret’s shoulder as Nancy began to speak.

  “Okay, Predator’s Cloak,” Nancy said. “Let’s get his over with.”

  She put a pail on the counter in front of her and removed several green, oblong objects, placing them on a cutting board.

  “Three salamander beans,” said Nancy. “Cut them lengthwise and remove the seeds. You need about two cups worth.” She split open the green things, revealing a blue pulpy center and deftly removed large seeds with the tip of her knife.

  “Don’t touch the seeds,” said the man off camera.

  “Right,” said Nancy. She looked up at the c
amera. “Don’t touch the seeds. You’ll ruin them.”

  “What is this?” asked Dana.

  Margaret raised a remote and paused the video. “Nancy made videos of all her potion recipes.” She waved her hand towards the shelves. “She tried writing them down, but the cooking methods are complex, even for her. So, she and a friend of hers made videos of them.”

  Dana stared at the shelves. All of those were of magical potions? The thought astounded her.

  “What’s Predator’s Cloak?”

  Margaret stared at Dana for a moment, as if she was considering holding something back from her. “It’s a potion, dear. It makes you invisible for a time.”

  Dana wanted to say “bullshit” right then. But, she’d been brought back from the dead with some sort of crystal so how impossible was invisible juice?

  “Why isn’t Madison up here watching those or Sarah?”

  Margaret let out a big breath. “Your sister is barely treading water, Dana. I told her about all of this and she just looked at me and shook her head. I think it was just too much for her. We need to do this for her. She needs our help.”

  “Who did it all for grandmother?”

  “The man off camera, Langston is his name.”

  “The one Madison keeps trying to get with?”

  “The same. He had people who would come over here and pick up the ingredients and people to make the potions. But, now everyone’s gone. We’re it.”

  Dana thought for a moment. An hour ago, all she wanted to do was piss Madison off and go shopping and gambling. Now, her whole world had changed.

  “What’s a Salamander bean?” asked Dana.

  “A rare plant from mountains in southern Chile, if memory serves.”

  “Please tell me, I don’t have to go there.”

  Margaret laughed. “Not yet anyway. There’s some in the greenhouse. Haven’t you been in there to look around?”

  “No. Madison told me to stay out of there.”

  “Do you do everything she tells you?”

  The thought angered Dana. She did. She did, because she was afraid of getting thrown out of the mansion. Afraid she’d have to go back out into the world that had kicked her ass pretty good. It would be the end of her scholarship ride.

  “Not anymore,” said Dana. She thought about the cash in her purse.

  The purse that’s still in the kitchen.

  A cold sweat ran down Dana’s back. If Madison came home and saw that, she’d probably punch Dana. She heard a scratching noise from her left. Dana looked over to the window to see a pair of ravens perched on the sill.

  “I guess they heard Nancy,” said Margaret. She unpaused the video and Nancy continued.

  “These need to be roasted at 350 degrees for twenty minutes in Dutch oven,” said Nancy. She walked over to an oven in the wall and turn it on, before returning to the counter.

  She proceeded to use tongs to drop the black seeds into a red bowl. “We’ll get these into the oven in a minute.”

  Next, she produced a box with a large corkscrew-looking thing coming out of the top. “Now, we need to crush about three table spoons of coral glass. I always have to remember my press for this. Langston was good enough to bring his today.”

  She opened one side of the box and placed several crystals inside and closed it back. She then turned the top of the corkscrew. A muffled crunching sound came from the box. “These are going to look like blue salt when we finish.” Nancy reversed the corkscrew and opened the box. Blue powder had replaced the crystals. “See?” She looked up at the camera and gave a half-smile.

  The video continued for two hours, as Nancy Mosby shredded exotic herbs, simmered things in large glass beakers and even used a hand blow torch to melt the coral glass salt into some sort of mineral water.

  “Okay,” said Nancy. “Once you reach this step, the solution has to rest for a least a month in a cool, dark place. A wine seller is best.” She looked off camera. “Did you get all that?”

  “We’re good,” said the man off-camera.

  “You know, if my son wasn’t such an idiot he…” the video stopped.

  Dana’s head was spinning. How was Margaret remembering all of this? Where were these strange cooking utensils? And, what in God’s name was actually in that greenhouse? She started to understand why grandmother never allowed anyone in here. The thing must be filled with fantastic and exotic plants.

  “Well, better get to work. I know Maddy has been using whatever we had left, so she’s going to need more. Why don’t you start on the next one?”

  “Wait, which one?”

  “Anyone you want. Their all yours now.”

  “Can you show me the greenhouse?”

  “Let me get this batch made up and then we can go poking around in there.”

  “So, you remember everything you just saw?”

  Margaret tapped her temple and nodded. “You’ll get there, dearie. I know you will. You’re smarter than you think.”

  “So, you want me to watch all of these?”

  “That’s what you’re always doing anyway. Binge watching, I think you call it. You’ll just be binge watching your grandmother make potions.”

  “Those are all potions?”

  “Most, yes. Some are just Nancy’s old cooking show from the 1980s, the Blue Petal Cooking Hour. It was okay, but Julia Child’s show was better.”

  A few minutes later, Dana ran down stairs and grabbed her purse off the kitchen counter. She stashed it and the money in her room and breathed a sigh of relief that Madison hadn’t come home to find it.

  Chapter 52

  Sean’s place always smelled like the maids had just left. Madison slouched in a chair next to his computer desk. All she could think about was taking out the Russian storm brewer and possibly killing the lot of them. Jane, whom Madison had taken to calling Plain Jane in her head, sat on the couch with a worried look on her face. A jawbreaker rattled against her teeth.

  “They’re called the Bulldogs,” said Sean as he counted Madison’s latest payment, “after a high school football team most of them played for up in Maryland.”

  The Russians Contessa mentioned were in Maryland, thought Madison. Sean tossed the stack of hundreds onto the table. They made a mess Madison wanted to clean up, but it was Sean’s money, Sean’s house. Let him make a mess.

  A large computer monitor hung on the wall above Sean’s desk. Pictures of thick men, not unlike the ones that almost killed her when she rescued Dana from Trask, scrolled through a slide show. Most of the images were obviously from social media, vacation shots, family gatherings, and selfies.

  Madison broke the silence. “So the Russians Contessa was talking about must have hired these guys to torch the bakeries.”

  “Starting to look like it,” said Sean.

  “Makes sense,” said Jane. “If you don’t have connections in the area, you go with the local pros. Hire them to do your dirty work.”

  “What if it’s someone else, someone we don’t even know about?” asked Madison.

  “Well,” said Sean, “if you trust this Contessa, then the pieces line up.”

  “Either way,” said Jane, “the Russians are competitors, and it’s only a matter of time before they come after you, now that people know you will eventually affect their business. The question is, do you deal with the Bulldogs, or their employer?”

  “We have to cut off the head of the dragon first,” said Madison. It was the only way in her head: disrupt the Bulldog’s cash and then see about picking them off one by one.

  “I’ll be damned,” said Jane. “Some of these assholes ran me off the force, like that one, John Folger. If they have a leader, he’s the one.”

  Madison could see the Jane thinking about the dungeon, where they beat the shit out of her to teach her a lesson for snitching.

  The thought angered her. She didn’t like seeing Jane upset. Growing up, society drilled labels into you. Firemen are heroes who put out fires. Soldiers are heroes who
fight for their country. Police are heroes who protect you from bad guys. No one ever tells you it’s possible the fireman has kiddie porn on his computer, the soldier killed a bunch of foreign women for fun, or the cop likes to rape co-workers. Growing up was about watching the world go from black and white to a sickening gray.

  “Here’s Crate,” said Sean. “He’s the one that roughed you up, right?”

  “Yeah,” said Madison.

  “He’s in with them.”

  “So, what? My lawyers tell me he’s off the force,” said Madison. “What’s he going to do with me?”

  “That’s the problem,” said Jane. “Guys like Crate don’t let it go. He lost his job after arresting you. And his boys are going to help him get even. It’s not just about him—the force is embarrassed now.”

  Russian gangsters, a torched kitchen, pissed-off clients, and now a group of mercenary cops. Madison was starting to realize why Nancy might have said “fuck it” and jumped ship just to get away from problems like this. She didn’t know how many more punches she could take in the Moonmilk ring.

  “So, what do we do about them?” asked Madison. “Do I just hide?”

  Sean looked up. “I hope you have a better hiding place than your house, because they probably know where you live. They could just SWAT you. Got anything illegal in the house?”

  Madison thought for a moment. There was probably the odd roach from Sarah, but other than that she didn’t have anything...except for millions of dollars in cash, and the storm brewer, which was bound to raise questions. All of that was hidden in a special room in the basement, but there was no point in taking the chance. And there was the fact that if anyone touched one of the Winter Roses they’d be ash.

  “Worse than that,” said Madison. “Can’t I just get my guys to get a restraining order against them?”

  Sean burst out laughing. “Against the entire Arlington PD? I don’t think so. Crate, maybe.”