Madison's Song

by Christine Amsden

  Scott took a seat on the sofa while Madison settled onto one half of the love seat. She sat up straight, did her best to look him in the eye (though she missed by a barely noticeable fraction), and waited for him to speak.

  “This is going to be dangerous,” Scott said.

  “I don’t care.”

  “I do. I have no idea how long it will take or where we’ll end up going. We could be gone for days. Weeks.”

  She started at that, but quickly regained her hard-won composure. “The school year ended Friday so I’m good.”

  “We may have to sleep in the truck, stay at seedy motels, and there will definitely be other werewolves involved.”

  This time, she averted her gaze. “You’re not going to talk me out of this.”

  He’d known it wouldn’t be easy, but nevertheless, she could not come with him. It was time to cast civility aside and become the alpha. Technically, she wasn’t under his direct authority, but she could be intimidated as easily as any of his wolves – more easily than most.

  “Werewolves can smell your fear,” Scott began. “Did you know that?”

  She shook her head and once again tortured her poor bottom lip with her teeth. “I’ve read that, but most of what I’ve read about werewolves isn’t true.”

  “This is true. I can smell your fear right now.”

  She trembled slightly.

  He stood. Height was a tool he could use to his advantage, one that Madison instantly responded to if a slight dilation of her pupils was any indication. Then he stalked forward, getting closer, staying just outside her personal space. And he growled.

  “You’re staying here.” The words came out even harsher than he’d intended, almost a bark, but they were effective. Madison clutched the arms of the love seat and Scott stalked closer, until he was looming over her. “Do you understand me?”

  She opened and shut her mouth a couple of times, but no words emerged. He could smell her fear more strongly now, a sharp combination of adrenaline and perspiration. Her heart was beating faster.

  “You’re a mouse, Madison,” Scott said. “The wolves we meet will eat you alive.”

  She didn’t speak but she shook her head, denying the truth that was staring her in the face. He wanted to kiss her and shake her – in that order. But he couldn’t kiss her.

  “Damn it, Madison!” Scott grabbed her upper arm in a hard, punishing grip. “What do I have to do to convince you?”

  “Nothing,” she said, but she didn’t sound like she believed it.

  He had one more idea, one more trick he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to use. He had a spell prepared, an illusion. His family had specialized in illusion magic for generations, and he was particularly good at it.

  Scott backed away, releasing her arm. It would probably start bruising soon, but he couldn’t let himself worry about that right now. It was the least of his sins.

  He dropped to all fours. Madison narrowed her eyes at him, frowning, but before she had a chance to speak he slid smoothly into his quiet place for the instant it would take him to invoke a familiar spell and muttered the trigger word under his breath. The word that would make him seem to transform into the wolf in the light of day.

  He saw the transformation happen, though it didn’t feel remotely similar to the anguish and loss of self that came with his real shifts. Tufts of hair began appearing along his body, his fingers and feet became paws. His teeth lengthened, and though he couldn’t see them, he knew his eyes had gone that feral yellow.

  He lifted his head to look at Madison. His plan had been to snarl, maybe even snap at her a couple of times, but he stopped short when he saw Madison’s ghost-white face. He had never seen nor smelled terror like this before.

  “Madison?” Scott said. Talking in this form should have belied the illusion, but she didn’t move. She didn’t even flinch. She stared straight ahead, her eyes wide, her mouth open in a silent scream.

  She wasn’t there anymore.

  Scott shed the illusion in an instant, but it made no difference. Madison didn’t stop staring at the place he had been. He slid next to her on the love seat, putting his arms around her, drawing her stiff form close, but she might have been a doll for all the reaction she gave.

  What had he done?

  “Please, Madison, come back to me.” He started rocking with her back and forth, resting his chin on her head, letting the scent of her vanilla shampoo reassure him that she was real. After a minute or two, she began whimpering. “Sh, it’s okay. I’m here. I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

  * * *

  It took Madison a few minutes to recognize what she was hearing. It was Scott, but he sounded different. He always sounded so composed and in command, sometimes even gruff, but now he sounded afraid. Terrified. For her?

  She heard his voice as a rumble in his chest, which she realized she was leaning her head against. It felt solid and warm, and she didn’t pull away.

  “I had no idea how bad it was,” Scott continued. “Please don’t be afraid. You’re killing me. I’ll do anything to keep you from feeling so afraid. Talk to me. Please, sweetheart, just talk to me.”

  “What happened?” Madison asked softly.

  His arms around her tightened almost painfully. “I think you had a flashback. I’m such an idiot. There are potions that can help with that. I never even thought to use one. I don’t know how to make one, but I know some people who do.”

  “What are you talking about?” Madison asked. His hold was becoming too much, but it was also helping her return to reality. She pushed at his chest until he finally backed away somewhat, but he still hovered over her, dangerously close. How could she both fear him and want him at the same time?

  “Have you ever experienced anything like that before?” Scott asked.

  Madison stared at him. Did he really want her to tell him about her nightmares? About the fact that she couldn’t sleep at the full moon? She’d even had one or two flashbacks. Yellow eyes set them off; she could usually avoid yellow eyes, but she had to be careful about which movies she watched.

  “I see,” Scott said, sounding as though he did. “Have you told anyone?”

  “My brother.”

  Scott scowled, causing Madison’s pulse to quicken again. “You told Evan and he didn’t help you?”

  “No, not Evan. Clinton.”

  “Oh.” Scott ran his hand over his face, a move that seemed to wipe his scowl away. “That’s different. You should have told someone.”

  Madison shook her head. She had enough problems without the world at large realizing what a coward she was. Scott hadn’t been the first person to call her a mouse, although it had hurt more coming from him than she’d expected.

  “I’m sorry,” Scott said again. “I wanted to show you why you couldn’t come. That’s why I scared you. You do see why you can’t come.”

  Madison shook her head. “No.”

  Scott stared at her. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m dead serious, Scott. I’m going.” She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. She understood why he didn’t want her to go, but it didn’t change anything. “You can’t change my mind. You can growl at me until I suffer another flashback, but I’m going.”

  “Madison,” Scott said, drawing her gaze to his with the tone of his voice. He was still so close; it made her feel uneasy, but not as afraid as it should have. “I won’t let you come with me unless you can give me a damn good reason why I should.”

  She licked her damaged lip, feeling the sting. What could she tell him? She didn’t exactly know herself why it was so important for her to go along. He hadn’t said anything but the truth. She had always been a little shy, a little nervous, even before he’d given her specific nightmares to dwell upon.

  She’d lived in Eagle Rock her entire life, surrounded by rumors about magic and sorcerers, some of whom were more circumspect than others. She hadn’t seen much to prove or disprove the rumors until her junior year of h
igh school, when the most notorious of the young sorcerers – rumored to have done everything from murder to casting love spells – asked her to the prom.

  It turned out, he did cast love spells of a sort, but since he later turned out to be her half brother, she tried not to dwell on the occasion. It was less embarrassing for both of them.

  Even that experience had only shown her the barest hint of what was possible, and had served more to whet her imagination than anything else. It wasn’t until she came home from college that she saw the full magnitude of possibility firsthand.

  She had wanted out, but the magic sucked her in, until finally she did the stupidest thing she had ever done in her life and agreed to marry Nicolas, because she sought a place where she belonged. A place of safety.

  So why did she want to go with Scott into the middle of a werewolf problem, where she neither belonged nor felt the least bit safe? She had only one answer, but didn’t know if it constituted a good reason or not.

  “Our mom died when I was six,” she began, letting her mind drift back to that long-ago time. “We really lost her a year before that, though. She was there, but she was so sick... in and out of the hospital, losing all her hair from the chemotherapy, hardly ate, threw up all the time... I don’t blame her, though I think when I was a kid I might have resented her a little. I didn’t know any better. All I knew was that she wasn’t there for me anymore, and neither was Dad. It was just me and Clinton.

  “I won’t say I was like his surrogate mother, because there’s only two years of difference between us and it wasn’t quite that way. But I watched out for him the best way a six-year-old can. And actually, I think he looked out for me, too.

  “The day she died, we were at the hospital. I remember earlier that day they took me into her room and tried to get me to hold her hand. She was like a skeleton, and she scared me so much I twisted and screamed until I got away. I never saw her alive again, and I know I hurt her.”

  “You were a kid,” Scott said.

  Madison hadn’t realized she’d stopped speaking until Scott interjected his comment. “Yeah, I know, but still, looking back, I wish I’d had more empathy or something. It’s too late now. I barely remember that day, to be honest, except for two things: The look on my mom’s face when I turned away from her for the last time, and the fact that no one ever told me she’d died.”

  “When did they tell you?” Scott asked.

  “They didn’t. They never told me at all. Or Clinton. We sat in the waiting room playing with each other while the grown-ups talked about heaven and purgatory and God. They actually tried to guess where Mom would go, as if they had some authority on the matter. But they never told me she was dead, or tried to tell me what that meant. I had to figure it out at her funeral a few days later, when I saw her in her coffin. I thought she was sleeping and didn’t understand why she wouldn’t wake up.”

  “What does this have to do with going after Clinton?” Scott’s hand ventured near hers again, but she held herself away.

  “Everything! Don’t you see? He could be dead and no one’s told me. He’s all I have left. Mom died a long time ago, and Dad checked out for good last year, though I think he wasn’t there for me or Clinton for a long time before that. Clinton and I raised each other. I didn’t have any friends at school. He did better socially, but he was always, always there for me. No matter what. Even though standing behind me sometimes meant he got laughed at and teased.”

  Madison looked at Scott beseechingly, but she could see he wasn’t getting it.

  “I get that you care about your brother,” he said, “but there’s nothing you can do for him. If I find him. No, when I find him, I’ll do everything I can for him, but he’ll be my responsibility.”

  “It’s also your responsibility to kill him if he can’t control himself.” She shook her head when Scott tried to speak. “Don’t try to deny it. I read the papers this morning, and I saw it in your eyes. You think you should have killed Clara, and maybe you should have. I’m glad it’s not my decision. But that’s your responsibility. Mine is to love him no matter what, and if he’s going to be able to control himself as a... as a...”

  “Monster?” Scott supplied.

  “Werewolf,” she corrected, “then he’ll need me. He has to be calm. He has to find his center. Isn’t that how it works?”

  “More or less.”

  “Then he needs me. And if something happens to him, then I need to be able to say good-bye.”

  Scott sat back on his heels, looking into her eyes, and she could see him thinking about it. Really thinking about it. She held her breath, and she prayed.

  “You’re not afraid right now,” Scott said.

  “What?”

  “Just an observation. If you’re going to come with me, you need to keep hold of that determination.”

  “I can come with you?”

  “Against my better judgment.” He brushed his hand against hers for a fleeting second, the contact so brief it had probably been an accident. “Now, go and pack before I change my mind.”

  * * *

  While Madison packed, Scott put in a phone call to Matthew Blair, a local mind mage and the head of the White Guard. The White Guard was an organization in its infancy, a response to the Magical Underground’s attempt to unify the world of sorcery under Alexander DuPris. Scott tended not to get involved in politics that went beyond his own pack, but he agreed with both Matthew and Evan that Alexander had done some evil things in his bid for power. Matthew wasn’t exactly squeaky clean himself; he had once used some heavy mind magic against Cassie to try to convince her to marry him, but Evan was trying to put that in the past so they could focus on the greater good. So far it wasn’t working – Evan had not put anything in the past and the White Guard had done almost nothing to keep Alexander from gaining power. Scott couldn’t help thinking the two facts were related.

  Matthew didn’t do favors for free, but he was always happy to help since he could use every new person indebted to him to further his plans for world domination. Matthew had a prepared potion that would help ease Madison’s panic, though he cautioned Scott that it would have been far more effective if she had taken it right after the inciting incident.

  Madison finished packing in less than ten minutes, so fast that she was done before Matthew managed to arrive with his potion. Scott was just about to explain that they needed to wait a few more minutes when the doorbell rang.

  Madison looked from the door to Scott, then back again. Finally, she went to answer it, taking a step back when she saw Matthew Blair standing on the threshold.

  “I invited him,” Scott said before she could ask. “If you’re coming with me, you can’t black out at inconvenient times.”

  Madison’s cheeks went pink, which was a decided improvement over her earlier pallor. “You can do something to make me less afraid of werewolves?”

  Matthew hesitated. “Not easily. Right now all I have is a potion, but since it’s been so long since the inciting incident, it will mostly just keep you from having those flashbacks. I doubt it will do as much for the nightmares, or for general anxiety. It’s too set. I can recommend an empathic healer, but that process takes time and no one can tell you how much until you’re evaluated – maybe not even then.”

  She was having nightmares, too? Scott wanted to think Matthew was wrong, but he knew better. Matthew could read minds, and as a result Scott and Matthew had fought a silent battle of wills for years. Matthew didn’t tell people he could read minds, but Scott had intuited it. His intuition had also told him that Matthew had wiped the memory from his mind several times, but each time Scott was able to figure it out again. Matthew hadn’t tried a mind wipe in at least three years, but the two of them still had a sort of wary dance going.

  “How did you know about the nightmares?” Madison asked.

  “Lucky guess,” Matthew lied. He handed her a small, stoppered vial of clear liquid. “Drink this.”

  “How much
is it?” Madison asked.

  “Scott’s buying. Aren’t you, Scott?”

  Scott grunted.

  “Would you like to talk to my cousin?” Matthew asked Madison. “It really would be more effective, and she takes checks.”

  “We’re leaving as soon as she drinks that,” Scott said. He didn’t say why. Matthew could read the reason from his mind if he wanted to. He could also read Scott’s mixed thoughts and feelings in regards to bringing Madison along.

  “Drink it,” Matthew said, taking Madison’s hand and putting the vial into it. “It will help.”

  “All right.” Madison uncorked the vial, tipped her head back, and drank quickly. She made a sour face afterward, but she got it all down; clearly, she’d learned the trick to drinking potions.

  “Thanks, Matthew,” Scott said. “You can add this to my tab.”

  “Believe me, I will.” Matthew smiled, but the expression faded quickly. “Scott, if you don’t mind a little free advice–”

  Scott snorted. Nothing from a mind mage was ever free.

  “Trust your intuition,” Matthew said.

  “I always do,” Scott said.

  “If you say so.” Matthew glanced meaningfully at Madison before turning around and heading back to his car.

  Scott scowled at the man’s retreating back. He did trust his intuition, it was just that his intuition had no useful advice where Madison was concerned. At one point it had told him to keep his distance and he had, but he’d nearly lost her to another man. Now it was telling him two different things: that she was in danger, and that he should bring her with him anyway. He feared that last was tied in to his hopes rather than reality.

  “Come on.” Scott grabbed Madison’s small duffel bag and followed the mind mage out the door. “Let’s get moving.”