Madison's Song

by Christine Amsden

  She wished she could just make herself invisible, but if they came through this exit, they would see the car, and follow it to her. Werewolves had an incredible sense of smell they could use for tracking prey. At the moment, she was the prey.

  The minutes ticked by endlessly. Finally, the clerk cleared his throat, and she tossed him back his cell phone. She was just turning to retrace her steps to the back of the store where she wasn’t actually any safer, when she heard the angry squeal of brakes. They’d stolen a fairly pricey Mercedes from the garage, and now two angry wolves were bearing down on her.

  She spun and ran for the back of the store, but there was no back exit, only two restrooms and an employee area. She slid into the ladies room, a half bath that looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in months, slammed the door shut behind her, and locked it.

  Great. That would hold them for maybe three seconds. She counted them off, silently. One... two... three...

  Slam! The door splintered open much as the motel room door had done, and in came Mick and Bret, the latter with murder in his eyes.

  How long before Scott got here? She didn’t know, but for now, she had to fight the only way she knew how. She hummed the Jaws melody again.

  She saw the fear in their eyes, but this time it was laced with something else – determination. Taking two long steps to cross the entirety of the small space, Bret caught her and clamped a hand across her mouth.

  “Witch,” he accused.

  She couldn’t deny it. Hadn’t her father always told her that singing would get her killed one day? Maybe this wasn’t “just like her mother,” who had died after a year of fighting breast cancer, but it was still death.

  “Hold her,” Bret said, spinning her around and tossing her to his friend like she was a rag doll.

  Mick caught her in his arms, using his superior strength to pin her. “She might have called him.”

  “I did,” Madison started to say, but Mick clamped a hand over her mouth. Obviously, they planned to take no chances.

  “See?” Mick said. “This is crazy. What are you even going to do with her?”

  There was some question? Madison tried to clamp down the tiny spark of hope.

  “I want to know how she works,” Bret replied. “That alpha took down Isaac and six others. I think she helped him do it somehow. That must be why he’s mating with a mouse.”

  “I don’t know,” Mick said. “That doesn’t sound reasonable.”

  “Screw reasonable. She’s not reasonable. Now get her shirt off so I can tie a gag around her mouth.”

  She squirmed and twisted, but Mick got her shirt off in seconds, then threw it to Bret, who tore it into strips. He wadded some of the material up to shove into her mouth, then used one of the strips to secure it in place. He tossed the rest of the shirt, the only thing standing between the world and her secret fascination with red underwear, into the overflowing garbage can.

  She felt exposed. She couldn’t even use her hands to cover herself, pointless as that gesture would be, because Bret had her hands twisted behind her back. Tears started filling her eyes. She hadn’t cried when they’d been about to kill her, but she hadn’t felt humiliated then, only terrified. Now she felt both, and they had effectively gagged her only weapon.

  “Nice bra,” Bret said, running a finger along the lacy edges. “What’s in it ain’t so bad either. Maybe that alpha’s got better taste than I thought. Hard to tell under that baggy shirt.”

  Madison bucked and twisted, but could not dislodge the disgusting digit probing flesh he had no business seeing, let alone touching.

  “Stop messing around,” Mick said. “He might be here any minute.”

  “He’s here.” It was Scott. Madison’s heart leaped, but with hope instead of fear. “And he might let you live if you let her go now.”

  Mick jumped away, pushing her into the nearby sink, which cracked painfully against her hip. Bret didn’t let her go.

  “Did you kill Isaac?” Bret asked.

  “Madison,” Scott said. “Get behind me.”

  She tried, but she didn’t even make it away from the sink before Bret had one arm around her bare stomach, the other around her neck, pulling painfully against her windpipe. She couldn’t breathe. She choked and gasped, but the air wouldn’t come. Panic set in once again as spots began to swim in front of her eyes so she couldn’t even see what was happening.

  “I can kill her before you get close,” Bret said.

  Scott growled. “You’ll be dead two seconds later.”

  The pressure against Madison’s windpipe eased slightly, but she still felt faint and still saw spots. The gag in her mouth wasn’t helping. She couldn’t speak, not that there was much to say. Scott would either save her or he wouldn’t.

  Please, Scott, I need you now. He’d been there for her once before, against a tougher foe. But as evil as David McClellan had been, he hadn’t been insane. Bret, Madison was beginning to realize, was unstable. He might do anything.

  “Bret,” Mick hissed from somewhere near the filthy toilet. “Man, let her go.”

  “Your friend’s smart,” Scott said. “You should listen to him.”

  “You killed my alpha,” Bret said. “I can’t let that go.”

  “Then take me on,” Scott said. “She has nothing to do with this.”

  “Like hell she doesn’t,” Bret said. “She’s some kind of witch. Put some kind of spell on us. That how you took down Isaac?”

  “She was with you, so how could she have helped me?”

  The arm around Madison’s neck tightened again. She couldn’t breathe; she could barely think. She was going to pass out any second now, and it might even be a good thing.

  Somewhere off in the distance, she heard the approaching wail of police sirens, but didn’t think they would help.

  “I don’t know,” Bret was saying. “I just know she’s some kind of witch. That why she’s your mate?”

  “Bret,” Mick said. “Leave it. Your plan won’t work.”

  “What plan?” Scott asked sharply.

  “He wants her for himself. Thinks he can take her power somehow.”

  “I’ll kill her if I have to,” Bret warned, his choke-hold a testament to his words. The room was nothing but spots now. Nothing at all, not even color.

  “I tell you what,” Scott said. “You and me in a fair fight. Winner gets the girl.”

  What? She heard a strange buzzing sound in her ears. Maybe she’d heard Scott wrong.

  “What’s it going to be?” Scott asked. “You won’t get a better offer. Right now, we’re at an impasse.”

  “How do I know you’ll keep your word?” Bret asked.

  Scott growled. Bret jumped, loosening his grip. It didn’t help. She started to slide towards the floor.

  “Okay, okay. Yeah, okay. Fair fight. You and me. Winner gets the girl.” He took a deep breath, then shoved Madison towards Scott.

  She staggered forward two steps, but Scott caught her before she hit the floor. She clung to him, taking comfort in the feel of his steely arms around her. In that moment of blind panic, she wished they could stay like that forever.

  “Madison.” Scott shook her slightly. “Come on, snap out of it.” He tore the gag out of her mouth, though she still didn’t think she could speak. Her mouth felt far too dry.

  “Where and when?” Bret asked.

  “No better place and no better time than here and now,” Scott said.

  The sounds of police sirens grew louder, but nobody mentioned it.

  “Keep her safe,” Scott ordered an older wolf standing right behind him.

  Through a haze of slowly clearing vision, she saw the older wolf nod, then gently gather her in his arms. She wanted to protest. She hated being touched right now, especially by a stranger, especially by a werewolf, and especially with her shirt off, but she was still afraid she might faint.

  “Mick, come out of there,” the other wolf said.

  Mick hesitated. “What
about Bret?”

  “You can’t help him now,” said the older wolf.

  “Is he gonna kill him?” Mick asked.

  “He’s already dead,” Scott said.

  “Mick, son, come out of there.”

  “Scott,” Madison tried to say. It sounded more like a croak, but he heard her. “Please, don’t.”

  “He’s unstable,” Scott said.

  “He is,” the older wolf said, still seeming to be talking to Mick who, Madison presumed, was his son. “Mick, you know he is. He never should have been bitten. Isaac’s father never would have let it happen.”

  “I asked Isaac to do it,” Mick said weakly. “It’s my fault.”

  “It’s Isaac’s fault,” the older wolf disagreed. Now come out and let Scott do his job.”

  “Scott?” Madison said. She was almost able to see again, and almost able to stand. Able enough that she pushed away from the older man and wrapped her arms around her bare torso.

  Scott turned cold, green eyes on her. She expected to see her salvation in those eyes, but she could only see the beast. “You don’t understand. Now go.”

  The older wolf put his hand on her back, steering her towards the front of the store. After a minute, she heard Mick following.

  “He has to,” the older wolf was saying. “He’s killed three women in the last six months. One of them wasn’t while he was in his wolf form.”

  “Oh.” Madison let out a tiny puff of air that stung her throat. She couldn’t think. She could barely breathe. None of this made sense.

  The sirens were coming closer.

  “Dad,” Mick started.

  “I don’t want to hear it! I told you not to hang around with that pup, but did you listen? He wanted you to kill the girl, didn’t he? You’d be dead if you had, and I wouldn’t have been able to help you out of this one.”

  Mick swallowed. “I tried to talk him out of it.”

  “You’ve got no backbone. You need to learn to stand up for yourself.”

  Scott came out of the store, hands in his pockets, eyes locked squarely on her. “You okay?”

  She nodded, although it was a lie. She had rarely been less okay in her life.

  “Then let’s get out of here before the police arrive.”

  Chapter 12

  THEY DIDN’T MAKE IT. SHE COULD tell they wouldn’t make it long before they reached the truck. Apparently Scott could as well, because he tossed her the keys bellowing, “You drive!” even as he climbed into the passenger seat.

  Were they seriously going to flee a crime scene? Scott had just killed a man. Didn’t he have to answer for that? If he did, would she support him?

  She knew she would. Bret had tried to kill her, and even if he hadn’t been a danger at the precise moment of his death, Scott had saved her. Again. She didn’t have to like his methods, but she couldn’t argue with the results, nor could she completely condemn him. The world was a better place without Bret in it.

  Only, she’d thought that once before about David McClellan. When did she cross a line into thinking of herself as the world’s judge, jury, and executioner?

  “Hurry!” Scott barked, using the voice that demanded obedience.

  She slid into the truck and fastened her seat belt, trying hard not to notice the bare skin she still showed. The seat and mirrors were positioned all wrong for her, but she didn’t stop to adjust them. She just shoved the key into the ignition and revved the engine.

  The first police car screamed into the lot, skidding to a halt so close to the front of the truck that it was a miracle it hadn’t hit. They were caught. Madison glanced at Scott for instructions, but his eyes were closed and he was muttering something under his breath – casting a spell.

  Two uniformed officers spilled from their car, but they didn’t come towards them. Instead, they went for Mick and his dad, cutting them off before they could pile into a rusty Toyota. Then another squad car screamed into the lot, ejecting two more officers who went into the building.

  “Go,” Scott murmured.

  She barely heard him, but she obeyed. She put the truck in reverse, carefully backed away from the police car trying to kiss their bumper, then threw the truck into drive and peeled away. Madison kept glancing at the mirrors, even though the angles were wrong, looking behind them for the cars that would surely give chase. They didn’t. The police officers acted as if they couldn’t even see them.

  It wasn’t just the policemen who couldn’t see them, as Madison discovered when she pulled into traffic. She screamed and slammed on the brakes, barely missing a collision when a car changed lines directly into their side.

  “Are we invisible?” Madison asked, scarcely able to believe it. She had not exactly gone out of her way to learn a lot about magic, but she didn’t think Evan could pull off making an entire truck invisible without serious preparation. And Evan was stronger than Scott. She didn’t know by how much, but she knew he was.

  “Pull into the parking lot up ahead,” Scott said. “Get behind the restaurant. We’ll rematerialize there, so we don’t draw attention.”

  Just then, the car behind them nudged their rear. Madison put on more gas, tailgating the car in front of her to give the car behind them more room. Slowing down to turn would cause a problem, so she didn’t slow down at all, she just spun the wheel, barreling across the narrow driveway and catching the curb on the other side. Luckily, no car had been waiting to exit the restaurant.

  She managed to get the truck into the alley behind the Chinese restaurant without further incident. She slammed on the brakes, put the car in park, and surprised herself by shooting Scott an evil glare.

  “Are you okay?” Scott asked.

  “I can’t believe we didn’t get in a wreck.”

  “You drove well.”

  “Are the cops going to come after us?” Madison asked. “What about the surveillance cameras?”

  “I took care of it.”

  “Took care of it?” Her wide eyes flew to Scott now, trying to figure him out. She had been afraid of his inner wolf for years, but she had never given a lot of thought to his more ever-present inner sorcerer.

  “Evan can manage an illusion around himself, but that’s about it.” Madison tried to remember what else she knew about illusions, but there wasn’t much. Mostly, that they didn’t fool cameras.

  “Evan’s not as good at illusions as I am. They’re more about subtlety than power – although power helps. Evan only knows as much as he does because I taught him.”

  “Why’d you do that?”

  “Scrying spell. Sleep spell. We’ve made a few trades.”

  They fell into silence for a few minutes, fulfilling an unspoken need for them to both catch their breaths and gather their wits. Madison closed her eyes and let her fingers fly to her throat, which still felt abused from its earlier treatment. Whenever she spoke, she heard a faint rasp, though it wasn’t something she had considered at the time in light of other concerns.

  When she opened her eyes again, Scott was staring at her. No, he was staring at her lacy red bra. She crossed her arms over her chest, but it was too late. It had been too late before, although she could have hoped that he had been too preoccupied to fully pay attention.

  He was all attention now. He looked at her with something she wasn’t used to seeing in the eyes of men – at least not directed at her. Raw desire. It was unmistakable. Even she, naïve though she knew she was, couldn’t pretend it was something else.

  She stared at him, torn between awe, confusion, and anxiety. He hadn’t acted like he’d still wanted her two years ago, after he’d saved her life. He’d backed off. Of course she’d wanted him to back off so she felt relieved that he hadn’t pressed her. Mostly.

  “Here.” Scott peeled his eyes away, took off his shirt, and tossed it to her. She donned it, gratefully, although now his scent surrounded her. And she couldn’t help but notice that Scott looked good without his shirt on. Very good. He had a six-pack that wouldn’t shame
the cover of a romance novel.

  “So how’d you get away?” Scott asked, and she tore her eyes away from him.

  “I scared them.” Even as she said the words, her lips twitched upward at the irony. She expected Scott to laugh.

  He didn’t. “Show me.”

  She began to hum. For a few seconds she didn’t think it was working, but then he started looking over his shoulder. She stopped.

  “It worked on them,” she said. Of course, she’d been better able to embrace the fear then. She didn’t feel remotely afraid now.

  That caught her by surprise. She was alone in a car with Scott, he had just killed someone, and she didn’t feel remotely afraid.

  “They weren’t expecting it. And it sort of worked on me. That was... wow.” He was looking at her with admiration again, and maybe something else. Something she didn’t understand. Possibly something she didn’t want to understand.

  “I don’t want to drive anymore,” Madison said by way of changing the subject. She climbed out of the truck before he could respond, but he didn’t protest in the least. He slid across to the driver’s seat before she rounded the front of the truck and climbed back inside.

  “I want you to keep practicing that voice on me,” Scott said as he put the car in drive and made his way into traffic, headlights lending him blessed visibility in the approaching twilight.

  “Practice? On you?”

  “I told you earlier today to practice on me and I meant it. That voice of yours could be a weapon if you used it right.”

  She turned away again, horror filling her heart at the thought. A weapon? She didn’t want to be a weapon. She could tell from his voice that he wanted to make her strong in the only way he knew how, but she didn’t want his kind of strength. She shouldn’t even need it. It wasn’t as if she wanted to live a dangerous life, only a life of service, maybe one that came with the comfort and security of a loving family.

  Yet from what Scott had said, the only family she had left might be a danger to her. She wanted – no, needed – Clinton in her life. Did she then need to learn to protect herself from him and his new kind?