Madison Mosby and the Moonmilk Wars

by Jason Winn

  “So,” said Dwayne, “what can the chapter do for you?”

  “Chapter?” asked Madison.

  “Correct, we’re part of a larger organization. We’re worldwide.”

  That could have possibilities.

  “How many chapters are there?”

  “Fifty-two.”

  “I’m looking for some reliable couriers.”

  “What’s the cargo?”

  “Nothing illegal.”

  “Then why do you need us?”

  “Because it’s a highly sought-after commodity and my buyers are prone to violence.”

  “I see. Rey said she works for you.”

  “Yes.”

  Dwayne raised an eyebrow. “At a cookie shop, or something?”

  “It’s a bakery, but that’s just one of the things I’m into.”

  “You cooking meth in the back? You said this wasn’t illegal cargo.”

  “It’s not meth. Everyone always assumes that.” Why did everyone always assume it was drugs?

  “So, what exactly is it?”

  There was a long pause. Madison took a deep breath and stared into Dwayne’s eyes. Would he laugh in her face? He probably would. He’d walk out before she could convince him, but then again, she had a few tricks up her sleeve.

  “It’s for sorcerers.”

  Silence. Dwayne didn’t burst out laughing; in fact, he barely cracked a smile.

  “Sorcerers?” he finally asked. “Like some Harry Potter shit?”

  “Yes.” This seemed a little too easy.

  “And people are willing to start shooting over this?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you think we’re willing to put our lives on the line for that? That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “That’s why I’m willing to pay five grand a delivery. Twenty-five hundred when I give it to you. Twenty-five hundred once the customer has the package.”

  Dwayne looked around the mansion’s porch, out toward the grounds and beyond to the river. “Okay.”

  “That’s it?” Madison couldn’t help herself. “I tell you I need you to deliver some magical shit and you say yes. Just like that?”

  Dwayne leaned in close. “You must be doing something right to have all this. And even if you’re some trust fund baby, and Daddy gave you all of this, and you want to give me five grand to go from A to B, okay. I don’t care what you’re selling. We’ll get it there on time.”

  “You can’t sell this stuff.”

  “What do you mean?” The smile melted from Dwayne’s face.

  Madison instantly regretted saying that. So far everything had been cordial. “I mean you can’t just run out and sell it to anyone. If you decide to run off with it and stick it to me.” Her pulse rose and her voice quivered. She’d just insulted him, at the mere suggestion of dishonesty.

  “Who the hell are you, little rich girl threatening me? I ought to crack you across the face just for saying that.” His lips curled down into a sneer. The veins in his forehead began to throb. Madison honestly thought she was one comment away from getting the shit kicked out of her. Han couldn’t run that fast from his assigned seat in the gazebo.

  Madison pulled a picture from her shirt pocket, one of her mother, when she was in college. “Across this face?” She pointed to her chin as she slid the picture into the pocket of the jeans from the Shiloh Library. “Or, this one?”

  Dwayne backed away so fast he fell out of his chair. “Jesus Lord!” he cried. His sneer had snapped into a mask of abject terror. On his knees now, he raised a hand as if Madison was about to beat him to death with a crowbar. She thought he might piss himself. One of the bikers ran off into the woods. The remaining two backed away, tripping over furniture, gripping at anything as if they were caught up in a tornado.

  “Convinced now?” asked Madison.

  “Jesus Lord!” screamed Dwayne in his gravelly voice. His raised hands shook. Tears streamed down his face and spittle had started to hang from the corners of his mouth.

  “Show’s over,” said Madison. She removed her mother’s picture from her jeans and returned it to her shirt pocket.

  Dwayne took one last look at her and collapsed onto the brick floor.

  “All right,” said Madison. “Get up. Come on.” She reached down and took one of Dwayne’s hands.

  He got up, eyes closed tight.

  “It’s all right, Dwayne. You can look now. See? Just plain old Madison. Come on. There we go.” Her voice was soft as a loving mother’s. Not that she’d know what that really was, thanks to her own mother’s prickly demeanor.

  “You,” Dwayne gasped.

  “Changed form, through magic. Cool, right? Hey. Hey!” She slapped him on the face to get his attention back on her, before placing her hands over his cheeks and turning his head toward her. “Aren’t you glad I want you on my side?”

  “Hell yeah,” said the fat biker Dwayne had introduced as “Ham Steak.”

  “Dwayne? Are you in there?” asked Madison.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are we going to be friends?”

  “I…” He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I hope so.”

  “Good. Now I want you to see one more scary thing, and then we’re going to be good friends for a long time.”

  “I don’t want to.” Dwayne looked like he wanted to turn tail and run.

  “I do,” said Ham Steak, with the goofy smile of a kid that just saw porn for the first time.

  “That’s the spirit, Ham. See, Ham Steak wants to see the scary thing.”

  “Fine. Let’s just get this over with,” grumbled Dwayne.

  Madison took Dwayne by the hand and led him about forty yards into the north lawn. She needed him to get a good view of the mansion. The others followed. With the wave of her hand, Han appeared in his raven controlling vest, and over the next hour Madison, Dwayne and the rest of his crew were treated to their own private lightning show, courtesy of the mansion’s Iron Ravens. The cone of black birds swirled over the mansion, until lightening shot down into the metal rods on the roof.

  When it was all over, Madison turned to Dwayne and smiled. “So, we’re good then, I guess. I’d hate for those little guys to ever have to chase anyone down.” She could tell that Dwayne got the message. They shook hands and Madison was in business with the Black Fangs.

  ***

  Jane walked up to Madison from the ballroom as the bikers trudged away.

  “What do you think?” she asked Jane.

  Jane scanned them, waited to hear the bikes rev and take off down the driveway before responding. “I think you’re rushing into something again that could blow up in your face. But you’ve never listened to me on things like this, so whatever.”

  “What’s wrong?” Jane’s normal stone-faced expression was gone, and she looked almost sad.

  “I just came from Joey’s bookshop.”

  “And?” But Madison didn’t need to ask—she could see the rest of that sentence on Jane’s face.

  Fuck.

  “He’s dead. The police are all over his bookstore. One of them told me it was a robbery that went bad this morning, before he opened up.”

  The fear Madison had kept away with booze and self-delusion slammed into her. The needle point of pain over her heart stabbed with every beat. Joey couldn’t be dead.

  “Wait, you’re sure it was Joey that got killed? He was smart. Like, crazy smart. He wouldn’t let someone just walk up to him and kill him.”

  “I saw his body as they were taking the crime scene photos.”

  Madison felt terrible for what she was about to ask, but she had to. Not knowing would eat away at her. “Bullet, knife?”

  “Why do you want to know that? What difference does it make?”

  “Just fucking tell me. What the hell do I pay you for?”

  Jane’s eyebrows came together.

  “What?” barked Madison. “You got a problem with giving me a straight answer? How did he die?” She heard herself shou
t the question. Jane flinched.

  Joey had been the one she relied on for bare metal truth in the business. With Langston gone, Joey had felt like her only connection to Nancy Mosby’s old Moonmilk business.

  “Fine. You want to know. It looked like something heavy. Like a hammer or a crowbar. I didn’t get close enough to see his brains spilling out onto the sidewalk, if that’s your next question, but I know a blunt trauma wound when I see one. Somebody beat his skull in.”

  The two stared at one another. Madison felt like she could punch Jane right there for being a smart-ass and she’d be right to do it. Wouldn’t she? Red crept into the edges of her vision.

  Jesus, bring it down a few levels, Madison.

  Jane had regained her composure, but anger simmered behind her eyes.

  Madison fell forward and hugged Jane. She felt like a metal statue.

  “Oh Christ, Jane. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling at you.” The tears came now. “I’m such a shitty person sometimes.”

  Jane’s arms finally came up around Madison and hugged her back. It was the first time they had ever done that, but in the moment, it felt right.

  “It’s okay,” said Jane. “I get mad too sometimes.”

  Madison laughed and sniffed at the same time. “I don’t believe that. You’re a fucking rock.” She broke the embrace. “And that’s what I love about you.”

  “Easy, tiger.”

  “Not like that. Jesus. I mean, you’re so much stronger than me.” Madison wiped her eyes. “Don’t tell anyone I said that though.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Okay. Shit. Okay. We’re going to deal with this. It has to be the same group that torched the stores. Right?”

  “No way to tell right now. The police I talked to at the scene think it was a random junkie looking to score some money for a hit.”

  I hope so, Madison thought. The sentiment made her feel ashamed. But that was a way better idea than having another cartel take out her top courier. This war was getting out of hand. How long before they just said fuck it and came after her at home?

  “I’m meeting with Contessa tomorrow. Maybe she can help us even the odds, against these assholes.”

  Jane stopped and looked Madison in the eyes. “Don’t tell her too much, we still don’t know if she’d a friend or foe.”

  Chapter 48

  A driveway full of motorcycles greeted Dana as she pulled up to the mansion. Her friends had to leave suddenly and rather than spend the day by herself, she decided to return to the house and binge-watch some TV. Then maybe later Madison could be compelled to entertain her.

  The bikes were all Harleys, with polished chrome dazzling in the afternoon sun. Dana recognized them: a Softtail Classic, a Street Glide Special, and a pair of Road Kings. She walked up close enough to one to touch one, while at the same time wondering who the hell Madison was meeting with. They were quite a departure from the normal fleet of luxury SUVs and sports cars people drove to the mansion. But then again, she’d seen so much crazy shit in the last year, a bunch of motorcycles was tame by comparison.

  A flutter of black wings and a loud caw caused Dana to shriek. “Damn it!”

  The huge bird, perched on a handlebar, cocked its head and cawed at her again, almost daring her to touch the bike.

  Fuck you, bird. Dana wanted to swat the thing, but it was as big as a vulture. She hoped it would drop a turd on the bike seat. Then maybe the owner would deal with the thing.

  She gave the bird a wide berth as she approached the front porch. Looking through the front windows, she could see the front sitting room and parlor were empty. It wasn’t time to eat, so the dining room was probably out. Dana made her way inside, careful to avoid the floorboards that creaked every time you stepped on them. From the foyer, she went through the front parlor and toward the west wing, with the pool and library, where Madison never invited people to sit and talk.

  She then crept from the library, into the hallway that led to the ballroom. Unfamiliar voices floated in from the back porch, through a door cracked open. It was one of the last pleasant days before the big storm was supposed to hit the DC area.

  Hugo Durden’s words, back in the limo, about Madison becoming “unhinged” played in Dana’s head. This seemed out of the ordinary. Maybe this was something that he and the others wanted to know about. Or, she thought for a moment, was this something she needed to observe, and consider, because Madison was becoming unstable, possibly dangerous.

  She cocked her head and focused on the conversation. The voices were too muffled to make anything out. A few more steps and she could crane her neck around the corner and see what looked like a group of black hooligans sitting on the patio furniture.

  Sorcerers?

  Madison said something about not being able to sell something. The group went silent, followed by shouting. One of the men screamed for Jesus to come save him. Madison had clearly snapped.

  She’s going to kill one of them.

  What would her sister do if she knew Dana had witnessed a murder? Without thinking, Dana almost took off running up to her room. But a morbid curiosity kept her in place. Instead her blood ran cold and a cold finger of sweat trickled down her back.

  “What in the world?” whispered Dana. She wanted to get closer, but had to grip the wall as if it was going to keep her rubbery legs from falling over. She held her place in the hallway, waiting for a gunshot. Madison was scaring the living shit out of a group of men who looked like they could tear her apart without breaking a sweat. What was going on? Another secret, another thing Dana wasn’t good enough to see or know about.

  A burning welled up in her chest, an anger at how she was being left out again. If someone was going to get shot in her house, maybe a little “heads up, gonna shoot some scary dudes to send a message” was in order. The thought made her want to hit the wall, hit Madison. But like a prisoner chained down, fear held her back, kept her from running out onto the porch and shouting, “Ha! I knew it, another meeting where you don’t trust me to participate.”

  Madison would yell at her to get out, maybe train the barrel on her. Kill her even, to keep what was happening secret?

  No.

  She wouldn’t do that. They were family after all. Blood is thicker than money, right?

  But, there was a lot of money in this business. Madison wasn’t going to jail for anyone. Dana had seen plenty of movies and true crime shows where people killed their partners to stay out of jail. Was it possible, then, that Madison would be so worried about Dana’s knowledge of the business that she would kill her? Madison wasn’t stupid, and she didn’t want to kill Dana. She wouldn’t do that and then have Shelby to deal with. Shelby was in the fucking FBI.

  But what if Madison had gone crazy? Then she wouldn’t care about the consequences. She would just do it.

  Crazy is as crazy does.

  All of this made Dana very uncomfortable. She knew right then she needed to expand her options, create an exit strategy maybe even. If something happened to her, something like disappearing, then someone needed to know that Madison was involved. She could go to the police, or she could go to someone she trusted, like Hugo Durden. The police option was off the table. Dana had heard enough whispers about pissed-off clients and couriers. They would come looking for her if Madison got carted off to jail. They would think she had something to do with it.

  She needed to talk to Hugo, get his advice in the event that Madison was losing it. What would he do though? Probably have a talk with her, calm everything down, get her to see reason and everything would go back to normal. Right?

  All of this was well and good, but that still didn’t explain why the scary men, who were now out on the north lawn, looking up at the ravens swirling around in the sky, were here. She wanted to ask Madison, but instead decided to wait and see if she brought it up. In the meantime, Dana would sneak back through the house and get away, before anyone saw her and innocently mentioned to Madison that she had been there when she had her meetin
g with the mystery men.

  Chapter 49

  Madison and Contessa walked beneath umbrellas down the Washington DC Mall’s pea gravel thoroughfares. The muscles in Madison’s stomach quivered to the point of aching, but she ignored her nerves and tried to steady her voice. The drive over to the Mall had been filled with her agonizing over Joey’s death the previous day. If Contessa had been behind it—a thought that sickened her, as it would mean one more enemy, instead of a desperately needed ally—then Madison would have to try to read her motives.

  “I want you to have this,” said Contessa. She handed Madison an overexposed photo of herself and a young Nancy Mosby. Contessa was waving at the camera and Nancy stood slightly in front of her, grimacing.

  “Oh, thanks.” Madison took the photo. She’d never seen this one before. But then again there were probably thousands of photos of Nancy Mosby she’d never seen. Seeing her grandmother relaxed the knots in her stomach.

  “I want to spend some time with you and tell you about your Grandmother and me. We were good friends in life and in business.”

  “Oh, what did you do for her?”

  “I sold her Moonmilk of course, my child.” Contessa tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear.

  Madison didn’t appreciate the condescending use of the word “child.”

  “How did you meet her?”

  “She and I had mutual friends in the magical world. It was at a party, if I recall.”

  “One of hers?” Madison studied Contessa’s face. She didn’t recognize her from childhood.

  Contessa lit a cigarette. “Oh, no. It was one of mine. I’m sure of it. What else do you know about that part of Nancy’s life?”

  Madison’s head became flush with possibilities. Contessa worked with Nancy, probably worked with her and went to ground when the killings and disappearances started up.

  She stopped walking and turned to look down at Contessa. The old woman seemed harmless enough. She was a few years younger than Nancy would be now, small and frail. But Madison couldn’t help but notice that she moved like a much younger woman. For a woman who had probably smoked all her life, she sure was spry. Warmth radiated from her. When Contessa smiled, her eyes lit up. Through all of that, Madison still harbored doubts as to what was going on behind the gentle facade.