Madison Mosby and the Moonmilk Wars

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Madison Mosby and the Moonmilk Wars Page 43

by Jason Winn


  Madison’s phone buzzed.

  Jane: Found her, over by the tree ice sculpture.

  Madison: OTW

  The message sent shock waves through Madison’s body and she immediately made for the edge of the room, so as to not have to push past any more guests. Huge mirrors lined the walls, and Madison felt herself smirk under her mask at how ridiculous she looked. This whole thing wasn’t her, glitzy ultra-rich costume balls.

  She was about to remind herself, yet again, what she was here for when something tapped her shoulder. A dashing young man wearing a black and white polka-dot mask stood behind her. His suit shimmered purple and black, the colors swirling like oil mixed with water.

  “Excuse me, I don’t think we’ve met,” he said.

  He seemed pleasantly buzzed and took her by the wrist with one hand while gently pulling her mask down with the other. ‘What the fuck, man?’ danced on her lips, but Madison just looked at him. There was no cause to make a scene. Not yet, anyway.

  “No. No, I don’t think I know you,” he said, visibly disappointed. He looked like a boy who had been turned down for prom by the last girl in school.

  His eyes dropped to the floor and Madison saw herself in the mirror. For a moment she looked at herself in the glass. Her heart stopped and every drop of blood in her veins turned cold. She tensed up as if this mystery man was going to lift his eyes, see her strange face and punch her.

  ***

  The world shrank to the size of a golf ball. The fragrant air turned acrid and the entire party disappeared. The only sound was the thumping on her heart against her eardrums.

  Madison’s reflection took hold of her eyes and wouldn’t let her look away. The man in front of her started to look up. And at that very moment, her face morphed back into Ms. Italian Vogue, with her Mediterranean black hair and sultry eyes.

  “I guess,” he started, “I was mistaken. Forgive me for being so rude, miss?”

  Shit, she thought. What was her cover name? She didn’t have one.

  “Smith,” was all she could come up with.

  “Good evening. Miss Smith.” He sidestepped her and strolled away.

  Air swept back into Madison’s chest. The smells of food and booze returned along with the raucous noise of the partygoers, the laughter and voices shouting over the music.

  Relieved that her camouflage had returned and trying to convince herself that it was all in her imagination, Madison made her way over to Jane, who wore a wig and black cocktail dress. A jet-black mask covered her eyes.

  “Where’s your uniform?” Madison asked.

  Jane smirked, eyes darting all over the room. “Can’t blend in, looking like the help.”

  Madison wanted to ask where she got the dress and mask, but Jane was always prepared. “Where’s Contessa?”

  “We missed her.” Jane threw a thumb over her shoulder. “Ducked into a room with seashells carved around the door. The doors closed before I could get a good look inside.”

  “Shit.”

  “Where’s she going to go? This is her party. Bound to come out eventually.” Jane’s eyes went wide behind her mask. “Where’s your bracelet?”

  “Shit!” Madison said loud enough to draw a few eyes. Her hand flew to her wrist. It was bare. Instinctively, she looked down at the floor. “I don’t...wait, some guy came up to me before I got over to you. He was acting like he knew me and he touched,” she felt the words drift out of her mouth like steam off a cup of coffee, “my fucking wrist. I am such an idiot.”

  Jane finally looked Madison in the eye. She looked like she wanted to agree with Madison, but held her tongue.

  “She must have covert security roaming the crowd, looking for anything dangerous,” said Jane. “Wanna split?”

  The thought of running was tempting, but this was Madison’s best shot at taking out Contessa. When was the next time she would be this close to her? This was her move in the game. If she didn’t go for the kill, Contessa would surely figure out she was still alive and come after her.

  “No,” she said. “We have the initiative. We can’t leave here without taking her out.”

  Jane flashed Madison a look of respect for not wanting to turn and run.

  “What did this asshole look like?”

  Madison responded with a shrug. “Like everyone else.” She waved a hand at the crowd.

  “Okay,” said Jane. “I found a room that might be able to help us over there.” She pointed across the ballroom, to another gaping hallway.

  “What’s in it?” There was something about Jane’s tone that worried Madison.

  “Enough firepower to level this place.”

  Confidence returned. “Let’s boogie.”

  Chapter 86

  The two stood in silence for a moment, taking in the rows of glass cases holding armed mannequins.

  “Fucking shit,” was all the eloquence Madison could muster. The scene reminded her the Shiloh Library.

  “I know,” said Jane. “The NRA Museum would love to have their pick of this place.”

  They stepped into the room. A fearsome samurai stood guard at the entrance, daring anyone to disrespect his treasure.

  “Wonder where his katana is,” said Jane as she walked up to the statue’s pedestal.

  Madison noticed that his hand was raised, but it was empty. Unable to resist, she ran a finger over one of the skulls under his foot.

  “This is slightly concerning,” said Jane as she walked to the back of the room. An empty space sat behind thick glass. Lights shown down on a velvet surface, revealing the faint outline of a jacket and pants.

  “Yeah,” replied Madison. “What was in there?”

  “Well,” said Jane, looking around. “I’m guessing it wasn’t a historical milkmaid’s dress.”

  Madison immediately thought of her jacket and jeans. Was this another spirit suit? If so, what did it do, and more importantly, who was wearing it? There was nothing they could do about that now.

  “Any of these open?” asked Madison.

  “Not from what I can tell. But look.” Jane got up close to the glass. “This stuff is regular plate glass, it isn’t the heavy stuff in museums.”

  Madison fixated on a bone-handle dagger, lying on a table. She picked it up. The six-inch blade’s patina was pockmarked with age, but the handle felt good in her hands. It reminded her of a similar knife in the Shiloh Library and she wondered if there was a connection between the two.

  “You think any of these work?” Madison asked as she tucked the knife under her dress.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  “Well, you know what they say,” said Madison. She picked up a shield from the wall. It had a satisfying heft to it. “In case of emergency, break glass.”

  “Might be an alarm. Contessa hears it, she’ll send the goon squad or worse yet, she’s out of here. Plus, breaking this stuff is going to cause a hell of a clatter.”

  That was a good point. Madison’s thumb found its favorite groove in her palm as she thought. “I could blow the car, create a distraction.”

  “We should hold off on that as a last resort.”

  “We can wait for the music to get louder, then maybe we just shut the doors and pray no one hears.”

  Madison thought for a moment. Until she snapped her fingers. “I got it. I’ll get close to Contessa, blow the car. You see what you can do to start a rush for the doors. I’ll drive this dagger into her and get out in the chaos.”

  Jane looked longingly at the weapons in the cases. Madison could tell she wanted to get her hands on them and waste Contessa, but was thinking better of the “break glass” plan. “All right. In for a penny, in for a pound.” She shrugged her shoulders and scrunched her face as if to say, “That’s better than nothing.”

  “You scared?” asked Madison.

  Jane opened her mouth to reply, but someone else spoke first.

  “She should be,” said a woman.

  Madison gasped. Jane turned toward th
e voice. The two women saw a thin figure standing next to the samurai statue. The doors were now closed. The short person wore a tight, powder blue coat with gold-embroidered eagles that shimmered. A porcelain white mask, accented with golden feathers and sapphires, hid her face. A long curved sword was clutched in their right hand.

  ***

  “Get outta here, Madison,” Jane whispered as she stepped toward the small woman.

  “No. I want to…”

  But Jane cut her off, yanking the shield from Madison’s hand. “Get the fuck out of here now!”

  The words carried a commanding finality. Madison’s mind went blank with the new variable. She went for the dagger, but a voice in her head said “no.”

  Jane raised the shield and charged the little woman. Before Madison turned to run, she saw the sword rise and the masked woman charge at Jane. Madison turned to run. Someone screamed. Glass shattered.

  Madison tore another shield from the wall. She slammed it into a display case with several mannequins dressed in old military uniforms. Calvary swords hung from their waists. Old rifles were slung over their shoulders. She couldn’t let Jane get chopped up.

  Speckles of blood smacked into the other side of the case. Madison reached for a sword hilt. A black hand locked onto her wrist. It was cold and rigid. Madison looked up to see a blank, onyx face looking down at her.

  Instinct pulled her feet backwards as she struggled against the thing’s grip. The air caught in her throat. The cold hand tightened around her wrist. She twisted back and forth until she was free.

  The glass on the other side of the case exploded. The samurai helmet flew up and struck the mannequin in the back of the head. It stumbled forward and fell to the ground. Madison raised her foot and slammed it into the jet-black head, as if it were a person with a brain that could be scrambled with a kick. She brought her foot down with all her pent-up rage. Her heel drove squarely into the back of the thing’s head. Shards of shimmering plastic shot out in all directions, revealing a wire mesh.

  The mannequin tried to push itself up, but Madison brought her foot down again and again. She yanked the knife from her jeans, cut the rifle’s sling and raised the stock to her shoulder. That little ninja was about to die. Then, Madison’s heart sank as the glass from all the display cases turned to water and fell to the floor. Jane stood frozen with the tip of a sword to her throat.

  Onyx-faced warriors from the last five centuries jumped down and pointed their weapons at Madison. At least twenty barrels from antique and modern weapons were aimed right at her head. She wasn’t going to gamble if they were loaded. With her luck, they were.

  “Drop it, Madison,” said Jane. “It’s over.”

  Should’a run. Shit.

  All hope of killing Contessa evaporated. Madison considered fighting, just to let them kill her instead of allowing Contessa to torture the Moonmilk recipe out of her. Her finger tightened around the trigger. How good would it feel to at least go out shooting? But she didn’t think bullets would take down the mannequins. And Jane didn’t look like she was ready to die. There was still a tiny fight left in her eyes.

  Something fast and rigid slapped the rifle out of Madison’s hands. It landed with a small splash in the water that now covered the floor. Rigid arms coiled around Madison’s chest.

  “Miss Morano would like a word with you two.” It was a man’s voice, deep and gravelly.

  Chapter 87

  The floor fell away as Madison’s captor lifted her up and carried her down the hallway, back to the main ballroom. The space was silent, save for footsteps as the partygoers crowded the huge doorway to see her brought in, like some trophy fish.

  Madison couldn’t see behind her, but she suspected that Jane was being coaxed at the end of a sword to follow.

  A single pair of hands clapped from the raised orchestra podium.

  “Bravo, Clipper,” said Contessa. “Who do we have here?”

  “Two little thieves,” Clipper said as he dropped Madison. She managed to keep her balance at least.

  “Oh,” said Contessa. “I suspect they’re more than that. But, I don’t recognize them. Are they wearing masks?”

  Thick sausage fingers pinched Madison’s cheeks. She fought the urge to scream out at the pain.

  “Don’t appear to be,” said Clipper.

  Madison rubbed the side of her face.

  “Hmm,” said Contessa with a hint of sarcasm. “Miss Hennessey, would you step closer to Clipper’s new friend?” She pointed to Madison.

  The crowd parted as a woman dressed as Marie Antoinette came toward Madison and Jane, her blue satin gown making a swish, swish, swish sound. It was then that Madison noticed the meatball-sized jewel hanging from her neck.

  A collective gasp welled up from the partygoers, as Madison realized that the jewel was in fact a crystal around Miss Hennessey’s neck with the power to disable her face-changing pants.

  “Why, Miss Mosby,” said Contessa. She lit a cigarette and took a deep puff before continuing. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” said Madison.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Rose Widow’s granddaughter, Miss Madison Mosby.” Whispered conversations sprang up from all over the ballroom. “She has taken the liberty of continuing her grandmother’s work of making Moonmilk. However, she refuses to share the secret with us, so for the time being you will all have to live with less and pay her astronomical prices. Does that seem reasonable?”

  “No,” someone shouted.

  Madison saw the faces turn from curious to angry. She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. She and Jane were completely surrounded. The nearest exit was through probably a hundred people. Any one of them could just grab them and start pummeling away.

  “What do you have to say for yourself, Madison?” asked Contessa.

  Madison played the only card she had. “If anything happens to me, none of you will get any more of my product.”

  “That is true,” said Contessa, “but I think you can be motivated to share.”

  “Bullshit,” someone cried.

  “Beat it out of her,” another shouted. This was followed by a chorus of agreement.

  Madison saw scowls beneath masks shaped as vultures, sharks, and lions. The dapper party goers had turned into a parade of blood-thirsty beasts, ready to eat her.

  Madison lunged toward the stage, but Clipper wrapped his arms around her once again in a bear hug.

  Contessa raised her hand to silence the crowd. A cloud swirled over her now. Madison couldn’t help but stare. The tendrils of smoke took the shape of a giant snake. The smoky serpent turned its head toward Madison and floated toward her.

  Madison tried to back away. Jane made a move toward Contessa but was stopped by the point of the sword at her neck. A trickle of blood crept down her sweaty flesh. Jane looked more angry than scared.

  The car. Madison could blow the car and perhaps cause enough of a distraction to get out of there. But her arms were pinned behind her, by the man holding her. She couldn’t reach her cell phone.

  The snake’s head came within inches of Madison’s face. The smell of cigarette smoke burned her nose. Tears welled in her eyes. She wanted to cough, but held it back, not wanting to give Contessa the satisfaction.

  “Please, Madison, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Get it over with already,” a man shouted.

  A frown creased Contessa’s lips. The snake shot out at the impatient guest, mouth open. The ballroom echoed with screams. The serpent’s jaw clamped down around the man’s waist, before lifting him up and violently shaking him back and forth. His legs kicked for a second before going limp. The snake gave one last shake before dropping the blood-soaked man to the floor.

  “Thank you, Dr. Snyder,” said Contessa, “but impatience will never be rewarded.”

  The snake’s head snapped back toward Madison.

  “One last chance,” said Contessa.

 
“She’ll kill you after you tell her,” said Jane. “So don’t tell her shit.”

  “Oh, and I should mention that I have a special surprise for your grandmother’s mansion tonight. A little search and destroy party. I am sorry that you won’t be there to greet your visitors. I feel a tiny bit sorry for anyone else there, though.”

  ***

  “No,” cried Madison. She struggled against the arms that reminded her of Donald Preen, in that flower shop, only these arms were even stronger. They felt like steel bars molded around her.

  To her amazement, he let go. Madison fought the urge to turn around and hit the thug, for all the good it would do. Before she could process her new freedom, the smoky body of the snake wrapped around her. The breath shot out of her lungs.

  “Fuck,” she uttered with her last breath.

  She was lifted her up into the air. Sparkles filled her vision. Attempts to draw in air were met with a burning in her lungs. Then she was falling toward the floor. She could breathe, but the air came in a long wheeze. Terror filled her as she noticed the floor coming up at her and she braced to hit it hard.

  The snake wrapped around her again, squeezing harder this time. Something snapped in her chest. Bolts of agony shot through her left side as the snake pulsated, making sure Madison could feel the broken rib. Her entire body felt as though it was trying to push her organs through her mouth. The worst dry heave in history.

  I’m going to kill you, Contessa, played over and over in Madison’s head.

  The room began to turn black. Terror shot lightning bolts through Madison’s brain, forcing her back to consciousness, only to have the snake squeeze again, snapping the last threads of her strength. The salty taste of blood filled her mouth.

  The smoky body relaxed enough for Madison to take in a breath of pure fire. Her whole left side was going numb from the pain in her chest.

  Madison forced her eyes open and saw Contessa standing in front of her. She was close enough that Madison could have lunged forward and bit her if the serpent would just let her go.

 

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