by Jason Winn
“Now my dear, let’s talk about Nancy Mosby’s Moonmilk. How is it made?”
Madison tried to fire off one more “fuck you,” but the snake was still too tight.
“What’s that?” Contessa asked. “Snake got your tongue?”
The stars in Madison’s eyes were so numerous that she might as well have been staring into an exploding firework. But something twinkled on Contessa’s wrist. Something familiar. It looked like the bracelet she’d brought to the party. But, someone had stolen it from her. Asshole.
“Oh this? You like this?” Contessa held up her arm. It was the same arm holding the cigarette. “It was a gift from my late husband Guido. He had a little habit of defying me, which landed him in the same situation you’re in now. He’s no longer with us, though.”
Madison felt so tired now. As if she could just go to sleep. Her eyelids started to close.
“Wake up, deary,” barked Contessa. “We have so much to talk about. And, I don’t want to keep my guests waiting. What you tell me could save your precious home and whoever happens to be inside. So, one last time. What is the recipe?”
The bracelet. That was it. She needed to be able to speak though.
Madison opened her mouth as if she was going to speak. The snake loosened just enough.
“I’ll tell you,” the words came out in tattered breaths.
“Madison, don’t,” shouted Jane.
“Jitsuko, kill the hired muscle. It’s very distracting.”
With that, the sword was raised over Jane’s head.
Chapter 88
Sarah sat in the front parlor, staring at her phone. She tried to will it to ring, desperate to know how Madison was doing. It had been too long, in her opinion, and every terrible possibility ran through her head. Madison was tied to a chair, being tortured. Madison was in handcuffs, having gotten pulled over in a minivan death machine. She was looking at federal crimes, with all the shit that was in that thing.
“Miss, this is going to be a terrorism charge,” the asshole state trooper would say. “Off you go to prison for the rest of your life. And we’re going to need to round up all your little friends that helped. Why, look here. These machine guns aren’t listed as belonging to you. Hmmm, that’s going to be another life sentence.”
The possibilities for failure were endless in Sarah’s head. This had been a stupid plan and while she loved Madison, that girl was going to get them all thrown in jail. She wanted to smoke a joint to calm down, but Madison needed her firing on all cylinders, so she stayed sober.
Red and blue lights tracked across the ceiling. Sarah eased up from her chair and walked over to the window looking over the front lawn. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of at least a dozen police cruisers, parked two abreast, down the driveway. They lit up the trees and garage like a terrible Christmas display.
“Oh Jesus, Maddy. What did you do?”
In desperation, Sarah pulled out her plastic bag of pot and stuffed it between some chair cushions, before running to the back of the house. From the ballroom, she could make out flashlights scanning the north lawn. Dogs barked.
“Dana!”
There was no answer.
“What’s going on, honey?” It was Margaret. She shuffled in from the kitchen where she was making supper.
Sarah rushed past her to head upstairs. She didn’t really know why she needed to find Dana and tell her the cops were outside, but it seemed like the right thing to do. She could hear heavy boots on the front porch now.
“Dana,” she cried again.
Still nothing. Where was she?
Dana’s bedroom was empty and while there were probably a hundred other places she could be, Sarah gave up. The cops were pounding on the door now.
“Police. Open up. We have a search warrant.”
***
Shelby’s phone finally fucking buzzed. She’d been waiting all day for this call and now she was in her pajamas, lying in bed. It was Anna Fulbright from the office.
“What have you got?” asked Shelby.
“That office building was owned by Marriott, but it was sold to a company named Mid-Atlantic Management.”
Another lead. Shelby slumped in her chair. Jacob glanced up from his book, with that “I’m going to bed” look.
“Who owns that company?” asked Shelby.
“That’s where it gets interesting. I traced the ownership through several LLCs in Delaware, and I think it’s owned by Blue Petal International.”
The words set Shelby’s mind ablaze. A torrent of adrenaline surged through her. She shot up out of bed and dashed downstairs, ignoring Jacob’s questions.
“Say that again,” said Shelby as she looked for her car keys.
“Blue Petal. Aren’t you related to the owner, somehow?”
Very related, Shelby thought.
Madison was in danger. Someone was using Blue Petal as a front for magical items. She found her keys and darted into her office to retrieve her pistol from the lockbox. She shoved the pistol down her pants and made for her car.
As she started the car she got a whiff of the purple bag she’d taken from the office building, and a terrifying thought rattled her.
Could Madison be the Rose Widow?
Shelby recalled the smell in the bakery that day she’d picked up her cake. It was the same as the stuff in the bag. There was no mistaking it. The events started to crystallize: Robard dying and Madison taking over the mansion, the sudden management change at Blue Petal. Had her grandmother been involved as well? Did that have something to do with her disappearance? How could she tell Connolly this?
“Oh God, help me,” she whispered, right before the tears started welling up.
She started the car.
Chapter 89
Madison sucked in enough air to make her lungs feel as though they’d pop. She didn’t want to take any chances.
The room fell completely quiet, save for Jane’s last gasp.
Madison shouted a single word as loud as she possibly could: “September!”
Concussive bangs and pops, along with blinding flashes, lit up the ballroom. It was a capital fireworks show as the starlight crystal on her bracelet detonated in Mr. Asshole-Thief’s pocket.
Partygoers screamed and ducked, trying to avoid the comets of sparks tearing through the air. The white birds that had been circling above the party evaporated, their spell broken. Ice sculptures collapsed on frenzied people, killing or injuring them as the clear godlike statues came crashing down.
Madison fell to the floor, as Jane leveled the little ninja with a right hook. The mask shattered, revealing a young girl. Blood poured from her nose and a gash on her cheek.
Contessa’s snake evaporated, and Madison could see her take a step back on the bandstand.
The sword that had been hanging over Jane’s head slid across the floor and landed in front of Madison. She grabbed it and swung at Contessa’s legs. The folded steel blade found the old woman’s knee and sliced through bone and flesh, severing the bottom half of her leg. Contessa fell to the floor in a heap, blood pouring from the stump. Her mouth hung open in agony and disbelief.
Gunfire rang out as the onyx-faced mannequins started firing in all directions. Bloody guests dropped to the floor as the mannequins fired through anyone standing between them and Madison and Jane. Screaming, hysterical people scrambled everywhere.
“Jane,” shouted Madison.
Miss Hennessy, in her powder blue gown, came lunging at Madison with a dagger, only to have her head explode in a red mist as a bullet tore through her.
Heavy fabric dropped over Madison’s head, and she felt something wrapping around her again. She panicked and swung her sword around at the threat. Jane’s face appeared.
“Bulletproof vest from one of those things. Come on, get on your feet.”
A man fell screaming into Jane; he was clutching his shoulder. Blood shot through his fingers.
“Still got your phone?” asked J
ane.
“I think so,”
“Good. We’re getting outta here.”
Jane wrapped an arm under Madison’s shoulders and pulled her to her feet. At the same time, she pulled the sword out of Madison’s hands and replaced it with the AK.
“Shoot anyone in front of us,” said Jane.
Madison’s chest pain was excruciating, but she found that she could walk. The way in front of them was a wall of people scrambling to get away from the chaos. An ice sculpture of a goddess fell right in front of them, clearing the path.
Before they reached the main corridor, Madison turned back.
“November,” she shouted.
A thick cloud of mud fog lifted up from the center of the room, cutting off the mannequins.
“That will hold them for a bit,” she said to Jane.
Jane drove the sword into a fat woman blocking their escape. More gunfire rang out behind them. Wood splintered away from the walls next to them. Madison turned and fired wildly into the pursuing guests and mannequins. She cursed herself for losing the bracelet and the healing crystal in it. It was her last one.
The crowd thinned at the main doorway as people scattered in all directions, ignoring their cars and fleeing for their lives. The two made it to the minivan and got in. Madison took the driver’s seat, while Jane rode shotgun. It started on the first try and they were off.
“We’ve got to intercept whatever’s going on at the mansion,” said Jane.
That’s goddamned right, thought Madison.
***
As they sped down I-95 toward DC, flanked by the bikers, Madison had an idea.
“Hey,” she said. “Call Sean and see if he can get a picture of Contessa.”
“Why? Wanna sneak back into the party and kill everyone?” There was no humor in Jane’s voice.
“No, but I’ve got an idea. And, you’re going to need to steal a cop car.”
“Okay,” Jane said cautiously.
Madison explained her plan, to which Jane thoughtfully replied, “That’s the least stupid thing you’ve thought of so far.”
“I guess running for my life clears my head.”
Madison pulled out her phone and called Graves.
“Yello,” he said.
“Graves, get over to my house immediately. I think some shit is going down.”
“Any idea what?”
“No. Just get over there.”
“You’re the boss. I take it you’re not there at the moment.”
“No. I’m twenty minutes away.”
“Okie dokie.”
“And Graves, be careful.”
“I always am, babe.” He ended the call.
Madison’s ribs screamed with every swerve and jolt of the car. The machine guns rattled incessantly, something she hadn’t noticed on the way up, but now her senses were heightened, and everything seemed to compound the pain inside her.
“Sean says he’s got a picture of Contessa,” said Jane.
“Good. Tell him to meet us at the mansion after we figure out what Contessa’s people are up to.”
A rage to kill anyone associated with that woman burned hotter than her ribs. She was going to end that fucking bitch, tonight.
Chapter 90
A red Porsche flew past the minivan, so fast the thing shook.
“Jesus,” said Jane. “Think that’s Graves?”
“Fucking hope so,” replied Madison.
Madison didn’t get a look at the driver, but she was pretty sure it was Graves. A tiny bit of relief chiseled away at Mount Anxiety, but she was certain that whatever awaited her was more than Graves could handle on his own. Contessa wasn’t going to take any chances, especially after the party. The bitch was probably telling her people to burn the place down.
If only Madison had the Audi, she’d beat him back to the mansion. Instead she was pushing a soccer mom taxi, weighted down with a few hundred pounds of “life in prison” hardware.
As they drew close, Madison saw the police lights cutting through the trees.
Come, on Graves, she thought. Earn your money.
One police car sped away from the house, down the driveway. It turned onto the street, its headlights blinding Madison and Jane for a moment, before tearing off down the road.
“Shit! Was that Sarah in the back seat?” said Jane, her hands pressed against the window.
Madison whipped her head around, but it was too late. The car was gone around a corner.
Now, she was faced with a terrible choice: go after Sarah or try and figure out what Contessa had done, before losing her leg. She chose the latter and started to turn into her driveway. Dana, Wrench, Han, and Margaret were possibly still in the house.
“Wait,” said Jane, grabbing Madison’s arm.
The police cars were backing out of the driveway, trundling along with their lights off. All they could make out were the white reverse lights bobbing up and down as they pulled out into the street and took off in the opposite direction Sarah had been taken.
None of the officers paid the minivan so much as a glance.
Graves, you did it, thought Madison. The muscles in her back and shoulders loosened a bit.
She felt a twinge of relief, in spite of her burning chest.
The minivan slid forward, down the driveway. She was going to give everyone a big hug. Grave’s car had slammed into the side of the garage. It was a smoking mess, having punched a hole in the wall.
“Looks like there’s one left,” said Jane.
Madison squinted. She could make out one strange car, which looked like an unmarked police cruiser, parked by the garage. A large figure stood in front of the house.
Madison’s headlights lit up a horrifying scene. The big man held a pistol, and there was a body on the ground. Graves knelt next to them, his hands in the air, a terrified look in his face. He was saying something like “no, no, no.”
Jane raced out of the car before it came to a stop, AK-47 aimed at the man. He spun around and raised the pistol at Jane. She opened fire, but he was too quick for her. His pistol barked twice. Jane collapsed.
Then, Madison recognized Caymen Darrow as the shooter. He turned the pistol toward her and fired. Madison ducked instinctively, screaming at the new pain in her ribs. Shards of the windshield fell on the back of her neck. She saw the cable release for the machine guns and yanked it. The minivan’s sides fell open with an audible “clunk.”
Madison willed herself back up to see Graves jump out of the way. At the same time, Caymen’s eyes went wide as a stunned deer. He sprinted to his left. Madison stomped the accelerator and yanked the steering wheel to the right. She pulled the cigarette lighter. The car shook backwards.
Hot tracer rounds chased Caymen Darrow, Z’s killer, Reese’s killer, and god knows who else’s. They streaked through the night air. Right before he reached the safety of the trees, the tracers found their mark. A cloud of red mist and chunks of raw meat sprayed into the woods as he was cut down.
Madison let off the trigger and stopped the car. She got out and was relieved to see Jane rolling onto her back, coughing.
“I’ll be okay,” she gasped, tapping the bulletproof vest over her dress.
Then Madison turned to see Graves walking back to the body lying in front of the house. Her heart sank. Margaret lay motionless on the ground, in a pool of blood. Her glassy eyes staring upwards.
“No,” Madison screamed. “No, no, no.”
Tears filled her eyes, and a new soul-crushing pain replaced that of her broken ribs. The grief overwhelmed her. It bore down on her like an elephant, until she finally collapsed next to Margaret. The old woman had been a mother to her. And the last of her healing crystals was somewhere in Contessa’s ballroom.
An image of Sarah flashed in Madison’s head.
“Where’d they take Sarah?” asked Madison.
“I don’t know,” said Graves. “I got most of them to leave, but by the time I got here she was already in the car and tak
ing off. The big fella must have figured one of us was a sorcerer and started shooting.”
Jane walked over. She carried a mangled chain studded in crystals and dripping with blood. She threw it on the ground.
“That’s pretty much all that’s left of him,” she said.
Madison wished he’d shot Graves first. Maybe Margaret would still be alive.
What the hell am I going to tell my parents? she thought. Or, Shelby and Dana?
She was busted for sure now. Shelby would find out the truth and on top of losing a cherished friend, she’d be thrown in jail for the rest of her life.
I get it, Grandma, she thought. I get why you left. This is no kind of life. You were right to leave all of this.
Graves looked up, toward the road. “Oh, that’s probably not good,” he said.
“The fuck now?” asked Madison as she wiped tears from her eyes.
“It looks like your sister, Shelby,” said Jane.
***
The car rolled to a stop and Shelby got out. “Oh, my God!” she screamed.
“Graves,” said Jane, her eyes darting to Shelby.
“Right,” he said. His voice was tired, and Jane couldn’t help but notice his eyes glazing over with a milky film.
Shelby froze in place, her eyes locked on Madison rolling around on the ground. Dust mixed with the tears streaming down her cheeks to form muddy streaks.
Jane pulled the bulletproof vest off with a groan. The .357 caliber rounds had left huge bruises on her chest, but she was alive, still, and that was enough. She could sit with ice packs over her tits later.
“Can you make her do what you want?” Jane asked Graves.
“Make it quick,” said Graves. “I’m running out of steam.”
Jane dusted her dress off and pulled out her phone. She sent a text to Sean and then held up her phone for Graves to see.
“Make her go here, thinking she’s there to meet one of her informants.”
“What’s his name? Shit, hold on.” Graves wavered a bit, like a dizzy kid.
Jane came over to hold him up.