I eased onto Rosewood Road, which encircled the island. I thought about going home, but Aegis was out of town on a gig so I decided to stop in town for dinner. The guests at my B&B—the Bewitching Bedlam—were well taken care of by Kelson Farsight, my new housekeeper and general receptionist. She was a whirlwind of activity, a werewolf on a mission, so to speak. She loved keeping busy. Not only did she keep the house spotless, she also made the guests feel right at home. I did my best, but I had to admit that Kelson could run rings around me. I made sure she was paid well because I really didn’t want to lose her.
I thought about going to the Blue Jinn, but I didn’t feel like a sit-down meal. While I had been working out regularly, and eating better the past few months, I knew I would never lose my love of fried foods, and right now, I was in the mood for fish and chips.
I eased into the parking lot of the Clam Shack. As I leaned against the takeout window of the combo food truck/takeout joint, it occurred to me that in a few days, I’d be able to drop in at Sandy’s new venture. She was opening a small oyster bar down on the shore, on a stretch of beach called the Strand.
I ordered fried halibut and chips and a cup of clam chowder, then drove down the street to Eygar’s Park, a small park with picnic tables that was directly on the shore. After finding a table and setting out my dinner, I pulled out my phone. Time to try Sandy again.
Again, no answer. Where the hell could she be? I was starting to get worried. I wondered if I should call Max. She might be over at his place. Finally, in between bites of the fish and sips of the chowder, I called him. This time, I got an answer.
“Maddy? What’s shaking?” The weretiger didn’t sound worried, which gave me a momentary relief. He and Sandy were quite the item and things were really heating up between them.
“Listen, Max, I’ve been trying to reach Sandy all evening. She was supposed to be at a coven meeting tonight, and she didn’t show. I’ve been texting her and calling her, but she hasn’t answered. Is she at your place, by chance?”
A breeze sprang up, wafting the scent of roses past me. Floral and spicy, they smelled like some exotic perfume. I inhaled deeply, wondering where the bushes were. Whatever variety they were, I wanted some for my garden. I wanted to make essential oil from them.
“That’s odd,” Max said. “When I asked her to dinner tonight, she said she couldn’t make it because she had a coven meeting. So I know she was planning on attending.”
“I wonder if there was some emergency with Jenna.” Jenna was Sandy’s ward, attending the Neverfall Academy for Gifted Students, which was on the northeastern side of Bedlam. It was up the coast a ways, on a campus that overlooked the water.
“Huh,” Max said. “Tell you what. I’ll call her and then call you back,”
“Don’t worry the girl, though. Sandy could have just lost her phone.”
“I won’t. I’ll ring you right back.”
After he hung up, I polished off my chowder, staring out at the water. Bedlam was a far cry from Seattle, where I lived for a number of years. While I had come here for coven meetings since the 1950s, I had only moved over to the island nine months before, on a drunken whim. So much had changed since then. I had met Aegis, my vampire boyfriend, I had opened the Bewitching Bedlam bed-and-breakfast, and I had settled into a life where I was comfortable and happy. But there were shadows brewing, and I had lived long enough to know that nothing was ever perfect. And that joy was always intermingled with sorrow.
MY NAME IS Maudlin Gallowglass, Maddy for short. Among my nicknames, though, is the one I’m most famous for: Mad Maudlin. And that name, perhaps, represents my essential self. I was born on October 28, 1629, in Ireland, and spent much of my early life traveling between Ireland and England.
Long ago and far away, I was in love with Tom—Tom of Bedlam, as he was called. A different country, a different Bedlam. He was also a witch, and we roamed the countryside, staying a hop and a step ahead of the witch hunters. We posed as minstrels, or rather, my sweet Tom did. He wrote a song that’s now a famous folk song. “Mad Tom of Bedlam,” or as it’s often called, “The Boys of Bedlam,” was about our life, and the “Mad Maudlin” in the song refers to me.
As I said, we journeyed through the countryside, casting our spells and making music and having fun. Tom I met through one of my best friends, Fata Morgana, who now runs with the wild ocean. I found Bubba in 1687, as a kitjin—a baby cjinn—and he traveled with us. Sandy joined us in 1699. We made quite a crew, and we were well known across the lands. Luckily, there was no such thing as the internet then, or GPS, and we were able to evade the Inquisition and their tortures.
But in 1720, Tom and I encountered a group of vampires. Tom summoned a Faerie warrior who saved Bubba and me, dragging us into a barrow mound. But the vampires caught hold of Tom, and they turned him. And my sweet love was no more, lost forever to the night.
When I emerged from the Faerie mound in 1740 and found out what had happened, Mad Maudlin took over, and I ran wild. I took up hunting vampires, and together with Fata Morgana and Sandy, we stalked and staked them—as many as we could. The world became a river of blood as I sought revenge for my Tom.
Until one night we stood on a hill above a village of the creatures, and I rained fire down from the heavens to destroy every vampire in the village. That night, something snapped, and we walked away and threw ourselves into a wild, raucous life for decades. And then…sanity returned. Fata returned to the waves, and Sandy and I left for other places, and other ventures.
Now, I’m here. And I’m in love with a vampire—yes, I recognize the irony. Bubba’s still by my side, and Sandy and I are best friends. As for Fata…who knows where the waves took her? But I’m content. The world is a different place, and life evolves. And I’m happy.
MAX CALLED BACK a few minutes later. I had just finished the last piece of fish and my fingers were greasy, so I grabbed a napkin and used a voice command to answer the phone.
“Hey, Max. Did you find her?”
His voice shaking, Max said, “Yeah. Jenna hadn’t heard from her, but just as I was getting off the phone, a call came in from Delia.”
Delia Waters was Bedlam’s sheriff and mayor. She was also a werewolf, and had become a good friend over the past few months. In fact, my new housekeeper, Kelson, was Delia’s cousin.
“What’s wrong? I can hear it in your voice. What happened?”
Max took a deep breath. “I’m headed to Straitwater Hospital. Sandy was sideswiped earlier in the grocery store parking lot. She’s just regained consciousness. She’s alive, but she’s pretty shaken up—that’s all I know.”
“I’ll meet you there.” I hung up and jammed my phone in my pocket. Damn it, here I’d been ticked off at her for not answering and she had been lying hurt in the street. Feeling seven shades of guilt, I headed to my car, dumping the remains of my dinner in the garbage can.
Chapter 2
THE PARKING LOT of Straitwater Hospital was relatively empty and I found a spot near the building. I pocketed my keys and hurried over to the ER. As I entered the waiting room, I saw that Max had beat me there. The tall, brawny man jumped out of his chair and I threw my arms around him, hugging him tightly. He was shaking. His late wife had died in a car crash and he had never fully forgiven himself.
“How is she?” I glanced around, looking for a doctor.
An odd thing about emergency rooms that had always struck me. While frantic attempts to save lives were going on behind closed doors, in the waiting room, time seemed to stand still, the hands of the clock barely moving as minutes and hours passed by in limbo.
“I don’t know. They said the doctor would be out to talk to me in a while.” For being so tanned, Max looked extraordinarily pale.
I took him by the arm and walked him back to the banquette under the windows that overlooked the patient loading zone. We sat in silence, Max leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor. I r
ubbed his back lightly, watching the emergency room doors, willing the doctor to come talk to us. It seemed like an eternity, but finally, the doors opened and a woman in a white coat with a stethoscope around her neck headed our way, a chart in her hand.
Max slowly stood, a stark look on his face.
I stepped forward and offered my hand to the doctor. “I’m Maudlin Gallowglass, Sandy’s best friend. This is Max Davenport, her…” Boyfriend seemed such a flimsy word. “Her beau.”
The doctor seemed to understand my meaning. She nodded, then consulted her chart.
“I’m Dr. Beems, and Ms. Clauson has given me permission to talk to both of you—also ‘Aegis’?” She looked around.
“He’s not here right now. He’s my…partner.” Again, the word “boyfriend” seemed ridiculous for our situation and ages, but I didn’t want to use the word lover, which wasn’t a total fit either. “How is she? Will she be all right?”
“What happened?” Max asked hoarsely.
“Have a seat, please.” The doctor directed us back to the bench and pulled up a side chair. She consulted her chart. “First, Cassandra will be all right, so take a deep breath and then let it out slowly.” Dr. Beems sounded like she was used to dealing with frantic friends and family. She had an air of patience that I envied.
“At approximately seven-thirty this evening, Ms. Clauson stopped at Kroner’s Grocery. As she headed toward the entrance, a car swung around the corner and slammed into her.”
I winced, trying not to visualize the scene. Max let out a small sound that reminded me of a kitten who had been startled.
“The car then turned and headed toward her again, so we know it had to be deliberate. Cassandra managed to stumble out of the zone for direct impact, but the car did manage to hit her again. It sideswiped her, then drove away as bystanders ran over to help her. She passed out and was unconscious till about half an hour ago.”
The full impact of what the doctor was saying hit me. It hadn’t been an accident. Someone had deliberately tried to run Sandy down and might have succeeded if other shoppers hadn’t been there to intervene.
“Oh great gods, somebody tried to kill her?” Max’s eyes grew wide, then narrowed as the realization sank in that somebody had targeted the woman he loved.
“Yes. Ms. Clauson—Sandy—has a broken arm, a severely bruised hip, and she’s covered with bruises and scratches. She also has a sprained ankle. But she’s lucky it wasn’t worse.”
I blinked back tears. “But she’s going to be all right, you said?”
“Yes, though with that concussion, I want to keep her here tonight to keep a watch on her. She’s going to need care at home for a while. If she didn’t have the sprained ankle, I’d say she could walk out without much of a worry tomorrow, but with her left arm broken and her left ankle swollen, I think she’ll have trouble living alone. Do you know if she has someone who can help her?”
“She has a personal assistant. Alex will be glad to help. And her ward might be able to. I can spend several hours a day helping her.” I was already making a mental list of care-package items, starting with a good bottle of stiff vodka.
“I’ll take a few days off and move in with her. I don’t have any business trips to make for a month or so.” Max glanced at me. “Between Maddy and me, we’ll make sure she’s looked after. When can we see her?”
“Follow me, please. When the sheriff gets here, I’ll have her brought right back.” She turned to the receptionist and whispered with her.
“Everything will be all right,” I murmured to Max. But I wasn’t sure I believed it.
Dr. Beems led us back to the room to see Sandy. The smells of disinfectant hung heavy in the air, and beneath that, I could smell the scent of pain. Humans, shifters, witches, even the Fae—when we’re in pain, it produces a faint odor, which is why animals do their best to cover up their pain so the vulnerability doesn’t show. But witches and shifters—and vampires—all had the ability to smell scents that were too faint for most humans.
We passed through a cold space in the hall and somebody passed through me. I jerked around just in time to see the faint outline of a woman gliding by. She didn’t notice me, and I realized that she had no awareness of the living. She was holding on to this plane by a thin cord, and part of me longed to reach out and cut it for her, to set her free, but that wasn’t my focus and wasn’t why I was here.
Sandy was in a room near the back of the emergency ward. As we tiptoed in, she turned to look at us. Her face was bruised and contused. Her lip was swollen, split in one place, and her left eye was also swollen. Her left arm was in a splint, and her left ankle was elevated, wrapped in a compression bandage.
Max let out a curse under his breath. I wanted to run to her, but I hung back. Even though Sandy and I went back over three hundred years, Max needed to reassure himself that she was, indeed, alive and all right. After he gently kissed her head and murmured something to her that I couldn’t catch, I closed in on her other side.
“If you wanted to get out of the coven meeting, I wish you had just said so. You didn’t have to go to these lengths,” I said, winking at her.
Sandy wrinkled her nose, then groaned. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
“Seriously, Sandy. Who the hell tried to run you down?”
She gave us a tight shake of the head. “Dunno. Damn, my tongue hurts. I bit it when I fell, I think.” She sucked in a deep breath, wincing. “Even my ribs ache, though the doc said they’re bruised, not broken. Thank heavens for small favors.”
The nurse pointed out the chairs we could sit in. “Twenty minutes. We don’t want to tire her out.” She was strong enough and tough enough that neither Max nor I was going to argue with her.
I sat on Sandy’s left side, staring at the broken arm. Max stood to her right, her hand in his. We sat there in silence for a moment before the doctor returned with Delia in tow.
Delia Waters was a short woman, sturdy and strong, and she had straw-blond hair that she wore in a shag. She whipped out a notepad and motioned for Max to stand back.
“I don’t want to interrupt, but I need to ask Sandy some questions,” she said.
Sandy winced as she shifted but said, “Ask away. I doubt if I’ll be very helpful, though.”
As the interview proceeded, Sandy told us that she had been on her way to the coven meeting when she decided to stop off at Kroner’s Grocery for cupcakes.
“I pulled into the lot and parked in one of the second-row spaces—not right in front of the grocery store. I try to walk a few extra steps wherever I go,” she added.
“Good exercise,” Delia murmured. “What happened then?”
“I was crossing the drive right in front of the store when I heard a screeching sound. I turned to my right just in time to see a car swing around one of the rows. It was headed toward me and it wasn’t slowing down. I tried to jump but not in time, so it knocked me off my feet. I thought it had been an accident—reckless teens or something. I was dazed and was just sitting there when the car made a u-turn and headed back toward me.”
“Did you see it coming for you?”
“Somebody screamed, I think. That’s when I noticed it was barreling down on me again. I managed to get to my feet, but I couldn’t quite clear it. I was trying to jump between two other parked cars when it hit me again, but on my left side and that time I managed to roll out of the way. I think that’s when I twisted my ankle, and then my head started to hurt and I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up a little while ago.”
Sandy fell silent. Her eyes teared up.
“Don’t tire yourself,” Dr. Beems said.
“I’ll give you a moment,” Delia said, staring at her notes. “Meanwhile, we got the same story from witnesses—though nobody noticed when the car first hit you. But everything else jibes with what you are saying so you’re remembering it correctly.” She paused. “Do you remember what the car looked lik
e?”
Sandy shook her head. “No, just a flash of blue and that it was some sort of sedan. Everything got fuzzy after it hit me the first time.”
“According to witnesses, it was a navy blue sedan, four door. Nobody noticed what the driver looked like, or whether there was another person in the car. They were focused on you at the time.” Delia let out a grunt. “Is there any chance you remember any part of the license plate?”
Sandy closed her eyes and laid her head back against the pillow. After a few minutes, she shook her head. “I think there was a three and a two in it, but as hard as I try, it’s all a blur.”
“Three and a two. Check. Do you know why anybody would want to run you down?”
That elicited a rough laugh. Sandy winced and held her good arm to her ribs. “Oh, Delia, I’ve made a lot of enemies over the years. And trust me, there have been a lot of years. But lately? None that I know of.” She winced. “My arm’s starting to hurt again, Dr. Beems.”
Dr. Beems glanced at the chart, then motioned to us. “I’m afraid that’s all the visiting I can allow. Cassandra needs her rest.”
“I’d like to post a guard,” Delia said. “Whoever this freak was, they’re obviously out to hurt her. Likely fact is that they know they didn’t finish the job.”
“We can accommodate an officer here. I’ll make arrangements for one specific nurse to check on you every half hour, Sandy. Medically, I don’t think there’s going to be any trauma other than what you’ve already suffered. I’ll be right back.” Dr. Beems slipped out the door.
Delia turned to Max and me. “Don’t get it into your head to go sniffing around before I can do my job. Whoever tried to mow Sandy down could easily include you as targets the next time.”