Poison Promise by Jennifer Estep
But the more I looked at the rune, the more I stared at her, the more I saw another rune, another face, another woman. One who was all too familiar to me. I imagined that this new version was going to be just as much trouble for me as the last one was—maybe even more so.
“It’s so lovely to finally meet you in person, Ms. Blanco,” the woman purred, her voice low, smooth, and silky, just like her mother’s had been. “I’ve heard so much about you and your restaurant. I was delighted to find that the food was as good as people have claimed it was.”
It was a backhanded compliment, if that, the sort of zinger that high-class society folks deliver with pomp and panache, as if life is a game they can win by putting people down to score the most points.
Then she smiled, as if she’d thought of that half-assed insult especially for me, and I flashed back to the last time and place I’d seen that soft, sly expression on her crimson lips: Mab Monroe’s funeral.
Back then, she’d been wearing a black veil to partially obscure her face, and I hadn’t had a clue to her identity, but I knew exactly who she was now. I’d had my suspicions the second I’d picked up her fork the first time she’d come into the Pork Pit, although reading through Benson’s ledger had confirmed many of my theories, in addition to finally giving me her full name.
“I’m sure you’re wondering who I am and why I wanted to talk to you,” she said.
“Not particularly. Lots of folks like to come in and chitchat with me about all sorts of things. The weather, sports, books I’m reading, all their best-laid plans to kill me. Some of them are more entertaining than others. You haven’t really impressed me so far, either with your wit or with the lousy tip you told your bodyguard to leave.”
Her smile melted a little at my snarky sarcasm, but she quickly turned the wattage back up on it. This was her moment, her time to shine, her grand entrance, and she wasn’t going to let me ruin it.
She really should have known better—just like her mother before her.
She drew in a breath. “I’m—”
“There’s no need for introductions. I know exactly who you are,” I said, cutting her off.
Her face crinkled a faint bit in displeasure. I was ruining her shocking reveal. “You do?”
“Oh, yeah,” I drawled. “It’s not every day that you meet someone with the same three initials. M.M.M. Quite distinctive.”
Her eyes glittered. “Yes, but do you know what those initials stand for?”
“Of course,” I replied. “It was written down in Beauregard Benson’s little black book, so to speak. He might have been a sick son of a bitch, but he was an excellent records keeper, especially when it came to his drug empire and all of his buyers and suppliers. You were the focus of his most recent entries. Benson made several pages of notes, speculating on how you had perfected your Burn formula and wondering if you had ever tested it on yourself or your giant friend there. I have to admit that I’m a mite curious about that myself.”
She didn’t respond, so I gave her a winning smile and held out my hand to her to shake.
“But you’re right. It is so very nice to finally meet you in person,” I said. “Madeline Magda Monroe.”
31
M.M. Monroe didn’t like having her thunder stolen, not at all, but she recovered quickly. She leaned back, crossed her arms over her chest, and gave me a cool, assessing look.
“I’m sure that you know my name too,” I said, dropping my hand down to the table and mimicking her posture. “It’s Gin, like the liquor. I don’t think that we should stand on formality, do you? Not after all our families have been through together over the years.”
She smiled again. “Like the fact that you killed my mother?”
Mab’s was the face I saw when I looked at Madeline. She had the same cheekbones, the same nose, and the same curve to her lips as the Fire elemental, if not Mab’s coppery red hair and absolute black eyes. Finn and I had long thought that M.M. Monroe had to be some sort of relative of Mab’s, if only given the last name, and we’d considered the possibility that Mab might have had a child, even though Finn hadn’t been able to find any birth records. But it was easy for me to tell that Madeline was Mab’s daughter, one who looked to be about my age, perhaps a year or two older.
I shrugged. “It was no less than she deserved, since she killed my mother and my older sister and almost succeeded in doing the same to me and my baby sister when we were kids. Besides, you didn’t seem too broken up about your mama’s death at her funeral. From what I remember, you weren’t weeping and wailing. I can’t be sure because of that veil you were wearing, but I sort of imagine that you were smiling the whole time.”
This time, Madeline shrugged. “My mother and I didn’t see eye-to-eye on much. Things would have soon gotten . . . difficult between us, if you hadn’t killed her when you did.”
In other words, the two of them would have come to blows and most likely engaged in an elemental duel to see who maintained control of Mab’s empire. Yeah, I could see that happening. And I had to wonder who would have been left standing in the end. Mab had been extremely powerful, but Madeline seemed to have plenty of elemental juice in her own right.
“Either way, it hardly matters now, does it?” Madeline said, waving her hand and making a silverstone-and-emerald ring sparkle on her right hand. It too was shaped like her crown-and-flame rune. “My mother is dead.”
“And you’ve finally come to Ashland to lay claim to your inheritance.”
She smiled again, leaned forward, and steepled her hands together on the tabletop. “Something that I have you to thank for, Gin. My inheritance might have been tied up in the courts for years if you hadn’t uncovered my mother’s will during that whole nasty situation at the Briartop museum. For that, you have my thanks.”
I didn’t want her damn thanks. I didn’t want anything from her. But this was another part of the chess game between us, so I decided to match her move for move.
“What can I say?” I drawled. “I’m all for the truth coming out.”
Her smile widened, revealing a hint of teeth that were as white as her suit.
“Well, now that we know each other, why don’t you introduce me to your friend?”
I gestured at the giant, who was leaning against the counter by the cash register and keeping an eye on Sophia. Apparently, she knew how dangerous the Goth dwarf could be, although Sophia was completely ignoring her and still chopping onions.
Madeline gestured at the giant, who strolled over toward us. “As you noted before, this is my personal bodyguard, Emery Slater.”
Surprise surged through me. Slater? This just kept getting better and better.
“As in Elliot Slater, I presume,” I murmured.
The giant’s eyes were cold and empty as she stared me down. “He was my uncle.”
“And Gin killed him too,” Madeline said, clasping her hands together again. “Isn’t it funny how much family history there is among the three of us?”
“Oh, it’s just a laugh riot,” I drawled.
Madeline and Emery stared at me, but I focused on Madeline. She was the real threat.
“Well, I hope that you’ve enjoyed your time in Ashland so far. I’ve given you quite the tour of the city these past few days, what with y’all following me around in your car.”
Madeline blinked. Apparently, she hadn’t thought that I’d connected them with the black Audi.
“How long have you been in town? I know that you’ve been supplying Benson with his Burn pills for several weeks now. He was trying to reverse-engineer your formula, you know. But he couldn’t quite figure out what your secret ingredient is.”
She let out a pleased laugh. “Sounds like you’ve been investigating me, Gin.”
“Nothing so intense as that. You give me too much credit.”
“Oh, no. I haven’t given you nearly enough credit. You see, I had hopes that you would kill Beauregard, but I admit that I was doubtful about whether you could a
So I’d been right about my strings being pulled and there being another player in this game between Benson and me. I thought back to the night that Troy was murdered and how I’d seen the Audi outside the parking garage. And I realized exactly who Madeline and Emery had been following then.
My eyes narrowed. “You knew that Bria had her sights set on Benson. That’s why you were following her around the night I spotted you outside the parking garage. You wanted to see what she was up to regarding Benson.”
Madeline beamed at me. “Clever too. People really do underestimate you, Gin. But yes, you’re exactly right. Your sister is quite formidable. Benson was rather worried about her and what she might dig up on him. He expressed his concerns to me more than once, so I suggested that he be more . . . proactive about the situation. Really send your sister a message.”
My stomach twisted. “You’re the one who told him to kill her informant Max.”
Madeline gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders. “I merely suggested that he take action. Nothing more, nothing less.”
A sick, sick feeling filled my stomach at the thought that I’d been indirectly responsible for Max’s gruesome murder. That Madeline had used him—and Bria—as a way to get to me.
“Of course, given the number of men Benson had sent after you these past several months, I was hoping that you would take the initiative and kill him yourself, thus solving both of our problems. But that didn’t look like it was going to happen. So I decided to . . . accelerate things.” Madeline favored me with a thin smile.
“By having Benson kill a low-level informant? What did you think that would get you?”
“Why, it made your sister, the good detective, become even more determined to bring him down,” she replied, as if the answer should have been obvious. “I knew that Benson would never allow himself to be arrested and that your sister equally wouldn’t give up until she’d nabbed him. Something would have to give, and I knew that something would be you, Gin. That you would get involved somewhere along the way. Although I have to admit that having your waitress witness one of Benson’s executions was just the icing on the cake.”
I didn’t respond, my mind whirling at her subtle, skillful machinations—and how effective they’d turned out to be.
Madeline leaned forward, her green gaze fixed on my gray one, as though we were two conspirators discussing our secret, hush-hush plans. “You see, Gin, I’ve been studying you these last several months, ever since I spotted you at my mother’s funeral. You really are something of a reluctant assassin, aren’t you? You never kill people anymore unless they target you first . . . or go after your family.”
I had to work very hard to keep from showing any sort of emotion. This bitch had set up Max and even Bria to be killed just so that I would get involved and take care of Benson for her. I thought that I was playing chess with her, but Madeline had really been toying with me this whole fucking time.
I’d always thought that Mab was the most dangerous person I’d ever known, but I was beginning to realize that Madeline was just as deadly, because she was even more devious than her mother. Mab had taken control of Ashland and kept it by ruling with an iron, flaming fist. Everyone knew that crossing Mab would lead to a quick, painful, Fire-filled death.
But Madeline . . . Oh, she would kill people outright, just like her mother had, but I got the impression that what she really enjoyed was playing games—whispering a few words into the ears of the wrong people at the right time and then standing back and watching as the poison promise of her web took shape, trapping everyone in its deadly threads.
One I hadn’t even realized I was stuck in until this very moment.
But I couldn’t help but ask some of the many questions on my mind. “And what does my killing Benson get you? How do you benefit?”
She gave another delicate shrug of her shoulders. “Not having to go through a middleman, for starters. Benson gave me far less than what my drugs were worth, and I knew that he was trying to reverse-engineer my formula for Burn, even going so far as to insist that I share my ingredients list with him. It was becoming most annoying. So I decided to cut him out and take control of the drug trade in Ashland for myself. And you made it all possible.”
My stomach twisted again at how easily she’d played me, but all I could do now was try to figure out what her endgame was and how to keep her from using or hurting anyone else I cared about.
“Benson forced me to take one of your Burn pills, you know,” I said, trying another tactic. “As one of his so-called experiments. He wanted to record its effect on me. I was quite surprised to feel elemental magic running through my veins, along with whatever chemicals are in the drug.”
“Oh, that’s thanks to me,” Madeline said in an airy tone. “I put a few drops of my own blood into every batch of the drug. I knew it was the one ingredient that Benson couldn’t figure out and the one that he could never replicate. My magic is what gives the drug its special . . . kick.”
“Your acid magic,” I said in a blunt tone.
It had taken me a while to figure out exactly what kind of magic she had, but acid was an offshoot of Fire, Mab’s power, so it made sense that Mab’s daughter could be gifted in acid magic. And it would certainly explain the unending burning sensation I’d felt when Benson forced me to swallow that Burn pill. I’d never met anyone with acid magic before, though. It was a rare ability, as rare as me being gifted in two elemental areas.
Madeline smiled even wider. “Very clever of you to figure that out, Gin. Would you like a demonstration too? Here. Let me show you.”
I tensed, but Madeline only reached for the mug she’d been drinking her coffee out of, dragging it closer. It was a sturdy cup, made of solid ceramic that would survive being dropped on the floor. Madeline held her finger up over it. Her eyes flashed a bright, wicked green, and I felt a gust of magic roll off her, the same powerful, burning sensation that had coated her fork that first day she came into the restaurant.
Pale green drops of liquid oozed out of Madeline’s index finger, drip-drip-dripping onto the surface of the cup. One drop was enough to cause acrid green smoke to rise from the white ceramic surface. Two drops made it start to bubble, and three drops made it start to melt. A minute later, the handle of the mug collapsed down into the rest of the ceramic puddle, and her acid was also starting to eat into the actual surface of the table.
“Anyway, I’m so glad that we were able to have this little chat and clear the air,” Madeline purred. “But I’m afraid that I really must be going. I’m finally moving into the Monroe family mansion, and I want to be there to oversee everything. Plus, there just always seems to be some sort of paperwork to sign, per my new lawyer.”
A horrible, horrible thought occurred to me. “Your new lawyer?”
“Well, I suppose that’s not quite right, since he’s someone we’re all quite familiar with.”
Madeline waved her hand at the window. I looked through the glass. One of the back doors of the Audi opened, and a man got out of the car. He wore a suit and was clutching a silverstone briefcase, like any other sixty-something businessman. But his most distinctive feature was the elegant mane of silver hair that swirled around his head, seeming at odds with his smooth, unlined face.
Jonah McAllister, Mab’s old lawyer and my personal nemesis.
McAllister saw me staring at him and gave me a mock salute before bowing low. Malice glimmered in his cold brown eyes, and I knew that he was enjoying my absolute shock and surprise at this little bombshell that Madeline had just dropped in my lap.
“I have big plans for Jonah,” Madeline said. “No one knows more about my mother’s business dealings than he does. He’s been helping me get up to speed on all sorts of things in Ashland.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Not at that moment. Instead, I looked at the three of them in turn.
Madeline Monroe. Emery Slater. Jonah McAllister.
My worst nightmare co
I stayed rooted in my seat, but Madeline gracefully slid out of the booth and got to her feet.
“As I said before, it was so lovely to meet you in person, Gin. I’m sure that we’ll be seeing more of each other very soon.”
She gave me one more smile, then headed for the door, which Emery was already opening for her. My two newest enemies strolled out into the fall night to greet my oldest one. As the door shut behind them, the bell attached to it chimed merrily, as if announcing the start of a new boxing round.
Ding-ding-ding.
Madeline had definitely landed the first punch. All I could do was hope that I could withstand the rest of the fight—and the knockout blow that was coming sooner rather than later.
32
Their business concluded, Madeline, Emery, and Jonah got into the Audi and drove away.
I sat in the booth for several minutes after they left, thinking about my conversation with Madeline and all the not-so-veiled threats on both sides. Silvio cleared his throat, then got up, walked over, and slid into the opposite side of the booth from me. He watched what was left of the ceramic mug continue to bubble as the green acid burned through it and the tabletop.
“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Ms. Monroe,” he murmured. “As well as her earlier one with Ms. Slater.”
“You couldn’t help it?”
He shrugged. “Vampiric hearing has its uses.”
I didn’t respond. Silvio cleared his throat again.
“Obviously, she wants to kill you,” he said. “But she also wants to wipe out everyone and everything that you care about to send a message to everyone else in Ashland. She wants to hurt you in the worst way possible. So does the giant. They were talking about their plans for you during dinner. Monroe wants to make an example out of you to the entire underworld, so that she can more easily take control of things. She’s not going to kill you immediately. She wants to make you suffer first. She wants to eat away at you a little bit at a time, much like the acid on that cup, until there’s nothing left but a brittle shell that she can easily smash and destroy at her leisure.”