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 top of 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 f**king 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 had 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’d come 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.”