Bewitching Bedlam Read online

  SO, INTRODUCTIONS ALL around. My name is Maudlin Gallowglass. Maddy for short. I’m older than the hills—or at least older than most of you. I was born on October 28, 1629. Figure that I’m 387, going on thirty. Nobody could ever accuse me of being mature, though I’m fully grown and a damned powerful witch.

  The Gallowglass family has magical roots going back to the days of Stonehenge. You know that folk song “Boys of Bedlam” that a gazillion groups have covered? There’s a girl mentioned in it—“Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes, for to save her shoes from gravel.” And the Bedlam in the song wasn’t anything like the Bedlam that I live in now.

  Yeah, that girl was based on me. Nobody in the history books seems sure who wrote the song, although there are claims that someone named Thomas d’Urfey penned it. But I happen to know the truth. Tom (the Tom of the song “Mad Tom of Bedlam”) was my boyfriend and he wrote it. D’Urfey just swiped it. There was a lot of literary pilfering going on back then.

  Tom (my Tom) wrote a number of songs as we escaped England to return to Ireland. We traveled for years, trying to evade the witch hunters. We passed as wandering minstrels and never stayed in one place too long. But it wasn’t the witch hunters who finally got him. No, it was the vampires. They trapped us, but I escaped, thanks to him. I’ve never forgotten his sacrifice. And I remembered the vamps who turned him. They paid. Mad Maudlin made sure.

  So yes, I’m Mad Maudlin, though these days I tend to go by just plain Maddy. I left Mad Maudlin in the past, which is the safest place for her. That part of myself can be a lot of fun, but she’s scary as hell and not always nice. I’ve kept her under leash and key for nearly three centuries. The day I let her loose, heaven help whoever I’m targeting.

  Six weeks ago, I was living in Seattle in a condo I had won from my ex in our divorce settlement. I was also bored out of my mind. On a drunken dare from my best friend Sandy, I decided to take a look at an old mansion on Bedlam—an island in the San Juans.

  The look turned into the decision to buy. From the moment I laid eyes on it, all I could see in the decaying old mansion was a beautiful bed and breakfast. I admit, not all of my reasons always came with the best of intentions. Selling the condo and using the money to buy a dilapidated old house would piss the hell out of my ex, Craig. That alone was enough to make me hand over the check. Anything I could do to thwart his scrawny, pompous ass, the better. But something about the mansion also charmed me.

  Moving to Bedlam had been an eye opener. As I said, Bedlam’s both an island and a town—in fact, the entire island is the town. Founded by magical folk, it’s a wonderland for the Pretcom—the preternatural community. All sorts of Otherkin live here—Weres and shifters, witches and Fae. In other words, just about anybody with magical powers or a supernatural background is welcome, though there were a few humans around, too. Although vampires are kept under strict observation. They aren’t exactly welcome, but neither are they shunned. They just have to mind their manners and not feed on the locals. We do have a local vampire queen living here, which is a tad bit scary, but there’s not much we can do as long as she follows the rules.

  It’s not that Otherkin avoid humans. In fact, some of us like humans a lot. Hell, I married one, till that went south. But one bad human doesn’t mean they’re all bad. However, Bedlam offers us the opportunity to be ourselves without feeling like outsiders. We need a place to call our own. In this corner of the nation, Bedlam is it.

  When Sandy convinced me to move back and I bought the house, I wasn’t aware that a vampire came attached, as well as a ghost. While I can handle Franny, Aegis and I had a few scuffles about whose house it actually was. We settled the argument in bed and that’s all she wrote. Instant connection: instant sparks. We seem to have a connection that goes back a long ways. Past-life stuff, perhaps. But the end result is that he’s my boyfriend. He’s also a rock star. Or at least an up-and-coming one. I try to balance my natural antipathy toward vamps with my attraction for him.

  Franny, of course, is the house ghost. She also came with the mansion and I don’t have the heart to chuck her out. And Bubba—well, he came with me. Bubba’s a cjinn, but more about that later. He’s a little butthead, mostly, but I love him and he loves me, as much as a cjinn can ever love anybody but himself.

  End result? The four of us are settling in, trying to learn to live together as one odd little family. Aegis and I are overhauling the mansion into a bed and breakfast fit for a king. Or at least, a guest with a fat wallet. And I’ve named it “The Bewitching Bedlam Bed and Breakfast.” It only seems fit.

  I GLANCED AT the clock. It was going on seven-thirty. Outside, the dusk was deepening. “You’d better get a move on. You know that Jack-Az doesn’t like the entertainment to show up late.”

  “Jack-Az can bite me,” Aegis said with a smirk. He slid out of bed and wandered over to where his clothes were scattered together with mine.

  I couldn’t stop staring at his butt, which was one of the finest butts I had ever seen. Tight, muscled…firm ass. Oh yes.

  “Or rather, I wouldn’t mind taking a bite out of him,” Aegis continued. “He’s a pain to work with.”

  Jack-Az was the owner of Utopia, Bedlam’s biggest nightclub. He wore his name well, although his real name was Johann Azrial Bähr. He was a bear shifter who had been active in both World War I and II. He had a crusty temperament, but he provided free eats on the side, and right now, the Utopia offered a continuing gig for the Boys of Bedlam, Aegis’s band.

  The Boys of Bedlam were in the process of making a demo tape, but they were having trouble making the connections they needed in order to get it in front of any big-name DJs. They planned on releasing their first CD under their own label but getting airplay, especially among the growing surge of indie bands, was even harder than it had been before the big labels started to fall off in popularity. It didn’t help that Sid, the band’s bass player, had just had his fifth kid. His wife needed him around a lot, so it was difficult to tour while he was in the throes of being a new father again.

  I let out a soft sigh, wrapping the blankets up around my shoulders to keep warm. “Jack-Az has a good reason for his issues. He still suffers from PTSD from World War II. You know how rough it was over there. He lost a lot of family members who were part of the Black Forest Pretcom Resistance.”

  The Black Forest Pretcom Resistance had been a united group of Otherkin who were connected to the Yugoslavian resistance movements against the Nazis. A lot of them had died, but they had been instrumental in fucking over the German troops who entered the woods. They had helped sabotage Hitler’s war machine in ways most people never knew about. They had also run an underground railroad, aiding the escape of a number of humans who were targeted by the Nazis.

  Aegis grunted. “I know, and you’re right. Jack-Az deserves to be as crusty as he wants, given his service. We could use more like him. I’m just talking trash. I don’t mean anything by it.” He began to squeeze into his leather pants.

  I watched as his balls and dick disappeared under the front of the tight jeans. “Um, aren’t you going to shower first?”

  “Nope,” he said with a wicked grin. “I like having your smell on me, you gorgeous witch. You smell like honey and cream and peaches.” He zipped up, then turned around. “Dust me off for the show? It sucks not being able to use a mirror.”

  I laughed. “At least I can play your personal stylist. Come here, you big lug.”

  I slid out from beneath the silk sheets. I was happy with Egyptian cotton, but Aegis liked silk. With a critical eye, I circled him. His pants were clean and still a little too new. They hadn’t reached that creased-comfort zone yet. His jacket was heavily adorned with hardware—studs, chains, zippers. I adjusted a couple of the zippers and he stroked my face. On his right index finger, he wore a large square ring. Gold, it was engraved with a sunburst pattern on the flat surface, and a carnelian cabochon nestled in the center. The ring was a memento left over from the
time when Aegis had been a servant of Apollo.

  Aegis had been cast out on the whim of a god, turned away from the sun, which he worshipped, and changed into a vampire—one of the Fallen. But he hadn’t let it destroy him, nor would he destroy others through his powers. Not willingly. The other thing Apollo left him besides the ring was his voice. Aegis’s voice was as sensual as Jim Morrison’s when the lizard king was at his best. Aegis actually looked a lot like Morrison, too—only with longer hair, larger muscles, and a vampire glamour.

  “Do I clean up well?” he asked, tapping my nose with his finger.

  “You clean up so yummy that I’d yank you back into bed if we had time.” Satisfied that he was ready, I stepped back and patted his chest. “You’re good to go, gorgeous. Remember, we’re having the after-show party here. We may not have much furniture, but we’ve got the space and it’s the first time…”

  I paused. I had been about to say it was the first time we had planned a party together, but that sounded way too clingy, considering we had only been together six weeks. But he understood.

  “I’m excited too. The boys in the band know you, but now I get to show you off. And maybe this will help the neighbors quit being so prissy about having a vampire for a neighbor.” He laughed, then zipped up his coat and headed for the bedroom door. “You’ll have everything ready when we get back?”

  I nodded. “Sandy’s coming over to help.” Sandy and I had seen the bottom of way too many wine bottles together. She was the friend who would help me hide the bodies in the middle of the night.

  “Don’t start the party early, please.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

  Laughing, I threw a pillow at him. “Get out of here. I’m going to shower and dress and then start setting up.”

  As Aegis darted away from the pillow and slipped around the door, I padded into the bathroom for a shower. The first thing on my renovation list for the mansion had been to hire the Alpha-Pack—the local werewolf pack that owned the main contracting company on the island—to revamp the bathrooms. They had reno’d all six of them first thing after I moved in. Now, in my en suite, I had a huge spa tub, a walk-in shower, and a two-sink vanity.

  I turned the water in the shower and slipped beneath the rainshower showerhead as the pulsing side jets beat a welcome tattoo on my body. Leaning my head back, I settled in as the warm water washed over me. The day had been long and chilly, sex had been sweaty, and there was nothing like a shower of warm water and amber-scented soap.

  As I loofahed my arms and legs, exfoliating everything I could reach, a faint click caught my attention. The bathroom door had just opened.

  What the hell? Had Aegis forgotten something? Bubba couldn’t open doors, at least not that I knew of. I cautiously wiped away a patch of condensation from the shower door and cupped my eyes to peer out. Sure enough, there was somebody in the bathroom with me, and it wasn’t Bubba. No, whoever this was was bipedal, at least.

  I considered my options. I was stark nekkid, but I didn’t need clothes to use my powers. I could attack first—send out a nasty ball of energy to whap whoever it was, or I could try a paralyzing charm.

  The former would hurt anybody who wasn’t immune to fire and lightning, but if it was a friend, they’d be fried. Not that most of my friends came creeping into my bathroom, but I wouldn’t put it past a few of them. The latter would only work on humans, and there just weren’t many humans on Bedlam. As I squinted, trying to figure out my uninvited guest’s motives, I detected the scent of musk and wine beneath the lingering fragrance of the amber bath gel I was using.

  Hell. Musk? Wine? Those scents were all too familiar. I slammed open the shower door, almost breaking the glass, as I managed to startle the satyr. Standing there large as life, his denim shorts sporting a tent pole that would do any male proud, Ralph Greyhoof was holding my hairbrush in one hand, a plastic baggie in the other.

  I stepped out of the shower, planted my hands on my hips, and barked out, “What the hell do you want in my house, Ralph? And what are you doing with my hairbrush? You have ten seconds to answer before I fry your freaking ass right into the hospital.”

  Chapter 2

  RALPH DROPPED THE brush. His erection deflated immediately. With satyrs, everybody knew when their cocks were crowing a wake-up call—the scent alone was enough to floor you. Being around a horny satyr was like hanging out with an elk herd during rutting season.

  I’d dated one many years ago—a satyr, not an elk—and I’d had one of the sorest pussies around. Satisfied, but sore. Satyrs were huge—they couldn’t help it, but not a lot of women dared take them on. There were times when I looked back on that relationship and wondered why I had left him. After the vampires caught my sweet Tom and turned him, I’d let myself off the leash. And when my friends and I finally walked away from the carnage, we had thrown ourselves into playing wild and free, taking multiple lovers and paramours. The wine and magic had run rampant. But after a while, the madness diminished and Sandy, Fata, and I had moved on.

  “I’m not doing anything.” Ralph Greyhoof shifted his eyes. He was lying, of course. I knew him from way back and I knew that he wasn’t prone to telling the truth. Satyrs were smart and they were sneaky. Underhanded? Not necessarily. Sneaky? Always.

  He leaned against the vanity, eyeing me the way a hungry kid eyes a candy dish. It suddenly dawned on me that wandering around naked in front of a satyr might not be the best idea. I reached for my robe and slipped it on, belting it tightly.

  “Then you tell me what the hell you’re doing in my bathroom.”

  “You didn’t answer the door.” Ralph frowned, staring at my boobs. Well, at the chest of my bathrobe.

  “Eyes on my face, Ralph!”

  He grumbled, but met my gaze.

  “I didn’t answer the door because I was taking a shower. You don’t just walk into someone’s house if they don’t answer their door, you idiot.”

  “Sorry.” He didn’t mean it, of course. “I’ll go now.” He started to backtrack toward the door.

  “Hold it right there.” I leaned down to pick up my brush and place it back on the vanity. As I saw the hair in the bristles, it dawned on me just what he had been doing. “You were after some of my hair, weren’t you? What are you up to, Ralph?” I shook the brush at him. “And don’t you try to bullshit me. I’m one of the most powerful witches on the island and you know better than to fuck with me, Greyhoof. Why were you stealing hair from my brush?”

  He froze in his tracks, letting out a sigh that sounded more like a snort. He was tall and imposing, but he was afraid of me and that’s the way I wanted to keep it.

  Around six-three, his biceps gleamed, and the fur that clung to his goat-like legs was silky, brown, and plush. Ralph was a fairly handsome guy. His eyes were wide and slanted ever so slightly. A rich, dark topaz, they gleamed with Otherkin light. His braid hung down to his butt. He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a muscle tank.

  “Somebody asked me to.” He spread his hands. “Honest. Business has been slow and I figured it couldn’t hurt to take a side job.”

  I tapped my foot. “I don’t believe you. You’re up to something, Ralph Greyhoof, and I plan on finding out what. But for now, just get out of my house and don’t you ever come in again without permission.”

  He shuffled his hooves, his pretense at innocence falling away. He pressed his lips together but then bluster took over. “Yeah, well quit trying to pinch my customers! We were here before you. You just saunter over here to the island, take up with a vampire, and then try to put us out of business? You’re a leech, Maddy Gallowglass. A leech!”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake. Not this again.”

  Ralph Greyhoof and two of his brothers—George and William—ran a B&B a few miles away. Or rather, a bed-and-brothel, I liked to call it. The satyrs offered more than just a nice room and muffins for breakfast. They catered mostly to women, mostly, and their weekend specials came with a smile and
a little sumthin’-sumthin’ extra. We weren’t really competition, but the Greyhoofs didn’t believe it and they were convinced we were aiming to put them out of business, even though the Bewitching Bedlam B&B was a lot more innocuous than the Heart’s Desire Inn.

  I confiscated his plastic bag and motioned to the door. “Out of my bathroom. Get your ass downstairs to the kitchen and we’ll talk.”

  He gulped—I saw his Adam’s apple move—and, after a brief stare down, turned tail and headed downstairs. I followed, deciding I’d better search him for stray strands of my hair before he left. Hair made for powerful magic. Blood was better, but hair worked just fine when you wanted to cast a spell on someone. Which is why I still had a plastic sandwich bag full of hair and bloody tissue from my ex, Craig. While we were married, every time he cut himself shaving, I fished a few of the toilet paper shreds out of the garbage and tucked them away for insurance.

  In the kitchen, I put the kettle on for tea and handed Ralph a plate of cookies. “Sit your ass down for a moment. You do realize what my boyfriend would think if he found out a satyr crashed my shower in the middle of the night? And what he might do for payback?” I was feeling particularly snarky. Might as well make him sweat.

  And sweat he did. Ralph turned an ugly shade of green. “You wouldn’t really do that, would you, Maddy? Come on. We go back too far for that sort of torment.” He fiddled with one of the cookies before setting it down with a grumpy sigh. “Listen. I really don’t know who the chick was, but she offered me five hundred for some of your hair. I wasn’t going to lay a whammy on you—I know better than that. But it’s the off-season. And this old decaying hunk of house is looking mighty nice now. Too good to ignore for tourists. You’re going to ruin our business.”

  “I am not. We have two entirely different types of clientele.” I pursed my lips, not wanting to feel sorry for the lecher, but I couldn’t help it. Ralph and his brothers had dreamed big since the day I met them, which was shortly after I joined the Moonrise Coven. They never quite reached those dreams. They were always looking for the next big thing, the next get-rich-quick scheme. Their inn was the most practical thing they had ever done in their lives.