Off Track: A Romantic Magical Quest Series (The Madeline Journeys Book 1) Read online

  Off Track

  The Madeline Journeys Book 1

  P. A. Wilson

  Perry Wilson Books

  Contents

  Free Books

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Please leave a review

  Free Books

  Also by P. A. Wilson

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Free Books

  Sign up for the new releases newsletter and get a starter kit of all my books.

  CLICK here to get started: Give me my free books

  1

  “What the hell,” Madeline said, turning the page in her diary. “Simon, get in here.”

  At this time in the day, she should have been in a meeting. It was right there, her first appointment; 10:00 am discuss the deposition for the Michael’s case. It was 10:05. No one was in her office except her. She could clearly see across the tops of heads in cubicles, that the glass-lined conference room across the office floor was empty.

  “Simon,” Madeline shouted, shriller than before. “Where the hell are you?”

  “Here,” Simon answered as he came through the open door. “What’s the problem?”

  “Where are the people for the Michael’s case?”

  “They canceled.” He leaned across and opened her desktop Outlook icon. “Look, I sent you an email. You should really check your emails before you freak out.”

  “Great, thanks for the lecture. My crackberry needed charging. Anyway, I like paper notes. They don’t run out of power and turn themselves off. Can you just remember to leave me a note on my desk next time there’s a schedule change?” Madeline stabbed her finger to the desk as if to point out the exact spot the message should have been. “You know I don’t check emails first thing.”

  “No prob.” Simon nodded. “I can do that.”

  The lights went out with a snap and the sudden cessation of the underlying buzz of electric power.

  “Damn, now what?” Simon looked around as though someone would answer.

  The only light came from the bank of windows along the east wall. It was raining, as usual, so it wasn’t enough to light anything past the first row of cubicles.

  “Shit,” Madeline said. “Do you think it’s another drill? If it is, I am so not going down. Go find the floor warden and tell him I’m unwilling to leave.”

  “Uh,” Simon hesitated. “You remember the last time when they made us leave and then wouldn’t let us into the building until everyone else was back at their desk because we held up the drill?”

  Madeline reconsidered. “You’re suggesting we just go along? Like sheep?”

  Simon shrugged. “It’s up to you, but it might be faster in the long run.” The emergency lights flickered on. “And if it’s not a drill, do you really want to die here?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Madeline picked up her black Coach purse and pushed Simon ahead of her towards the stairs. “Get going. I’m right behind you. Where the hell is the warden anyway? If this was a real emergency, we would be dead waiting for direction.”

  Simon led her towards the stairs and double-checked the sign on the door, “We’re taking the green stairwell.” He looked at the people starting to drift toward the refuge area. “If we go now, we’ll beat most of these people down to the street.”

  Madeline looked around and couldn’t see the fire marshal. He was probably doing a sweep of the floor to confirm everyone was leaving. After four bomb threats in two months, people knew the evacuation process inside out; assemble in the refuge area and wait for instructions on which of the two doors to take. She stepped out of the four inch heels and picked them up. Now she stood five foot two and had to look up at Simon’s five eight.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said giving Simon a not so gentle push toward the door. “If we get down fast enough, I can get a Starbucks for the wait. If we go right now, I’ll buy you a latte too.”

  Simon pushed open the door to the stairway as a voice came over the speakers. “Please wait for instruction from the floor warden. This is not a drill. Please make your way to the refuge area and prepare for evacuation. Do not return to gather your belongings; do not remove your shoes. Please wait for instruction.”

  Madeline gave a small chuckle as she let the door close behind her. She hiked up her black pencil-skirt and hurried down the stairs behind Simon. The soft buzz of the emergency lights almost covered the sound of voices on lower floors. Madeline felt the dusty dryness catch in the back of her throat as her breath sped up with the exercise.

  “Hey,” she managed to say without allowing the cough out. “What did you find out on the Juneson file?”

  “Are you serious? You want to debrief as we run down eleven floors?” Simon turned his head and grabbed the handrail to stop from falling down the stairs. He saw Madeline’s nod and rolled his eyes. “Okay, the investigators found out Michael Juneson kept three different accounts stashed away from his wife and mistress. According to an online calendar we found, he was planning to leave the country on Friday.”

  Voices floated over the clack of doors opening as people from each of the twenty floors started their journey down to the safety of the street. Evacuees gossiping and guessing about the cause of the alarm filled the previously clear stairwell.

  “Damn, stop talking, people will hear,” Madeline said.

  Simon motioned her to the left side of the stairs; the new people were filing down close to the right wall. “Keep left and keep moving. That was the sixth floor.” He reached behind him to take her hand. “Don’t get separated from me. We can finish this at the Starbucks across the street.”

  Madeline felt her pace increase and tried not to fight for control. Keeping her focus on moving and getting out of the building, she looked at the door as they passed. “Fourth floor, we’re almost there.”

  “Uh huh,” Simon stopped as a large man in a black suit stumbled through the door to the third floor.

  The alarm continued to sound as the building emptied one floor at a time. The dry click and shuffle of twenty floors of work shoes echoed off the walls of the stairwell.

  Body heat pushed up the temperature and raised a thin coating of sweat on Madeline’s forehead. “Two,” she counted out. Then the emergency lights blinked twice and went out. “Damn and blast it to hell.”

  “Keep moving, we’re almost there.” Simon gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Look the emergency team is here already.”

  Madeline looked up and saw a faint light ahead; its flickering was odd, but reassuring. A sudden shivering itch ran over her body and she pulled back on Simon’s hand.

  “What?” He turned back to her. “You can see the steps, don’t worry.”
<
br />   “Okay, just give me a second.” She took a breath and the itch calmed.

  “You got it man. I’m right behind you.” Simon looked back at her again. “We are supposed to follow this guy, you ready?”

  She felt the other bodies in the stairwell push against her and hugged the wall a bit tighter as she tried to speed up.

  “If you let me fall, I will make your life a living hell, Simon.” She struggled to keep her balance at the speed he set. Simon’s tug pulled her to the left around the corner of the stair. The press of the other people vanishing as she moved.

  “What’s going on?” She tried to pull Simon to a stop but he kept her moving. She could see the light shine on one wall then another as their guide swung his arm. The walls changed from slabs of concrete to bricks; she felt dampness chill her skin. “Where are we, Simon? Where is everyone else? If I don’t get a latte soon I’ll start screaming.”

  “Don’t freak out. I can see light just down the corridor. The door is open. We’ll be in Starbucks in a few minutes and you can buy me a vente mocha to apologize for your yelling.”

  Madeline laughed. “I’ll get you your mocha but I won’t apologize and you know it.”

  They walked through the doorway and she felt cool grass under her feet. Then the sight of tall trees made it to her brain. Her little inner voice screeched something’s wrong!

  “What the…” Simon let go of her hand and spun around. “Where the hell are we?”

  Their guide walked to a small group of people in the middle of the clearing. He threw back the hood of his coat and ran his hands through dark blond locks. The rest of the group consisted of a woman, four men, and eight horses. The blond man turned to face Simon and Madeline, bowed, and beckoned them over.

  Madeline turned to go back through the door and saw what had made Simon stare. A tree occupied the place the door should be, a massive tree, a tree so big it would have been a tourist attraction anywhere else, like that tree in California you can drive through. There was no door. No outline of a door and no hope of a return to the office building they had been evacuating mere seconds ago. She turned again and faced the group across the clearing.

  “What the hell is going on?” She stalked toward the woman who sat on her horse staring down at Madeline. The large, muscular, blond god smiled at her, his blue eyes fixed on her face. “Who are you? Never mind, just send us back or tell us how to get back, and we’ll forget all of this. If you don’t, we are going to sue that smile off your face pretty boy.”

  “Madam.” He bowed again and Madeline blinked in disbelief. “May I present the Lady Arabela of the Summer Lands?” He gestured to the haughty woman on the big red horse. “And, I am Sir Jode Montgomery of the Lower Plains. I offer you my service and my protection for as long as you need it.”

  Madeline felt fog creep at the edges of her sight. She was way out of her area of expertise, a new experience for her. “I don’t need protection. I need to go back. Open the freaking door in the tree.” She felt her cheeks burn and her throat tighten. In her peripheral vision, she saw Simon step forward.

  “Simon DiPalma, executive assistant. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Simon stood feet together arms relaxed at his sides. He nodded his head slowly in an approximation of a bow. “This lady is Madeline Victoria Higginbottom of Brown Wilson and Jones attorneys at law.”

  “Simon.” She spun around and marched back to him, finger pointing at his chest; all her anger and fear focused on him. “Don’t act like you are at a cocktail party. We’ve been kidnapped.”

  Simon took Madeline’s arm and pulled her until she started moving towards the group. “Just play along,” he hissed to her. “There is no way we’re going back through the tree. These people seem to want to be friends, and until we figure out what’s-what, we need friends. Hey, it might just be fun.”

  “Fun? You asshole. How am I going to get on one of those horses in this?” She pointed to the tight fitting black skirt that narrowed at her knees.

  2

  The woman, Arabela, said something to one of the other men and he adjusted the saddle on a black horse, allowing Madeline to sit sideways and balance by holding the front and back of the saddle. Simon scrambled onto the back of a grey horse, and then the group set out. Two men held the reins of their horses tightly to lead them. All Simon and Madeline had to do was stay in the saddle.

  Madeline listened to the quiet words spoken by the welcome party. She glanced at Simon and they shared a shrug.

  “It looks like no one is going to talk to us. Any ideas?” he asked. The look on his face bothered Madeline. He was smiling, and his eyes were scanning the forest around them. Was he enjoying this?

  “No, and stop having so much fun. We are getting out of here as soon as I have a chance to negotiate our release.” She swatted at a flying insect. It swerved around her hand and flew at her face. “Damn, bugs.” She tried swatting it again and almost lost her balance.

  “Take care, madam.” Sir Jode dropped back from his position beside Arabela. “It will not harm you. It only seeks to understand what you are.”

  “What I am is angry. Why won’t people talk to us? Are you some kind of spokesperson? Who do I talk to about a ransom?”

  “A long list of questions.” He smiled. Madeline’s heart flipped but her temper put it back into place.

  “So, how about some answers.”

  “In good time.” He put up his hand to forestall her next set of questions. “Others aren’t speaking to you because they cannot speak your language.”

  “But you can.” Simon joined in before Madeline could snap out the same question. “Why is that?”

  “Another good question. Are all of your people so full of questions?” Jode waited for an answer.

  Madeline jumped in before Simon could speak. “Yes, and until we get some answers we won’t stop asking. Look, buddy, you just took us from home and brought us into this hallucination. The least you can do is give us a clue about what’s going on.” Her tone was as calm as she could make it. She was well aware that the anger burning a hole in her stomach was showing as a blaze of red across her cheeks.

  “I speak your language because Lady Arabela has provided me with a temporary translation skill. The others have not been so transformed.” He turned his head as Arabela called his name. The only thing Madeline understood was Jode, the rest was a liquid bubble of unfamiliar syllables. Jode excused himself and rode forward.

  Madeline realized she had been gaping in astonishment and snapped her mouth shut. She turned to Simon who was shaking his head. “Um.” She paused to try to compile a coherent sentence through her fury and confusion. “Temporary translation skill… what do you think… I mean, do you have any idea what’s going on?”

  “Well, from the pain in my ass from this damn saddle, I’d guess we’re not sharing a dream. I don’t know of any drugs that would give us the same hallucination.” He shrugged. “I have no idea, but I think it might be a fun ride as long as it lasts. Why don’t you just play along?”

  “Are you really suggesting we should just go with the fucking flow?” Madeline grabbed the saddle again after losing her balance when she threw both hands out in frustration. “We’re somewhere, or some when, only one person can talk to us and he’s at the beck and call of princess freaking Arabela. By the look of it, the plumbing and the medical practices will be medieval. There will be no TV, no movies, no MP3s, no real entertainment. There will be… Shit, what about my clients?”

  “Chill, someone will take care of the clients.” Simon tried to reach out to pat her arm, but quickly took hold of the saddle when the horse stepped the opposite way and he started to slip to the side. “Look, you don’t have any control. This isn’t a courtroom. You can’t reason your way to a win. This is something else. Until you can find a way to control this, yes, I’m saying go with the flow.”

  He turned his gaze back to the surrounding trees. “Think of it as a spa retreat. Maybe a bit of rest and disconnection from
work will do you good.”

  The sharp scent of pine cut through the ripeness of the horse smell and filled the air making her look around at the scenery. Simon was right; it was like the area around Lake Louise where she’d attended a law course last year. It was all a bit raw and fresh for her taste. I felt as though the earth had just finished the upheaval of forming the mountains looming over the top of the forest in front of them. The trees were too big. She expected to see one lift its roots and start walking along beside their party.

  Madeline straightened her back and tried to maintain balance with her stomach muscles. She took riding lessons as a teenager and she tried to recall what she’d learned so she’d be able to ride without the trainer reins, if she could get her hands on some more appropriate wear.

  As they passed, the travelers occasionally set a flock of birds into rattling flight, or surprised a group of what looked like deer into a bounding escape. Most of the time though, the only sound was the creak and jingle of the horse tackle punctuated by airy horse snorts.

  “Chill, go with the flow,” Madeline muttered. “I guess it’s not a bad tactic. But just wait until I can speak to people. Someone is going to regret bringing, me here.”

  “I am truly sorry to have upset you.” Jode’s voice broke through Madeline’s muttering. “We will be at the castle soon. Lady Arabela has instructed me to inform you she will perform the translation spell on you as soon as we are able to find some privacy.”

  “What does that mean? I’m not sure I want someone putting a spell on me.”

  “It is nothing painful.” He paused. “And it will only work if you wish it to do so. The spells Lady Arabela casts are what we call sympathetic spells. It requires the permission and involvement of the recipient.”

  “I have no reason to believe you.” Madeline could feel her blood thickening in her veins at the thought of giving control to someone. “How do I know she won’t make me cluck like a chicken and dance the tango?”