Oxford Shadows (16 page)

“That’s not it at all.” McCain’s hands moved in jerks. “Louise is closely linked to some of the most extreme representatives of voodooism. People who believe in centuries-old prophecies, twist them and are ready to do anything to make those ancient legends come true, even killing.”

Rupert whistled, then scratched his jaw. “You’re going all conspiracy theory on me, doctor.”

The professor bridged the few paces separating them. His eyes burned with anger. “Don’t joke with me, Vance. Not if you really care about Madison.”

“Shut up.” Rupert scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m her boyfriend. I’m the one sharing her life.”
And her bed.
“How do you know about Louise’s circle of friends anyway?”

McCain’s head jerked backward. He stepped back out of Rupert’s personal space. “I know. That’s all I can say for now. Listen, Rupert, I’ll probably be away for a couple of weeks.” The use of his first name convinced Rupert that Jackson did need something from him. “As soon as I’m back I’ll talk to Madison, to you. In the meantime, watch out for Louise. Okay?”

“I will.”

McCain tipped his head sideways, studying Rupert’s face, trying to make up his mind about Rupert’s commitment. Seemingly satisfied, he nodded, then circled around Rupert and headed back to the door.

Before Jackson could step into the night outside, Rupert said, “I’m sorry for what happened to your father. I hope he’ll get better. I know …” Four years after his mother’s death, it still hurt thinking of the end. “My mother was involved in a car accident.”

McCain froze, then swiveled to face Rupert. “My dad’s crash wasn’t an accident. Someone wants me as far away from Madison as possible.”

After Jackson had closed the door behind him Rupert kept staring ahead, across the empty space. Nobody—absolutely nobody—would take him away from Madison. Nobody would hurt her … or they’d have to walk over his dead body.

21

MADISON FROZE underneath Great Tom. She stared down at her Converse shoes, struggling to take the extra step that would propel her into St. Aldate’s. Once she left Christ Church there would be no way back, no reverse. She would walk through the night, straight to Jericho. But tonight it wouldn’t be to Rupert’s house. Instead she was going to a derelict Baptist church where she would meet her aunt and Aurélie. Apparently things were moving quickly in the secret clans of voodooism. Madison had given her consent only a few hours ago, and she was now to have a formal meeting.

Kind of a shotgun wedding. And she had a serious case of pre-wedding jitters.

Maybe she was rushing into things. The revelation that afternoon about Jackson’s stalking, the car incident, her miserable failure in contacting Liliana … the last days had been a pit of disappointment. Loneliness had caused a thickness to settle in her throat. She felt the lump each time she swallowed. She ought to give her aunt and her friends a chance. Given how her own research into “Greensleeves” had hit a dead end, Madison was open to all the help she could get.

Less than three weeks.
That was the time she had left to save Rupert’s baby sister. If she understood that part of herself, the voodoo part, maybe she’d be stronger to fight for Camilla. With Jackson gone her support system had crumbled. Aurélie might have some magic powder—
anything
—to boost Madison’s powers and enable her to kick Henry the Eighth’s ass.

Yes, I really said that.

Plus, maybe she was different, special … Her ancestors had been psychic, but none of them, as far as she knew, was gifted with telekinesis. The fireball thing was her own little secret.

The bowler man who guarded the entrance of the college was watching her with a slight frown. She had been gazing down at the edge of the entrance too long. She forced herself to break into the most charming smile she could muster. After all the events of the Hillary term—her room being burglarized, then becoming a murder scene—Madison didn’t need to stand out any more in the eyes of the Christ Church authorities.

Walking through the arch into St. Aldate’s, she rushed onto the sidewalk, took a mouthful of the chilly April air and infused serious intention into her legs. She had made up her mind and she would stick to her decision.

Psyching herself up, she lifted her chin … and met the denim-blue gaze of Sam. His broad shoulders blocked her line of sight. Judging by his square stance and the arms that were crossed over his chest, he didn’t intend to move out of her way.

“Just when I wanted to see Pumpkin, Pumpkin appears. It must be magic.” His mouth twisted into a half-smile that magnified his mocking tone.

She feigned checking the time on her watch. “You wanted to see me … at this time of the night?”

“Not too late for you to go out, apparently. You don’t strike me as a night owl, though. Any party I could join?” He arched his eyebrows.

The gesture reminded Madison of Rupert and the thought of him punched her right to the core. Sam’s rising brow had a totally opposite type of hotness going for it. “I’m not going out. I mean, not to a party.”

“Meeting up with the boyfriend then?” He whistled. “And there I was worrying that the two of you might be breaking up.”

If she denied meeting Rupert, her late outing would look suspicious. Sam was bent on asking more questions. So she neither confirmed nor denied.

“I’m running late. Can we talk … tomorrow?” She should have tried to get in touch with him, apologize about the krav maga fiasco and Rupert almost beating him to a pulp. “I’m sorry for what happened with Rupert. I dragged you into our mess …”

“Don’t worry about that, Pumpkin.” Sam tilted his head toward her and a thick lock of his midnight-black hair fell over his forehead. “I’ve had my share of punches. I’ll survive.”

Madison brushed his hair off his forehead and immediately took a step back. The gesture had been intimate. She didn’t want to give Sam the wrong impression, that Rupert had had good reason to pick a fight with him.

“I must go, I’m running late. Let’s catch up tomorrow.” She sidestepped and moved past him.

He grabbed her arm and gently pulled her back to face him. “Are you sure you’re making the right decision, kiddo?” The pressure applied by his fingers on the curve of her elbow intensified. “Sleep on it.”

Huh? What was he talking about? As far as he knew she was making up with her boyfriend tonight. Surely he couldn’t know about the Baptist church, where Aurélie and Aunt Louise were waiting for her. Not unless he also had a surveillance camera pointed at her.

“Sometimes you don’t really have a choice,” she answered vaguely.
You have to do what you have to do.

“You always have a choice.” His hands moved from her elbow to her shoulders, and he bent down to allow their gazes to meet on an even level. “There’s always a third road to take, a back path to walk down.”

Madison shook herself in an attempt to free herself from Sam’s grasp. “Goodnight, Sam.”

She walked around him with a mumble and forced her legs to speed up. He hadn’t been talking about Rupert. And that was bloody worrying. When and how did he ever get involved in all this?

22

SCANNING THE CROWD around her, Madison wished she had known her first proper meeting with Aurélie would be with the lady … and twenty other people. She would have requested a slightly more private occasion.

No pressure.

Did all these people live in Oxford? She must have asked her question out loud because Aurélie replied.

“Only those of us in Oxford and London could make it tonight. It was too short notice.” The words flowed out of Aurélie’s mouth with a sensual mix of guttural and soft sounds. Her French accent was more pronounced than Madison remembered from their previous, albeit brief, encounter in Louise’s prayer room a week earlier.

“It didn’t need to happen
tonight
.” Madison wasn’t sure what it would entail anyway.

The black woman towered over Madison, but her height didn’t tone down the sultry vibes emanating from her curvaceous body. “We are keen to welcome you. We’ve been waiting to welcome you for so long.”

“I’m … I’m not … I’m not sure …” Madison stammered.

Aurélie took hold of Madison’s hands and lifted them. Her thumbs started massaging the center of Madison’s palms. The priestess’ skin felt like silk against hers. Her touch untied the knots that had formed in Madison’s muscles on the journey from Oxford. The Baptist church hadn’t been her final destination. Louise, in a chauffeur-driven silver SUV, had picked her up there and brought her to this farm half an hour from the city center.

“You will be fine,” Aurélie murmured. “Do not worry.” She continued the massage.

Madison let the soft pressure untangle her emotions and diminish her apprehension. She allowed herself to surrender to Aurélie’s hypnotic voice, to her reassuring presence. Doubts knocked at the door of her consciousness, but she refused to heed them; her desperation to find some peace was overwhelming.

“What are you wearing under your sweater?” Louise’s question hauled Madison straight out of the state of abandon Aurélie had induced. “We need to access your skin and it’ll get stained anyway.”

“Stained?” Why would a nun want her to go skinny-dipping?

Madison’s concern caused her aunt to frown.

“Do not worry, child,” said Aurélie. “We’ll take care of everything. Give what you are wearing to your aunt, then follow me.”

Aurélie had an answer to all her questions, to all her concerns. Not having to think, not having to worry was something Madison enjoyed … at least for tonight. She pulled her sweater off and dropped it over her satchel, which lay at her feet. Underneath she was wearing only a black tank top. Aurélie pointed at her shoes and signaled for her to remove them as well. Madison obeyed and her bare feet soon met the cold, rough surface of the stone floor. The crowd—whose skin colors went from dark mocha to pasty white—proceeded through the gates of the barn into the night, leaving Madison and Aurélie behind. Chilly air wafted inside, causing goosebumps to break out on Madison’s skin, triggering a sense of exposure.

Aurélie smiled at her and tipped her head toward where the people had disappeared. Madison felt as if she was on a cliff top and everyone expected her to jump off. By her side, Louise squeezed Madison’s elbow and gently pushed her forward. Even her aunt wanted her to. Forcing one foot in front of the other, Madison headed stiffly outside.

The barn stood on the edge of a field. The expanse of grass basked in the silver glimmer of the moon. The dampness of the ground turned her feet and the bottom of her jeans wet. The believers had congregated in a half circle around a fire, facing what looked like an altar. When Madison approached the source of light and warmth, the attendants moved aside, making way for her. Their eyes were fixed on Madison, full of expectation, burning with blind faith. She lifted her chin and ignored them. She had attended similar rituals with Mamie back home.

That was when the drumming and the humming started. She walked around the fire to the front of the altar, where Aurélie held a cup toward her, inviting her to drink its contents. The liquid, a spicy wine, caressed her palate. Soon a cinnamon aroma lingered on her tongue. Sip after sip, warmth snaked down her throat, slowly spreading throughout her body, clouding her thoughts. Her skin tingled.

“This is Ogou.” Aurélie’s eyes were set on a wooden, primitive statue. “He is the spirit of Earth and fertility.”

The voices of the crowd covered the drumming by reciting Our Fathers and Hail Marys. A song replaced the prayers, first in French, then a litany in Creole followed that celebrated all the saints. They also spoke of
loas
, the lesser deities who acted as messengers between voodooists and God. Aurélie explained all this to her in a low whisper at her side.

Having started slowly, the believers worked themselves up into a frenzied dance. The music resonated louder and louder in Madison’s head. Liquor circulated, loosening inhibitions. Madison’s vision slowly blurred, her senses gradually numbed. She lost track of time.