“It’s not what you think.” Jackson stood on the doorstep between the kitchen and the living room. “It’s not what it looks like.” With a few quick paces, he narrowed the distance between them.
“It’s exactly what it looks like. These are all pictures of me.”
20
SO NOW YOU understand why I had to step in.” Louise’s tone had a big fat “I told you so” about it.
Madison’s heart filled with misery. “Please, go outside. I’ll come out soon,” she ordered her aunt, who nodded in reply.
When the door clicked shut, the words seeped out of Madison’s voice with a tremble. “I trusted you. I thought you’d turned the page on your feelings …” She threw the pictures back on the desk and spun around to get back her self-control.
Jackson stood in front of her, reaching out to cradle her face. “No, it has nothing to do with my feelings …” He blinked and stopped the track of his speech. “There are so many other things you don’t know. I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“By spying on me?”
Why were all the men in her life bordering on cavemen or psychos? Jackson reached for her but she pushed him away.
“Or maybe you hired someone to do your dirty work.”
The shots had been taken over the last week. During the cricket match with Rupert and Monty; when she had been jogging and had the fake fight with Sam; even her shopping for condoms at Boots. How freaking embarrassing.
“That’s my job.”
Her mouth slackened. She did a double take and exploded. “Your job is to tutor me in art history and not to stalk me and indulge in your taste for clueless college girls.”
He flinched and his shoulders drooped. “Don’t say that. Don’t make my feelings for you look so … dirty.”
“You said that we would start from scratch, that you would try and be my friend. You have a girlfriend. Elizabeth …” At least he had sex with her.
Was he in love with her? Is that what he had meant to say? Madison had assumed he was attracted to her, maybe infatuated, but in love … no way. Jackson was so mature, together and waspy. She was, well, she was none of the above.
He cast his gaze downward and rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m trying to …”
He lifted his head back up to stare at her. “Believe me, Madison, I’m trying to be who you need me to be.” His voice trailed off and his brown eyes glistened.
His hurt made her heart sink. She had never really bothered about Jackson’s feelings for her. Pippa had accused her of leading him on, but Madison had swept her reproach aside. She had needed him by her side and ignored what he might have needed from her. But no, no, she wasn’t the guilty one here.
“That”—she pointed to the pictures on top of the desk—“is you trying to be who I need you to be? I don’t need a perv in my close circle of friends.”
“The surveillance has nothing to do with me being in lo—” He stopped abruptly, let out a frustrated groan and shoved the chair away.
Jackson didn’t lose his temper. Like, never.
“Believe me when I say that I want to keep you safe. I might not be family, but …” Another unfinished sentence. He pushed his hand through his thick black hair. “I have to go back to the U.S. That was the call I just took. Something came up and I have to fly to Boston tomorrow. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I don’t want to see you.” Madison walked around the desk. “I don’t trust you anymore.”
“Don’t do this, Madison, please. I’ll explain everything to you when I’ve sorted out this mess back home. Give me a chance.”
“Why can’t you tell me now? Having me under surveillance calls for some serious explanations.”
“I’d like to tell you, but it’s not up to me. Please trust me and wait a few more weeks.”
“I can’t, sorry.”
She didn’t want Jackson out of her life, but her aunt was right. He had his own agenda and he wasn’t ready to come clean. She waved her hands when he stepped toward her. Nothing he said could justify his breach of trust and the photos he had of her. Her shaking legs managed to carry her out to the porch of his Victorian house. There she muffled a sob, rushed down the steps and passed by her aunt, pushing Louise away when she tried to stop her.
“I’m sorry I had to be the bearer of bad news.”
Spinning around to face her aunt, Madison almost barked.
“Really? Because from where I stand, you seem to enjoy the whole process of getting rid of the people I care for, one by one. Who’s next? Ollie?”
“I want you to be happy. The Lord is my witness. I’ve always wanted you to find happiness despite our family … history. But, right now, what matters to me is for you to stay alive. Danger is everywhere.”
Fear struck Madison and she started to scan her surroundings. The night permeated the driveway, and the street beyond glimmered in the silver glow of the moon. Shadows appeared, flickered and vanished. She could smell threat in the air. Fighting off the paranoia, she shook herself.
“Stop putting ideas like that in my head. I already have to worry about Camilla and the baby. And I’m not sure I’m strong, gifted or plain smart enough to protect them.” Based on the results of her latest spirit calling, she felt completely out of her depth.
Her aunt’s brow arched and she lowered her voice. “You want to help them? Really help them?”
“Of course I do.”
“I know people who can help you with that. People who understand your powers, who know where they come from.” Louise took hold of Madison’s hand and squeezed it.
The soft pressure opened Madison. “You mean Aurélie.”
Her aunt nodded. “She’ll help you understand your powers better. All your powers …”
“What do you mean by that?” Madison was immediately suspicious. She had never mentioned the fireballs and book-lifting thing to her aunt.
“Aurélie thinks you can be more powerful than any women in our lineage so far. Your abilities might be much broader.” The truth must have shown all over Madison’s face because her aunt added, “But maybe you already know about them …”
Madison knew she couldn’t avoid the little “calling” chat any longer.
Rupert crashed on his couch and switched on the flat-screen TV that hung on the opposite wall of the living room. He flicked through channels and settled on a reality TV show. He hated reality TV with a vengeance, but it would have to do. Throwing the remote onto the glass coffee table, he leaned against the leather back of the Chippendale, stretched and knotted his hands behind his head. He had to stop thinking about Madison and Buffalo Bill and kick his jealousy to the curb.
His cell sat on the coffee table next to the remote control. His fingers tingled. He wanted to call her, check on her … apologize. Apologize for what? For stepping in when a guy twice her size went all kung fu on her? What else was he supposed to do? Clear his throat and politely ask if Sam would be so kind as to let her go?
Of course, if Madison agreed to move in with him, even for a limited time, this kind of misunderstanding wouldn’t happen. But she had laughed at his offer. Harriet had wanted half of his closet one week into their relationship. Madison didn’t even “forget” her toothbrush at his place. She always paid her half of everything and didn’t let him spoil her the way she deserved to be spoiled.
“Shit!” Rupert jumped to his feet. He needed to exercise, run, box, row … do something. But at nine P.M. the gym was closed and he hated running in the dark.
The doorbell rang and covered the mindless talk of the reality TV stars. Not Harriet again. She had paid him several “impromptu” visits since he had come back from spring break: a champagne bottle that she didn’t want to drink on her own; a cooked dinner she had prepared for him and Monty … Each time, Rupert had cut short her stay and not always with a believable excuse. After the Turf, she should have understood he was so not interested anymore. What would it be this time? Did she need his help to fix her s
uspenders?
He shook his head. Preparing himself for a slut attack, he opened the door wide and stood legs apart.
Jackson McCain.
Annoyance boiled up inside Rupert, followed by fear. “Has something happened to Madison?” The American wouldn’t pay him a nighttime visit unless something was wrong. The only thing they had in common, the only person they cared for—loved—was Madison.
“Not yet. We need to talk.”
McCain stepped inside the house without an invitation and headed to the living room. He had been here once before and the meeting hadn’t gone well. Rupert followed him, already double-clenching jaw and fists. When the professor spun around in the center of the room, hands on his hips, Rupert grabbed the remote and turned off the TV.
“I have to leave Oxford,” Jackson said. “I’m on the first Boston flight from Heathrow tomorrow morning. My father was in a car crash. He’s in a critical condition.”
Car crash, injured parents … Rupert knew all about that. Sympathy tugged at his heart. “I’m sorry, mate.” And he truly was. “But how does it involve Madison?”
“I won’t be here to look after her.”
The guy was so full of shit. Did McCain assume he was the only one looking after Madison, the only one able to? Rupert wanted McCain to know he wasn’t totally clueless anymore. “I know about the Greensleeves ghost, about … Henry the Eighth.” God, had he really said that?
“Unfortunately there’s more. Even worse things are going on.”
The fear Rupert had tasted one minute ago shot back and twisted his gut. “What’s going on?”
McCain started pacing the width of the wooden floor, his hands buried in the front pockets of his jeans. “Her aunt’s connections aren’t as commendable as you’d expect from an Ursuline nun.”
Louise? A danger? “She doesn’t strike me as someone with a lot of connections. The woman is one of the least friendly people I’ve ever met.”
“Don’t fall for it. She knows more about Madison’s powers than her grandmother does. Louise is grooming Madison to become the most powerful priestess in the LeBon line. And the family has already provided two voodoo queens to New Orleans.”
Rupert rocked on his heels and pretended to study the floor. “Grooming? Louise took Madison to boarding school with her and helped her get into Yale. That’s it.”
“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 he
ad 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.
Oxford Shadows Page 11
