“Drink this.” Aurélie inserted herself into the tight space between Madison and her aunt. She held out the same cup that contained the spicy wine, the wine that had marked the end of Madison’s memories. Madison kept staring at the cup and Aurélie shoved it closer to her face, demanding her to obey.
“Maybe not tonight.” The suggestion had come from Louise in a quavering voice. “You can spare her this time.”
Aurélie threw a murderous gaze in Louise’s direction. Madison felt—even if she couldn’t see—her aunt moving away from the open threat.
“Drink. This will make you stronger. It’s the only way for you to explore the powers without your inbred inhibitions.”
My inbred inhibitions … Did her inhibitions have anything to do with not wanting to black out? Or not wanting to be splashed by goat’s blood? If so, then maybe being inhibited was good.
“You have the choice. You can either keep struggling to understand your powers, or you can take a shortcut. This,” Aurélie said, nodding toward the cup, then the singing believers, “is your shortcut to becoming who you’ve always been meant to be. It’s up to you.”
There were two weeks left before the baby’s due date. If there was one time Madison had to woman up, it was now or never. Either she let Camilla and the baby die like she had Pippa, or she could save them. She swallowed the wine. Beurk. The last time it had tasted strong and spicy. Tonight it burned her tongue.
Okay, so she had done what Aurélie required from her. Now Madison needed something from her in return. An explanation. At least the beginning of one, since standing in a circle with people chanting all around didn’t seem like a great time for lengthy conversation.
“I want you to stop being so cryptic.” Madison lifted her chin in a challenge. “Why are you thinking that I am The One?” She used her fingers to emphasize the sarcasm in the last two words.
For once, Aurélie betrayed some surprise. She frowned, as if Madison had talked complete nonsense. “You’re not The One, but your child will be.”
28
A BARK OF LAUGHTER erupted from Madison’s throat, ending in a croak. She stumbled backward, swiveled and drew her arms into her body. Aurélie circled around her and came to face her again. Madison didn’t want to set eyes on her. She raised her hands to ward off the woman’s approach.
After repressing the dry heaving that threatened to convulse her body, Madison almost threw up the words into Aurélie’s face. “You’re insane.”
“There’s an ancient society within the voodoo faith, one born in Africa before our ancestors left for the Caribbean and America. They have always believed that, one day, our religion will have a king … a messiah, just like the Christians have Jesus.”
“I’m not the freaking Virgin Mary.”
Madison’s gaze locked onto Louise’s. Resignation had replaced the earlier fear: resignation and shame. Yes, her aunt lowered her eyes, and Madison was sure she had seen tears in them.
But Aurélie had already started working the crowd with more loud incantations. Voodoo priestess. Rock star. Same thing. She walked along the edge of the half-circle of believers. Except it wasn’t walking exactly, but more like waddling. Her head was held high and her chest thrust out. She lifted her arms and signaled for the singing and humming to increase. The volume was turned up accordingly.
Creole, French and English meshed together in Madison’s ears, making their way between the walls of her skull, banging and bouncing. Ouch. What was going on? Her knees turned to marshmallows. The scene spun around her like a carousel. She clutched at herself, elbows pressed to her sides. Shivers ran up her spine. Scalding hot. Polar cold. Her knees betrayed her and pain radiated throughout her body as she crashed to the ground. From her knees, she shifted forward to thump onto her side.
Louise’s voice resonated across the chaotic sounds. Had Louise cried her name? It didn’t matter anymore. All Madison could hear were the haunting prayers. The only thing she could taste was the coppery tang of blood from her cut lip.
Tiny waves vibrated through Madison’s consciousness. Against the skin of her cheek. Along the side of her arm, hip and leg. She managed to open one of her eyes. Dim light emanated from the dashboard in the front of the car. Fingertips brushed her cheek and chin. She opened the other eye to check who the other passenger was. Louise. The sound of a sniff alerted Madison that her aunt was crying.
A rasping groan made its way out of Madison’s throat. Great. The whole LeBon family was going all teary.
The car took a sudden turn and Madison’s back banged against the car door. With the movement, her stomach badaboomed and she would have retched without Louise’s prompt intervention. Louise opened the window and chilly air hit Madison’s face. The sickness receded. With an effort, she turned back toward Louise.
“What have you done to me?” she cried once she had controlled her breathing. “I wanted to give it a second chance, to see if something changed inside me if I gave it another go.”
A sob was her aunt’s only response.
Later Madison found herself standing alone on the sidewalk opposite Christ Church, in the weak morning light. She had a distinct feeling of déjà vu. Her head felt as if it was tightly wrapped in cotton wool, her mouth like it had done a month-long hike across the Sahara and her stomach a sailing race around Cape Horn.
Louise had wanted to take her back to her home, but Madison wanted to be alone. Not really alone, just not with her aunt. If she couldn’t hold Louise responsible for all the shit going on in her life, the nun had given the deciding shove. Madison let a shaky breath out of her lungs. She rubbed her hand over her face to wake herself up, not wanting to give in to the overwhelming tiredness. After her first excursion into voodoo’s darkest corners, she should have known a return trip would only be more trouble. Still, after Camilla’s rejection, she had taken the risk.
Madison had always looked to others to provide her with solutions. Jackson first, then Louise, then Aurélie. But what if the answers had always been inside her? What if she—Madison—were the key? What if she was the answer?
Louise had introduced her to Aurélie. She had said it was what Madison had always been supposed to do. And Louise had always been the voice of reason in the family. The only one. The whole experience was supposed to make her stronger, not a nauseous wreck. What she had barely managed to avoid before didn’t spare her this time around.
In a couple of rushed steps, Madison reached the edge of the sidewalk, bent over the empty space between two parked cars and threw up. Her stomach didn’t think one embarrassing choke was enough. She kept quivering, shaking and hiccupping. The salty taste of tears mixed with the acrid taste already in her mouth. When the hair curling on both sides of her face parted she would have checked on who was witnessing her moment of shame, but she couldn’t because moving her head even one inch would guarantee another outpouring of her guts. Not good.
“Let it go, Pumpkin. You’ll feel better.”
Sam. Who else? No way he was just passing by.
She felt his fingers rummaging through her thick mass of hair to keep it from dropping into her mouth. At the same time, they slowly massaged the back of her skull, moving down her neck. The soft pressure released some of the clenching and tensing in her body. She breathed in, out. In and out again.
“I feel better, thanks.”
Gently, Sam helped her back up. She leaned against him, still unsure if she was going to collapse. But no, her legs were holding her up again. She introduced some space between their bodies. The nasty taste in her mouth wasn’t something she wanted to share with Sam. Or anyone.
“Are you keeping tabs on me or what?” She expected a denial, or another one of his jokes.
“Yes, I am. And it seems like you need someone to look after you.”
“You’re stalking me.” She wanted answers, but after her vomiting episode the whole speech would have been off-key.
“Come. I’ll take you back to your room.”
Her instinct told her Sam was on her side. She paused then nodded.
His arm wrapped around her, Sam made them cross the road and walk under Great Tom. The man in the bowler didn’t check on them. If he had seen her hurling between cars, in addition to the chauffeur-driven drop-off, her squeaky-clean reputation would be forever tarnished. But right now she had to make it back to her room. Top priority.
Without a word, Sam led her across Tom Quad straight to the door of her dorm. She handed her keys to him and looked up at the steep staircase leading to her studio. To her trembling legs, it looked like the Himalayas.
“Do you want me to carry you?” Sam offered.
She shook her head. One step at a time, she reached the top floor where her door faced Ollie’s. With the other key, Sam unlocked her room and directed her straight to her bed. He sat her there and kneeled at her feet to remove her Converse shoes. Shutting her eyes, she lay down, her head meeting the soft, comforting pillow. She felt him tuck the blanket under her chin.
“Try and sleep. You’ll feel better after.”
Although she kept her eyes closed, she knew Sam was still standing by the side of her bed. After a minute, he retreated. A thought flashed through her sleepy brain.
“You knew exactly which room was mine, in which dorm, on which floor.” Her statement met only silence. “You’ll have some explaining to do, Sam Blackhawk.”
“I know I will, Pumpkin.”
Because she knew Sam would keep his promise, Madison fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
29
WHEN, LATER THAT DAY, Madison reached the ground floor of Rupert’s house, her nostrils flared and her mouth became wet with saliva. Somewhere close by, meat was being cooked. Somewhere close by some juicy meat was being barbecued.
The familiar scent brought a pang of nostalgia to her mind. She rubbed a hand against her heart, where she kept the memory of home. With a sudden drive, Madison followed the trace of BBQ in the air through the living room, the modern-looking conservatory and into the garden. An unexpected sight stopped her in her tracks.
Rupert, an apron tied around his waist, stood in front of a flaming barbecue that was covered with a mass of chicken thighs.
“That’s something I never thought I’d see. The future Earl of Huxbury slumming it and grilling meat in his backyard.” Or trying to make up for scaring off Camilla.
Swallowing any post-Magway resentment, Madison leaned against the frame of the glass sliding door that opened onto the landscaped garden. It wasn’t the average backyard for a student house, but then it wasn’t an average student house either.
“That’s my present to welcome you. It won’t beat your mother’s, but I thought I’d try.” Rupert took a sip from his beer bottle. “Had I left enough space for you to put your clothes?”
Madison moved toward Rupert and dropped a light kiss on his lips. “I have more than half of a dresser for myself. It’s more than I’ve ever had in my entire life. And don’t forget I’m leaving stuff in my room.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, it’s only a ‘half-move.’”
Rupert pulled her against him and started nibbling at her earlobe while his hand searched for the twin dimples in the small of her back, which he adored. His fingertips brushed against her skin, massaged, teased and, in doing so, wired up her senses.
A hungry heat settled between her legs, begging for more than a simple stroke. When Rupert detached his body from hers, she almost stumbled.
“Want to know about my sauce?” he asked, the hot sparkles in his eyes telling her he enjoyed the teasing.
“I guess I do.” Madison pouted and crossed her arms on her chest to keep her hands from hunting for Rupert.
“A wonderful blend of sweet and hot peppers, garlic and chipotle sauce, plus a few more ingredients I can’t disclose. Otherwise I’ll have to kill you.”
“I thought I was supposed to cook you Southern food. Where did you get the recipe?”
“Your mother. I called her yesterday and she swore me to secrecy before telling me anything.”
Madison felt her face changing from a pout to a look of surprise. At the same time her heart melted, really melted, under the warmth of her love for Rupert. “You went to all this trouble. Why?”
After displaying his trademark James Bond eyebrow arch, Rupert answered, his gaze shooting through her fledgling defenses. “Because I know you’re still angry with the way I broke the news to Camilla, and because I want to make you happy. Every second of every day.”
Her lips started trembling and her eyes itching, just as they used to do when she was a kid and an emotion overload was imminent. The first tear didn’t fail to slide down her cheek.
Rupert stepped forward, narrowing the distance between them to a few inches. He cradled her face between his palms and kissed the tip of her nose.
“There’s no reason to cry, Maddie. We’re all good tonight. It’s just you and me.” His lips grazed hers, his gentle touch shaking her to the core.
“I promise you…” His voice broke. “I promise you I’ll be at your side forev— for as long as you want me to.”
Forever. The three syllables plucked at her heart. She had never allowed herself to think there could be such a thing for the two of them. If she kept on coming back for more voodoo night fever there was no chance of that happening because there was no way Rupert would commit to the Virgin Mary of the voodoo faith. And, last but not least, there would be no forever if Madison kept things from him. After Pippa’s death she had promised to play straight with him, to never hide anything from him. She had to honor that promise, even if it came a bit too late.
“I have something to tell you,” Madison said. “But you should take the meat off the grill because it’s gonna take some time.”
Telling was exactly what she did: her aunt’s revelation, the chauffeur-driven car, Aurélie and the farmland, the statue of Ogu and the prayers. But the animal sacrifice, the blood splattering, the sour-tasting wine, and the “mother of the prophet” BS she glossed over. She knew he would have freaked out. Rupert already had enough to process.
He sat down on the edge of the round table on the deck. “Shit.”
Yeah, he definitely has enough on his plate. Twisting her hands in front of her, Madison waited for him to elaborate a little.
“Tell me you’re not going back,” he said.
“I won’t. I thought it would help me, that it would make me stronger to fight Henry and whatever comes next, but it just freaks me out too much.” If anything, the whole experience had left her feeling tainted. “I kept something from you again, and I’m truly sorry for that. After Magway and Camilla’s rejection, I felt powerless.”
Rupert’s gaze fell downward to the tip of his shoes. “I cornered you in Magway and pushed you against a wall. That was wrong of me, but I wanted you to understand that most people aren’t ready to believe … they’re not ready to be helped.”
Madison nodded. “I should’ve expected Camilla’s reaction. It was a bit naïve of me. I’ve grown used to the way you, and Ollie and Jackson, don’t question me.”
“I’m glad we tried, though. Anyway, I’ll get someone to look closer at that Aurélie.” He waved her off when she started protesting. “We have people working on our security details. It won’t take long for them to find out who that woman is. If there’s some dirt to dig up on her, they’ll find it. We’ll use the leverage to convince her she should stay out of your way.”
She nodded. The fact that the Vances seemed to have half of Britain working for them still baffled her. It cost her to rely on their money and influence, but she loved Rupert and the whole high-net-worth thing was part of the package.
“And in the meantime my father’s in Japan. That gives us a few days to come up with the next plan.”
He slid two of his fingers between her skin and the waistband of her jeans and dragged her toward him. She fitted between his parted legs. His hands moved away from her belt and started caressing
the sides of her ribcage. Goosebumps broke out on the path of his caress. When he reached the thin cotton of her bra, her nipples hardened, betraying their need to be cupped. Rupert’s thumbs teased and plucked them.
“Mmmm,” was her only reaction.
She felt his thrusting against her lower stomach through the material of his jeans and the apron. He untied the apron and threw it on the ground. His hands took hold of her bottom, lifting her so her legs circled his waist. Their mouths crashed against each other, and she gave a small bite at his lower lip.
He groaned. “We need to get to my room, otherwise I’ll take you right here on the garden table.”
“Why not?” she mumbled against his lips.
He tore himself from their kiss. “Seriously?” Surprise was etched all over his face. Surprise and excitement.
“Your room,” Madison giggled, “now.”
She hugged him tightly, her arms wrapped around his neck. Despite her added weight, he climbed the stairs two at a time. He slowed down when they reached his bed and lowered her onto the mattress. Madison could have sworn her heart would soon spring out of her chest in sheer anticipation. Rupert stared down at her. He stood on the side of the bed and her skin ignited under his hunger. She supported herself on her elbows, thrusting her swollen breasts upward, challenging him to touch her.
“Get undressed,” she ordered.
Rupert stripped off his shirt one button at a time. His lean torso, and the defined lines of his pecs and abs begged her fingers to touch them. She didn’t have time because he was already all over her, pinning her against the soft material of the duvet. The duvet with his clean lavender smell all over it. The salty taste of his lips gave an edge to the familiar scent.
In a few swift movements, Rupert undressed her down to her underwear. His kisses trailed down the narrow space between her breasts to her belly button, and stopped where her panties started. She buried her fingers in his hair, trying to pull him back. Until now she had never let him go down there, at least not without the soft barrier of her panties.
Oxford Shadows Page 15
