“No way. I want a doctor to look at you.”
Madison grabbed Rupert’s wrist with unexpected force. “It was Henry’s fault.” Her voice pounded. “Take me to your room. I’m fine. Just take me away from here.”
Her clenched jaw told him there was no point arguing.
For now.
26
MADISON MANAGED to sit straight on the cushioned deck chair overlooking Magway’s gardens. The spring light radiated over the manicured grounds. She could feel no physical repercussions from last night’s near-death experience in the lake. Only bone-deep fatigue.
Her stunt as a real-life Ophelia had been her second unsuccessful go at cutting her life short, and both times had been at Magway. Rupert had saved her again, like he had when Peter had convinced her to do the big jump from the top of the staircase.
“I’ve added a bit of milk, just the way you like it.”
Rupert laid the cup of tea and saucer on the round table in front of Madison. He pulled up the woolen blanket to wrap her more tightly. “I still think you should stay inside, or better, in our bed.”
From the second Rupert had taken hold of her frozen body in the lake, he had not let her go. He’d rushed her back to their room—going through a side door to avoid attracting attention—undressed her and stepped under the scalding hot water of the shower with her. His own clothes must have been just as freezing, but he hadn’t seemed to care. Instead he had kept massaging her skin, her arms, her legs. Slowly the blood had started to pump again through her veins. When he had wrapped her in the thick softness of the towels and dried her hair, she had finally managed to control the shivering.
He had laid her on his bed, removed his own clothes and snuggled next to her for the rest of the night, sharing his own body’s warmth, caressing her hair, kissing her neck and murmuring soft words to chase the nightmares away.
Madison wouldn’t have expected Rupert to have it in him: the nursing and careful parenting. Now her gaze dived into his while he kneeled at her feet. Her love for him filled every cold recess in her body and soul.
But Madison couldn’t let go. She couldn’t procrastinate or postpone. Not anymore. They had to break the news to Camilla. They had to make her aware of the danger lurking under her own roof.
“We need to talk to Camilla before she returns to London,” she said. “You promised me.”
“Let’s try and better understand what happened last night. Maybe we should …”
He stood and walked away from her. His back turned to her, he leaned over the railings that enclosed Magway’s terrace.
“What should we do?” She didn’t want her question to sound like an accusation, but didn’t he understand that Camilla and the baby were next on the firing line? “You still don’t believe me”. She swallowed a sob and felt as though she was strangling with pent-up frustration.
Rupert rushed back to her feet, his hands over hers. “I do believe you, Madison, but to most people—and that includes Camilla—it’ll sound like utter rubbish. I know you’re dealing with real threats. But I’m selfish …” He buried his face in her knees and left his train of thought unfinished.
“Why are you selfish?”
His head jolted upward and his eyes glistened. “I want to take you away from all this. I don’t want anything to happen to you, even if it means … God!” His hands covered his face.
“Even if it means what?” She prompted him again.
Slowly his hands slid down his face. She noticed the sudden paleness in his complexion. His voice sounded broken as he finished his sentence: “Even if it means someone else must die.”
His confession took her aback, and she jerked against the cushioned back of her chair. Rupert was afraid for her, but that couldn’t justify letting Camilla and the baby die.
“Even if a baby must die?”
Rupert shook his head slowly in defeat. “That’s why I know we have no choice. I can’t help pushing it as far away as I can.”
Madison wanted to sweep away his fears, tell him she wasn’t in danger. But that was simply not true. There had already been enough omissions and half-truths in their relationship. And she was guilty as charged for that. She couldn’t add another one. Instead she laid her hand on his hair and slowly caressed it. She leaned forward, kissed his lips, and felt them tremble under hers. Rupert wasn’t a coward; true courage was embedded in his bones. But he had already lost the only other woman he had loved. In the bend of a Cotswolds’ road.
“We can fight this time around.” Madison put as much conviction in her words as she could.
Rupert cocked his eyebrow, clearly not understanding, so she explained.
“What happened to your mom, it was bad luck: the rain, the night … it happened. But I can fight for my life, for Camilla and the baby. I know who I’m up against. We need to focus on Henry, on what needs to be done.”
“But how can you—”
“Henry must be destroyed.” She dreaded the effect of her next words. “We have to warn Camilla against your father.”
Rupert recoiled and stood up straight. “What are you talking about?” His mouth slackened in shock, and he dropped his hands by his side.
“When I fell in the lake, I was out of it for a few seconds. I relived something, a special moment in time. I was Henry.” Rupert flinched but said nothing. She took his silence for a prompt to explain. “He was hidden in the crowd, around the Tower of London. Anne Boleyn was on the scaffold. I witnessed her beheading.”
“What does this have to do with my family?”
“I believe that Camilla is Anne Boleyn, and that your father … your father is linked to her and Henry.” Madison almost choked on the next words, her fear of hurting Rupert constricting her throat. “He is Henry.”
“But what does it have to do with that Liliana girl and the song ‘Greensleeves?’”
“Liliana tried to warn me last night not to stand in Henry’s way. She was trying to protect me because he betrayed her. I know. I know she’s the one who wrote the lyrics to ‘Greensleeves’ to show her love for Henry. But Jackson also told me that the melody was used by Henry to court Anne. ‘Greensleeves’ is the symbol of Henry’s betrayal.”
“What you’re saying is that my father is about to do to Camilla what Henry did to Anne Boleyn.”
Madison checked their surroundings. If a member of staff overheard their conversation, there would be nothing they could do for Camilla because, for sure, Madison and Rupert would be locked in a mental house for the rest of their days.
“I think he was the one driving the car that tried to kill Camilla outside Christ Church.”
“A hit and run? That doesn’t feel very ghostly to me,” Rupert said with a snarl that made Madison flinch. “But like the staircase incident in London, we’re still speculating. It’s not like someone pointed a gun at her and fired or something that concrete.”
Silence settled in the gaping space between them. But Rupert wanted to know more.
“Why would my father want to hurt Camilla? He loves her … as much as he can love anybody.”
“In my vision last night, I could feel what Henry felt. Guilt was in all his thoughts, guilt over what he did to Liliana. She died, probably because she couldn’t live with the knowledge of Henry’s betrayal when he married Anne.”
“So he went to kill his wives? Just because he felt guilty?”
Madison straightened to give some weigh to her explanation. “At the time of Anne’s execution, Henry’s state of mind was all over the place. It wasn’t a cold fury or a calculated action but an intense agitation. He felt feverish and shocked by his own actions. Maybe he was mad. I mean clinically mad.”
“Fine.” Rupert stated flatly. “We’ll talk to Camilla. Let’s see what she has to say.”
Rupert agreeing so readily startled Madison.
“Let’s see how my stepmother reacts to the good news. It’s time for you, Maddie, to understand that most people out there don’t want to believe. They’re simply n
ot ready to. We’re alone in this.”
Maybe, but Madison knew that was a risk she had to take.
Minutes later, they found Camilla in the drawing room. She was leaning against an antique armchair, her elegant profile the perfect advertisement for motherhood. The fast walk along Magway’s corridors had taken its toll on Madison, and the effort had her gasping for breath.
“Can we talk to you?” Rupert didn’t bother with any small talk.
Madison closed the narrow space between their bodies. She couldn’t refrain herself from squeezing his forearm nervously.
His question startled Camilla, but she recovered with a smile. She closed the book she had open on her knees and placed it on the side table. Rupert helped Madison sit down on a round chair opposite his stepmother.
Camilla kicked off the conversation. “Your father wanted me to apologize for not saying goodbye. He woke up late and his car was already waiting outside to take him to the airport. He should be back from Tokyo in five days.” Her gaze flicked from Madison to Rupert, who was standing rigidly next to her with a slight crease between his eyebrows. “Is everything all right? You left the party without saying a word last night.”
“We think you’re in danger.” Rupert threw the warning like a bombshell. Apparently he didn’t intend to bubble-wrap the truth and his bluntness made Madison shuffle on her seat.
Camilla’s giggle died out at the sight of Madison and Rupert’s stern expressions. “Have we received death threats or something? Did someone really try to run me over with their car?”
“Madison has a gift. Some of her ancestors were New Orleans voodoo queens. She’s inherited their ability to connect with spirits. She knows.”
Oh my. Rupert was on a mission, a mission to send them both straight to the asylum. Madison wanted to diffuse the tension, start over. She would try to ease the woman into the unexplainable. But the words stuck in her jammed-up brain.
Camilla moved back, her mouth opening and closing. Finally she shook her head. “I don’t believe in all that nonsense.” Her good manners made her add, “I’m sorry, Madison. I don’t mean to be rude but this isn’t a conversation I want to have.”
Well, who could blame her? Rupert hadn’t exactly used kid gloves.
Camilla’s face contorted with the effort when she struggled to stand up, her hands curved over her swollen belly. Rupert stepped forward and supported her by holding her elbow. She almost recoiled at his touch.
“Listen to us, please.” Rupert didn’t look like he was ready to let go. Madison wanted to help him but last night’s near drowning slowed down her reactions.
“Remember when you fell on the stairs and said someone had pushed you?” Rupert had scored a point. Camilla stared at him, her porcelain skin going paler. She nodded. “I believe you, Camilla. That day, I didn’t see anything or anyone at the top of the stairs but I believe you. So please give us the benefit of the doubt. At least hear us out.”
“Why am I in danger? What about the baby?” Her voice broke off at the last word. Horror distorted the perfect symmetry of her face.
“That’s why you can’t take any chances.” Madison leaned forward in her chair. She kept her fists tightly clenched. “He’s already tried to hurt you and he’ll try again.”
“The staircase incident was just a fall. I thought I saw someone, but I can’t have. I just fell.” Camilla was trying to convince herself. “Anyway, who? Who would want to hurt my baby?” Tears ran down Camilla’s cheeks in a very rare display of emotion.
“My father.” Rupert didn’t flinch. “We believe the two of you were linked in a previous life. A previous life during which he gave the order for you to be executed.”
Camilla muffled a gasp and covered her mouth with her hand. “Are you taking the mickey? Someone wanting to take revenge on Hugo by hurting me, that I could believe. A resentful business partner, something like that.” Shaking her head in disbelief, she asked, “And who are Hugo and I supposed to be the reincarnations of?”
Rupert betrayed his lack of conviction by looking furtively toward Madison. Her slight nod encouraged him to continue, whatever Camilla’s reaction might be. “Henry the Eighth … and Anne Boleyn.”
The muffled sound Camilla made had nothing in common with her sophisticated self. “You’re losing it, Rupert.” Then her gaze sliced through Madison. “I was ready to give you a chance, against Hugo’s better judgment. Obviously he was right. You are bad news, girl.”
Madison shrank against the back of her chair, trying to make herself invisible. She would never get used to being treated like scum.
“Don’t ever talk to Madison that way.” Rupert’s clipped voice didn’t disguise the threat. Neither did his overbearing stance.
The conversation had veered into a minefield. Madison extracted herself from the chair and propelled herself between the two standing figures. The sudden movement made her lightheaded, and she feared her legs would give way beneath her.
“Please don’t fight.” She waved them off and focused her attention solely on Camilla. “I know how insane this must sound. You’re entitled to react the way you just did and call me all the names you like. But, just for a second, think back to how you felt when you fell down those stairs; when you looked back up and saw only an empty space.”
Camilla flinched. Madison took hold of her arm to force her point. She hated herself for inflicting fear on the pregnant woman.
“Someone, something, was there. He pushed you because he wanted you to die. And with you, your baby.”
Camilla tore herself from Madison’s grasp. “I don’t believe you. Hugo loves me. He wants this baby more than anything else in the world.” She looked over Madison’s shoulder toward Rupert. “You’re jealous because you know your father will love the child more than he ever loved you.”
Madison didn’t need to check on Rupert. His stepmother’s words had punched him hard to the core.
“Hmm, sorry.” The interruption cut through the triangle of tension. A servant—the same one who had asked Rupert to join his father in his study the previous night—stared down at his polished shoes. “Lord Vance ordered some flowers to be delivered to you after his departure.”
Camilla’s eyes seemed to struggle to focus on the man. “How kind of Hugo.” Turning back toward where Rupert and Madison stood, she said in a frozen manner, “It would be better if our paths didn’t cross again for the rest of your stay. Please leave me alone.”
As she dismissed her stepson, more staff entered the room, their arms filled with generous bunches of flowers. Madison started convulsing. She wanted to crumple to the ground, and a faint whimper came out of her mouth when she saw what kind of flowers they were.
The flowers—the gift Hugo had made to his second wife—were all white lilies.
27
CHAUFFEUR-DRIVEN SUV. Check. Darkened windows. Check. Isolated farm. Check. Voodoo crowd up to no good. Check. Check. Check.
Madison didn’t want to be back outside the ill-fated barn, the site of her last encounter with voodoo. As much as she had chosen to embrace her family heritage and play at Buffy, she dreaded being back with those she should consider her sisters and brothers. A few of the faces she peeked at from under her eyelashes were familiar; they had attended her initiation less than a week before. A ceremony Madison had only blurred memories of.
Whether she liked being here or not didn’t really matter anyway. After the incident at Magway and the confrontation with Camilla yesterday—and subsequent I-told-you-so from Rupert—Madison had combed Mamie’s little book, worn cover to worn cover. She had devised plans to call upon Henry’s spirit, but he hadn’t come back to her, either through a vision or a dream. Liliana was also still AWOL.
Ollie had been by her side, late into the night. They had explored and Googled without success, only resulting in darker shadows under their eyes.
When the sense of defeat—and Jackson’s even more painful desertion—had vanquished her last barriers, Madison had
started reconsidering Louise’s offer of an encore for the Live and Let Die remake. Madison had to push her powers further than she had until then. There were vast amounts of unknown energy and knowledge inside her and she had to exploit them. Aurélie might have some of the answers and Madison needed all the help she could get. And more.
The vision at Magway had been one of a kind, more intense and almost palpable. It had never felt like that before, like she really was there, in the middle of the crowd, watching Anne Boleyn’s execution through Henry’s eyes.
Maybe the initiation had ignited something inside her, had helped her to connect with her powers in a more efficient way. She could become stronger and be able to tap into those powers inside her and use them for saving Camilla. That way, the next time she came across Henry she could fire up at him and destroy him instead of ending up on her butt like the last time at Christ Church Cathedral. Maybe those scary rituals could trigger something inside her and give her the upper hand with Henry. She had to try again.
Aurélie signaled to Madison outside the barn. “Please follow me.”
The ceremony followed the same order as the first time. Madison found herself again at the center of a semicircle, burning eyes drilling through her self-confidence, testing her in more challenging ways than before. The crowd stared at her as if she had answers to all their questions. Her instincts shouted at her to flee while there was still time. The blazing fire wasn’t enough to warm her bare skin, exposed again to fulfill Aurélie’s wishes.
The drumming and humming, praying and incanting were now familiar. Familiar, but not reassuring. One of the followers led a goat by a leash to the front of the altar. Madison stumbled backward. The clammy, warm sensation of the blood flowing down her skin shot through her, the sharpness of the memory making her stomach clench. She swallowed hard to push the nausea back down her throat.
Louise’s cold hand rested against the small of her back, blocking her impulse to run away. Madison stared at her. She expected to find some reassurance in her aunt’s gaze. Instead she found a fear that probably matched her own.
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