Authors: Marion Croslydon
Chapter
58
SOMEWHERE CLOSE to her, mice squeaked and skittered about. Above her, something like bat wings fluttered. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees and echoed in the night.
Madison dragged herself back into consciousness. Cold stone burned against her cheek. The dust plastered inside her mouth made her want to cough, but her instinct shouted at her to stay still, to play dead.
Her short-term memory began to awaken: Pippa coming closer, the prick of the needle at her thigh, zoning out, and then the drowsy trip on the narrow backseat of Pippa’s car.
Madison fought a desperate need to rub at her itchy eyes and prop up her head. Instead, she forced her limbs to remain immobile, frozen. To regain focus, she opened her eyes wide, shut them hard, then opened them again.
The stone walls towering above her were faceless and impenetrable. A single lamp bulb hung from the moldy and mildewed ceiling, dispensing more shadows than light.
Pippa sat on the other side of the tiny, cluttered room. Her elbows on her knees, she held her head between her hands, each fist grabbing a tuft of crimson hair. Despite her compact stance, she began to rock back and forth.
Through half-lidded eyes, Madison saw Pippa’s hands make fluttery movements. Her cracked voice burst into a moan, then morphed into a wail and cascaded into a sob.
When the sob was exhausted, Pippa returned to her initial lethargy.
Reassured by the girl’s passive state, Madison darted glances at the decor around her. Painting frames with religious scenes on them were stacked against the wall, and sheets covered square pieces of furniture. A couple of spiderwebs dangled at the corners of the ceiling.
Two details caught her shellshocked attention. A pew, worn and tattered, stood in a haphazard position in the middle of the room. Behind her, leaning precariously against the wall, was a crumbling altar that threatened to fall over at any moment.
Images of the immediate past flashed through her mind. Pippa had managed to pull Madison out of the car and forced her to hobble to the back door of an imposing structure. Judging by the furniture around her, that building was a church. Which church, though, she couldn’t guess.
Pippa’s sobbing started again. Madison’s vision wasn’t blurred anymore, and she saw confusion and despair on her friend’s face.
Her friend was Peter’s victim. All the bickering, all the jealousy … it must have been Peter “talking” all along. Whatever the outcome for Madison tonight, she had to try and get out of here alive for Pippa’s sake.
RUPERT’S BRAIN had frozen. He couldn’t think straight, and Ollie seemed compelled to talk nonstop. The words meshed into chaotic noise.
He took one deep cleansing breath and grabbed his mobile phone from his pocket.
Ollie murmured, “I’ve been trying to call Madison for the last half an hour. It keeps going straight to voicemail.”
Indeed, Rupert’s call rang and rang again, and was diverted.
“Pippa’s been doing all this strange research lately,” Ollie volunteered. “Maybe that has something to do with it. I have no idea why Pippa would be involved in all of this, though.” His voice broke off.
One person in Oxford might know the answer. It pissed Rupert off to ask for his help, but the clock was ticking. Madison had gone AWOL, and her best friend was a murderer. Chatting wasn’t going to help him find her.
He rushed out of Pippa’s bedroom, cascaded down the stairs two steps at a time and burst out of the house, all with Ollie hot on his heels.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“McCain’s.”
Chapter
59
THE STALE AIR AND its musty smell blended with the lingering scent of incense. The resulting odor brought Madison’s stomach into her mouth. Swallowing down the bile, she took two silent breaths in an attempt to calm the pounding in her head.
Weary muscles restricted her urge to flee.
“The huntsman has beaten Snow White.” Pippa’s voice had moved from her usual high-pitched tone down to a deeper one.
Pippa wasn’t the one speaking.
Gathering her strength, Madison focused on the energy piling up in her soul and exhorted the spirits of her ancestors. She searched for the prayer from Mamie’s book of magic. Her satchel had gone. Her memory went blank, the spirits remained absent, and the energy abated.
The drugs had stolen every aspect of her powers. With all the strength she had remaining, she tried to stand, but her knees buckled beneath her.
“Peter, let her go,” Madison pleaded through her trembling lips.
Ignoring the thickness in her throat and the sweat trickling down her face, she continued to beg. “Let her go. She has nothing to do with what happened between the two of us.”
“You are so naive, and still so ignorant of the ways of our world.” Peter stood and paced the room with a lurching gait. “Philippa offered herself to me. Her jealousy consumed her, and her soul was a whore looking for the highest bidder.”
“You’re lying. Pippa is generous. She’s full of life.”
“She hated you. Maybe not right from the start, but when she saw you at the ball seducing the nobleman, hatred and jealousy overcame her. When she noticed Dallembert was following you inside the pub on that day near the Thames, she could hardly control herself. That was when I struck.”
“You’re lying,” Madison repeated, her fists clenched. “She’s been with Ollie longer than with anybody else, and he treats her so well.”
Peter exhaled and rolled his eyes. “She was horny. The little man kept her busy, while I used her. Although she always wants more attention from men, like today with that past conquest of hers.”
“Shut your mouth, or I’ll knock you so hard you’ll see tomorrow today.” Madison managed to sit up. Straightening her posture, she forged onward. “Pippa doesn’t deserve to die because she was jealous of me. I’ll give you my life. You can take me with you, but spare her, let her soul and her body be one again.”
Madison didn’t want to die, and Pippa wasn’t the best person she’d ever met. All things considered. But the girl was in that shit because of Madison. If she hadn’t come to Oxford, this whole disaster wouldn’t have happened.
Peter wasn’t interested in her offer. “You are in no position to bargain with me. We are all going.”
Madison didn’t give up. If her powers weren’t strong enough to take him out of Pippa, she had to convince Peter to do so on his own.
With a newfound determination, she waved her hands toward her kidnapper. “I wronged you. I know that, Peter.” Her voice cracked. “I now know our story. Robert killed you. You had no choice but to seek revenge.”
Her words scored a point. He stopped his pacing and stood with his hands on his hips. “He stabbed me in the heart and stole my child.”
Holding herself still, her hands clasped in prayer, Madison ignored the sour taste of the lie. She had to make him believe she was his, and always would be. “He stole our child. I found out today. I was looking for you. I wanted to explain, to apologize. I’m so sorry.”
RUPERT HAD BEEN to the professor’s once before, to drop off some books his tutor had lent him. The trip took ten minutes, but this time felt endless. During the drive, he and Ollie didn’t exchange a single word.
A still-running, black four-wheel drive already occupied the driveway to the American’s home. Its motor went off and McCain climbed out.
The wheels of Rupert’s Morgan screeched on the gravel. He leaped out of the car before turning off the engine. He stalked toward the compact man, whose eyes were already probing him from across the driveway.
Rupert didn’t waste time with formalities. “Have you seen Madison? She’s in danger.”
The American waved his hand in dismissal. “You’re waking up a bit late, Vance. Hillary Lindsey was killed last night. Maybe you should have worried then, when your girlfriend found a corpse in her bedroom.”
As much as Rupert wanted to punch McCain’s face, he restrained himself. First, Madison had to take priority. Second, the professor was damn right.
“You’re the one who’s late, doctor.” The accusation came from Ollie himself.
Rupert turned toward him, but the bright lights of his car blinded him.
McCain continued. “I’m coming back from Christ Church. I left a message in her pigeonhole. Madison must be quite upset. We had an argument yesterday.”
Frustration and despair made Rupert grab McCain’s arm. The man had to understand how much worse things had gotten. Again, Ollie expressed Rupert’s thoughts aloud.
“We know who killed Miss Lindsey. She might be after Madison next—”
Rupert cut him off, “She might have already found her.”
Jackson went still, his eyes now dark and serious. “Who is she?”
The name burst out of Rupert and Ollie’s mouths at the same time. Shock registered on the American’s face. He shook his head in denial, but Rupert explained what they had found in Pippa’s room.
The wind had settled down and the treetops above stood unmoving. “Pippa is Peter.” Jackson’s words resonated in the stillness of the night.
At this point, Rupert didn’t have any qualms about that all psychic madness. He was ready to believe anything. He met Jackson’s gaze. Their eyes locked, their minds aligned.
“But Peter is dead.” Ollie had stepped between them, his fist tapping against his lips.
Jackson asked. “How do you know about him?”
“We visited his grave this morning. Madison was PO’ed to find out he was buried with that Sarah.”
A glimpse of hope sprung in Rupert’s heart. “Where are they buried?”
“St. Giles.”
Jackson sent an inquiring look at Rupert, who answered his silent question. “Let’s take your car. Mine is a two-seater.”
Chapter
60
MUFFLED NOISES reached her from behind a door that Madison hadn’t noticed before. Masculine voices.
A faint light filtered through the slit at the base of the door.
“You called for help,” Peter shouted. He dragged his nails down his cheeks, to the point that Pippa bled.
“How could I have? I’ve not left your side.” She looked up at him, desperate to retain eye contact. She had to free her friend. “Take my life now. Then join me. We don’t need the girl. It will be the two of us. Forever.”
Holding a shaking index finger out at her, he warned, “Silence. You are the same deceiving snake.”
Someone pounded at the door and shouted her name. Rupert. Rupert was there, so close. “Hold on,” he kept repeating.
She wanted to see him so badly, to be in his arms one more time, one last time. Only she couldn’t. If Rupert intervened now, he would defeat any chance for her to isolate Peter’s soul and save Pippa.
Madison had no other choice but to beg, “Please, let’s finish this …” Tears started rolling down her cheeks.
“You whore.” His hand slashed through the air down to her left temple.
The shock propelled her into the air and her head hit the cobbled floor. She tasted blood.
Madison couldn’t afford to slip back into oblivion.
She supported herself on her elbow and shook her head in an attempt to diffuse the dizziness. Sitting up, her muscles quivering in anger, she probed the side of her head that was now swollen. The pain made her wince.
“You were always good at hitting women,” she spit out. “You didn’t learn that from the Bible.”
Peter kicked her in the ribs and she grunted. Her ribcage was on fire. He took two steps back and bent to grab something from the floor. He stood back up with a thin, sharp-edged dagger. A pleased smile broke across his face though he kept his eyes downcast and his posture rigid.
The pounding at the door started again. This time, a more powerful force than human fists attacked the door. The same voices, familiar voices, called for Madison.
All she could see was the slicing edge of the knife.
“This is the end,” Peter whispered behind the mask of madness.
She heard her name shouted in the distance. But she was gone.
As if in slow motion, Peter stepped forward and arched his arm. He had killed her once before, stealing her life, stealing her Rose.
Her shaking hands waved ahead of her, a jolt tingling at the tips of her fingers. Madison pointed at the pew. She let the air inside her mouth, her lungs, and built up strength inside of her.
A strand of energy erupted from her fingertips and, with an invisible force, she moved the heavy length of wood into him.
Peter crumpled, head first.
By instinct, she held her arm above her head and curled up on the floor. A crack echoed around the room and a lightning bolt flashed behind her closed eyelids.
The door gave in from the attack of those outside.
The space was now crowded, and arms folded around her battered body. Hushed, sweet words filled her ears.
She called his name in a sob. “Rupert.”
“I’m here, baby.” Kisses rained down over her closed eyelids, her forehead, her mouth.
But it wasn’t about her. Madison pushed him away and opened her eyes again. Pippa’s crumpled shape lay at her feet.
Madison dragged herself to her friend’s side.
“Pippa, Pippa,” she cried, brushing the red curls away from her face. A warm liquid stuck to her fingers. She looked down at them. They were covered with blood.
Rupert seized her shoulders, his presence instilling strength back into her. Sarah was by her side as well, eager to help defeating Peter. Madison couldn’t see her, but her presence had never felt stronger.
She breathed in, sipping the energy of the holy, consecrated place around her. Her spine straightened and her mind solidified. Madison retrieved the words from her memory, those she had read in the voodoo prayer book.
Hail God of Abraham!
Hail God of Isaac!
Hail God of Jacob!
Direct your power to Pippa
Madison hesitated, her memory faltering under the pain burning through her ribcage. The awareness of the short window of opportunity pushed her beyond her own limits. She started again.
Drive Satan, this unclean demon within her, away!
I command you, demon, you Peter Perkins!
Come out, Peter Perkins!
Stay away from Pippa!
She had to lean against Rupert while she almost swooned under the power of the spell. She waved her hands above the body, opening her palms, closing them, the heat of the Louisiana swamps descending to her friend’s soul.
Come out, demon!
I bind you with unbreakable chains of adamantine!
I cast you into the abyss of hell!
Peter emerged from Pippa’s body, his shape and essence flimsy and blurred. He wore the same dark coat as in the painting, as the first time Madison had seen him. He sat up, then stood, and his head turned toward a bright light shining from the corner of the room.
Madison followed his gaze.
There, Sarah was standing. She stared straight ahead of her, meeting Peter’s eyes without blinking, without betraying any fear. She nodded slowly.
When Madison looked back to where Peter had been a few seconds before, he was gone.
“Where is he?” she asked Sarah, while her breath still eluded her.
“Where you sent him, in hell. His curse is extinguished. Robert and I are free. We can go now.” She added with a soft smile, “Do not forget, Madison, I am you, you are me.”
The light became less intense and finally disappeared.
Madison reverted her attention to Pippa and locked her eyes with hers. She thought she saw a flicker of life in them.
But life was now the past for Pippa.
Rupert leaned forward and laid his fingers on the side of her neck, checking for a pulse. He turned toward Madison and shook his head. He gestured toward her in an attempt to take her back in his arms, but she recoiled.
“Don’t touch me.” Guilt and the shame of defeat covered her with filth. She wasn’t worth anyone’s pity or kindness.
From behind her came another voice filled with tears. Ollie.
“Her head struck the altar hard. But it can’t have killed her.”
“It should have worked. I don’t understand.” Madison struggled to articulate. Her eyes and her cheeks were damp with tears.
Jackson kneeled by her side. “Peter gave her the choice, and she accepted him.”
A scream spread across the room, piercing Madison’s ears. She was the one crying. Sobbing. Howling, as if all her world were lost.