Free Oxford Whispers by Marion Croslydon Page B

voodoo. Magic amulets, calling the dead and all that.”
    Shut up, Madison. This guy is grading your papers.
    “I take it this has happened before.”
    “Never this overpowering. I think about the painting all the time. The characters are haunting me, at least the girl and the Puritan.” Staring down at her gray Converse sneakers, Madison employed all her self-will to avoid the searching look of her tutor.
    She turned her eyes back to the painting on the wall, away from Jackson. “We’re not just into voodoo. My grandmother says we have a gift. The gift of the dead. My great-grandmother wound up in an asylum. At the end of her life she fell into a state of mental delusions. Her p-powers,” she stuttered, “consumed her. Most of my female ancestors have in one way or another known the same fate.”
    A cold dread invaded her as the words were drawn out of her. She looked back at Jackson. “I don’t want to end up like them.”
    Her dirty little secret, one she didn’t even admit to herself, was out. Relief relaxed the tension that had settled in her neck. She brought her hand to her mouth and covered a faint sob.
    “It’s going to be all right,” Jackson reassured her. “It’s the strangest story I have ever heard. But I’ve always believed there’s a world beyond ours. Call me crazy.” He swallowed his giggle, realizing it was a bad joke. Serious again, he continued. “But if you don’t accept who you are, your life will be an utter lie.”
    Doctor McCain was her teacher, but right then Madison wanted to pour all her tears on his woolen jersey. She had already made a fool of herself, so maybe a touch of self-control would do her good.
    “Ignoring what’s happening to you with this painting will drive you mad. You have to understand why these people are so important to you, what they mean to you. I doubt you’ll find it by only researching my book.”
    “I have no idea how.”
    “It’s the same for everyone, Madison. We must all accept where we come from. You’ll have to open your door and let the ghosts into your life, accept that they’re part of you.”
    His words echoed those of her grandmother, the woman who had raised her. But hearing it from Jackson McCain made the words resonate deeper in her mind. Taking a step back, she shook her head, rejecting his suggestion.
    Any power she might yield could threaten her sanity. But if Peter existed she would need to fight him. Sarah had said he was out to kill her.
    Some options … She could lose her mind, or her life. And if she was unlucky, she might lose both.

Chapter 13
    RUPERT HAD ESTABLISHED his Oxford headquarters at the well-hidden Turf Tavern, right from the first day of his first term. A couple of decades earlier his parents had met there, around the low-beamed front bar.
    Today, after winning a boat race, he crashed in exhaustion at the pub with Claus—his “best mate” now after today’s victory—and other Oxford rowers. Surrounded by a crowd of students and the smell of stale beer, Rupert recovered from the afternoon’s inhuman experience.
    “Another bitter?” asked one of his teammates with a pronounced Aussie accent.
    Nodding, Rupert leaned against the bar to release the pressure on his battered legs. He needed alcohol to dull the pain, even if drinking breached Coach Bartlett’s orders.
    He would have died rather than show his weakness to the giants standing on either side of him. The hours spent on the blonds and runs in the cold had all paid off. He wasn’t sure he could keep up with the training. But tonight, pride made him stand taller. His victory would make his father happy.
    Madison would arrive soon. The thought of her pint-sized frame standing next to him cheered him up. Rupert hadn’t imagined teamwork with the Yank would go so smoothly. Since her visit at Magway two weeks ago her help had come in handy; he could dedicate his time to training.
    He had promised her he would arrange a meeting with Archie Blake, his