by M. L. Briers
The man was on his hands and knees as his body renewed itself. It didn’t take long for him to recover enough to snap his head back on his neck and glaring up at me. His jet black eyes devoured me with anger, and for one long moment, I had to wonder if he might shift into his beast and kill me.
And that would be bad.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
~
“Get used to the fact that you are not the alpha of this pack.” I couldn’t back down now. “Even if you shift into your wolf — I’m going to kick your backside with my magic.” I knew that one to be true. If his beast made an appearance, then I wouldn’t have much choice but to put the damn thing down and keep it down until Ross regained control of his anger again. “Do you really want to be kicked up and down your own stupid bloody mountain by a girl?”
“Not so much, no,” Ross growled out, biting down on his anger.
I could see by the colour of his eyes returning to normal that he was getting a grip on his wolf. He’d been off practising… stuff, with Duncan, and I was glad that control seemed to be a part of that.
“Think of us as a family, a pack. What hurts one of us hurts us all. And it might seem like a good idea for you to put yourself in harm’s way for us, but imagine the boot was on the other foot, and it was one of us putting ourselves in harm’s way for you…”
“That’s what you’re trying to do…”
“No, we’re not. A pack works as a collective, one unit all fighting for the good of the whole. It’s risking defeat for all of us when someone goes off brain-farting and solo, and in case you didn’t get it, stupid head, that someone is you.”
“That’s not how I see it…” Ross growled.
“Then wake up and smell the kibble…”
“Maggie,” Ross shook his head in annoyance, but he was thinking — it was easy to tell with Ross because Malachi was right, the man definitely had a constipated look on his face.
“Or, let me put it this way, do you want Malachi protecting Moira instead of you?”
“Hell, no,” he growled.
Ross pushed up to his full height, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if one of his giant fists was going to be swung my way — while that would be out of character for the man with his beast messing around with his mind, you never could tell.
“Oh, and boy, do you have some grovelling to do with Moira,” I chuckled, folding my arms and giving him a look of pure glee.
Ross raised a hand and dragged it through his hair. His broad chest rose and fell on a grumble. “How much grovelling — exactly?” He winced.
“Oh, we’re talking down on your knees, begging for forgiveness, hearts and flowers, and getting zapped for your trouble…” He groaned. “And every time she zaps you, you’re going to thank her and beg her forgiveness once more.”
“I only did it because…”
“Nope — doesn’t matter why — it only matters how well you grovel.” I grinned so hard I could have been a pod person of the Cheshire cat.
For the moment, life was good, Ross was in trouble with Moira, and I was going to enjoy it while I could. “Get your stuff, you’re coming home with us,” I pointed toward his house just so that there would be no mistake.
“But…”
“We tried it your way, and this is what happened, now we’re going to try it mine.”
Ross grumbled and grunted his way home.
“Interesting.” Malachi appeared at my side and scared the bejesus out of me. I bit down on my need to zap the heck out of him, but that didn’t stop me turning a glare on the man.
“Do you really have to do that?”
“Yes,” he grinned, and I was having a really hard time hammering that need to zap him. “And now I know exactly what it takes to get on your good side after miffing you off.”
“Ross is my oldest and dearest friend — short of killing one of my kin, he can pretty much do anything, and I’ll forgive him. You on the other hand…” I left it there. It wasn’t hard to tell that my words had sunk in because he got a sour look on his face.
“Point taken,” he said.
“To the heart with something wooden and spiky if you miff me off enough,” I offered back.
“I think we understand each other.”
~
“Ross, I want some of your blood,” Gran announced as she walked into the living room like that statement was an everyday occurrence, and you could have heard a pin drop. Ross flicked his gaze around at all of us before turning it toward Gran when nobody said a word.
“O-kay,” Ross said, and you had to hand it to the man, even when my Gran was out for his blood, he didn’t protest or question her.
“Now if I’d said that…” Malachi piped up, and let his words die away.
“Yours too,” Gran offered him the evil eye, and I watched with amusement as Malachi’s face did the talking. He raised his eyebrows, his eyes roamed the ceiling as if he was looking for answers, and he winced just a little.
“Do I get some in return?” Silly vampire. The man was perched on the edge of the sofa arm, but one flick of Gran’s hand on her wrist, and he was on his backside on the floor. “I’ll take that as a no, shall I?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. He did take some of the sting out of everything that we’d been going through lately, at least, for me he did.
“And Duncan’s,” Gran said.
“No problem,” Duncan said pushing up to his feet from where he’d been sitting beside Eileen.
I knew what Gran was doing, putting up wards and making our home into a fortress. She would need the blood of the vampires and Ross to allow them to cross those wards.
The house was already a fortress compared to what it used to be. I could feel the magic everywhere. When my shields were up, which was usually when Malachi was around, that magic tested and teased them, and I was okay with that because whatever kept the bad guys on the outside was good.
“I’m a little squeamish around blood,” Malachi said, making me chuckle again. “Make light of my weaknesses, why don’t you?” He teased me with just a look, and I knew he was playing to the crowd of one — me. It didn’t stop me enjoying the moment.
“Come on, before I zap you for the fun of it,” Gran said, turning on her heels and leading the three of them toward the greenhouse.
“What did you say to Ross?” Moira demanded.
“Are you asking because you think him being here means I did something wrong, or are you asking so that you have the upper hand next time there’s an argument between you?” I shot back. I always liked to know which page my sister was on before I gave her an answer.
“I’m asking because I want to know how you got him to change his mind,” Moira said with a small shrug.
“That would be the second one then,” I chuckled back.
“You know how stubborn Ross can be. I just want to know how you got him to agree to come back with you,” Moira said, and if I didn’t know my sister better then I would have taken that at face value, but I did know my sister and she could be a scheming little shrew when she wanted to be.
“Ross is your boyfriend, you figure him out,” I shrugged.
He was my friend, and she was my sister — I was not getting in between that. Besides, it was always nice to have the upper hand with Ross, and if she used my wicked ways for her own nefarious reasons every time she wanted her own way, then those ways weren’t going to work forever, and Ross did need saving from himself sometimes.
“So helpful — thank you,” she shot back.
I pushed up to my feet, offered her a small smug grin, and started toward the kitchen for the back door. I needed some air.
Before I could escape out of the back door, my father was on his way in. “The wind is picking up out there, and storm clouds are gathering, take your coat.” I snatched up Moira’s coat from the rack beside the door and shrugged into it.
This was Skye, and storms gathered around us all the time. If we never ventured out in bad weather, we would seldom venture
out at all.
I started down the path toward the barn at the back of the house. The old stone of the brickwork that was built a few hundred years ago always made me feel more connected to the land, the past, and it generally settled my nerves.
Life on Skye had been going on for generations, and that thought was comforting because no matter what life threw at people the world still turned and tomorrow was just another day.
By the time that I reached the tree line, I was lost in thought. I couldn’t say with my hand on my heart that Malachi wasn’t occupying most of those thoughts because he was.
The man was an enigma. He made me feel … what? Something. He made me feel something that seemed to be bubbling up just under the surface like something in Gran’s cauldron.
I couldn’t say if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but it was definitely a thing.
I knew that Malachi was not Prince Charming — but then he didn’t appear to be the Devil incarnate either. I think I’d developed a soft spot for him, and I didn’t know what to do with that.
Right then, as the fine hairs stood up all over my body and was accompanied by something that felt like a wave had washed over every inch of my skin, tested my shields, and taunted my magic; I had the feeling that Malachi was the least of my worries.
CHAPTER TWELVE
~
Why did I have Star Trek playing in my head? Mr Spock was offering up that classic line; It’s life, Jim, but not as we know it – and it was on repeat. It was also pretty apt because I’d felt that feeling before when I was up on the Point where Mr Croon had died, and that hadn’t been normal everyday life that day either.
It was taunting me, baying me to walk forward towards the boundary line of the property, trying to worm its way into my mind, and as stupid as it was — I could hear The Clash singing inside my head — should I stay or should I go now?
Talk about your screwy–brain, from Star Trek to The Clash, and there I was caught in limbo.
If I could put an image to what it actually felt like as close as I’d be able to get would be a darkness oozing over my skin, much like black ink slowly engulfing my body and trying to seep into my pores, and there was that pulling on my body as much as on my psyche to let it in.
“Maggie!” Moira’s voice snapped me out of it.
The Clash stopped singing in my brain, and Mr Spock was muted, but I’m sure he was still whispering in a small corner of my mind.
“Get back inside,” I warned Moira and Eileen as I started to back away from the boundary line. It pulled at me, but with my sisters there, I felt stronger to deny it now.
“Still not leaving you, stupid,” Moira bit out, holding her ground, and waiting for me.
“What’s going on?” Duncan demanded, and I tossed a quick look back to see the Three Stooges running towards us from the house.
“Don’t come any further,” I warned, but trust Malachi not to listen. The vampire swooped in at light speed, snatched me up, and had me on the back doorstep of the house before I could blink twice. He also led the rebellion of the other two doing exactly the same thing with my sisters.
“Was I on mute? Because I could have sworn that I said…” I started to berate the vampire.
“And I rescue you – again, and get no brownie points whatsoever for it,” Malachi’s eyes shone with amusement. I would have liked to give him a shiner with my fist, but, he had rescued me – not that I wasn’t managing to rescue myself.
“Bite me,” I said it without thinking of how wrong that sounded to a vampire, or how very right.
“For the win,” he grinned, and I groaned.
“You can put me down now,” I demanded, suddenly realising that I was still in his arms.
How stupid was I?
“I could,” Malachi teased, and I closed my eyes for a second and sighed. “But can you be trusted by yourself?”
Oh, he didn’t go there.
“You are really starting to…” I started, but I didn’t get to finish.
“Worm my way under your skin? Grow on you? Make you realise that I am the only man in the world for you?” he tossed back, and I swear my brain must still have been addled from the creepy darkness because I couldn’t come up with a thing.
The sound of Moira pretending to vomit made me press my lips together to stop the laughter coming out. He had rescued me, and laughing in his face seemed maybe just a little too harsh. But I was grateful that Moira had rescued me from my muteness because I’d hate to think that he thought my silence meant that I agreed with him.
“Oh boy, someone’s been at Gran’s Scotch,” Moira announced.
“What’s going on?” Gran demanded as she appeared over my left shoulder and glared at Malachi, who was still standing there like he was about to carry me over the threshold like a new bride — perish the thought.
“Maggie looked tired,” Malachi said, and I groaned again.
“The dark magic is back,” I informed her. “It’s at the border of the property, and the Minion rescued me.”
“That’s what you’re calling me now?” Malachi berated me with a look, and I grimaced.
“Whoops?” I offered him an innocent little grin, but behind it, my amusement flared once more.
He seemed to have revelled in the Satan’s Claws moniker, and he wasn’t supposed to enjoy his nickname, that really wasn’t the point of giving him one.
“Well, it’s nice to see he can do something right,” Gran muttered. “Everyone inside,” she demanded, turning on her heels and freeing up the doorway for us to go in. Malachi went to move, but I lifted my hand, and he paused.
“Do not even think about carrying me over the threshold like…”
“The Bride of Dracula?”
I couldn’t come up with a comeback line for that one. All I could do was wiggle in his arms until he relented and put me down.
“Numpty,” I muttered as I stalked into the house. The man was just so annoying.
“It’s life, Jim, but not as we know it,” Moira whispered on a snigger as she came up behind me, snatching me from thoughts of Malachi, and I shot her a questioning look back over my shoulder.
“How did you…?”
“We heard you, in our heads, and very retro with The Clash,” she offered back.
I was dumbfounded. I guess that I had inadvertently put out some kind of Bat-signal of my own because I couldn’t hear their thoughts on a day to day level. Because that’s not creepy.
The sound of a bloodcurdling scream went up from outside, and after a second of indecision, I turned on my heels, almost steamrollered right over the top of Moira, but I managed to grab her arms, spin her in place, and launch her back out of the door ahead of me.
The annoying thing was, the moment my foot touched the ground, Malachi’s arm came around me, and he lifted me up and plonked me to the side.
“Age before beauty,” Malachi said, adding salt to the wounds of my annoyance.
Then he took off like a bat out of hell, pun intended, but I wasn’t going to be sidelined like a good little girl, and I followed on behind him in my snail-like speed compared to his.
We were all running back towards the boundary line in virtually the same direction from which we had come. The sound of another, muted, cry greeted my ears, but Malachi was back right in front of me a heartbeat later, causing me to pull up sharply so that I didn’t run straight into him and the witch from the bistro that he had in his arms.
I hate to say it, but my first thought was jealousy. There was Jessica rabbit, looking whiter than a ghost, the blood having drained from her cheeks, and here was I with my first thought being, why are you carrying that woman?
That wasn’t good on so many levels. Jealousy was a horrible thing, and the witch had quite obviously run into the dark magic in some way or another, and what was I going to do, scratch her eyes out?
Why would I do that? Malachi most definitely was not mine to catfight over.
“What happened?” Moira demande
d from the witch, but she didn’t look in any fit state to answer questions.
“Get her inside,” I told Malachi, finally locating that sense of compassion within me and kicking my mean, green, jealousy gene into touch.
“Wasn’t she supposed to come for dinner?” Moira hissed a whisper at me as we started back for the house.
“I thought she was just being rude by not turning up,” I hissed back.
Now I felt guilty, not just for my lack of compassion, or my jealousy, but for not giving her absence any consideration at all.
I was a horrible human being, and things needed to change. I wanted to be the person that I was before all of this started, but when something happens that is so profound, could you ever go back, or would you just be playing a role?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
~
The witch’s scream had summoned Gran, dad, and my mother to find out what was going on. Now, we were all in the living room eagerly awaiting the women’s explanation of what had happened.
In a way; I felt quite sorry for her, having all of us staring at her expectantly as she rested back against the sofa cushions, Scotch in hand — which was Gran’s contribution, no surprise there — and with the colour slowly returning to her cheeks – that was the Scotch’s contribution.
“So, you felt it?” I couldn’t wait a moment longer to hear what she had to say.
“Don’t ask me to describe it, I don’t think I could,” she said.
I noted the way that her hands were shaking, the loss of colour in her cheeks, and I don’t believe for one moment that she was faking it. She’d definitely encountered the darkness.
“So, why didn’t you turn up for dinner?” Moira said.
I have to say that her question stunned me for a moment as I shot her a look of disbelief and she shrugged back.
“I’ve been tracking something, a feeling and not a good one, and that led me here to you,” she said.
“I didn’t get your name,” Moira said, lifting her chin and offering her a look full of suspicion down her nose. I questioned Moira with just a look.