The Manx Cat Guardians Boxed Set

by J P Sayle

  Joe got up and grabbed two glasses out of the cupboard, totally at home in Brad’s kitchen. He filled them with water from the tap and gave one to Brad. After a quick search in Brad’s odds and ends drawer, he returned to the table with his own glass, wielding a pad and pen in the other hand. “Okay, let’s make a list. I’ll text Greg after. We’ll divide the list up. You know, divide and conquer and all that shit.” Joe took a bite of his sandwich, barely noticing how tasty the ham and cheese were as he scribbled on the pad.

  “We’ve got this in the bag. You watch. We’ll sort the best damn Christmas party Martin has ever been to or had. You mark my words.” Joe gave Brad a confident smile.

  They grinned at each other as Brad rubbed his hands together.

  “Let’s keep the plans secret, so it’ll be a big surprise for Martin.” Brad had an evil glint in his eyes.

  Joe had to wonder what the fuck his friend was up to. Joe chewed on the end of the pen, reminding himself that Martin had already deceived his friend.

  All’s fair in love and war.

  Whatever Brad was up to, he was sure Martin deserved it.

  Brad spoke, diverting him. “Oh, and I think Nick might like to help too. He and I spent a bit of time together on Friday. I like him, and I think he could do with some friends like you, Greg, and me.”

  “Cool. That works for me. He’s Aaden’s kid brother. That makes him part of our fight club.”

  Brad’s raised brows and blank expression had him explain.

  “You know, the film with Brad Pitt, Fight Club, when they say, ‘what happens in fight club, stays in fight club. God, I need to educate you, Brad. It’s a great film. Anyway, Nick’s in. You can ask him. Go over to Aaden’s later on, on some pretense.” Joe shrugged, giving Brad a wide smile. “Now let’s make our list.” Excitement buzzed through Joe at how epic they could make Brad’s first real Christmas.

  Princess

  Princess lay with her eyes shut, pretending to sleep, listening to Brad and Joe chatter about the party. Her normal enthusiasm for Brad’s plans fell short when all she could think about was Max. A Max who’d been more elusive than the bloody Scarlet Pimpernel, now he was suddenly back acting like his shit didn’t stink. He’d waltzed right in on Monday, perching himself next to her. Then he had the audacity to try and nuzzle her neck.

  What the heck is his game?

  That’s what she’d like to know because he had to have one. He’d been hanging around like a bad smell, then poof. It was almost as if he’d vanished off the face of the earth for a week, only to reappear all cagey, acting odd.

  He’d been aloof for weeks. Now it was almost like he was trying to cozy up to her. Like he knew something she didn’t, and she didn’t like it one little bit.

  Her mother had gone all huffy and non-communicative, making matters worse.

  Well, they can all take a running jump.

  She’d had enough.

  She slit her eyes, giving Max a side-eyed glance. She slammed her eyes shut when they encountered his unwavering bicoloured stare. Princess couldn’t stop the tiny shudder or her fur from lifting under the intensity of his gaze when it touched her. All the smooching Max had laid on thick was taking its toll on her nerves.

  She knew her body was now fully healed and not only because of her reactions to Max. She’d noticed her side no longer caused her any pain when she’d gone exploring. Max’s antic’s had her climbing the trees at the back of Aaden’s.

  She rolled her eyes at herself. Okay, I was trying to see what Max was up to. But who could blame me?

  There was a nagging sensation in her tiny chest that lingered since the shooting. The sense of never being alone wouldn’t leave her. It wasn’t like the voices in her mind or the feeling of being watched over by the other guardians at times. No this was different. There were also the vivid dreams of Max and what she assumed had been the two souls he’d carried.

  She had sensed a shift and change in both Aaden and Greg on Friday after they had left their home. But she couldn’t understand why she had. It was baffling all these weird changes she could feel. Even her connection to the other guardians seemed to have strengthened since the shooting. She considered if this was a gift for trying to save Stuart.

  A feeling of unease grew in the pit of her furry belly as she felt Max shift next to her. He moved his bulk closer. His musky scent caused her pulse to bound as he snuggled into her, his large paws tugging her closer.

  Her eyes flew open, searching for Brad. As she saw his retreating back follow Joe out of the kitchen, her body heated in places it didn’t normally, and it made her feel out of sorts.

  Oh, dear God, save me!

  On the second day of Christmas my friends gave to me:

  The secret and the revelation

  Greg

  14th of December

  Greg glanced surreptitiously at his phone when it started vibrating on his work desk. He felt the sweat gather under his armpits. He checked to make sure no one was watching him before lifting up his phone. He wanted to sigh aloud at the message.

  This top-secret shit that he had going on with Brad, Joe, and Nick was starting to tell on him, and it had only been twenty-four fucking hours. He’d nearly pissed his pants this morning when Martin had asked if he knew what Joe and Brad were up to.

  How the bloody hell was he supposed to answer that?

  Had Brad and Joe overlooked the small issue that Martin and Stuart were his bosses. Or the bloody fiasco from last week that hung over his head?

  Yes, it would seem they had!

  They had roped him in yesterday, regardless of his woes.

  Had he let them? Of course he ruddy had.

  He had mug written all over his forehead. He had to. Otherwise, why would he knowingly agree to tell fibs to his bosses? And he had, waffling all kinds of crap. Changing the topic to decorating the office for Christmas and wheedling cash out of Martin to go to town later to buy what he needed.

  Greg ground his teeth together, ignoring the ache in his jaw. He was excited about their secret plans for the Christmas party, and he was happy to be included. But that still didn’t stop this surreptitious crap making him more nervous than a cat on a hot tin roof.

  His thoughtful expression turned towards the open office doors of the two men he respected more than anybody. He was already trying hard not to think about the mess that had him leave the office early last Friday. Or the pain he’d felt from the distrust and disbelief about his abilities, coming from Martin. He chewed his lip, recalling Martin’s heartfelt apology and their subsequent plan to catch the culprit.

  He pushed that aside for now, flouncing out of the chair and hiding his phone in his pocket. He strolled casually to the stairs. He couldn’t afford any slip-ups. He kept his eyes averted from Louise, knowing she would be watching him like a hawk.

  The utter disappointment she couldn’t conceal when he’d strolled into the office Monday would have been comical if he hadn’t been trying to keep his own embarrassment from showing. It had taken several pep talks from Aaden—and some major distraction over the weekend—to get him here on Monday.

  Greg’s body tightened as he remembered how his Friday hadn’t ended up as shitty as he thought it would. He hadn’t considered that he would end up in Aaden’s bed or that somehow taking that final step would reunite past lovers. A step he still couldn’t quite grasp had truly happened.

  He was so blissed out after Aaden had blown his mind. The next thing he knew he’d felt an overwhelming need to go to Peel Castle at stupid o’clock in the morning. He’d managed to drag a complaining Aaden out of bed, knowing it was important. He knew he’d made the right decision when he felt the moment the soulmates met for the first time in centuries. Greg had felt Magnus’s sense of betrayal and also the unwavering love that had grown for his beloved.

  He rubbed at the centre of his chest. His pastel lilac fitted shirt didn’t prevent him from feeling the slight buzzing sensation that hadn’t faded after his experi
ence on Friday night. It was a constant reminder that a part of him would always be Magnus and that made the actuality of the situation a reality.

  His mind boggled.

  Who the hell would believe me?

  Well, besides Aaden.

  He strolled up the stairs, reliving the argument he’d had with Aaden before he’d left for work that morning. Aaden had spent days using every distraction technique in his armoury. And Greg found there were many to stop him from discussing the other shit that had landed on their doorstep on Friday night. Or should that be Saturday morning?

  Greg stormed out of Aaden’s bedroom, running down the stairs with Aaden hot on his heels as he thundered down behind him. Greg swung round, his fists balled, his arms waving about his torso. “You can’t keep distracting me, hoping I won’t talk about Friday.” Greg watched Aaden’s brows join together. His thunderous expression made him want to step back, but he kept still, just.

  “Max can’t be serious, right? How do you think Brad is going to feel about all of this? Oh my God, he’ll never speak to us again if Max doesn’t choose to keep Princess’s spirit. Fucking hell, we are all going to be murderers. Murderers you hear me?!” Greg wailed. Only remembering too late he was shouting and Brody and Nick were still in bed. And though Nick seemed to have some clue as to what was going on, Brody did not.

  “Stop being so dramatic.”

  Aaden’s harsh whisper had Greg stomp away from the bottom of the stairs, dust swirling, coating his polished shoes. He grunted in disgust. He turned his attention back to the argument, keeping an eye out for any sudden visitors. You couldn’t be too careful. The last thing he wanted was to be cursed because he’d spilt the beans.

  Greg shivered in the warm hall.

  He was not sure if he was being overdramatic or not. That didn’t seem to matter because he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

  He marched back and forth at the bottom of the stairs, forgetting about the dust he was creating. He offered up a silent prayer that the wicked witch from Friday wouldn’t suddenly appear. Having got the full story from Max, he knew damn well this did not bode well for any of them with a witch hanging around. Nick’s avoidance, much like Aaden’s, had Greg want to knock both their heads together. Nick seemed to know the witch, or it looked like it to him when he’d caught the look on Nick’s face Saturday morning.

  The word witch seemed to catch inside his head.

  Why does the word witch keep leaping into my mind?

  Scratching at the base of his neck, he gave Aaden’s sullen expression and his still form a fleeting glance as he stomped past again. He was distracted for a second, thinking Aaden looked like he was playing a game of musical statues, without the music.

  “This can’t be good, Aaden. I thought all this shit with the whole two souls merging and talking cats was as wacky as it could get, but hell, now we are looking like we are off to see the wizard in the fucking crazy remake of The Wizard of Oz. All we need now is the scarecrow and the tin man to show up.” Greg felt the heat die in his face at his rising shrillness.

  He muttered under his breath. “This can’t be good. Seriously, it can’t.”

  Greg stomped back to Aaden, who still hadn’t moved.

  “Greg, calm down, my redheaded beauty. You’re winding yourself up over stuff we can’t control. Max, I’m sure, will give considerable thought to his decision. Though I have to admit, this is a shit thing for the otherworld king to pull.”

  Greg witnessed Aaden’s agitation grow as he continued.

  “It was evident on Friday; you felt it too, right? That it was always meant to happen now and on that particular date. The date, it would appear, to be the anniversary of Magnus’s death.”

  Aaden’s vociferous tone made Greg still.

  “Christ, they made Max suffer for centuries. Arseholes. This really is total bullshit.”

  Aaden’s helpless anger had Greg chew on his fingernail. Not sure he wanted to go back upstairs and face Max and the weight of his decision when Aaden put it like that. Greg resigned himself to going back up for his work suit jacket.

  Aaden speaking pulled Greg’s gaze back to him. “Hey, talk to me. What’s put that look on your face?”

  Greg let Aaden hold his weight. The rough fingertip Aaden rubbed between his brows, into the deep furrow he hadn’t known was there, had the frown deepen.

  “I don’t want any of this to interfere with us or our friends. I like Brad, and he has been a real support to us. And I feel like I’m being deceitful, Aaden. Can’t you understand? I know you’ve been avoiding talking about this for days. But I can’t avoid Brad any longer. We’re all going out tonight for dinner.” Greg watched Aaden’s eyes turn black at the mention of him going out.

  Greg wanted to groan and clamped his lips together to keep hold of his own temper. He forced the words past his lips. “Now hold up. You can stop that caveman shit right now. I’m going out with Brad and Joe, and Nick’s coming too. You know them all, so it’s not like I’m going out with strangers.” Greg grasped Aaden’s bristly face, pulling him down towards him. Searching his eyes, he could see the spark of jealousy glinting in their depths. Trying hard to ignore the warm feeling that look was giving him, he gave him a quick peck on the lips.

  Greg moved back, whispering into Aaden’s ear. “Seriously, what trouble could I get into?” He enjoyed the small groan when he couldn’t resist flicking out his tongue for a small taste.

  Greg giggled at Aaden’s threat. A threat he threw at Greg’s retreating back, “about showing him trouble later.” He stifled the full-bodied shiver at thoughts of just how Aaden might fulfill his morning promise.

  Greg gave a disgruntled sigh, realising he was standing in the toilet and that his cock was attempting to play peekaboo with his low-slung trousers. He blew his fringe out of his eyes and hiked up his trousers. He checked all the bathroom stalls before dialing Brad’s number.

  Their plan was to meet today at tea time, at Just Pasta & Pizza. Greg had organised it when they’d roped him into their secret “fight club.” Brad was really getting on board with the whole “what happens in fight club, stays in fight club” mode. So for some privacy to talk all things party, Greg had booked a table for five thirty, knowing he’d be free then. As the others could all pretty much come and go as they pleased, no one was too fussed about the time or place.

  He tapped his foot, waiting for Brad to answer, not sure why he’d received an SOS text from him. They were meeting in a few hours and could hash out any problems then, surely?

  His stomach jittered at having to face Brad again and keep shtum. He really was going to kill Max if he chose Christina.

  “Greg. Greg, I can hear you breathing. Answer me.” Brad’s low voice could barely be heard through the speaker.

  “Speak up. I can hardly hear you, Brad.” Greg’s eyes shot to the door as it squeaked open, revealing Martin. Not sure if he’d heard him speaking to Brad, Greg felt his panic rise, choking him.

  His tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth, feeling two sizes bigger than normal. He felt it swell almost as if he was having an allergic reaction to something. Greg felt a growing heat surge up his neck, morphing into an inferno as Martin raised his dark brows before pointing to the phone.

  “Are you talking to Brad?”

  Greg attempted to give a nonchalant shrug at the non-threatening question. His mouth moved, but no words came out. Choking back the ball of panic, he felt his pulse was trying to push out of his pounding ears. He willed himself to calm down.

  He squeaked “yes.”

  Brad’s shrill shout echoing off the tiled walls to say nothing came too late. Martin was already snatching the phone out of Greg’s sweaty hand.

  “Err, I… well… the… thing is… we’re meeting for tea. Emm… yeah, I was just confirming it.” Greg sputtered loudly, hoping Brad could hear him. Martin’s brows rose, and he cast a look of disbelief at Greg. His face heated faster than a boiling kettle. The urge to run and hide in
one of the stalls had Greg’s hands clench in an attempt to keep himself still.

  “Hello, baby, now why is Greg hiding out in the toilet speaking to you on the phone? Oh, and why are you telling him not to say it’s you?” Martin’s question, though spoken quietly, had an edge to it that had Greg wanting to confess.

  Sucking his lips into his mouth, Greg gripped them between his teeth. He strained to hear what Brad was saying. The quiet mumbled response was undecipherable.

  Greg felt the urge to huff in frustration. Instead, he tugged at his styled hair, tapping his foot, waiting for Brad to stop talking. After several minutes, he witnessed Martin’s normally calm blue eyes turn thunderous. A storm brewed in their depths as he handed back the phone. Not uttering one word, he stormed out of the bathroom. The loud crash had him cringe.

  “Okay, that cannot be good.” Greg muttered to himself, staring at the reverberating door.

  “Greg, for God’s sake answer me.” Brad’s loud bellow had him lift the phone back to his ear.

  “What have you done? No, I take that back. What on earth did you say to him? If looks could kill, I’d be ten feet under right now.” Greg trembled, giving the door a worried glance.

  “Let me worry about Martin. I just told him to butt out. And that if he wanted me to sort a party, then he should back the fuck off and leave you alone.” The calm way in which Brad spoke about pissing Martin off had Greg’s mouth drop open.

  “Oh, you gotta be shitting me.” Greg screeched. “You didn’t see his face. I’m in so much trouble right now.” Greg moaned into the phone.

  “Stop it, Greg. He’s not pissed at you. It’s me he’s angry with. It’s his own fault, sexting me into this situation. So if he doesn’t like it, tough.” Brad carried on explaining why he’d texted and what he needed Greg to collect for him.