by J P Sayle
His frustration ratcheted up another notch, not allowing her time to answer. He cut her dead when she went to speak or try to bamboozle him, he was sure. He pointed at her alarmed face. “You forget I know you too well, Christina. And remember this isn’t our first rodeo together. I know your moves.” Nick frowned. “And that begs the question as to why you haven’t poofed right out of here by now, especially with all these hard questions being fired at you.”
Nick felt something dawn unexpectedly. He jabbed at the space between them. “You can’t, can you?” If he hadn’t been watching her closely, he was sure he’d have missed her eye twitch. It was something that happened when she was getting ready to tell a lie. It was the only tell he’d learnt over the years of game playing.
“I’ll stop you right there. Spill, Christina.”
The sound of plastic rustling broke the silence as she flopped back, huffing and puffing. Her tiny hand weaved its way into the ponytail that sat high on her head. The rainy grey light coming through the window behind the sofa didn’t diminish the fire in her auburn tresses as she tugged ruthlessly at the long strands, twirling them around her slim, ringless fingers.
“Okay, okay, you win. You better sit down, Nick. This is a long story, and you’re not gonna like it one little bit.”
He could hear the nerves in her voice, and his body juddered. A shard of panic forced him to do as she asked when it sliced at his core. He sat down next to her, sinking into the plastic-coated plush leather. He placed his trembling hands in his lap with a feeling of trepidation rolling around his gut. He had the feeling he wouldn’t want to miss any of what she was about to say, and he focused all of his attention on her.
“I just want to say this happened a very long time ago.”
Nick’s patience had already been wearing thin at her delaying tactics, and he growled. “Come on, get on with it, Christina.”
“Keep your hair on. I’m trying to explain.” She paused, wetting her lips. “I came upon you, Nick, when you were about eleven. You were in the woods walking with your mum, chatting her ear off about some childish nonsense or other. Anyway, there was something about you that called to me in a way no one ever had before. And you have to remember I’ve been around a long time.” She ignored his eye roll and carried on. Her eyes stared out blankly as her mind was transported back to when she’d unfortunately decided to mess with the fates.
“I followed you for weeks. Watching and considering how I could obtain your body, your soul. It was something I had stopped doing centuries before. So it was a surprise to me when I found myself coveting you. Then one summer night, I saw you climb out of your bedroom window and shimmy down the drainpipe. I followed you as you ran deep into the forest.”
Nick felt a punch to his gut. He listened intently. His insides churned as she talked about the fateful night he had followed Aaden and Brody into the woods when they had gone camping without him.
“You seemed to know where you were going. So I shadowed you. I felt intrigued. Well, that was until you stopped. The look of yearning on your young face when you watched Brody messing around with Aaden wasn’t something I was very happy to see. I’d been watching you for so long I’d noticed sometimes the way Brody would look at you when you weren’t aware.” Christina shrugged as she continued. “Your rapt attention that night and the feelings I could sense coming from Brody that I couldn’t define at the time had me cast a spell.” Christina felt the little lie was justified. Of course she’d known they were soulmates. The bond had glowed brighter than the moon and sun put together.
Nick’s glassy-eyed stare and pale cheeks made him resemble a corpse, so she thought now was not the time to let that secret out.
Nick felt the air burst out of his chest as the words exploded in his head.
Spell. She cast a spell.
The word seemed to be on repeat as if the needle of an old-fashioned record player was stuck in the record. It just kept reciting it over and over. Spell. Spell. Spell. Spell.
He locked eyes with Brody’s stormy grey-green gaze. Neither of them moved as the reality sat between them as Christina spoke with such disregard for what she had done to prevent Brody from staking any claim, if he’d wanted to, on Nick. Ensuring Brody would be attracted to men who were the exact opposite of him, as if it was nothing.
Nick struggled to get his mind to focus. His jumbled thoughts rammed together, as if they were bumper cars at the fairground. They struck into each other, knocking any coherency right out of his head. He tried to grasp what Christina had done to him, to Brody.
Nick fired out of the chair at the word “soulmates.” It exploded much the same as a landmine detonated on the unsuspecting walking in a field of hidden bombs. He felt the impact tearing at his body. His limbs struggled to work together, making it impossible to do more than teeter on unsteady legs in the middle of the empty floor.
His ears buzzed. His mind clouded, flashing lights exploded in his head a second before his head finally decided it had had enough and shut down. Unconscious, he dropped to the floor like a stone in a pond.
The commotion finally pulled Christina from the past, realising her fatal mistake too late. She had been so lost in the past that she’d accidentally let it slip out about their soulmate connection. She rubbed at her temples, trying to relieve the throbbing ache. Only then she noticed Nick on the floor. Brody and Aaden crowded over him, a loud argument going on about who was going to pick him up.
“Seriously! You two meatheads need to get your act together.” Greg’s angry holler at the two men had Christina stifle a giggle. Greg’s shouting seemed to do the trick when Aaden shifted and allowed Brody to lift Nick up.
Christina shuffled her bottom down the long sectional sofa to make room for Brody to lay Nick down. Only he moved in the opposite direction and headed towards the open door after he gave her an incredulous look. It was clear to see he didn’t trust her and she supposed she couldn’t blame him.
He stalked out the door, his large muscles bulging with every step. Fanning her face, Christina watched Brody’s tight arse flex in his, low-slung scruffy jeans.
He is so hot.
When a loud meow came from the now empty doorway, her eyes lowered to meet Princess’s steely blue gaze. “Get that thought out of your head, missy. He is gay and belongs to Nick. You have no right looking at him like he is a piece of meat.”
Christina jerked back as if she’d been slapped. Her mouth hung open. How the hell is Princess able to read my thoughts?
“That would be because I accepted the position as queen. It would seem I now have the same powers as Max,” Princess hissed angrily. Her eyes stayed fixed on Christina when Princess felt Max enter the room.
They had finally been freed from the otherworld by the king. Her wish to go and see Brad first had been overruled; instead he had returned them to Aaden’s home. They, it would seem, had to go and help miss witchy poo first. Princess’s hackles wanted to rise at the drama the little cow had created. And yes, she had resolved some of her issues with Max for his deceit, but that didn’t mean she was going to forgive the witch for encouraging Max to help take over her soul and essentially kill her spirit. No, that shit is not easily forgiven. The fact that the king insisted they help her fix the problems she’d created with her spell galled her. But who said no to the king who ruled over them? Not her, it would seem.
Princess huffed at her newfound powers. She pinned the witch to the sofa with a look of ire. She loathed to find herself in more bother by letting something slip through the link she now had with Christina, and alert her to the broken spell and their plans to help her.
Princess kept her thoughts shielded from the king’s explanation on how he’d broken Christina’s spell after Brody arrived on the island. It would seem his soulmate connection was clearly visible, and it appeared it was how Christina had been found out. The king explained about how he’d waited and watched Christina to see what she was up to, to see if she would fix the damage. The fact
that she’d set out to cause more mayhem forced the king’s hand. Princess felt sorry for him when the disappointment was clear to see on his beautiful face as he spoke.
Princess felt a wave of sympathy wash over her.
She’d sensed there was more to it when the king couldn’t mask his feelings, but she’d felt unable to ask.
Pulled from her reverie, she watched Christina shrink into the sofa, sadness emanating from her. The occupants of the room ignored and shut her out. It was as if Harry Potter’s cloak of invisibility had been flung over her. She was there but not. Princess’s defences weakened by the longing filling Christina’s hazel eyes as she watched everyone intently.
Her own gaze moved to Max as he ran to Aaden, leaping up his large frame. Her lips peeled away from her sharp, gleaming teeth at the cry of joy Aaden released. Max was hugged tightly into Aaden’s broad chest. Princess turned back when the air shifted across her fur.
Christina got up quickly, running towards the hall, heading to the door.
Princess heard the bang of the door a second later. She jumped up onto the sofa. The slippery plastic made it hard for her to climb up the back to see out the window. She gave a small leap, landing on the thick leather cushion in time to witness tears course down Christina’s cheeks mixing with the rain. Her ponytail bobbed frantically as she ran towards the road, not stopping to look back. Princess sighed at her own soft heart. The urge to follow and comfort her had her claws unsheathe, digging into the plastic and leather.
Aaden’s harsh demand for answers forced her to turn back. She wobbled precariously when her mind was overridden by the onslaught of feelings that came from Aaden.
She gave Max a baleful scowl. Why did I think being able to hear thoughts of any human other than my charge would be a good thing?
When she couldn’t figure out the answer, she shifted off the couch, prowling to Max. She was uncertain how she could help, but help she would. She’d promised.
She paused at the deluge of emotions running around in her mind like a hundred unruly kids. The feeling of being put upon rose to the surface. Her eyes narrowed in consideration when she fought the desire to get back at Max for what he’d done to her.
Forgiven, hmmmm. Maybe not!
King Manannán
King Manannán ushered his burly soldiers out of the throne room. His ears buzzed at the sound of their leather boots thundering across the marble. If he added in their constant fussing and fawning over him, it all made the perfect storm for a painful throbbing headache. He rubbed at the bridge of his large Roman nose as he watched them all leave, shutting the large black ornate doors.
His army were created from the souls of wrongdoers. The chance to redeem their past mistakes and work to maintain the peace and order of the otherworld was offered to each soul as they entered the otherworld realm. The fires of hell were their only other option, so many took the chance of redemption. His forefathers had been shocked when he had decided that evil souls should be honoured in this way and brought into such a pure place. He’d argued that who better to keep the peace than those who could spot it and understand what it took to prevent problems from arising. Over many centuries, he’d proven that he’d been right with his decision.
He rubbed at his temples, wondering if he may have made a mistake with the recent influx of new soldiers. Soldiers, hellbent on fussing over him and not focusing on what they should be doing.
He shook his head, causing the long waves of raven hair to cascade over his powerful shoulders. He shut down that line of thinking, not needing to make his head throb any harder. He took several slow breaths, tensing and relaxing his large frame so that it released the tension from the last few days.
He just wanted five minutes of peace, with no drama.
He chuckled. Drama, it would seem, was Princess’s middle name. And Max’s for that matter as he considered the performance he’d given to entertain his people. It was enough to last a lifetime. The constant squawking Princess did throughout was enough to make even a deaf person want to cover their ears. The rate at which his staff went into hiding when she got into full rant mode would have been comical if he hadn’t had to sit and listen. Then try and reason with the highly strung kitty.
His plush lips lifted at the edges, and his aquamarine eyes glowed with satisfaction at finally talking Princess around to giving Max a chance. Max had been far too stubborn initially to apologise. He’d done as Princess’s mother had requested, and saved her daughter’s life. Without, it would appear, no thought of the consequences to him or the other guardians. Consequences that had the king’s hands rub together at what was to come for the stubborn fool.
He chuckled.
For a large man, standing at six foot seven, he managed to move silently. His leather shoes whispered across the marble floor as he strode back to his ostentatious throne. The only piece of furniture in the room, it glowed brightly in the dimly lit room. The gold sourced from Snaefell, the one and only mountain on the Isle and where you could, if you looked hard enough, see the seven Kingdoms of Mann from the highest point. Just thinking about the mountain gave him the urge to venture into the human world. He yearned to take a walk over the hills and feel the soft sweet fragrant air against his skin.
He stroked his long raven hair back from his face, thinking about what he had to contend with on a daily basis. Controlling those that inhabited the otherworld was not something he could easily step away from, and take time to be alone.
He lowered his powerful frame into the rather uncomfortable seat, trying hard not to think about how numb his arse would be when he got up. He never grumbled about the hard seat, knowing the fairies had spent years searching for the gold to create the throne for his father. It had now been his for more than a millennium, and still he couldn’t find anything, even with magic, to make the sodding thing comfortable enough to sit on it for more than five minutes. It was a real pain in his posterior, figuratively and literally. On the days he spent many hours sitting on the bloody thing, he could hardly walk when he got up because he was so numb from the arse down.
He slouched back into the cold metal. A shiver skirted up his back. The large blazing fire only heated his front. He grumbled into the empty room, wondering not for the first time why he didn’t modernise the throne room. The crevices in the stone walls housed multiple fire torches. Their flickering cast shadows over the black marble floor.
Over the centuries, the palace had been updated to match the modern era, but he’d not allowed the magic to touch this room. It remained as it had since his father’s reign. Something always kept him from changing it and caused his numb backside to complain bitterly.
He hardly stopped the disgruntled sigh. Needing something to distract him, he let his eyes focus on the lights of the fire as they danced across the floor. He effortlessly opened the veil between his worlds. His aquamarine eyes squinted into the dancing flames as he let his will guide him to where Christina was.
He shifted his buttocks. His black silk trousers tightened at his groin when Christina’s beautiful face and curvaceous body materialised in front of him, and he had to readjust himself. The black padded coat she wore did not hide her wiles. His mouth went dry as the sight of the skin-tight black trousers covering her shapely legs. He was so used to seeing her in her old-fashioned kyrtill it was a shock to his system to see her womanly curves on full display.
He sucked his lip between his teeth while he listened to her attempt to explain what she had done. The fates whispered in his ear, spilling her secrets.
He found it difficult to remain seated for some reason. He stalked closer to the fire, brows drawing together. Unexpected anger bubbled at the back of his throat, stealing his ability to swallow. Her explanation about wanting Nick stabbed at his heart causing untold devastation. Devastation he wasn’t prepared for. His hands balled into fists when he glanced over at the blond imp who wore a look of utter desolation as he wobbled in the middle of the room before collapsing.
Not completely sure he hadn’t caused the young man to faint, the king pulled himself away from the flames. His mind annoyingly strove to fathom what his heart was conveying. He staggered back to the chair, gripping the cold metal, hoping it would steady him as he fell onto the throne. He shook his head, wanting to stop what he already knew form into a reality.
How did I not know I had these feeling for her?
He endeavoured to block Morgana from his mind. He shut his eyes in disgust when he heard her chuckle. Her soft, lazy drawl had him freeze.
“Of course you knew, you stupid idiot. It’s just that you’ve done a lot of avoiding. In fact you’ve been avoiding for so long I think you blocked your feelings from your mind. And it’s why the little witch has been left to get up to all sorts of mischief because you’ve evaded her and your feelings for centuries.”
Her husky laughter as she materialised in front of him did little to calm his racing heart as he glared down at the little ginger cat perched on his lap.
He growled as she settled herself, snuggling into his hand, encouraging him to stroke her silky fur. He gave an irritated sigh when he found his hand roaming her warm soft fur, stroking the spots she loved best. Her loud purr filled the chamber as she settled herself with no fear of retribution. She was the only one he allowed to speak her mind. She and he had an unbreakable bond formed after he’d found her near half dead after she’d tried to save her brother and his wife from the fires that had raged for two whole days. The fire had killed half the Guardian cats, along with Max’s parents.
He felt her sadness now as she sensed where his thoughts had gone.
“Please, I do not wish to see or feel what happened. Not again. It is too much.” Her black eyes pleaded as she tucked her head into his large palm.
Her musical voice filled his mind when he shut out the past.