by J P Sayle
At the sound of the doorbell, he shook off the questions he couldn’t find the answer for. He was glad he had something to distract him from his meandering thoughts.
Brad skipped in anticipation to the door. His excitement bubbled through him as he yanked the door open, smiling at the rosy cheeks and sparkling sky-blue eyes of Greg. Aaden, Brody, and Nick all stood behind Greg, holding plastic bags.
He grinned at them all, not at all bothered as the icy air blasted his flushed cheeks as he stepped towards Greg, relieving him of his bags. It was only then that Brad noticed the tension radiating off the men behind Greg. The lines around both Brody’s and Aaden’s mouths had him look towards Nick. The blank expression he wore had Brad chew on his bottom lip to stop the questions from pouring out.
Greg broke the silence as he pushed past Brad. “I’m starving, and the smell coming from your kitchen has my taste buds all but ready to beg.”
Brad listened to Greg waffle, but he never took his eyes off Nick. He raised his brow when Nick walked past with no crutches or limp.
Oh, you bugger.
Brad just about managed not to ask about the obvious elephant in the room when Aaden gave him a warning head shake. Brad knew it was too late when Martin walked down the stairs, staring at Nick.
“Shitting hell, what on earth happened to your leg?” Martin wanted to saw his tongue off or better yet retract the question he’d just asked when everyone froze at once. Not sure what he should do, Martin carried on walking down the stairs.
He went to the open door, closing out the wintry afternoon. He turned to Aaden, grabbing the bags he carried so he could do something to get everyone moving.
The chime of the door had him release his pent-up breath. He indicated to Aaden to let Joe and Stuart in as he herded everyone towards the lounge. Martin settled everyone, taking their drink requests as he hustled back into the kitchen with Brad hot on his heels.
“What on earth is going on with that lot? I’m convinced you could cut the tension with a knife. Aaden gave me a warning glare to stop me from asking about Nick’s leg, but you asked before I had a chance to stop you. I’m sorry.” Brad’s whispered words had Martin cast a wary eye towards the empty doorway.
“It’s all right, baby. I don’t know what the fuck is going on. But I’d bet my left testicle it’s probably got something to do with the witch. Hell, at this rate we’re going to end up in a remake of the Witches of Eastwick. Only it’ll be the Witches of the Isle of Man.”
Martin dropped the bags onto the floor. He got the drinks ready, placing them on the silver tray Brad produced. He gave Brad a quick kiss before he went back to the stove, playing with the bubbling pots.
Martin inhaled, bracing himself before he walked back into the lounge. He was relieved when the atmosphere wasn’t as tense. Greg’s constant chatter seemed to have lightened the mood.
Aaden and Brody were sitting on the two sage-green chairs pushed into the corner of the room on either side of the fireplace. They were dressed in nearly identical outfits. The grey trousers they wore were topped with soft cashmere jumpers, Aaden’s black, whereas Brody’s was a soft mint green. Martin stepped to each man offering a drink before he went to the large comfy sofa to give Nick, Greg, and Joe their drinks.
The three looked as thick as thieves as he watched Greg’s bright red head duck as he whispered something into Nick’s ear that had him grinning. He subsequently turned and whispered into Joe’s ear, getting the same response, a big arse grin.
The contrast of red hair, pale blond, and rich brown was striking. The three men, though so different in appearance, were all striking in their own way. Greg, though the taller of the three, didn’t appear bigger due to his willowy and lean body. Whereas Nick the smallest was broader, but his fine delicate features gave him an air of fragility that made him appear smaller.
Joe, on the other hand, sat somewhere in the middle between the two other men’s stature and height. The anorexic look Joe had sported when he’d arrived was long gone. It was only his chocolate eyes that offered up some of what had happened to him in the past. The fun playful light he’d been used to seeing for years had slowly returned under Stuart’s loving care.
Martin moved towards the last man in the room, Stuart. He sat on one of the leather chairs they’d carted in from the back room. He lounged on his chair, his hooded silver eyes never leaving Joe. The hint of apprehension that had Stuart’s mouth pinching when Greg spoke had Martin wonder what was going on with his friend.
“What did you do with the bags, Martin? The pressies are in it.”
Greg rubbed his hands together when he looked up at Aaden. Martin couldn’t stop his chuckle at the merriment dancing over Greg’s face. He looked like a kid about to open the gifts Santa had left under the tree.
Martin left the men to retrieve the bags, dragging a complaining Brad with him. “Come on, don’t you want to open your gifts?” Martin wagged his brows lecherously at Brad, making him giggle.
Martin stepped into the lounge, pausing. He felt the urge to capture this moment, this feeling of them all together, sharing Christmas. And though he hadn’t been keen when Brad had sprung his plans on him yesterday, he could see now as Brad beamed at the room that this was Brad and his new family. The friendships Brad had never had or been allowed to develop were all here, sharing their first Christmas.
Martin coughed, dropping the bags next to Aaden. He looked away from his smirk.
He walked to the tree. Crouching, he pulled out the parcels he’d hidden. He paused when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He shifted his head, looking in the direction of Stuart, convinced the noise had come from that side of the room.
Martin knelt on the floor, dragging Brad into his lap when he saw the expression on Stuart’s face. He ignored the sounds of rustling bags and paper as the others sorted through their gifts.
Martin nuzzled his smiling mouth into Brad’s neck, getting ready for the show. He kept his eyes away from Joe, not wanting to let on he knew what that terrified look Stuart wore was all about. He’d felt the very same when he’d proposed to Brad.
Martin sat, holding on to his baby, waiting for his friend to take the bull by the horns and propose.
“Joe…” The croak had Stuart cringe. He coughed, hoping to open up his throat. A throat that felt as if he’d got a golf ball lodged in it.
Stuart wet his lips, trying again. “Joe, can you come here a minute.” He felt slightly better when his voice only shook with nerves this time and didn’t sound like a bullfrog. He supposed he should count himself lucky he could speak at all with a tongue that felt like it had grown several sizes in his mouth.
He saw when Joe finally heard him past the boisterous activity surrounding them. “Come here. Please.” Stuart kept his eyes locked on Joe’s chocolate gaze. A chocolate gaze that had haunted his dreams before the fates had stepped in granting him his one wish. A wish he’d secretly held for more than ten years.
He blocked out the other men in the room, not sure he could get the words out if he looked at anyone other than Joe. He shuffled forward when Joe got up and walked towards his outstretched hands. He clasped Joe’s warm, work-roughened palms, pulling him into his lap. Stuart spoke in hushed tones, letting out the words he’d been dreaming of.
“Joe… I love you so goddamn much it hurts sometimes just to look at you. I never knew that when we met all those years ago, how you would change my life for the better. That one moment we shared at the worst time of my life gave me the best moment of my life.” Stuart paused and swiped at his eyes, sniffing up. “The day I opened the door to my new lodger changed my world again. You became my world. I’m not perfect.”
Stuart ignored the joint snorts he heard, thinking it was probably Martin and Greg.
“But you won’t find anyone who loves you more or who will do anything to please you.”
The loud gaffs of laughter this time had him shift his gaze from Joe’s watery eyes. “Do you mind?” H
e raised his brow at Nick and Greg. “I’m trying to propose here.”
The sudden silence and the stillness coming from Joe had Stuart’s pulse skip from crazy to insane. His nose burned when the bile in his empty stomach jumped up the back of his throat. Stuart gulped in some air, hoping it would help. He moved his eyes back to Joe’s, praying that he wouldn’t see a flashing NO coming out of his eyes.
Stuart sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, unable to contain the little sob when Joe’s face beamed. The happiness glowing from his chocolate eyes had Stuart struggle to continue.
“Will you…” His question was lost under Joe’s loud shout. Stuart covered his ringing ears as Joe bounced and carried on shouting.
“Yes. Yes. Oh hell. Yes. A million yeses.”
Greg’s raucous laughter competed with Joe’s joyous shouts.
“He hasn’t even asked you properly yet. He has to get down on one knee, like Martin did with Brad.” Stuart threw a deadly look at Greg, willing him to shut up when Joe’s face lit up with a mischievous grin.
“You did say you’d do anything for me.”
Stuart growled.
He shifted Joe off his lap, plonking him on the chair he’d vacated, but not before he glared at everyone in the room.
He pointed to Joe and the others. “Keep quiet.”
Stuart lowered to the red rug. Bending one knee, he lowered the other, pulling the small package out of his pocket. He held it towards Joe, taking a deep inhale.
“Will you marry me, be my one and only, now and forever?” He held still, locking his misty eyes with Joe’s. The seconds felt like hours. Stuart was convinced his heart was about to break his ribs it was pounding so hard. It had him wanting to rub at his chest, but he didn’t want to move until Joe spoke.
“Yes. I want that more than anything. You gave me back my soul. You might not know it, but you mended it when I thought it was broken beyond repair. I’m yours eternally.” Joe swiped at his wet chin and cheeks before continuing, “Our lives are entwined, now and forever.”
Joe swept his shimmering eyes over his friends.
“All of our lives are entwined, and although this buildup to Christmas may have been more like the twelve disasters of Christmas instead of the twelve days of Christmas, I wouldn’t change it for anything.” He blew kisses to his friends before he found his mouth sealed with Stuart’s plush lips.
Joe sighed in contentment. Ignoring the rising noise around him as everyone got into the Christmas spirit, he hugged Stuart closer to his chest as his large arms encased his shoulders. He gasped, pulling back.
“Merry Christmas, fiancé.” Joe grinned when Stuart laid his forehead against his, whispering the words back to him.
“Merry Christmas, fiancé.”
Christina sneered through the lounge window, pretending her heart wasn’t weeping in sorrow at never having experienced the love she could feel almost as if it was a living, breathing thing.
She gave them a sweeping glance before she floated to Stuart and Joe’s home, hoping to find Max. She’d had enough of this waiting. And she had an odd feeling that this time she might not get her way. The fact that Max had been missing in action and Princess had also disappeared worried her more than she would let on.
When she’d tried to connect to the guardians this morning, she’d been blocked. Christina stomped her foot. As her temper built, she searched the garden and the house but found nothing. She went to Aaden’s, but she knew the minute she entered that Max wasn’t there. His essence had always had a certain signature, which had alerted her to his presence. Now all she sensed was static.
She mumbled. She cursed when she couldn’t come up with an answer as to where they had disappeared to. She paused when a wild thought popped into her head. No, it couldn’t be, could it? Would the king interfere?
The thought no sooner entered her head than she felt the tug on her soul. She groaned in despair. The air lifted her as she disappeared from Aaden’s home only to find herself staring down the king.
Christina’s mind raced.
This is so not good!
“Hello, Christina. I was hoping you would have come of your own accord, but is seemed that was not going to be the case.” The softly spoken words were laced with ice, making Christina want to shrivel away from the coldness.
“Come now. Don’t you think it’s time to explain what you have been up to?”
The quiet demand had the words pouring out of her mouth unheeded.
“I have no clue as to what you’re referring to…” Christina bit her lip when the angry snarl stopped her dead.
“Do not lie to me. You have been causing mayhem. I stupidly gave you too much rope, and now you’ve managed to tie yourself up in it.” The chuckle that followed those words was bereft of humour. “I have had to waste considerable time trying to ascertain what you have been up to. The crimes, it would seem, are far too many to catalogue if my sources are correct. So what am I to do with you?” The king’s hard, cold eyes released her as they moved to look at the two cats she’d been searching for.
Christina knew better than to answer, knowing fine well he wasn’t asking for her opinion. But the urge to speak overrode common sense when she caught Max’s sorrowful expression before he looked away.
“I would be happy to take Princess’s body and be with Max eternally.” A low growl emanated from behind her, causing her to move swiftly to the side, out of harm’s reach. A small black cat, not dissimilar to Princess, stalked towards her, hackles raised.
Shit!
Sidestepping the angry cat as she sailed past, Christina took a deep inhale but coughed it right back out when the king spoke.
“You cannot inhabit Princess’s body. It is impossible now that Max has connected to her soul. They are inseparable.” The last word was drowned out when a flying Princess landed on Max’s large white body, attacking him for all her worth.
Christina froze, along with everyone else, for a second as the screeching became unbearably loud.
“Enough, Princess!” The loud bellow had Princess finally releasing Max and stopping the screeching. But Christina could clearly see her eyes promised retribution.
“Max did the only thing he could do to save your life. If he hadn’t listened to your mother, you would have died.” The chaos died as the words penetrated past the anger filling the king’s chamber.
The words rang with a finality that had Christina crumple to the ground, sobbing.
“Christina, get up.”
The harsh command had her slowly stand. Wiping her cheeks, she raised her head, and she pushed her auburn hair away from her pale face.
“I have thought long and hard about your past digressions. That being said, what you did to Nick and Brody as children, it needs to be fixed. You messed with soulmates, and the fates are not at all happy with you. For that, you will become human until you can fix what you broke.” His large hand waved. The air charged around her before she found herself standing outside Aaden’s home, shivering from the freezing, biting air.
“Oh, Goddess Freyja, how am I supposed to survive like this?” The loud cry was met with a thud behind her where a bag landed.
A voice danced on the air around her head.
“You will find everything you need in that bag. Money and clothes, but the rest you will need to source yourself without the means of magic. I will not give back your magic until you make amends for what you tried to break because of your petty jealousy. Remember, I will be watching.”
The air blew fiercely before it stilled, leaving her alone in the dark cul-de-sac. Christina felt a shiver of fear skitter up her spine. “What if I fail?”
The ominous silence spoke volumes and turned the shiver into full-blown trembles as she picked up the bag, searching for something to block out the icy cold.
She pulled out a black full-length padded jacket from the bag and put it on. She searched through the bag, grateful for small mercies when she saw how much money she had
.
Christina walked away from Aaden’s, unsure what to do now, knowing she wouldn’t be welcome in any of their homes. Walking to the main road for the first time in more than nine hundred years, she tried to get her bearings.
The sound of a car had her click her fingers, but nothing happened as it sailed past. Her eyes shimmered as she trudged down the road with the large bag slung over her shoulder. The reality of her situation finally sunk in.
She was magicless.
Goddess Freyja, now what?
She prayed to whoever was listening that the damage she had caused to Brody and Nick was repairable and she wouldn’t be stuck in her human form forever.
Christina shuddered, thinking that was a fate worse than death.
The chuckles that filled her head warned her there could be worse things, and she was, maybe, about to find out what they were.
The End.
Where it all Began: Manx Cat Guardians Origins (Book 1)
The king of the otherworld, Manannán, witnessing changes to how the love between those who chose differently was being accepted, intervened. Wanting the world to have love and hope eternally, ensuring that soulmates connected without restrictions regardless of the person they chose to love, he created the Manx Cat Guardians.
Maximillian, born in the eleventh century, king of his kind, he struggled to always follow the rules King Manannán had laid down. Given no choice about his destiny like his fellow guardians, he’d been granted a Wiccan guide to aid him.
Never having had any problems with his past charges, Maximillian finds himself struggling to get his current charge, King Óláfr the Black, to accept his soulmate Magnus, a lowly servant. The connection is strong between them, but the changing times that Manannán witnessed and the introduction of Christianity had Óláfr struggling to accept his soulmate.
Ignoring the dire warning from Christina, his Wiccan guide, about interfering, Maximillian finds himself creating ripples from his actions with untold consequences that cause devastation. As he is left to wander this earth, his role irrevocably changed by his actions. He must now ensure promises that were made are honoured, no matter the length of time that passes.
