Black Heart

by R. L. Mathewson

  “Nonsense, she’s a tough girl,” Beth said as she practically shoved Marty to the door.

  “Sorry, Marty!” Denny yelled as she stumbled out of the house.

  “Sorry about what?” she asked a second before the door was slammed shut in her face.

  “Well, that was odd,” Marty mumbled as she shifted the large basket in her hands and headed for the sidewalk. A tingling sensation crawled up her spine, giving her little choice but to turn around. Her anxiety doubled when she spotted Beth standing in the window, beaming and giving her a thumbs up.

  “Okay, weirder,” Marty said as she looked away and headed towards Tristan’s house. Beth was obviously up to something. What? She didn’t know, but it couldn’t be good.

  *-*-*-*

  Tristan ignored the two hens bitching in his living room and focused on the game.

  “I’m telling ye, that’s not the best way to get this girl,” Shayne argued.

  “Why the hell not? It always worked for me!” pipe man said defensively. “He’s good looking, so it should work.”

  Tristan ground his teeth and focused on slaying some vampires. Shayne gestured towards him. “He can’t just go up to Marty and say, ‘Do ye wanna fuck or do I owe ye an apology?’ That’s a stupid line!”

  Pipe man threw his hands up in irritation. “Why not? It works!”

  Shayne grumbled something about dickheads as he picked up his controller and joined the game.

  “Well, why not?” pipe man demanded, again.

  “I already told ye, Patricia, Marty is a good girl. That shit won’t work on her.”

  “I told you that my name is Patrick, not Patricia,” Patrick growled.

  “Whatever, Patricia, until ye come up with something helpful, shush it,” Shayne said, beheading a demon.

  Patrick tried to sit on the couch, but fell through. “Well, that sucks!”

  Shayne and Tristan chuckled. “Yer just a spirit, lad. Ye can’t take any type of form or interact in this world.”

  “But you can,” Patrick said accusingly.

  “That’s because I’m not a spirit,” Shayne answered in a bored tone.

  “What the hell are you then?” Patrick demanded as he stood up.

  Shayne looked thoughtful for a moment. “I guess I’m what ye would call a shipper.”

  “A shipper? You mean like UPS?” Patrick scoffed. “What the hell is that?” He held up a hand to stop Shayne from answering. “You know what? I don’t really care, because we’ve gotten way off the topic here.” He moved in front of television and once again blocked the game.

  Tristan and Shayne groaned. “Now, where were we? Oh, that’s right. Do what I want or you will never experience a moment of peace again. I’ll also go spy on this Marty chick and watch her when she’s naked,” he added to piss Tristan off.

  Tristan glared as he moved to go after him. “I will fucking-“

  Shayne cut him off as he gestured for Tristan to sit back down. “No, he’s right, lad. We should help him,” he explained as he stood up and walked over to Patrick.

  “That’s more like it,” Patrick agreed, grinning smugly in Tristan’s direction.

  Shayne pressed a finger to his lips. “Just out of curiosity, Patricia. When ye were alive, where did ye think ye’d end up when ye died? Heaven or hell?”

  Patrick shifted nervously. “I didn’t really think about it.”

  “What do ye think, lad? Where do ye think he’ll go?” Shayne asked Tristan, never taking his eyes away from the man fidgeting nervously in front of them.

  Tristan studied Patrick for a long moment. He noted the pipe in his neck and guessed that it hadn’t landed there by accident. “I’d say hell,” Tristan said with a shrug.

  “What? No way! I’ve led a good life.”

  Shayne shrugged. “Let’s see, shall we?” He placed a hand over Patrick’s heart.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Patrick asked. His eyes widened as a black light emanated from his chest.

  “Well, I guess ye were right, lad,” Shayne murmured as they watched the darkness do its job.

  “Wait, what are you do-“ Patrick started to ask only to disappear in a puff of black smoke before he could finish. The smoke quickly disappeared as if it had never been, taking all evidence of their unwanted guest along with it.

  Tristan picked up the second controller and tossed it to Shayne. “Why the hell did you wait so long? He was really getting on my nerves.”

  Shayne shrugged. “He entertained me for a bit there,” he explained unapologetically.

  “Well, as long as you were entertained,” Tristan said dryly.

  Shayne’s gaze shot towards the front door before he grinned that grin that made even Tristan nervous.

  “What?” Tristan asked, not liking that gleam of anticipation in the man’s eyes.

  Just as quickly as the smile came it was gone. Shayne cleared his throat. “Nothing, lad.” Then with a flick of his hand he sent Tristan’s can of soda tumbling off the arm of the chair, spilling its contents onto Tristan’s shirt.

  Chapter 5

  “What the hell, Shayne?” Tristan snapped as he jumped to his feet.

  “Oh, so sorry. Ye might want to take that off,” Shayne said innocently as he gestured lazily to Tristan’s now soaked shirt.

  Tristan shook his head in disgust. “Let me guess. It entertained you to do that.”

  Shayne’s lips twitched. “Ye could say that.”

  He shot Shayne a dirty look as he used his soaked tee shirt to dry his chest. Before Tristan could retaliate, a knock sounded at the door.

  “Ye better get that, lad,” Shayne pointed out, his lips twitching in amusement.

  Tristan shot him a glare before he tossed the shirt on the table and stormed off towards the door. Whoever was waiting started to pound on the door before he reached the hallway.

  “Calm the hell down! I’m coming!” he yelled. He was in absolutely no mood for company. Between his mother’s constant nagging, Shayne’s fucking with his head, and being stuck on medical leave with nothing to do, he was pissed. Top that all off with seeing Marty today and being chased off by that prick and he was in the mood to kill someone. Well, unless it was a Girl Scout. He might let one of them live if they had some of those caramel cookies that he was addicted to.

  The pounding started again. “Unreal,” he muttered as he unlocked the door and yanked it open. His brows shot up as he took in the sight of Marty struggling beneath the weight of his mother’s largest wicker picnic basket.

  “A little help here would be nice,” she groaned as she stumbled to the side.

  Tristan shook himself inwardly as he reached out and took the basket from her. Marty frowned at how easily he held the basket. She ran her hand through her hair to push it back as she looked up at him and she might have whimpered, just a little.

  Her memories of his body did not do him justice, not even a little bit. She remembered that he’d always been lean and well built, but now he was….he was…..yummy. She took in his low hanging, loose fitting jeans that gave a good view of narrow hips and a dark happy trail that disappeared beneath the waistband. Her eyes slowly moved up over his washboard stomach and muscular chest covered with a light dusting of dark hair and a round Celtic tattoo on his right pec. Did she mention yummy? It should definitely be mentioned. Her eyes moved to a dark pink wound on his shoulder, down to his large biceps and the tribal tattoos that circled both arms. To top it all off was a golden tan that highlighted all that yumminess.

  The man was a god.

  Tristan couldn’t move as Marty ran hungry eyes over him. This was not happening. Surely she wasn’t checking him out. No, she was just curious about his wound. When her eyes fell on it a few seconds later, he was sure that was it.

  “She wants ye,” Shayne whispered in his ear. “Yer totally in. Just flex a little muscle, big guy, and she’s yers.”

  Tristan just barely caught himself before he told the man to fuck off. That’s all he nee
ded was Marty thinking that he was crazy. That would just make his already fucked up life perfect.

  Marty cleared her throat as she tenderly ran a finger below the still healing wound. At least she had enough sense not to touch it directly, unlike his family. It hurt like a bitch when anything touched it and they didn’t seem to grasp that, which in his book was pretty fucked up considering that two of them were licensed paramedics.

  “Is that any better?”

  “Some days are better than others. What are you doing here?” he asked, mentally kicking his own ass at how rude he sounded, but he couldn’t help but wonder why the woman that he’d been avoiding for years was suddenly showed up on his front step.

  Marty sighed heavily. “I was just doing your mother a favor. Don’t worry, I won’t do it again.” She turned and started to leave only to come to an abrupt halt when she saw Beth and Tom pull to a stop in front of the house in Tom’s truck. Tom rolled down the window so that Beth could lean over and yell.

  “I’m sorry, Marty. I have to make a run to the college to collect some….things. You know how much Tom hates for me to go there at night alone so he’s going to take me and then we’re going out for a while. We’d thought it would be fun. Oh, and Denny is leaving, too.”

  Marty opened her mouth to ask for a ride into town, but was cut off by Beth. “Also, I just spoke with Hank. Your Dad isn’t going to be home until well after three in the morning. I’m not sure when we’re going to be home, probably really late.” She looked past Marty to Tristan.

  “Sweetie, you don’t mind if Marty hangs out with you, do you?” Before Tristan could respond, his mother smiled brightly and continued. “Actually, since we’re all going to be out so late you might want to make up a room for her and let her stay with you. I know you wouldn’t turn the poor thing out and make her wait on her father’s front step all night.” If possible, she smiled even wider. “Great, I’m glad that’s all taken care of. Love you!” she yelled as she sat back and effectively ended the conversation, not that there had been much of one.

  Tom closed the window while he mouthed what Marty and Tristan thought was “Sorry.” They stood there shocked while his parents drove away. Denny was close behind them in his SUV. He paused only long enough to shake with uncontrollable laughter and confirm their suspicions that they’d just been screwed over.

  Marty pressed her palms against her eyes. “This cannot be happening.”

  “What the hell was all that about?” Tristan asked as his eyes dropped to Marty’s, in his opinion, perfectly rounded ass. He managed to look up, appearing innocent by the time Marty turned around.

  “I have a bad feeling that your mother,” she paused, swallowing hard, “is playing matchmaker.”

  Tristan cursed as Shayne burst out laughing. “Oh, it took her long enough, didn’t it? I swear she’s the last one to notice.” He looked at Marty. “Well, maybe not the last.”

  “Stop it,” Tristan snapped.

  Marty looked startled. “I’m..I’ll…You know what? I’m sure if I put my mind to it I can figure out how to pick a lock.” She gestured to the basket. “Bon appetite and have a nice life,” she said, turning back around and walking away.

  “Wait!” Tristan found himself saying, surprising the hell out of himself. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was…I was…just bitching about my wound. It’s itching like crazy.”

  She paused, looking over her shoulder at him with a slight frown. “Oh.”

  He stepped back away from the door and gestured for her to enter. “Come on in. I’ll give you the tour and show you where you can sleep.”

  She rocked back on her heels as she considered it. “I don’t want to intrude, Tristan. I know how much you like to be alone.”

  He scowled at that. “What do you mean?”

  She just shook her head and shrugged as she said, “Nothing.”

  “Are you coming in or not?” he snapped out of irritation, because for the first time in years he had no idea how to handle her.

  She smiled sweetly at him. “When you put it that way, how can a girl resist? Oh, wait, probably like this,” she said, brightly, sending him a withering glare as she continued on to her father’s house.

  “Yer ma’s gonna kick yer ass for this one, lad,” Shayne said as Tristan threw one last look of longing in Marty’s direction before he reluctantly closed the door.

  Frustrated, Tristan rammed a hand through his hair. “I could care less,” he ground out as he took the basket into the kitchen and angrily put the food away. Any appetite he’d had was gone with having to watch her walk away, taking another chunk of his heart with her.

  *-*-*-*

  “What an asshole,” Marty muttered to herself as she carefully climbed up the trellis located next to her bedroom window. For the first time in years she was happy about the blinding security lights her father attached to the house since they made it possible to see what she was doing, as long as she squinted that is. Progress was slowed considerably as she was forced to constantly stop to detangle her clothes from thorns and splinters. Sadly, she was only five feet from the ground when the sky opened up and poured down on her.

  Within seconds she was completely drenched and the trellis turned into a slippery challenge. She used her arm to push away the wet hair out of her face as she cursed Tristan under her breath. The jerk. Like she really wanted to spend the night alone with him. Puhlease. She wouldn’t go somewhere that she wasn’t wanted and he clearly wanted nothing to do with her.

  In a matter of minutes she managed to climb to her window. She carefully twined her left arm in the trellis so that she could reach out with her other hand and try to open her window.

  “Almost…almost…,” she mumbled to herself. A few seconds later, she discovered, unhappily, that her window was locked. Grumbling several words that would make even her father blush, she climbed down the slippery trellis. Halfway down her grip slipped. She fell the three feet to the ground, somehow landing on her backside in the wrecked flower garden, which now mostly consisted of watery mud.

  “Goddamnit!” she yelled with her hands raised to the sky in frustration.

  For the next two minutes, she struggled to climb out of the muddy mess. Every time she managed to pull a limb out it was met with a loud suction noise and then a large splatter as she slipped and landed back in the mud until she was completely covered from head to toe. Oh, her day officially sucked ass.

  Finally, and with one less shoe, she managed to trudge through the large pools of water taking up residence on the front lawn and made it to the safety of the front porch where she huddled next to the front door. She turned her back to the wind and rain. She pulled her phone out and sighed with relief. At least some things were looking up. Her phone had somehow survived the mud bath.

  She took a minute to figure out who she should call. Her father was definitely out of the question, at least for the moment. She didn’t want to ask him to come home to let her in since he was handling a double shift. Beth and Tom were definitely out. They would only come back so that Beth could find another way to stick her with Tristan.

  With her luck, Beth would lock them up in her shed out back until they promised her marriage and grandchildren. Her friends were probably out as well. Half of them were at work at the moment and wouldn’t be able to leave. The other half were either studying or with their boyfriends. Unfortunately, that half didn’t own a car or would willingly cut into their time with their boyfriends to help her out. They kind of sucked.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she cursed herself out for losing the spare key a year ago. Why she hadn’t replaced it before it came to this, she didn’t know. Oh wait, yes she did, because she was an idiot. Within minutes she was shivering. She looked wistfully across the street. Damn Beth and her matchmaking ways. If not for that, she could be happily on the couch across the street, fighting with Denny over the last slice of cake. Instead she was going to freeze her ass off out here.

  She glared in the dir
ection of Tristan’s house. There was no way in hell that she was going back there begging to be allowed inside his house. She’d rather die out here and be found in the morning as a giant mud popsicle than beg him for anything. He wasn’t that kind boy from her childhood that she remembered. He was the cold bastard everyone accused him of being. Screw him. She wanted nothing from him.

  Nothing.

  *-*-*-*

  “It’s pouring out there, lad,” Shayne said for the tenth time.

  “Uh huh,” Tristan responded absently as he fought through a pack of demons to get to the next level.

  “She’s probably freezing her wee ass off,” Shayne added.

  “Probably,” Tristan agreed with a smirk.

  “Maybe,” Shayne cleared his throat nervously, “Maybe ye should go out there and ask her to come back here.”

  Tristan chuckled. “Like hell I will. She wanted to go and play burglar. I’m not about to go beg her to come here. If she wants to freeze her ass off, that’s her business.”

  “That’s cold, lad,” Shayne said, sounding shocked and a little disappointed. Tristan didn’t know why. Shayne knew that he was a cold bastard after all. Hell, everyone knew it. Still…..

  “Hey, I invited her in. She’s the one who decided my invitation was lacking and hauled ass out of here,” he said defensively.

  “I know, but still……”

  “Still, what?”

  Shayne shrugged, “It’s Marty, lad.”

  He closed his eyes and groaned. Leave it up to Shayne to get to the heart of the matter. Marty was out there alone, cold, and wet and could be hurt. Even after all these years the thought of her less than happy was enough to piss him off and get him off his ass.

  Tristan paused the game and tossed the controller on the couch. “Don’t fuck with my character or I’ll put child blockers on the internet and put a halt to your free porn,” he warned.

  Shayne flipped him off and mumbled a promise to sign Tristan up on every gay hookup site he could find if he came between him and his porn. Knowing that it wasn’t an idle threat, Tristan kept his mouth shut and walked to the door. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get Marty here, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to beg. If he had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her spoiled ass back here he would.