Ride: Maelíosa and Sage: Episodes 9-12 (Puca Mates Collection Book 3)

by A. C. James

  She swallowed hard. Fallon playing with his grandchildren was sweet, but Maelíosa couldn’t watch without thinking about Sage and Carina. What would happen to the girl if her father was to perish? Where would she turn? A sharp pain spiked through her chest as she recalled the way Sage had spoken about his lack of family. There was no one else, no one save for himself and Carina.

  Maelíosa’s mouth pressed into a thin line. I have to do something. Her mare pranced and whinnied, tossing her mane high in the air. We have to do something. We have to help save her father. If it means that one more little girl in the world won’t have to endure a heartbreak, we have to do it.

  She felt a flicker of fear as she remembered what Cyn had said about being afraid for her. It’d be scary as shite being all alone and dying while her mate was cured and somewhere beyond the veil in the human world. If he decided to leave once he was healed... But if this was going to work, Maelíosa knew she couldn’t continue to think that way. She was going to have to trust Sage, much like he would have to trust her.

  We’re going to have to trust each other. Maelíosa gulped back her fear. Somehow, that was the scariest idea of all.

  Chapter Seven

  “Another drink for you, mate?”

  Nathan’s head popped up, his eyes bleary. He was sitting in a random pub in London, getting thoroughly pissed. The sign over the door said...O’Flanagan’s? Or was it O’Finnegan’s? Nathan couldn’t remember. He hated all of the little faux-Irish pubs that had sprung up all over the city. The sensational story about the púca had everyone’s knickers in a twist and now everything Irish was all the rage.

  The serving girl leaned over the bar. Her bosom reminded Nathan of Cyn’s generous curves, which stirred painful thoughts in his whiskey-soaked brain.

  “Hit me,” Nathan said dully. He slid his glass forward on the lacquered wooden bar. “Another whiskey.”

  She raised her eyebrow as she took the fingerprint-smudged glass and set down a new one filled with another double shot. Nathan grabbed the glass and greedily downed the alcohol. He could’ve sworn he saw disgust wash over the server’s face before she turned away.

  Oh, sod off! Nathan closed his eyes and leaned back, not giving a fuck about her opinion. He was done caring what women thought. He’d fallen all over himself for Cyn, and look where that got him.

  The skin on his face was heated and coarse from all the alcohol, and he struggled to keep himself from falling off the barstool. He opened his eyes. The moment of dizziness passed and he straightened, blearily eyeing the other patrons.

  The interview hadn’t gone well. They Live Among Us had been out for almost a year, and people were quite sick of seeing his ugly mug. Nathan couldn’t improvise anything else. He shook his head as the details of the interview came crashing back to him.

  “And today we’re welcoming Nathan Wood to the Channel 4 News Programme! Welcome, Nathan!”

  Nathan was sitting on a stool opposite the telly host. The bright lights of the stage were glaring down on his face and he was sweating more thoroughly than ever.

  “Thanks for having me, Matt,” Nathan said. He flashed a smile in the general direction of the audience—the bright lights made it incredibly hard for him to see. “I’m well chuffed to be here.”

  “That’s great, Nathan.” The host of the show, Matt Reed, was both charismatic and larger in life than he appeared on the telly. “Nathan, tell us: what plans do you have for future works?”

  Nathan gaped. When Channel 4 had first approached him, they’d mentioned that it would be an interview about They Live Among Us. He swallowed and shifted nervously on the stool.

  “New material?”

  Matt nodded. “Yes. Are you working on anything at present? Anything you’d care to discuss with the audience?”

  An uproarious cheer came from the crowd, and Nathan reached up to wipe his brow as discreetly as possible.

  “Why, yes,” Nathan lied. He grinned out at the crowd and another cheer bellowed in his direction.

  “Oh, can you tell us a little bit?” Matt smiled and the audience clapped some more.

  “Well...” Nathan cleared his throat. “I’m not sure I should be talking about it on the air. I don’t want to give anything away... Besides, it’s confidential under my contract.” He eyed the crowd and winked.

  “Nathan, you’re driving your fans wild! Come on, tell us something you can share.”

  His mind raced and his body was suddenly drenched in a panicky, cold sweat. He swallowed hard and nodded his head.

  “Right. Well, of course. I’ll share a little something.”

  There was a long pause. “We’re waiting, Nathan,” Matt said with a chipper smile. “They Live Among Us was a huge success.” He leaned in close and winked. “Especially the bits about...what was her name? Sin?”

  “Cyn, right,” Nathan said, grateful to have a verbal foothold, no matter how small.

  “Can you tell us anything new about her? Or her friend, Felicity?”

  Nathan went blank. He hadn’t heard anything new from Cyn or Felicity in months. After he’d published They Live Among Us, both of his oldest friends had permanently cut him out of their lives. The only information he’d known was what they’d last shared with him before they’d left London. Everything else had been a fabrication.

  “I suppose I’ll see her today,” Nathan said. He managed a grin. “She’ll be here promoting her new lifestyle.” There was a salacious cheer from the crowd and Nathan felt a pang of guilt. “I have to say, I don’t think it suits her. Hard to be the centre of attention when your husband can transform into a horse. Just imagine the shagging.”

  The host choked on his laugh as the crowd went wild. “Nathan, thanks very much for joining us today. And we’re looking forward to your next book. When will it be released?”

  “Soon.” Nathan nodded, his fake, plastered smile sagging. “Very soon, Matt. Look for it at the end of this year.”

  “Sir?”

  Nathan glanced up. The bartender was leaning over, her cleavage dangerously close to his face.

  “What?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Wanted to know if you wanted another, but I see you’ve decided to kip right here!”

  Nathan coloured and slid the empty glass across the bar. “None, thanks. I’ve got to get home.”

  The bartender stared at Nathan for a second and another huge, glaring weal of self-conscious anxiety flared. He fumbled with the coins in his pocket and paid the tab as quickly as he could.

  The busy hustle of the London streets was a welcome distraction after being inside the stale-aired pub. Nathan stretched and started toward the tube station. To home, and then maybe I can get some bloody sleep. He mopped the sweat off of his brow. It’s been a real bugger of a day. What nonsense, all of it.

  The truth was, Nathan wasn’t working on any new material. His segment on Channel 4 was the last of promotional interviews and chats his agent had lined up, and they’d already been banking on new material. I really cocked this one up. Cyn and Felicity are never going to speak to me again. Not that I blame them.

  Nathan sighed. Even though he’d enjoyed a measure of success when They Live Among Us was first published, all of the hectic attention had died down months ago. And he didn’t have anything new. How could he, when his former best friends weren’t speaking to him? And apologising was out of the question. How was he supposed to admit he’d been wrong when he wasn’t? Nathan snorted. The chances of that happening...well, it wasn’t very bloody likely! He wasn’t wrong. The both of them had made a shambles of their lives running off with those supernatural wankers.

  It was an agonizing ride back to his flat. The Tube jerked and swayed through the hot tunnels beneath London, sending gusts of foul air into his face. When he finally boarded a train, it was full of schoolchildren and mothers doing their shopping for the day. Were they all staring at him? Was it because they’d seen him on the telly or because he was plastered? Nathan sweated out the sel
f-conscious aroma of alcohol that clung to his skin.

  Bugger this day. He leaned against the window and waited for the torment to be over. Just get me home with a glass of sherry, that’s all I want.

  By the time Nathan reached his flat, it was growing dark. He frowned, pulling his keys out of his pocket. He tried inserting the correct one in the lock, but for some bloody reason it wouldn’t go in.

  “Fuck’s sake,” Nathan mumbled under his breath. He slammed all of his weight against the door, trying to shove the key into the stubborn lock. To his surprise, the door creaked open and he suddenly realised it had been ajar.

  Panic crawled down Nathan’s spine. Blood was pounding in his ears as he swallowed hard and stepped inside the dimly lit flat. He always kept a night light plugged into the wall between a scratched side table and the chaise, which had pock marks in the fabric ceiling tiles above from the countless times he’d darted pencils into them.

  “’Ello? Anyone here?” Nathan flicked on the lights. He’d half-expected a scene of madness, judging from the jimmied door, but the flat was just as he’d left it. A random thought popped into his head: what if Cyn was in trouble? What if she’d broken in because she needed a place to stay? Maybe things weren’t going so well with that beast she was with, and she needed him...

  “Cyn?” Nathan’s voice was thin and reedy in the empty air of his flat.

  She didn’t answer, and he closed his eyes, cursing himself for even thinking she’d returned. Nathan pushed through the kitchen and down the small hallway to his office. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open. It stuck on something. Nathan forced his way into the room, stumbling over piles of papers that had been thrown on the floor. The colour drained from his face when he looked up and took in his office.

  All around him was chaos. Someone had obviously been in here, rooting through his things. Taking a deep breath, Nathan moved closer to his desk. The drawers had been yanked out and tossed aside, their contents upended on the floor.

  “Bloody hell,” Nathan muttered. “You gits were really looking for something, weren’t you?” He reached down and collected his favourite pen from the mess on the floor, which including used tissues and other items that had been in his litter bin.

  Realization hit him, and suddenly he laughed out loud. Someone wants to steal my next book. Whoever trashed his office had obviously been desperate—desperate enough to break into his flat after that interview. The window at the corner was open and the curtains were fluttering in the hot summer breeze. He grinned. Bloody hard to steal something that didn’t exist.

  Chapter Eight

  The man’s pulse was racing as he darted around the dark room, yanking out drawers and searching for anything that even resembled a manuscript. There was nothing. Nothing! No matter how he searched, he hadn’t even seen any bloody notes.

  A loud crash from the other end of the flat made his blood pressure skyrocket. The man darted to one side of the room and threw up the lower sash. As soon as the window was open, he hurled himself through and braced for impact. Luckily, the flat was at ground level, and the man only tumbled a few feet through the air before landing hard on the cobblestone-and-brick surface beneath.

  He knew that he had to run. He had to get away as fast as he possibly could. The blood was pounding in his ears as he darted down the alley and into the street. Night-time was coming, and the anonymity of dusk cloaked the man in a familiar haze. When he was a few blocks away from the flat, he ducked into an alley and pulled out his mobile. There were a few new texts, all from an anonymous number. They used disposable phones, easy to dump and hard to track.

  The first read: “Seven, check in at 17:00.”

  The second read: “Seven, where are you?”

  The third read: “Seven, if you don’t call within the next half-hour, you will be disciplined.”

  Seven straightened up and mopped the sweat off his brow. Even though the sun had gone down, the day was still unbearably hot. Taking a deep breath, he dialled the anonymous number and held the mobile up to his ear.

  It rang exactly twice before someone picked up.

  “This is Seven, calling in.”

  “Seven, where have you been?”

  He wouldn’t tell them he’d almost been caught breaking into the flat. He’d been tasked to follow the chap and use him to find out anything that would forward their mission.

  “I was taking initiative, sir,” Seven swallowed hard and struggled to fight off a rising wave of anxiety. “I searched his office for anything that might help us.”

  “And?” The voice on the other end was disguised—Seven could not tell if he was speaking to a man or a woman. “What did you find, Seven?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That is unacceptable,” the voice hissed.

  “I did everything I possibly could,” Seven whispered.

  The roar on the other end of the mobile was almost enough to make him drop the mobile. “There was nothing to find. Maybe he doesn’t know as much as we thought.”

  A passerby strode past the alley, whistling and oblivious. Seven waited several nerve-wracking seconds before holding the mobile to his ear once more.

  “I don’t believe you, Seven. This man is hiding something. He’s told everyone that he has information. And you were unable to find notes? An outline?”

  Seven cringed. “I know that I wasn’t able to fulfil my assignment. I hope that you and the others will be able to forgive me.”

  The voice on the other end of the phone laughed, which scared Seven. He knew what discipline meant. They’d disciplined his very identity right out of him, making him nothing more than a number.

  “Oh, Seven, don’t be naïve. We have a plan. We’ve always had a plan. We just wanted as much information as possible, and were hoping you’d be able to provide it. Seven, if you are unable to produce anything...” The voice trailed off, and Seven shuddered. “If you are unable to produce any results, we will have to terminate your service.”

  Seven swallowed. “Yes, I understand.”

  The voice laughed again. “Seven, there’s a lot you don’t understand. Come to headquarters, and we will discuss further plans.”

  The line went dead and Seven stood with his mobile in his hands, staring down at the screen. Something powerful welled up in his chest. Was it shame? After all, he’d failed to get what he needed from the flat. He wasn’t proving to be a good Human. No, maybe it was a mixture of disappointment and adrenaline. He clung to that self-reassurance. Since the OH had another course of action they wanted to discuss, Seven hoped his discipline wouldn’t be too harsh...or at the very least that it would be less painful this time around. Seven found it encouraging that even though he’d screwed up, there was still a way. There was still a plan. Of course the Master would have a strategy, and it would be better than anything Seven could have designed.

  Closing his eyes and tilting his face toward the sky, Seven uttered a silent prayer: I promise to be a better Human from this day forward. I won’t disappoint Master again. I’ll do whatever it takes. He could practically feel forgiveness coming from the Master as he stood in the darkened alley. I made a cock-up of the whole plan, and Master is still willing to forgive me and involve me. Seven swallowed and pulled the collar of his jumper up around his neck. He had to get to headquarters as soon as possible, but part of him wanted to savour the walk and let the adrenaline subside. This was his life now. Ever since giving up everything he owned to become a part of the OH movement, Seven’s existence had been radically different.

  We will succeed. Seven stood on the street across from the flat and thought he heard laughter. The lights were on, and he watched the pudgy man bustling around inside, tidying his office, which Seven had destroyed. Seven’s lips curled into a smile. We’ll get it right next time. You’ll see.

  Chapter Nine

  Sage clamped his lips shut as a powerful wave of nausea broke over his whole body. This was worse than the last one, which had threatened to ma
ke him vomit all over the floor. The doctors and nurses here in London were different than over in the States, but being in a hospital had the same, familiar antiseptic feel. I could be anywhere and feel like this. It was troubling, but that’s what his life had become ever since being diagnosed with cancer: a series of one hospital stay after another.

  His cynical thoughts were tamped down when another surge of nausea cramped his gut. Sage retched, leaning forward and dribbling vomit into a kidney-shaped metal pan. He held it with shaking hands, unsure if there would be any more coming up right away. Just breathe. Just breathe. Don’t let Carina see you weak. He shoved the vomit-filled pan onto the floor.

  The bathroom door swung open and Carina stepped out. Fat chance of that. Her dark grey eyes were somber, but she smiled at her father.

  Carina stepped closer to the bed. “Dad, how are you feeling?”

  Sage tried to hide the sick-pan from her, but she saw it when she walked around the side of his bed. “Can I get you anything, Dad?” she asked, a hint of concern creeping into her voice.

  Sage forced a laugh. “Carina, it’s just not polite to show people things like this. I’ll be fine.” Reaching down, he pressed a button installed on the side of his bed, which was connected to the nurses’ station. “It’s not like you call me into the bathroom when you’re finished.”

  Carina made a face. “Dad, that’s different. You’re sick. I’m not sick. I’m just trying to help.” She hopped from one foot to the other before settling down in a chair and picking up her Nintendo DS. “Do you want to play for a little while?” She waved the small hand-held console in front of her father’s face. “You like this game.”

  Sage shook his head. “You go ahead, honey. I’ll be right here.”

  A nurse bustled in and picked up the sick-pan, then adjusted the covers over Sage’s body with an efficient-but-sharp movement.