The Manx Cat Guardians Boxed Set

by J P Sayle

  He felt like he’d walked for miles.

  Brad thanked Greg when he placed a plate in front of him with a sauce bottle. He tucked into the food. He ignored the groans when he tipped a large dollop of sauce onto his melted cheese.

  “What, don’t mock it till you’ve tried it.” Brad munched his toast, enjoying the flavour of cheese and tomatoes as he listened to Greg and Nick chat about Christmas.

  They had made an agreement in the car to not spoil the day any further with talk of talking cats or witches for which Brad was grateful, even when he wanted answers. Answers, he was sure, Nick didn’t want to talk about when he’d dived into idol gossip, faster than any footballer could have dived on the pitch.

  Greg’s next question pulled him back to the conversation.

  “Nick, are you planning on staying with Aaden for Christmas?”

  A sudden thought popped into Brad’s head.

  Nick gave a small shrug. “I wasn’t sure. Workwise, I’d finished all the major projects I had on the go before I came. I’d been working pretty much twenty-four seven. So this was supposed to be a holiday.” He gave an eye roll as he continued. “Aaden’s kitchen won’t be finished for Christmas, that’s for sure. Some of the wood I need won’t get here till the New Year. Our parents are off on a cruise, so I don’t have anything go back for. I was going to see what Aaden was up to, initially.” Nick gave Greg a big grin. “I think I have a pretty good idea what he will be doing now. I was just planning on going to a hotel and vegging. It’s no biggie.”

  Brad felt his sympathy rise. The question was out before he could think about it. “Why don’t you come to mine?” As the idea formed, Brad warmed to it. He addressed the others, “Why don’t you all come to mine? I have the biggest table, and we can all muck in together to share the workload and make dinner. Come on, it will be fun. I’ve never had a proper family Christmas before. And after the week I’ve had, you need to say yes to make me feel better.” Brad batted his long eyelashes, making the three men groan.

  The three yeses had him bouncing in his seat. He overlooked the nagging voice telling him he should have discussed it with Martin first.

  Stuff Martin and his other baby.

  If I want to do Christmas with my friends, then I will.

  Princess

  The loud bang and the following screech of metal scraping against metal were enough to give her a heart attack. Following the sound of the commotion she could hear outside the front of the house, Princess scurried from the back garden where she had been hiding to see what was happening. She cautiously poked her head around the partially open gate.

  She was about to run to Brad, but she paused, midstep, blinking owlishly when Martin burst out of the house as if his arse was on fire.

  Princess chuckled. She plonked her bottom down to watch. She tilted her head, her whiskers twitching. She gave a little sigh when Martin lifted Brad bodily from the car, patting him down frantically.

  Her brow rose when once he appeared satisfied he was fine, he dumped Brad down callously. The expletives that followed as Martin vented had her hackles rise.

  Does he know he’s calling his car baby?

  Brad was so not going to like that. Oh no, he wasn’t.

  Princess shook her head in despair, watching Martin make an arse of himself. She could sense the feeling of hurt it caused Brad. She sighed in disgust as Martin stomped back into the house. The loud slam made her jump, distracting her attention. When she went to get up, she froze. She cowered by the gate. Her head throbbed as words cut like a knife through butter.

  There was no way she’d heard correctly?

  Surely?

  Murder her?

  She shivered as the thought hung over her head like an axe waiting to drop.

  Max. That little shithead.

  Is this what the whole hanging around Princess thing was all about? So he could steal my soul?

  Well, he can bloody well think again. Hell will freeze over before I relinquish my soul for some… ugly witch. Hell no, it ain’t never going to happen, not now, not ever.

  “Mother. Mother, answer me. You knew about this, didn’t you?” Princess couldn’t prevent the angry whine.

  For God’s sake, wasn’t her mother supposed to protect her from this kinda stuff?

  “You whined?” The sarcastic response instantly got her back up.

  “Yes, that would be me, your whiny child, the one you didn’t tell about the murdering bastards that want my soul…” Her mother’s loud inhale had her pause.

  “What did you say, Princess?”

  Her mother’s warbled response had a slither of fear slide down her spine.

  “You didn’t know that Max wants to steal my soul and use my body for his witch? I thought that was why you were avoiding me.”

  “Of course, I didn’t know! Why would you think that? That I would willingly go along with such a preposterous idea of someone stealing your soul is beyond me. Dear lord, child, do you really believe I would let anyone do that to you without putting up a fight?” The indignant anger went a long way to allaying Princess’s fear.

  “No, I’m sorry. It just caught me off guard and with you being all elusive… I… didn’t… really consider what… I was saying. I’m sorry…” Princess trailed off, unsure what to say now. Max was the king of their kind. How could she fight this?

  “What am I going to do, Mother?” The silence her question garnered had her slump to the hard concrete. The icy cold hardness underneath her fur seeped into her bones, matching the icy ball of fear that sat in her tiny chest.

  “We’ll figure this out, I promise. I won’t give you up, not even for our king.” The statement sounded hollow to Princess when she could hear and feel the fear in their link.

  “I’m doomed, Mother. You always said I would get my comeuppance. Well, it seems that day got here sooner than either of us expected.”

  On the fifth day of Christmas my true friends gave to me:

  The truth and the dare

  Joe

  17th of December

  Joe ambled downstairs looking for Stuart, scratching his balls. He readjusted when he found another hole in his underwear. He pulled out the waistband of his slouch pants, which he could see were also a little holey. He gave a disgruntled moan when he caught sight of his briefs.

  How did that happen?

  “Hey, tell me, how’d they get more holes in them than a sieve?” Joe’s head shot up as he heard a shout come from the kitchen.

  “If you’re talking about your clothes, then I can tell you. It’s because you never buy any new ones and wear the ones you’ve got to death.”

  Joe’s brow furrowed as he walked the few remaining steps into the kitchen.

  How the hell did he do that, know what I’m talking about?

  “How do you do that? You couldn’t even see me.” Joe stepped into Stuart’s arms, reveling in the solid embrace and the soft kiss that landed on the top of his head.

  “Joe, how long have we known each other? Months, right? And how many clothes have you bought yourself in that time? None. Zero. Zilch. So you tell me how I know what you’re talking about. I bet you haven’t bought any in the months before that either or maybe even years before that.”

  Joe scowled and punched Stuart in the gut, pleased when the loud “hrump” shut him up.

  “All right, I get it. I don’t buy clothes. But why should I when the ones I have are perfectly fine?” He shrugged and went to the fridge to grab a cold drink. He ignored the voice that told him the holes in his clothes begged to differ.

  Joe hesitated, his hand halfway to the fridge handle. He turned, shocked when Stuart asked.

  “If you need some money, you know you only have to ask, and I’ll give it to you.”

  Joe watched in fascination as colour crept up Stuart’s neck as he continued.

  “We’re boyfriends, and that means sharing. You know that, right? I’ll give you whatever you need.”

  The earnest express
ion Stuart aimed at him had his feet moving, his need for a drink forgotten. His heart beat a tattoo against his ribs, emotions swirled through him, overwhelming him with love. It made it hard to keep the sudden tears he felt gathering at the corner of his eyes at bay. He blinked rapidly and sucked in a breath.

  “I love you. God, you make it impossible for me not to when you say stuff like that. I don’t need your money, you gorgeous man.” Joe tugged Stuart’s face closer to his. Standing on his tiptoes, he brushed their mouths together, tasting the sweetness that was all Stuart. “I know we haven’t talked about the money stuff, and maybe we should. I know I don’t work for the army anymore, but some of the stuff I did for them. You know… the top-secret shit.”

  Joe struggled to explain himself when Stuart raised his brows in expectation. The contract and waiver he’d signed didn’t permit him to talk about some of the things he’d done. He stepped back, yanking at his hair. “The thing is, I’m financially secure, like for the rest of our lives and then some, maybe.” He gave Stuart a sheepish smile when his eyes widened.

  “What do you mean by ‘and then some’?”

  Stuart’s shrill tone as he spoke had Joe suck his lips together to try and contain the giggles that wanted to break free.

  “Well, let’s put it this way, I might just be the richest man on the island, though I wouldn’t be a hundred percent positive on that.” Joe hid his embarrassment, letting his hair flop forward, and walked back to the fridge.

  He hated talking about money.

  He let the blast of cold air cool his heated cheeks as he grabbed a can. Slamming the door, he opened the can and took a drink. He was pleased when it eased the sudden dryness he felt at the back of his throat, making it scratch at having to talk about his financial situation. Joe avoided looking directly at Stuart. Instead he tried to gauge his response by his body language.

  Joe wanted to slap himself upside the head at Stuart’s rigid frame. His eyes jumped of their own accord to search Stuart’s face for any clues to his thoughts. The glazed expression in his stormy grey eyes had him walking back.

  “Listen, it’s not a big deal…”

  “Hold it right there. I don’t have a problem with the money. So you can stop right there. What I have a problem with is you. Your clothes.”

  Joe felt his back go up as Stuart gave his clothes a look of utter disgust before pointing an accusing finger at Joe.

  “You’re telling me you’re rich, richer than maybe anybody on this rock. A rock where there is a very high percentage of rich people, I might add. And you won’t buy yourself some decent threads to wear. You’re wondering around in clothes, as you yourself put it, have more holes than a sieve. You’ll shop till you drop for computer parts, but you won’t take the time to make yourself look half decent. And don’t you look at me like that. I love you regardless of how you look. I was worried you couldn’t afford stuff because of your love of all things electrical. I only wanted to help, and now I find out my boyfriend is probably richer than God and is just too mean to buy new clothes.”

  Joe covered his ears when the rant got going full swing, with Stuart pacing in front of him, jabbing the air.

  Okay, that is so not what I expected.

  Joe tried not to let his shoulders droop under Stuart’s temper or his hurtful comments about the way he dressed. He knew he was failing when Stuart stomped out of the kitchen, muttering about imbeciles.

  What?

  I hate clothes shopping. That doesn’t make me an imbecile!

  It was tedious and boring. Give him electronics any day.

  He walked to the table, dumping his can on it. He slumped into the chair and blew his messy hair out of his eyes as his head fell forward. He gave the table his full attention, snubbing the petty voice that said he wasn’t being fair to Stuart. But he couldn’t quite get over the comments about his appearance.

  Is Stuart embarrassed to be seen with me?

  Joe rubbed at his face, feeling his colour drain.

  When had they last gone out in public together?

  He narrowed his eyes on the empty hallway when he couldn’t remember. Getting up, he grabbed his wallet off the counter and his van keys. Building up a head of steam, he slammed out the front door. As he stalked to Brad’s, he pulled out his phone and texted Nick and Greg. The stormy dark sky and icy wind tugging at his clothes suited his mood to perfection. He scowled at his phone, typing furiously.

  This is an emergency. Come to Brad’s, now!

  He pounded on Brad’s front door and heard a door open behind him. He prayed it wasn’t Stuart because at the moment he wasn’t sure what he would say. His shoulders relaxed when Nick and Greg ran across the grass towards him, shouting.

  Greg’s “What happened now?”

  Was followed by Nick’s “What’s wrong?”

  Joe kept his face as blank as possible when he turned to answer their questions. He swallowed the tears, not wanting to cry in the street. “Let’s grab Brad. I need to go shopping, and I need your help.” Joe held up his hand when Nick went to interrupt. “I know we went shopping yesterday. This is for me.”

  He halted when he felt a waft of warm air hit him along with the scent of roasting meat as he saw Brad open the door in front of him. The furrow between Brad’s tropical green eyes spoke volumes. His sunny disposition was nowhere to be found.

  Oh dear.

  It seemed he’d not resolved his issue with Martin since yesterday.

  What is it with these big numpties, always putting their foot in their mouths?

  “You lot up for a trip to Tynwald and town for a little clothes shopping? It would seem I’m in dire need of some clothes. That’s if you listen to Stuart.”

  He caught a slight snigger as Greg coughed and looked down at the ground. Joe hadn’t missed the twinkle in his sky-blue eyes or that Brad went a rosy shade of pink when he gave his threadbare clothes the once-over.

  “All right, hahahaha. The joke’s on me. Are you coming or not?” Joe huffed, his own cheeks heating at their obvious agreement with Stuart.

  When he got an affirmative from them all, he stepped back. “Come on then. Let’s go.”

  Joe leant forward when Brad started whispering.

  “Let me just turn the oven off. I was making lunch, but as I’m still not speaking to ‘my car is my baby too,’ he can go whistle if he thinks I’m feeding him.”

  Joe bit his lip, keeping the grin at bay until Brad went back inside.

  He chortled at Nick and Greg. “At this rate, this Christmas is just going to be a disaster. Has anyone noticed we seem to be careening from one disaster to the next, or is just me?”

  “You speak for yourself. I’m not jinxing anything by even agreeing with that. Me and Aaden, well, let’s just say things couldn’t be better. The rest of it well, let’s say things have gone quiet on the witchy poo side of things.”

  Joe sniggered when Nick spoke after giving Greg a pitiful look.

  “You keep believing that.”

  Eying Greg’s smug smirk and shaking head, Joe couldn’t resist baiting him. “You wait.” Joe drilled his finger into Greg’s bright red jumper. “It’s just the honeymoon period. When it wears off, you’ll be like me and Brad because these arrogant dicks can’t help but land themselves in hot water.”

  Joe cast his gaze to Nick, giving a warning. “You stay single. It’s for the best. I’m telling you, no one moaning about how you look or making out a car is more important than you. You mark my words. The single life is the only way to stop dominating arseholes making you feel shit.”

  He watched several emotions cloud Nick’s face. None of them appeared happy. Joe wanted to bite his tongue for being a selfish git.

  Nick only gave a flat-tone response. “I hear you.”

  Joe felt the level of shit he’d verbally sprayed over Nick, making him feel he was drowning in it.

  Brad scuttling back to the door interrupted his pity party.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here
before Martin realises I’ve left. He’s hiding out in the gym.”

  Brad quietly shut the door, making Joe feel even worse. He knew Martin would probably kick his backside for Brad’s rebellion.

  Joe sighed and blew his fringe out of his eyes. The little devil on his shoulder reminded him this was all Stuart’s fault, while the angel on the other told him Stuart had been worried about him. He growled at them both.

  He stalked to his van, ignoring the voices.

  He was going shopping, wasn’t he? That was enough for now, surely?

  Joe flopped into the leather booth, followed by Brad, Nick, and lastly, Greg. The smell of leather, alcohol, and washing detergent lingered around the table. Housed in the corner of the room stood a large real Christmas tree. The scents of pine needles and cranberry wafted on the warm air, overriding all the other smells.

  Joe grinned at the others. He started to feel festive, especially when he heard the classic Christmas songs playing in the background “Fairytale of New York.”

  He squashed himself into the corner, making room for everyone. His legs ached, and his credit card was now several thousand pounds lighter, thanks to Stuart. He didn’t acknowledge how much fun he’d had with the boys picking stuff, in shops full of tinsel and Christmas cheer.

  His feelings of guilt at not allowing Greg and Nick to go back to Aaden’s and grab their coats had resulted in him purchasing leathers jackets for both of them. Nick’s was a dark navy padded bomber jacket and made his pale blue eyes seem darker, and his long, blond hair brighter, if it was at all possible. Whereas Greg had gone for a short fitted turquoise jacket. Bright and bold, matching Greg’s sassy personality to a T.

  He watched Greg remove his jacket carefully, placing it on the ledge behind his head. He could hear the loving sigh as he rubbed his hand over the supple leather. Joe grinned at his boys as warm feelings spread through him, settling in the pit of his stomach at having made his friends smile.

  Joe shifted, giving his full attention to the bustling bar. He’d only seen the place in Martin’s video, and that hadn’t captured the feeling of intimacy the place offered. The dark moodiness was captured perfectly by the dark wood used everywhere he looked.