by J P Sayle
Brody struggled to keep standing tall as Luke stared accusingly at him. The silence, Luke’s usual weapon of control, hardly impacted under the wall of guilt that was pressing down on him already. He knew it was of his own making, so he waited Luke out.
Brody winced at Luke’s sudden accusation, and guilt tightened his throat, making it impossible to swallow.
“Is there someone else? Is this what this is all about?” Luke caught the flicker in Brody’s darkening eyes. “Oh my God, there is! Who is it? Come on, you cheating bastard. Everything was fine till you came here. So it has to be someone you’ve met here.”
The shrill screech caused Brody to look at the door, praying no one had heard Luke’s accusation.
Luke’s hands fisted, seeing the faint red creep up Brody’s gritty neck as he gazed at the open doorway behind him, his Adam’s apple bobbing repeatedly.
“You, who were so eloquent a minute ago, now can’t find the words to admit you’re a cheating bastard.” Luke all but jumped around the counter, his blood boiling. His hand moved of its own accord. He was shocked at his own behaviour when he felt his hand connect with Brody’s face, using all his strength. The resounding sound of his palm connecting with Brody’s face echoed off the walls. The dark red handprint stood out starkly on Brody’s ashen face giving him a tiny amount of satisfaction.
He whirled away when the urge to do more than just slap had his hands clenching. He stormed around the bench, dust plumes rising around his legs. He stalked to the door, uncaring of the dirt coating his polished shoes. He paused in the doorway and stared back at Brody. The threat rolled out of his mouth when his anger took over. “You’ll be sorry you cheated. You mark my words.” His rasped threat was met with a blank expression.
Luke spun on his heel. His body coiled in anger while he quietly seethed. He walked with as much dignity as he could muster past Brody’s friends, who were standing in the hallway. Luke’s gaze narrowed on both men.
Is it one of them that had caught Brody’s eye?
Luke disregarded the skinny ginger-haired man, his gaze lingering on Aaden. The other man who’d darted out of the door when he’d arrived didn’t rate a passing thought. His mind had already made up that it must be Aaden that Brody was interested in. He knew Brody’s type, and it wasn’t small or skinny. Brody had often spoken about loving the feel of Luke’s solid frame pressing him into the mattress or any surface.
Luke lost his train of thought at the sound of an undignified snort. Eying the ginger-headed man, Luke sneered, looking down his nose before he stormed out of the house, leaving the door open wide.
He got into the black Mercedes hire car and sped away. A red rage coated his insides. It boiled as he gripped the steering wheel. His knuckles stood out starkly.
Brody will pay for humiliating me. Oh yes, he will. He and his new boyfriend, Aaden. They’ll pay.
Christina
Christina stepped to the curb outside the Sefton hotel where she’d been staying for the last few days. She tried not to grumble when her feet throbbed, a constant reminder that she’d only managed to get a lift to Douglas when she’d walked ten miles first, after finding herself magicless.
She’d felt every step she’d taken in her old shoes. Shoes, she might add, that were not made for walking but more for torture when they’d rubbed, creating blister upon blister.
Her sigh drifted on the wind. Her hazel eyes shifted to the view in front of her as she tried not to move her feet any more than necessary. It was the same view she had woken to after booking into the hotel. Not that she’d slept much, having far too much on her mind trying to figure out how to fix the situation she now found herself in.
Her eyes stared intently at the black sky, noticing how it gave the dark grey churning sea the perfect backdrop, matching her current mood. Dark and choppy, the swirling sea lifted and battered at the sea walls as if trying to break free of the chains that prevented it from escaping the breakwater. Just like the sea, she was confined, stuck, unable to go where she wanted, without her magic.
Her maudlin thoughts were sidetracked when a black cab pulled up at the curb in front of her. Her feet pounded in time with the pulsing sea as she took a hesitant step to the curb. The remaining blisters rubbed on her socks and trainers, and she gave her feet a hard glare and a disgruntled snort.
The new brightly coloured purple-and-pink trainers caught her attention; along with everything else she wore, and a small smile lifted the corner of her lips. She had been forced this morning to go shopping, when the bag the king had given her left her with little option. It was either walk around buck naked or shop. And in this day and age, she was sure the walking around naked thing would be frowned upon. So she’d pulled up her big girl panties and got her lazy arse out of bed. She’d trudged to the shops to ensure she wouldn’t have to walk around nude and stick out like a sore thumb.
The few minutes the concierge explained it would take to walk into town took nearly an hour. Her mood brightened when she saw all the gleaming windows offering everything on sale. She’d all but salivated on the windows at all the choices.
She couldn’t ever remember being this excited when she’d experienced it second-hand. Her head tilted, chewing her lip.
Was that the key, experiencing it for myself?
When the king had taken her mortal existence for Max’s foolishness in the thirteenth century and left her as an astral being with the ability to possess human bodies and souls, she’d struggled to cope with the change. Over the centuries she’d learnt the hard way that possessing the body and soul could inflict tortures. Tortures she wasn’t willing to endure again and again. So after her run-in with the barrel full of spikes in the eighteenth century, she’d finally been cured of her own stupidity of taking over the souls as well as the bodies. At the same time she’d learnt the art of using her magic to block all the sensations and experiences that humans had a tendency to feel.
She didn’t like to consider how aimless it had made her or that she’d found herself not all that interested in taking over anyone’s body when there was nothing to enjoy. She’d spent years untethered, floating about, watching the human world evolve, not sure what made her want to try again, but she found herself in the early nineteen eighties picking a woman closer to her own age, thinking it would give her years to enjoy herself.
How wrong had I been?
Christina rolled her eyes. It had been an utter disaster. The women contracted something called “cancer” and had died a painful death a decade later. It had pissed her right off that she’d wasted time on, in her opinion, someone not worthy. And it was the main reason she had been sulking in the forest when she’d come across Nick and his mother.
Something about him pulled at her as nothing had before or since. Her unladylike disgruntled snort went unnoticed when her mind was filled with how her life could have been so different if she hadn’t had that chance meeting. A chance meeting that years later had her magicless and trying to figure out how to exist in a world she didn’t have a baldy clue how to navigate.
Staring blankly in front of her, she wondered if all the blocking she’d done in the past allowed the fates to turn the tables on her. Each new experience made her head revolve faster than a spinning top. And nothing had equipped her for stepping into her first lively, bustling shop. She’d had immediate sensory overload, so much so she’d found herself being knocked from pillar to post as people charged around to grab stuff off shelves and racks. This new reality was nothing like her past experiences, not by any stretch of her imagination. These people were like animals fighting over a dead carcass.
She shuddered.
A shiver ran up her spine, only she wasn’t sure if it was fear or excitement. Her leather-clad hands rubbed down her legs, touching the stretchy black jeans that hugged her like a second skin. Okay, maybe she had got a little carried away and joined in the fray. Who could blame me? The new clothes were a complete joy to wear. They didn’t scratch or itch her soft skin.
Having spent most of her long life wearing her kyrtill, it was a strange concept to be wearing clothes that were soft and showed of her feminine wiles. She wouldn’t admit how long she’d preened in front of the changing room mirrors, admiring the happy colours that would be enough to scare away the crows. The bold orange, wool roll-neck jumper hidden under her coat was point in question. The bright colours made her heart sing with delight, along with the way the indulgent wool cupped her firm breasts.
Startled at the sudden noise of a horn blaring, she realised she was standing outside the taxicab daydreaming. Opening the car door with trembling fingers, she jumped inside out of the icy wind that tugged at the long silky strands of her auburn hair tucked into the high ponytail. Loose strands fluttered around her tiny frozen cheeks as she poked her head over the seat.
“Are you here to collect Christina?”
The grunt and nod had her sliding fully into the back seat. The sudden warmth was welcome, but at the scents of stale cigarettes and sweat she moved her hands automatically to her face.
Dear Gods!
She had to admit that the last few days were a real wake-up call. She had lost count with how many times she’d tried to use her magic to block her senses, to no avail. Frustrated, she tugged on her ponytail. She had taken her ability to block her senses for granted. She really didn’t get why life’s unpleasant aspects, such as the stench she was enduring now, should be tolerated.
Wasn’t it a given that my magic should be used to prevent this nonsense?
What was the point in having magic if you couldn’t use it?
Christina failed to stop her tiny shoulders from hunching into her coat when a little voice sounding far too much like Morgana told her she was being a hypocrite when she had taught Max not to mess with fate or magic. And wasn’t that exactly what she’d done.
She gave a resentful sigh.
She had hoped that the king would come to his senses and she would wake to find it had all been a big mistake and her magic would be restored.
She shouldn’t have been surprised when Morgana chuckled. She’d known deep down it was inevitable after hearing Morgana’s voice in her head.
Christina slouched into the fabric seat, only to wish she hadn’t when the slight stench of vomit rose from the material. Her gloved hand did little to stop the warming smell from penetrating her nasal cavities as she inhaled.
Christina attempted not to bemoan her circumstances, knowing Morgana was quietly waiting for her to. “What do you want, Morgana? I at least thought when the king took my magic, I’d be free from your constant sniping.”
“My dear girl, now what fun would there be in that? All those years we’ve had to tolerate your behaviour. Offering our advice and warnings, only to be cruelly told to ‘piss off’ or ‘mind our own business.’ What did I tell you about messing with the fates and using your magic for nefarious purposes?”
Christina found herself transported back to the woods right after she had cast her spell over Brody.
As she let the words die, Christina felt the pull of her magic sing across her body as the spell bound around Brody. She chuckled when Brody couldn’t fight his sudden attraction to Aaden and thoughts of Nick were lost under this new sudden wave of want for his friend. The air sizzled with youthful sexual tension as inexperienced lips clashed together.
The soft sniffle coming from her left had her gaze move back to Nick. His stark white features stood out against the moonlight. His eyes glittered with unushered tears as he swiped at his cheeks. The abject misery that seemed to fill the air gave her a moment of pause before she remembered her goal.
She gave him a little nudge mentally, and he ran as if the hounds of hell were chasing him. Unable to resist, she sent him vivid pictures of what Brody and Aaden could get up to. Watching his small compact body disappear into the forest, she didn’t miss his choked sobs as his hair flew behind him.
Stealing herself against the gnawing pit of misery that snaked inside her chest, she moved her eyes back to the two boys now stretched out on the sleeping bag. Her shrewd gaze missed nothing.
Her brows rose when she felt Morgana’s presence. Christina barely stopped the sigh escaping when the tirade started.
“I felt the power of your magic. What on earth are you playing at?”
The worry in Morgana’s voice had Christina’s unease creep from her chest into her belly, knotting it. She went with a casual “whatever do you mean?” Her faked innocence fell short when all she got was an angry huff.
“Don’t pull that nonsense with me, you young whippersnapper. Why the hell did you use your magic on those boys? I can still feel the power of it. What were you doing and to what aim, Christina?”
She stomped her foot at the angry questions. Why did Morgana always have to interfere with my fun?
The thought had barely registered before Morgana answered.
“It’s my role in life, it would seem, to keep you in check. You seem hell-bent on making that job as hard as possible. I worry you will regret some of these decisions you are making today.”
The quietly spoken words threaded with concern caused Christina’s guilt to churn inside her. Shutting away the remorse she didn’t want to feel, she focused on what her plans were and the end goal. It didn’t matter what Morgana thought. She wanted Nick’s body and for the first time in forever, his soul as well. There was something so pure about the boy that called to her. She wanted to possess it, and nothing and no one were going to stop her. Not Brody’s infatuation, Nick’s sex, and definitely not Morgana’s guilt trip.
She blocked Morgana from her mind. The slight pinch she felt as Morgana pushed back had her strain to keep the block in place. She felt the sweat gather at her hairline as she used her will against Morgana’s, feeling triumphant when Morgana backed off.
Christina rolled her tensed shoulders, shaking her arms as she gave the boys one last look before fading from sight. Her mind was full of future plans.
She slumped again into the taxi’s seat, forgetting why she’d held herself off the fabric when she was callously reminded that those plans had never come to fruition, and now she was paying the price for that one little spell.
“No, Christina. Not for one little spell but for messing with fated soulmates.”
Her shocked eyes searched the cab for the voice that seemed to boom through the metal. Her lips clamped together at the sound of the king’s voice ringing as clear as a bell through the cab. She eyed the taxi driver, wondering if he’d felt the vibrations the king’s voice caused.
When he appeared oblivious, she pulled herself together.
“I’m sorry, can’t we discuss this, please? You didn’t give me a chance to explain…”
The angry rumble that filled her head shut her up.
“I do not need you to explain anything to me. I have spoken with the fates, and they have clarified the whole situation.”
Her lips quivered at that ominous statement, and her heart rattle against her ribcage.
“Did you think that what you have done would not be felt or go unnoticed by those who watch over all of us?”
His disgusted tone made her want to cry and wail. “Please. I’ll do anything to get my magic back.” The words were out before she could stop them. The begging tone left her feeling unsettled as she’d never been in this position before.
“I have already explained what you must do. Guarantee that Brody and Nick reconnect their soulmate bond.” The loud laughter that followed those words caused her to cringe into the stinky seat.
At the sudden feeling of being alone inside her pounding head, she released several expletives. Her gaze moved to the window, and she took notice of where they were. The heavy rain splattering the car windows had her griping over getting wet on top of everything else.
Her eyes widened when the front door in front of her suddenly burst open revealing an attractive man. His dark and thunderous face took no notice of her or the taxi she was sitting in. He charged to the bl
ack car sitting in front of the taxi, mindless of the pouring rain dripping down his hair and clothing. The menacing clouds covering the sky seemed to match the man’s mood as he wrenched the car door open. The roar of an engine was followed by spitting gravel that fired from under his squealing tyres as the car shot out of the cul-de-sac.
She chuckled at the loud curses coming from the front seat, only for it to die when the taxi driver spoke.
“Miss, are you sure you wanna go into that house? That guy leaving didn’t look any too happy.”
Didn’t look happy, Christina thought was a bit of an underestimation of how mad that guy was. She was convinced there’d been steam coming out of his ears. Not thinking about it too hard, she paid the driver, checking she had the number to call for another, not at all sure that she wouldn’t be needing one in the next five minutes.
She hesitated on the path, pulling up her hood. Her belly flopped around like a dying fish. She wondered if she’d even get through the door. She chewed her lip as she walked slowly up the path like a woman going to the gallows. Maybe she should just ask the taxi driver to wait.
When she looked over her shoulder, she released a groan at the disappearing taxi. She looked back at the house and squared her shoulders.
Okay, you got this.
She took a few more steps towards the dull grey house and the now shut front door. She huddled into her coat, ignoring the biting wind making the rain ping against her stinging cheeks. She raised her leather-clad hand, and with an exhale, she knocked.
The door burst open a second later and a growling Brody aimed a deadly glare above her head. She stepped back. The anger was palpable; it came off him in waves. Then his grey-green eyes lowered taking in her sodden appearance. She watched as he struggled to draw his temper back in. His body radiated with raw power, but she gave him credit when he spoke calmly.
“Yes, can I help you?”
The question went unanswered when Aaden suddenly appeared, pushing past Brody. He bent at the waist, glaring into her face. The urge to cower was hard to resist. She’d thought Brody was angry. Hell, Aaden made Brody look like a happy little camper by comparison.
