Magic's Muse Page 4

  They’d always taken risks when others had needed them. They always would.

  It was 1918. The country was at war. They were at the age where they should be fighting, and questions about why they weren’t could not be answered.

  But they had their own war to fight. Even then it had been not a matter of if but when. That hadn’t changed.

  Cathal wished he could avoid that future and retreat back to that time of carefree friendship and family, but it was impossible. It was gone, and he would not give up the love he’d found with Tomas to return to it, even if he could.

  “This way,” he decided at last, urging the horse onward. Ahead of them stretched several leagues of green. This area was still farmland, although the village had spread farther than he remembered.

  Buttercup whinnied, shaking her head. She was not one to enjoy exploring new places, and this land was not somewhere she’d been before. There were subtle differences in the feel of their worlds, and not just in their immediate surroundings. Each world had taken a different path, an alternative fork in the road. Tomas’s world was more reliant on what was referred to as technology, while Cathal’s had embraced magic and enchantments taken from nature. Different names for the same thing in a way, he’d presumed, but it was something that would have to be investigated more fully later.

  Finally he managed to coax Buttercup into something akin to a gallop. She was showing her stubborn streak this morning, which was unusual. Perhaps it was not just him the tree was affecting. The sooner this damn portal closed the better.

  He shivered. The wind that he’d noticed earlier was growing in intensity, or perhaps he was just noticing it more. Once he got home to Tomas and they’d talked, he’d suggest they share a hot shower.

  Tomas.

  A smile passed Cathal’s lips despite his mood. Tomas was a good man, kind and gentle. He was a little insecure at times, which showed in his mood, but Cathal knew that he himself was not without fault. He loved Tomas with all his heart. His mother had told him once that relationships were not all about romance, but also entailed a fair amount of work. Tomas was worth that work, and their future together was one Cathal intended to fight for. Tomas had told him he felt the same way.

  He hadn’t been fair to Tomas, running like this. But already having some distance between them had lightened the emotional load put upon him. How could something that was so good between them bring with it this complication?

  Something brushed against the edge of his mind. Cathal reined Buttercup in and glanced around. There was no one there. He shivered again, suddenly uneasy. The air around them shimmered, thick with enchantment. He pulled at the neckband of his shirt, dust catching in his throat. “Easy, Buttercup,” he murmured, easing her farther forward, wanting to be past whatever this disturbance was.

  His breathing grew heavier. His surroundings spun, his vision blurring. He gritted his teeth, trying to get his bearings. The inn was an outline in the distance. The tree seemed to bend toward him, beckoning. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear them.

  It was getting more difficult to breathe. Buttercup neighed, restless. He urged her forward. Pain struck him with no warning. He gasped, his hand going to his throat, clawing at it.

  No! He wasn’t bound to the tree. Not anymore. His wrist burnt, the dark tattoo a fiery red.

  He could get through this. Damn this bloody spell. He’d done nothing wrong. He wouldn’t allow it to rule his actions.

  “Go. Go!” There was a fence ahead. He recognized the foot high granite block in front of one of the posts. It was still intact after all these years, although the engravings were covered in moss and the surface of it had dulled and pitted since the last time he’d ridden through here. It marked the original boundary between Alice’s family estate and the adjacent farm. If he could get past it, the spell could be broken.

  Buttercup galloped toward the fence, but instead of jumping over as he ordered, she stopped suddenly. He slumped forward in the saddle, the reins falling from his grasp. She reared up, startled, fearful.

  The ground came up to meet him, and then he knew no more.

  SOMETHING was wrong. Tomas shivered. Damn it. Where was Cathal? He closed his laptop, stood, and then sat down again. So much for the bright idea of trying to channel his anger into his writing, but then, that had never worked well.

  Cathal needed some space. That much was obvious, or Tomas would have gone after him and found a way to follow that bloody horse. The expression on Cathal’s face when he’d pulled away, the mix of pain and confusion―surely it didn’t mean that Cathal was having second thoughts about their relationship? Couples argued. Hell, they’d already had several themselves.

  He groaned. Cathal could be so stubborn and determined when he put his mind to it.

  Fuck this. His anger wasn’t directed at Cathal. Tomas didn’t think for a moment the child was Cathal’s. He wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t sleep with someone he didn’t love. Would he?

  Then why had he run?

  Tomas got up again, this time starting to pace. He glanced out the window, peered out of it, trying to get a glimpse of Cathal or Buttercup. Tomas had been angry, and Cathal’s response was to grab his horse and get the hell out of Dodge? What had happened to talking things through?

  What the bloody hell was he missing?

  Apart from Cathal, but yeah, that went without saying.

  A sudden wave of panic washed over him, a rising fear. Tomas’s hand went to his throat. The room spun. He gasped for breath, his vision blackening at the edges. He staggered.

  And then it was gone as though nothing had happened.

  What the hell? Tomas ran from the room, taking the stairs two at a time. This had to be connected to Cathal. It had to be. He didn’t know much about this whole magic crap, but this shouldn’t be happening. He shivered again, the feeling of something not right getting worse, not better. Will might know. He was from Cathal’s world, from Naearu.

  Even if he didn’t, Tomas was going to demand they go search for Cathal. Or at least see if he could borrow Heidi’s Land Rover to go do it himself.

  “Will!” he yelled, bursting into the kitchen. Heidi looked up from where she was stirring something on the stove. “Have you seen Will?”

  She frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  “Cat’s not back yet. I think something’s happened to him.” Now wasn’t the time for polite conversation.

  “Why?” Heidi turned off the element, put the lid on the pot, and put the wooden spoon in the sink. “Did you guys argue or something? I saw him take Buttercup out but figured he just needed to clear his head after what happened in the kitchen earlier.”

  Tomas opened his mouth to explain about the weird feeling of not right, then decided against it. He’d already given her and Donovan too good a look at his not quite rational side when Cathal had disappeared the last time. Doing it again so soon wouldn’t convince her anything was wrong. “Where’s Will?” he repeated instead. “I….” Oh, to hell with it. This was Cathal’s safety at stake. What did it appearances matter? “I think Cat’s in trouble, and it’s something to do with that bloody portal still being open.”

  Heidi raised an eyebrow. “Right. Okay.” This was definitely one of those moments when he doubted she believed all of their stories of portals, shape-changing cats, magic, and the like.

  As though on cue, Christian ran into the kitchen. He skidded to a stop when he saw Tomas. He sidled up to him, digging claws into Tomas’s leg. He meowed loudly, almost frantically, nodding his head toward the door.

  “That cat wants us to follow him.” Heidi wiped her hands on a towel. “Come on, kitty,” she said, “show us what’s the matter.”

  “His claws are bloody sharp, is what’s the matter,” Tomas muttered. Why was Christian always involved when Cathal was in trouble? Nevertheless he followed, hoping the cat knew what he was doing.

  The front door slammed open before they were barely out of the kitchen. Will was leaning heavily on
Mikey, his breathing coming in gasps. He looked gray, his eyes half-glazed over. They got him quickly into the kitchen, lowering him into a chair. Heidi opened the kitchen window and yelled for Donovan. “Do we need to phone for Harry?” she asked. Harry McKenzie was the village doctor.

  Will shook his head. “One. Moment.” His breathing began to ease, but he massaged his head, a groan of pain escaping his lips. “Cat….” He drank deeply from the glass of water Heidi pushed into his hand. “Cat’s in trouble.”

  “I know that,” Tomas muttered irritably.

  “And you both know that how?” Donovan stood in the doorway, his brows creasing into a frown. “This isn’t more of this magic shit, is it?” He glanced through the window toward the tree, but it stood there, just the same as it always had. Mikey pushed past him, grabbed his backpack off the hook in the hallway, and muttered something under his breath.

  “Vision,” said Will succinctly. He seemed calmer now, his color returning to normal, although it was still obvious that he was in some pain. Heidi went to the cupboard over the microwave, fished out a small bottle and counted out a couple of pills, giving them to him. He eyed them suspiciously.

  “Paracetamol,” she explained. “They’ll help with the headache.”

  “You get visions?” Tomas stared at him. “When were you going to mention that?” What else hadn’t Cathal told him? First the child and now this. They might be back from Wonderland, but part of the rabbit hole had come with them.

  “Abilities are not to be spoken of in an idle fashion.” Will swallowed the pills and downed the rest of the water, although he already seemed to be more like his usual self.

  “Of course they’re not.” Tomas rolled his eyes, not wanting to have this conversation now. “Do you know what’s happened to Cat?” His voice was hoarser than he’d intended. He wrapped his hand around his pendant; for the moment it was his only link to Cathal. “I know he’s in trouble, Will. I can feel it. Please, you have to tell us what you know.”

  Will looked at him, long and steady. “What do you feel now, Tomas? Think carefully, it is important.”

  “I….” The ready acceptance of what Tomas had said took him by surprise. “I feel cold, really cold,” he admitted. He closed his eyes, remembering the pain and the panic, trying to get a sense of whatever the hell had caused it. He wrapped his arms around himself.

  “Not good.” Will shook his head. “There’s still something, though, so we’re not too late.” He stood. Donovan moved quickly to steady him. “Cat was on the horse. He fell. I saw”—he spoke slowly, gathering his thoughts—“fields of green on both sides, a fence with a tall tree overhanging the side of it. There was—”

  “It looked like this.” Mikey butted into the conversation and shoved his sketchbook into Will’s hand. “It did, didn’t it?”

  Where had he come from? The last Tomas had seen of the kid a few minutes ago was him pushing past Donovan to grab his bag. Tomas shifted closer so that he could peer over Will’s shoulder. “Oh God,” he whispered, his breath hitching.

  The sketch showed Cathal sprawled on the ground, his eyes closed, the horse standing guard over him, nudging at him. At first glance it appeared as though they hadn’t cleared the fence, but the wood of it was almost ethereal, as though there was something else not quite there superimposed over the top of it.

  “What the hell is that?” Tomas glared at Mikey as though he was responsible for what he’d drawn. Around Cathal’s neck was a shimmering golden strand pulled taut and reaching back toward something barely recognizable in the distance. “It’s that bloody tree, isn’t it?”

  It was the leash Cathal spoke of, made visible in Mikey’s drawing. Tightening around Cathal’s throat, squeezing the life out of him, killing him. Tomas’s hand went to his own throat. For a moment he was back in the memory, unable to breathe. His vision swum once more.

  “Focus on here, not on him,” Will urged. “Breathe, Tomas.” He placed both hands on Tomas’s shoulder, calming him. “This is good. Cathal still lives. We are not too late.”

  Donovan took the sketch from Mikey. “I know this place.” He showed it to Heidi, and she nodded her confirmation. “It’s the old boundary line between this property and Sally’s.” Already running, he grabbed Heidi’s keys off the windowsill. He spoke briskly, taking charge. “Will, stay here with Heidi in case we need some help. You’re still not in any state to move fast. I’ll phone if we do. Tomas, Mikey, come on. You’re with me.”

  A FAMILIAR voice whispered to him, a hand tightening around his own. Cathal stirred, reaching for it, for Tomas, but his betrothed felt too far away. He was tired. Everything was an effort.

  But at least he could breathe freely again.

  He let himself drift, wanted to do more but couldn’t. A name passed his lips, his voice croaky, but that was all he could manage. “Tomas.”

  When he came to himself again, he felt arms around him, holding him, keeping him safe. Instinctively he leaned into the embrace, feeling himself relax, knowing that it was Tomas who had him.

  “Cat? Oh God, Cat. Be all right, please.” Tomas kissed Cathal’s forehead, leaning close. Tomas’s cheek was wet.

  Was he crying?

  “Tomas,” Cathal whispered, finally finding the energy to open his eyes. His throat hurt, his hand instinctively going to it. Relief flooded through him. The magical restriction against it was gone.

  He struggled to sit. Tomas shifted, loosening his grip to help. “I thought I’d lost you.” Tomas searched Cathal’s face, caressing it. “You scared me. What happened?”

  “I….” Cathal licked his lips, swallowing. Tomas passed him a glass of water. He drank gratefully, leaning back on the pillows before returning the glass. The bedcovers were in disarray, the indentation on Tomas’s side of the bed more than a hint he’d stayed by Cathal’s side, waiting for him to wake. Outside the sun was setting, although still providing enough light that further illumination was not necessary. How long was it since he’d fled from the house that morning? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run like that.”

  “Why did you?” Confusion and hurt chased each other over Tomas’s face.

  He had to tell the truth, however much it might cost either of them. “I felt your emotions, more strongly than I had ever before. I couldn’t think. I needed to find myself.” He took Tomas’s hand in his own and squeezed it tightly. “I was wrong. Forgive me?”

  Tomas stared at him. “I hurt you. I was angry and I hurt you.” He looked down, his face clouding over, his emotions flattening.

  “The child isn’t mine.” The words blurted out before Cathal could stop them. “How could… I wouldn’t do that! I told you I wouldn’t.”

  “Not even to save someone you love?” Tomas still wouldn’t look at Cathal. “To save me? I’m not an idiot, Cat. I know what she offered you in return for sleeping with her.”

  Cathal opened his mouth to protest, to say he wouldn’t, but he couldn’t. “I… I didn’t,” he said lamely in the finish. “I don’t know.” He wasn’t sure how far he’d go to save Tomas if his life was threatened. “I couldn’t let her kill you.” He felt the tears well up and blinked rapidly, trying not to give into them. “I didn’t sleep with her. The only person I’ve ever been with is you. You’re the only person I want. I love you.”

  “Ssh, it’s okay.” Tomas pulled Cathal back into his arms. “I believe you.” He sighed, more resigned than angry. “The thought of you doing that for me and being with someone against your will makes me ill, Cat. Promise me you won’t do that. Ever.”

  “I….” Cathal looked up at Tomas, fingers tracing the small scar on Tomas’s cheek that was already fading. The scar brought with it the memory of the cut one of Deryn’s guards had made with his knife on her command. “I can’t.”

  The long silence was finally broken by Tomas. “Thank you for being honest about it. I don’t like it, but I appreciate that you haven’t lied to me,” he said flatly. He stared out the bedroom window, his
gaze unfocused. “I couldn’t promise you that I wouldn’t do the same in your place to protect you.”

  Cathal shivered, thankful Deryn hadn’t set her sights on Tomas in that way. “Do you mind if we change the subject?” He didn’t want to do it without asking first after Tomas’s reaction the last time he’d done so.

  “Okay.” Tomas cleared his throat. “I’m not very good at this stuff, Cat. I suck at relationships and people, which is why I don’t have many friends. Something like this happens, and I usually want to run or switch off.” He turned to look at Cathal. “When you didn’t come home I thought I’d lost you again.”

  “It wasn’t intentional.”

  “Neither was the last time.” Tomas reddened. The last time Cathal had disappeared was after he’d been taken by the Falcons. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” Cathal shrugged. “There are similarities between that time and this.” Damn the blasted laws his people had insisted enforcing upon himself and Christian. They might have escaped from Deryn’s clutches, but they were still far from free.

  “What do you mean by that?” Tomas’s eyes narrowed, and his knuckles whitened when he clenched one fist minutely. He glanced again at the window, as if looking for something or someone who might be lurking outside.

  There was no easy way in which to say this. How could they have a future together while the enchantment still held? Cathal wouldn’t be able to travel past his leash. He’d just experienced rather too well what would happen if he tried.

  “I’m still bound to the tree.” He held out his wrist. The redness was fading, but it was still angry, both a warning and an echo of the pain that had come with attempting to defy his sentence. “The leash is a little longer than it was, but apparently I cannot travel further than the original boundary lines surrounding this property.”