The Manx Cat Guardians Boxed Set Page 5

  His startled bicoloured eyes grew larger, seemingly taking up his whole face as he stared unseeingly into the fire. Well, heck. He sat unmoving, stunned to his core with the combined attachment to Óláfr and Magnus. The linking that occurred with his charges when they became soulmates didn’t frequently alter their connection. In the past he could—even before their souls were connected—read their thoughts and, as he had done with Magnus, push his opinions into their minds, but he had never been in a position where he could communicate with them as he did with his charges. It never happened as far as he was aware. None of the guardians had a genuine connection to their charge’s soulmates, so why now? The internal click inside his body told him this time was different.

  Maximillian worried at his whiskers at the implications. Christina had never mentioned that this could happen in all of their extended talks and discussions about his abilities and powers.

  Is something changing within me?

  Is this what Christina had been alluding to when she’d talked about me changing? He was sure he was happy to be carrying both souls, especially when he could feel Magnus’s presence inside his mind. It was bad enough with Óláfr.

  Odin’s Raven.

  An air of urgency spread through Maximillian, and he quivered with distress in response. He got up silently so as not to wake Christina. He leapt up to the open shutter that had let in the soft night air. He jumped out the window, padding silently away into the darkness, guided by the bright bursts of stars that coated the inky black.

  The full moon peeked out from behind a giant cloud, highlighting the castle shrouded in a thick mist. The feeling of disquiet grew with each step he took on the damp grass, so he hurried his pace.

  The moonlight struggled to penetrate the thick mist that swirled around the castle stockade. Maximillian used all his senses, calculating where the enclosure began, swiftly moving when the urge to seek out Óláfr and Magnus increased. Maximillian growled when his bulk protested at going faster than he usually would. His bulky body, not built for speed or grace, struggled to climb up the stone wall. Avoiding the tight squeeze from earlier was maybe a little stupid when it took longer than he would have liked to heft his bulk over the top of the belvedere, finally.

  When he headed down the dark passageways, the sudden sounds of raised voices had his hackles lifting. Maximillian ran, his heart pounded out of his rib cage while his short legs ate up the distance. Turning down the next passageway, he halted at the sight before him. Arngrim had Magnus pinned to the wall. His feet dangled as large, meaty hands gripped his throat, choking the life out of Magnus while he ranted.

  Maximillian’s stomach heaved in disgust at the sickness spewing from Arngrim’s mouth.

  “You little faggot, why are you roaming the corridors near Óláfr’s quarters? I’ve seen the unhealthy way you look at him. Our Christian God will surely punish the sinner in you for your wicked thoughts.” Spittle dripped from Arngrim’s chin, and veins popped out, making his face and neck dark red while his massive, powerful arms flexed as he shook Magnus viciously.

  Arngrim’s rage poured over Maximillian in waves, like the sea when it stormed against the rocks. The hate unrelentingly hit Magnus full force.

  Magnus was unable to respond to the accusations, and his blue eyes bulged obscenely. Eyes shot with blood; they leaked tears down his purple cheeks as his small hands clawed at the larger man’s meaty fists trying to dislodge them. Maximillian could see Magnus was fighting a losing battle against the rage and disgust pouring out of Arngrim. Thinking fast, Maximillian shouted for Óláfr through their link, projecting the images he could see to him. Not used to doing this kind of communication, Maximillian hoped Óláfr got the gist of what he was trying to portray before it was too late.

  Maximillian launched his hefty weight at Arngrim, using the only weapon he had. He climbed up his body, digging his sharp claws into flesh and muscle, ripping and shredding as he rose. Aiming for his face and eyes, he struck with deadly accuracy. He was pleased to hear feet thundering up the stone passageway behind him.

  Maximillian worried it was too late when Magnus’s lifeless body hit the ground with a resounding thud before rough, menacing hands grabbed at him.

  Screeching, he launched himself towards the ground, pleased to see the bloody red gouges dripping blood down Arngrim’s left cheek. He paced in front of Magnus’s unconscious body, hackles raised, hissing and spitting at Arngrim, protecting the defenceless man behind him. He locked his spine, trying not to think about how scared he was at Arngrim having a second go at Magnus. Instead, he wished the thundering feet to hurry because he wasn’t sure he had enough energy left to fight Arngrim again.

  He mewled in anguish as a half-naked Óláfr came to an abrupt halt, his guards crashing into his naked back, making them all topple towards him. Maximillian jumped back, his hackles raised as he landed on Magnus’s still form. Concerned when he felt no movement, he gave a beseeching look to Óláfr who staggered away from his guards. Righting himself, he pushed back his tangled locks. Óláfr’s dark, menacing eyes seemed to glow in the dim passageway.

  His assessing gaze swept the scene in front of him. Maximillian caught the look of distress that Óláfr wasn’t fast enough to shutter with his lowered lids. Unable to block the overwhelming feelings of devastation Óláfr let seep out at seeing his soul mate’s bruised and battered body lying unconscious on the floor, Maximillian’s legs buckled under the intense emotions they shared.

  The angry lash of Óláfr words had them all freezing. “Explain yourself, Arngrim. Why is my Ma… this man lying unconscious on the ground, and why is my cat guarding him?”

  Maximillian noticed the slight slip-up and husky voice when Óláfr had used the word my before he corrected himself. He cast a glance at Arngrim, hoping he’d not noticed in all the commotion. That was the last thing they needed right now.

  Maximillian tried to concentrate on what Arngrim was saying as he spoke to Óláfr. The words were hardly recognisable under angry snarls, making it nigh on impossible to catch everything he said. Words rumbled out, merging as Arngrim’s temper escalated, causing them to hit like iced stones falling from the sky.

  “That, that abomination was sneaking around the castle. I know he was.”

  Arngrim stabbed the air as if he was fighting with it, pointing to the floor behind Maximillian.

  “I have been watching him. I know there is something not right with that boy. I caught him sneaking around the passageway near your chamber, Óláfr. I could smell a strange scent coming from him. I questioned him, but he refused to speak, so I took it upon myself to encourage him to answer.”

  Malicious intent gleamed in Arngrim’s cold eyes. Maximillian shivered at the evilness that seemed to develop when Arngrim looked at Magnus’s prone body, gaining satisfaction from seeing the marks on his neck and face spread before their eyes, deepening as the bruising morphed into a colourful macabre rainbow.

  Maximillian sensed what was coming and had the insane urge to jump up and cover Arngrim’s mouth with his paw to stop him from carrying on.

  “I can see what he has been up to. The telltale wet patch on his behind gives him away. I would have dealt with it if your stupid cat had not interfered. We should not have to tolerate his kind, Óláfr. The bishop has been preaching about the sins of men. Look at him. He is a sinner and needs to be put to death before he infects others.”

  As if realising he’d touched him, Arngrim sneered down at the heap on the floor that was Magnus. His lips peeled back in disgust as he wiped his large hands down his legs.

  Maximillian bristled at the accusations against Magnus. The blind bigotry was too much to bear. Before he could retaliate, pictures flooded his mind, distracting him as Óláfr relived the beauty of what he and Magnus had done earlier. He felt Óláfr’s conflicted emotions as he listened to Arngrim rant on about the new Christianity. The more he spoke, the higher the walls Óláfr built between his actions and his feelings.

  Ma
ximillian’s mind screamed at Óláfr to stop, even though he knew it was too late. Óláfr’s heart cracked and broke open, convincing Maximillian he could see the blood seeping out of his soul and spread across the floor towards Magnus’s unconscious body.

  He braced when Óláfr spoke, seeing his new conviction.

  “Take him to the dungeon. We will wait for him to regain consciousness, and I will question him then. Until that time, Arngrim, you are to stay away from him. I will deal with this.” His harsh command got a slight nod from Arngrim, but his eyes blazed in fury before he stalked off down the dark corridor. The sound of angry steps slapping against the stone floor faded as he left a stony silence behind.

  Maximillian blinked up at Óláfr who ignored his pleading look. Instead, he directed his attention towards the growing number of guards gathering at his back.

  “Take him down to the dungeons. But I warn you all, unless you want to feel my wrath, do not harm another hair on his head. Understood?”

  The only response was silent nods before Magnus’s body was dragged unceremoniously across the hard ground, making Maximillian wince in sympathy as they pulled him over the rough stone.

  Uncertain whether he should follow or go after the now retreating form of Óláfr, Maximillian felt the warning was enough to protect Magnus for now, so he gave chase after Óláfr.

  The anger grew inside him when not once did Óláfr look back or acknowledge what was happening behind him. Inside the chamber, Maximillian hardly noticed the warmth when the lingering scent of lust lay heavily in the air. It rubbed salt into the already stinging wounds Óláfr’s actions in the corridor had created.

  Huffing in disgust, Maximillian faced off with Óláfr. Raising his little brow in a questioning look, he threw his most haughty stare at Óláfr. Using his silence as a weapon against Óláfr, knowing he hated it when Maximillian stopped communicating with him, he ignored the urge to push at the ensuing silence. He ground his sharp teeth as he tapped his front paw, drawing Óláfr’s attention before he settled down next to the blazing fire. He needed the heat to try and remove the freezing fear that was filling his veins when the silence lengthened.

  Óláfr’s thoughts were a tumbled mess of guilt and suffering. About to take pity on Óláfr, Maximilian halted when his prevailing view was to deny everything. Maximillian shuddered as if from an impact to his solar plexus. His body trembled from the shock that Óláfr could or would deny the connection to Magnus.

  The truth sliced at Maximillian. Struggling to get up under the weight of failure, he blinked back the moisture gathering in his eyes. He was unable to comprehend that this strong man was a coward, that he would deny the most treasured bond bestowed upon him by the universe. The bond of love pulsed inside him, the true essence of his being.

  His ire was too much to contain, and Maximillian spoke before he could stop himself, “Why, why would you deny what is truly a beautiful gift? A gift blessed by God Njord himself. I can feel the connection you have created. It lives inside me, binding me to you and him. I can also feel Magnus’s pain and his lack of understanding as to why you would not protect him. He left here to protect you, to ensure that no one would look at you differently. You hide like a coward. I cannot bear to look at you. You disappoint me.”

  Leaving the last part dangling between them, he hoped it would get a reaction. Anything other than the shuttered look he was currently receiving. The barrier inside Óláfr seemed to increase by the second. The only sign of outward distress was his heaving chest and clenching fists. Maximillian’s panic rose when nothing he said seemed to penetrate past the blank expression Óláfr wore like a coat of armour.

  “Do you not feel his distress? Even now, he cries for you. He needs you, Óláfr, in the worst way. You must go and help him now and stop this nonsense.” Maximillian caught sight of the shame-filled expression in Óláfr’s dark, fathomless eyes before he looked away. The urge to knock Óláfr’s head against the stone wall was too much when his loud plea received a continuous wall of silence and Óláfr’s rigid spine as he turned away.

  Maximillian ground his teeth, hissing at the sound of sobbing in his mind. Guilt swamped him and made the situation feel ten times worse. Wincing at the utter distress coming through the link, Maximillian stalked towards the door for fear of doing something stupid, like attacking Óláfr.

  “Open the door. I must go to Magnus, even if you cannot. I know you feel his pain as I do. I hope you can live with the decisions you make.” The resignation in his voice was far telling when it combined with the sense of foreboding that wouldn’t shift from inside his heart. It spread through him further when he knew Óláfr wouldn’t change his mind and go to help his soulmate.

  He worried his paws. Can I live with the consequences if he doesn’t come to his senses and soon? The voices in his head were ominously silent, letting him know he was in serious trouble.

  The slight creaking as the door opened was the only acknowledgement that Óláfr had heard him. Resigned, Maximillian darted past the still form of Óláfr. Puffing out his chest in disgust, he held his head high as he ran along the corridor and down the stone steps leading to the lower part of the castle.

  His fur bristled as the icy cold expanded the closer he got to the dungeons. The energy felt heavy with the stench of death. It smeared the air, defiling everything it touched. Death was a frequent visitor to this part of the castle, and for that reason, Maximillian avoided it at all costs. His sensitive nature ensured he experienced every one of those last moments of death that occurred in those dank icy rooms in the bowels of the fortress.

  Seeking Magnus’s scent in the inky darkness, he headed into the lowest part of the castle. He followed the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks, scenting the air with its salty spray as it seeped through the cracks in the stone. Maximillian shuddered as a blast of cold, wet air, lifted his fur. As he shook off the wetness, settling on his hair, he picked up his pace.

  The heart-wrenching sobbing directed Maximillian to Magnus’s cell at the end of the dark, winding passageway. Maximillian ignored the other occupied cells, taking a moment to snuffle his fur and giving himself the courage to enter the tiny space that reeked of evil and death.

  The dark, damp, and tiny space resembled a child-size coffin, barely allowing Magnus the courtesy to sit upright. He was curled into a ball, hugging his legs. His face was buried in his knees while he sobbed. The ripped clothing hardly kept the icy chill away from his thin frame as trembles wracked him, rattling his bones. The combined sounds were enough to have Maximillian’s guilt return full force.

  He scented fresh blood. The metallic smell was too new to be hidden under the other noxious vapours wafting from the other occupants of the dungeon. The urge to go back into the castle and seek vengeance on the guards who had not obeyed Óláfr’s orders to cause no further harm to Magnus had Maximillian growling.

  The overwhelming need to take care of Magnus and ease his suffering had Maximillian staying put, eying the tightly clustered, rust-coated metal bars. Snorting in disgust, he squeezed his bulk through, albeit with a little difficulty. Maximillian moved carefully so as not to frighten Magnus.

  He sat down on the filthy dirt floor, trying hard not to overthink what had made the dirt sticky as it plastered itself to his big behind. The hard icy floor offered little comfort or warmth. The sounds of the sea were deafening. Its continuous movement against the rocks didn’t allow for a moment’s peace. Was part of the torture, not being able to see in the utter darkness and then being driven mad by the constant noise?

  He pushed aside his thoughts, letting his presence reach out to Magnus. Hoping his body warmth would offer some heat, he pressed his body closer. Startled for a second, Maximillian winced when work-roughened, cold hands crept over his body.

  He watched Magnus raise his swollen and battered face. His red-rimmed eyes peered down at Maximillian in the darkness. Ignoring the cold he felt, Maximillian crawled up on to Magnus’s lap, allowing their mi
nd link to open further, hoping it would infiltrate past Magnus’s misery.

  Startled watery blue eyes froze as they met Maximillian’s gaze in the darkness. Unblinking, he let his presence continue to filter into Magnus’s mind, making sure he didn’t overwhelm him. He’d learnt the hard way he couldn’t flood the human brain, not unless he wanted to break the fragile connection to reality.

  “Magnus, please don’t be scared—”

  Maximillian yowled, thrown into the air he landed on something wet and squishy. He watched in horror as Magnus leapt up and bashed his already battered head on the stone ceiling of his cell. His legs crumpled under him as he landed in a heap back on the dirty floor next to Maximillian. Magnus’s loud hissing breaths filled the small space while panic and fear permeated the air. Maximillian shook his head in despair, sorry to have caused Magnus further harm.

  Sighing, Maximillian took his time dislodging whatever had stuck to him when Magnus had moved. He willed his patience to last when his mind became flooded with all of Magnus’s crazy thoughts.

  He spoke firmly, hoping it would help. “Magnus, please hear me out. You’re not crazy, I promise. And you can stop thinking it’s because you banged your head or that big stupid lug Arngrim had tried to choke you to death, or that you had sex with Óláfr.”

  He could scarcely keep up with Magnus’s random thoughts, getting tired of answering each question as they popped into his head. He rested his body against Magnus, pushing his calming presence into his mind. Not that he felt very calm himself right then. Faking it, he tried again. “Please, stop and listen.” He paused when icy hands gripped him a little harder than he liked, but he waited patiently, happier when slowly one by one, Magnus released his stiff fingers from his thick fur.

  Carefully explaining who and what he was, Maximillian left nothing out. Well, except him pushing ideas and thoughts into Magnus’s mind to get him fired up to confront Óláfr. No, there is no need for him to know that, was there?