Authors: R.L. Mathewson
couldn’t walk, but he didn’t let that stop him from going to his wife.
Squinting, he moved forward, crawling as he struggled to remain conscious. He couldn’t
see anything so he moved towards the sounds of Marty’s cries. Someone had her, was
hurting her and he was helpless to do anything to stop them so he did the only thing that he
could think of before he lost consciousness.
“Protect……..her, Shayne.”
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“Tristan!” Marty screamed, watching helplessly as Tristan dropped to the ground. She
moved to help him when the voice that she’d come to think of as her protector spoke,
drawing her attention to a large and very handsome man with short black hair and killer
green eyes. Then again, all the men in the room, seven the last time she counted, were
handsome with jet black hair and killer green eyes and no doubt related.
“Was that really necessary?” the familiar voice demanded with a put out sigh as he
moved to Tristan’s side.
“Aye,” the large man, who’d wrapped her up in a sheet and carried her into the
bathroom only moments earlier, replied flatly.
When Marty tried to walk past the man to go to Tristan, she was surprised that he didn’t
try to stop her. She learned the reason for that barely a split second later when four of the
large men who’d been leaning against the wall suddenly vanished only to reappear by
Tristan’s side before she could blink.
“Oh, come on now, lads!” the man who’d been looking Tristan over snapped as two of
the men grabbed him by his arms and yanked him to his feet and away from Tristan.
“Bring them downstairs.”
“Wait!” Marty said as she rushed to go to Tristan, desperate to make sure that he was
okay. Before she could reach him, two of the men reached down, grabbed him by the arms
and disappeared, leaving her stumbling forward as her heart skipped a beat and she forgot
how to breathe. The rest of the men quickly followed until she found herself alone.
“When you’re ready, we’ll be downstairs waiting for you, Macha,” the large man who’d
helped her to bathroom said softly from behind her, making her realize that she wasn’t as
alone as she’d thought.
“That’s not my name,” she found herself saying as her mind struggled to grasp what just
happened.
“Everything will be okay, Macha,” he promised softly with a sympathetic smile that
struck her as vaguely familiar.
She wanted to point out that everything had been fine before he’d showed up, but at that
moment her stomach decided that everything definitely was not okay.
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“What’s she doing?” Liam asked as Quinn materialized in the kitchen, his glare never
leaving Tristan who sat slumped forward in the kitchen chair with his hands cuffed behind
his back.
“Still getting sick,” Quinn said with a sneer of disgust. Shayne knew that if they’d still
been human that Quinn would have been joining Marty. He’d always had a weak stomach,
something they used to taunt and tease him about constantly. It was a pity that he couldn’t
use that against Quinn right now, Shayne thought with a sigh.
“Find something to settle her stomach,” Liam ordered as he folded his arms across his
chest and leaned back against the counter.
“What were those things that she liked the last time she was pregnant?” Declean asked as
he moved into the kitchen.
“Apples?” Finn suggested with a frown as he moved to join his brother in the search for
something that would settle Marty’s stomach.
Aidan nodded as he joined them. “Aye, the lass has always been partial to apples.”
Fergus shook his head as he left Shayne’s side to help with the search. “She doesn’t like
the green ones, lads, unless they’re the sweet ones.”
Shayne rolled his eyes as he pulled up a chair next to Tristan, who was still unconscious,
and said, “She can’t stomach raw apples when she’s pregnant. They have to be cooked.”
The brothers stopped mid-search to look his way.
“Are ye sure?” Fergus asked, frowning.
“Aye. Don’t ye remember the last time that she was pregnant? We had to take turns
stealing pastries from the baker after Tadgh was killed,” he reminded them. In retrospect,
that was probably a bad idea considering the fact that he’d broken their agreement after that
incident and helped Tadgh, again….and again…..and this last time would make three times
he’d helped Tadgh since he’d promised not to.
“You mean when we were all forced to watch Macha die from a broken
heart……..again?” Liam asked, his glare moving from Tristan to him.
“He tricked me this last time,” Shayne bit out, which was true.
Tadgh had tricked them all into believing that he’d finally had enough and was going to
leave Macha alone and give her the peace that she rightly deserved, but he’d lied. He’d led
them all to believe that he needed time and space to get through finally letting her go and
they’d all foolishly given it to him. Not that they’d quite believed him.
They’d kept a guard on Macha’s soul as best as they could and when they’d felt that she
was ready to be born again they’d followed her soul. Once she’d successfully made it into
the unborn fetus, they’d searched for Tadgh. They expected him to try and follow after her,
but they never found him. For a couple of years they’d watched over Macha until they felt
that the likelihood of Tadgh trying anything was slim.
The last time they’d checked on her, she’d been three years old. They all loved her and
agreed that the temptation to interfere in her life and protect her was too much. To be
honest, none of them had been able to stomach the idea of seeing her with someone else.
She belonged with Tadgh. The problem was this goddamn curse that kept them all trapped
in this never-ending cycle of bullshit.
Somehow they managed to walk away from Macha, wishing her the best and praying
that Tadgh wouldn’t do something stupid like torturing himself by watching over her.
Shayne couldn’t imagine being forced to watch over his soul mate and not being able to
touch her, take care of her, and having to be forced to watch as another man took his place.
Then again, he avoided his soul mate like the plague, so he really didn’t have to worry
about torturing himself. Tadgh on the other hand….
Couldn’t stay away from Macha and they should have realized that their younger brother
would have found a way to get past them. Shayne still wasn’t sure how Tadgh managed to
pull it off without any of them finding out. It was only by pure luck that Shayne had
discovered Tadgh living across the street from Macha all those years ago.
He still couldn’t believe how fucking stupid Tadgh had been to do it. What the hell had
he been thinking? He knew what waited for him and he still did it, uncaring about the hell
that he was going to put himself through. Eleven years without any type of protection or
buffer from spirits too desperate for the lives that they’d lost to care about what they put a
young child through was a dangerous way to live. To be honest, Shayne was still surprised
that Tadgh hadn’t been killed or found himself locked up in a mental hospital by then.
“I’ll go get her some apple pastries,” Declean offered, stepping away from the counter to
do just that.
“She’s partial to apple fritters,” Shayne suggested absently as a thought occurred to him.
Then with a sigh and a muttered, “I’ll be right back,” he left the room.
When he materialized in Tristan’s room a few seconds later, he wasn’t entirely surprised
to find Marty dressed, armed, and seriously pissed off. He wasn’t even surprised when she
raised the large gun in his direction and aimed it directly where his heart had once beat.
What did surprise him, and apparently Marty as well if her high-pitched squeal was any
indication, was the bloodied spirit of a man stumbling through her bedroom wall.
With a muttered, “Oh, shit,” Marty swung the gun in the direction of the spirit.
“Oh, my God! Don’t shoot!” the man cried, throwing his hands up into the air as he
stumbled back away from Marty and making Shayne shake his head in disgust.
“Yer already dead, ye dumb bastard!” he snapped at the man as he turned his attention
back to Marty, who he noted was turning an interesting shade of green.
“Don’t….d……don’t mo-“ she struggled to get out.
“Move?” Shayne finished for her with a helpless shrug.
He really wasn’t too shocked when she opened her mouth, definitely to tell him to fuck
off, but instead clamped a hand over her mouth, muttered, “Oh, shit,” and ran to the
bathroom. With a sigh, he followed her.
As Marty struggled to keep the gun aimed on him as she lost what was left of her dinner,
he couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time since he’d had the chance to spend any
real time with her. Granted, having a gun aimed at his balls while her dinner made a second
appearance probably wouldn’t qualify as quality time to most people, but he’d gladly take it.
He missed the nights they used to spend by the fire, long after everyone else had fallen
asleep, talking and laughing while they pretended that everything would work out. If it
hadn’t been for Tadgh, he probably would have made her his own. Their union wouldn’t
have been based on romantic love, happily ever after and all that bullshit, but one of respect
and friendship. There was no doubt in his mind that he never would have made her as
happy as Tadgh could, but he would have kept her safe. Considering everything that had
happened, maybe he should have done just that.
Chapter
27
“Stay where you are,” Marty said as she struggled to keep the gun aimed on the man in
front of her when all she wanted to do was lie down, close her eyes and curl up into a ball
in Tristan’s arms until the nausea and dizziness went away so that she could pretend that
none of this had ever happened.
“How are ye feeling, lass?” the man asked softly, acting unconcerned about the gun
currently aimed at his family jewels and probably for good reason, Marty realized.
“And if I shot you…..” she prompted, already having a good idea what the answer would
be.
“It wouldn’t affect me at all, lass,” he said with a careless shrug.
With a sigh, she lowered the gun, noting that he didn’t seem to care one way or the other
that the gun was no longer aimed on him, further confirming her suspicions. The man could
disappear, move through walls and God only knew what else, so it didn’t exactly take a
genius to figure out that her one and only weapon would be useless against him.
“Where’s my husband?” she asked, trying to mask her fear for Tristan.
She still couldn’t get over the sight of him being thrown across the room and slamming
into the wall like that. He shouldn’t have been able to move after that, but somehow he’d
managed to crawl towards her before he passed out. He had to be okay, he had to be, she
told herself as she tried to remain calm.
“He’s downstairs with my brothers,” the man said slowly, sounding as though he was
choosing his words carefully.
“I see,” she said absently with a small nod as she tried to wrap her mind around
everything that had happened in the last few hours. Not only wasn’t she crazy, but
apparently she could see ghosts. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to do with that
information so she decided to focus on getting them to leave. She raised her gun and pulled
the trigger, taking him by surprise.
“What the bloody hell did ye do that for?” he demanded, startled, but in no way harmed
by the bullet that passed through him.
“Would you have allowed me to use the phone?” she asked, dropping the gun on the
ground so that she could tighten her hold on the sheet wrapped around her.
Frowning, he shook his head. “Of course not. Ye’d only call for-“
“Help,” she finished for him as she headed for the door, shooting him a glare that dared
him to stop her. Ghost or not, she would kick his ass if he tried to stop her from going to
Tristan.
“Ah, hell!” he groaned, disappearing before she reached the door.
Knowing that this might be her only chance, she didn’t bother stopping to change her
clothes. She rushed towards the bedroom door, praying that she got to Tristan before they
could disappear with him. She just hoped that the gunshot did its job and that her father and
Tom were on their way to-
“Please, you have to help me!” the bloodied man that she’d somehow forgotten about
demanded as he grabbed hold of her wrists. Seconds later he made her pray for death as
pure dread and ice cold fear shot through her.
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“Calm the fuck down, lad!”
“Get the cuffs the fuck off me, Shayne!” Tristan snapped, gritting his teeth and slamming