Cat's Quill (20 page)

"I've never seen it in the inn." Tomas frowned. The picture looked like a photograph rather than a painting, but his knowledge of painting and photography was very limited.

"As I said, it was gone the last time I was there," Cathal repeated patiently. "It used to hang on the second floor outside the master bedroom."

"The second floor?" Tomas frowned. "That's the one above mine. There's another painting there now. It's of this tree and the field." Cathal paused, his cup mid-sip. "Maybe you could come with me and I'll show you. It's very haunting. I think you'd like it."

"I can't." Cathal shook his head slowly.

"We could go when Heidi and Donovan are out, if you don't want to talk to them." Tomas was quite happy not to have to share Cathal with anyone just yet. "How long has it been since you've been there?" Cathal had said when they'd first met that he didn't get to talk to people very often. Yet he didn't strike Tomas as antisocial; quite the opposite, in fact, especially with the conversation they'd shared though they'd only known each other a short time.

"I'm not sure." Cathal drained the coffee from the cup and handed it to Tomas, their fingers brushing, the touch lingering between them. "I don't seem to be as good at keeping track of time as I thought I was." He frowned, his eyes glazing over in memory. "There was a storm, quite a bad one, in the middle of the day. The weather was very wild, more so than I'd seen in the area for many years." Blackthorn rubbed against him, climbing into his lap. He stroked the top of her head absently. "It was the day Blackthorn and I found each other...." His voice trailed off.

Heidi had said that Blackthorn had come to them after a storm after they'd first moved in five years ago. Could it have been the same one? "Donovan said there are rumors of the inn being haunted. He mentioned a bad storm too."

"Do you think it is?" Blackthorn lifted her head, and Cathal obediently shifted his fingers to under her chin. "Haunted, I mean?"

"I don't believe in ghosts," Tomas said firmly. "They only exist in books or people's imaginations. They're a way of explaining what we don't know yet." He ignored the fact he was sounding a little too much like his friend, Ethan, who was practical and down to earth to the extreme. If something couldn't be explained, it didn't exist and therefore wasn't something to concern himself with. "Magic is merely science that we don't know about yet."

"That sounds like a quote from someone else, rather than something you believe." Cathal nodded toward the Thermos. "I've had enough, if you want some, thank you."

"It is." Tomas opened the Thermos again, refilling the cup. "A quote from someone else, I mean. I can't remember who, though." Balancing the cup between his legs, he refastened the screw-top lid. "That doesn't mean I don't believe it."

"You believe in muses. Some would say they are magic, or at the very least, a figment of an overactive imagination." Cathal stretched his legs, shifting the weight of the cat, who seemed to have no intention of moving. Tomas felt a momentary pang of aggression toward the animal at the way in which it was taking some of Cathal's attention.

"I believe my characters exist in my mind, so they are real in there." Tomas retrieved his coffee and crossed his legs, balancing it between them to let it cool. "I never said that Deimos was a muse, just that he hadn't told me yet."

Cathal grinned smugly. "Ah yes, but he could tell you he is, and therefore that would make it true, wouldn't it?" Blackthorn's tail jerked up and down a few times. She glanced lazily in Tomas's direction, climbed off Cathal's lap, and settled down on the grass between them.

"You're clutching at straws." Tomas snorted, not ready to give in, although he was enjoying the discussion. "Muses aren't magic; they're a fact of life."

Cathal laughed, a light sound that echoed around them. His eyes sparkled. "So what do you do when you find something you can't explain? Ignore it and hope it will go away because it can't possibly exist?"

"Of course not," Tomas retorted indignantly. "That would be irresponsible, and besides, I'm not Ethan." At Cathal's blank expression, he explained quickly. "He's a friend I met at college. One of the few I've kept in touch with." Tomas would be very interested in listening to Cathal attempting to argue this point of view with Ethan.

"I see." Cathal smiled. "It's important to keep in contact with and be there for your friends. Is he planning to visit while you are here?"

"Probably not," Tomas said in part relief and part regret. "He's a teacher, and it's in the middle of the school term, so he can't get time off."

"That is unfortunate. I'd like to meet him." Cathal frowned, growing quiet. "Maybe I
should
talk to Donovan and Heidi sometime." He reached over to steady the coffee cup when it almost tipped, handing it to Tomas. The sleeve on his shirt rode up, and he pulled it back down, but not before Tomas saw a bracelet of what appeared to be twigs around his wrist. "I can't remember the last time I sat in the field like this and talked to someone. Watching from a distance isn't the same. I'm feeling very much like an outsider, both from my people and yours. It's as though I don't belong anywhere anymore."

"That's not true, Cat." Tomas took a couple of gulps of coffee before putting the cup down again, this time to the side on an even piece of ground. He moved closer, ignoring the growl in the back of Blackthorn's throat. "You can belong wherever you want to." He hesitated, placing one hand on Cathal's knee. "With whomever you want."

"It's not that easy, Tomas." Cathal placed one hand over Tomas's. "I wish I could explain why, but I can't." He shuffled nearer, closing the distance between them, his hand still on Tomas's. Blackthorn huffed at both of them, glared at Cathal, but moved away a distance when he gave her a stern look, one which softened immediately when he turned his attention back to Tomas. "You said that you don't believe in magic."

"No, I said that it is science we don't know about yet," Tomas corrected gently. Without thinking, he reached out one hand to stroke Cathal's cheek, the skin warm under his fingertips. Cathal turned his head slightly, kissing one of Tomas's fingers, leaning into the touch.

"I believe in magic. I don't think it's necessarily just about such things as are written in fantasy stories but that it takes all shapes and forms." Cathal smiled. "In nature, the world around us, in the words we speak and in the friendships and relationships that grow between people."

"You sound like one of the romantic poets." Tomas couldn't help but smile.

"Do I?" Cathal sighed. "I had a friend once who loved them. She used to bring poetry books with her, and we'd sit for hours and read to each other."

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know. One day she just stopped coming." Cathal moved still closer, seeking comfort on some level. "The last time we talked, she was so happy, and full of plans for the life ahead of her and the baby she carried." Tomas put his arm around Cathal instinctively, only half-aware that he was doing so. "Why do people leave, Tomas?"

"I don't know." It wasn't a question he could answer. "Perhaps I could find out about her for you." He trailed his lips across Cathal's forehead, wishing he could do something to help yet suspecting he couldn't. Discovering the truth behind why people left didn't make the grief of that loss any less. "What was her name?"

"It doesn't matter. People move on. I had hoped she wouldn't." Cathal rested his head on Tomas's shoulder, threading his fingers through Tomas's. He sighed. "Perhaps the inn is really haunted and it's her ghost. I really don't know."

"I doubt it." Tomas ran his other hand through Cathal's hair, marveling at the softness of it. "I'm going to the church later this week to look through their records. If you tell me her name, I'll look for you. The baby's birth is probably listed as well."

"I don't remember her married name. We never discussed it." Cathal closed his eyes. "I called her Libby, but that wasn't her real name." He smiled at a memory. "I told her my name was Cat, and she said, well, I'll be Libby then, and we both laughed. I never asked her for any other, and she didn't either in return."

"Do you want to come with me? We could look together." The information Cathal had given wasn't much to go on, but that wasn't going to stop Tomas from looking. Libby could be short for something, or just a nickname. "Do you know her maiden name?"

"Edmonds." Cathal opened his eyes with a start, meeting Tomas's. For a moment, they seemed almost wild, fearful, before he leaned back against Tomas. "She was related to my cousin; they shared the same last name."

Tomas nodded. "Another cousin?" He realized he'd never asked Cathal whether he was the same age as his Alice and Christian.

"I suppose she was, yes." Cathal squeezed Tomas's hand. "I can't come with you to the church. I'm sorry, but it's not possible. I would if I could."

"Okay." Tomas had been about to ask why not but then decided against it. For now, he needed to just enjoy this time together, with Cathal in his arms. This was something he could get used to very easily. Conversation and closeness, both were rarities, and he was reluctant to let either, or Cathal, go just yet.

"Sorry," Cathal repeated, this time in a whisper. He tilted his head up to meet Tomas's eyes again, searching them for something. A reaction, perhaps?

"It's okay." Tomas bent his head to meet Cathal halfway. He could smell the coffee on Cathal's breath. What would it be like to taste it? Would it be the same as their first or different this time? Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between them, threading his fingers through Cathal's hair, and kissed him on the lips.

Not letting go of Tomas's hand, Cathal deepened the kiss, his lips moist, inviting. Breaking it briefly, he moved so that they were facing properly, licked Tomas's lips, and kissed him again. Tomas moaned softly into it, tasting coffee and Cathal, pulling him closer, wanting more.

Finally breaking the kiss, Cathal smiled, his fingers tracing the outline of Tomas's mouth. "You taste good," he said. "Very good. I think this is definitely something that gets better each time we practice."

"We'll have to practice more often then." Tomas returned the smile, warmth flooding through him. He kissed Cathal's fingers. "You taste good too."

"I like the idea of practicing." Cathal ran one hand up and down Tomas's leg, lightly caressing it through the heavy denim. He edged closer still, sliding one of his legs over Tomas's so that he was nearly straddling him. Leaning in, he kissed Tomas again, pulling at his shirt.

Somewhere in the back of Tomas's mind, the annoying little voice pointed out that they were in the middle of an open field where anyone could see. Tomas's shirt free, Cathal's hand explored underneath, fingers splaying and then contracting against bare skin. The little voice was quickly told to go take a running jump at itself. Tomas whimpered into the kiss.

Blackthorn meowed loudly. Tomas ignored her. "Not now," Cathal mumbled, breaking the kiss briefly, just long enough to wriggle up Tomas still further.

The cat pawed at both of them, growing more insistent.

"Go away!" Tomas snapped.

Giving a yelp of pain, Cathal let out something that sounded suspiciously like a curse in a language Tomas had never heard. "I told you. Not now!" Still in Tomas's lap, he glared at the cat, rubbed at his thigh, and then froze. "Tomas...."

Turning his head, Tomas followed Cathal's line of vision. Fuck, what was that bloody kid doing at the other end of the field? The moment shattered, Cathal quickly untangled himself from Tomas to land on the grass with a thump.

"He's walking towards us." Cathal sounded panicked. He glanced to the tree and back. "Do you know him?"

Blackthorn glared at both of them, shaking her head from side to side. When they ignored her, she sauntered over to sit between them and the approaching intruder and began washing one paw and then the other.

"Unfortunately, yes." Tomas re-tucked his shirt, already devising several painful ways in which Mikey could die a slow death. How long had he been there? What did he want? And, more importantly, what had he seen?

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirteen

Mikey sauntered over. "Hey, Tomas, I just need to talk...." He froze, his gaze drawn to Cathal, looking him up and down.

"Yes?" Tomas asked irritably, not exactly thinking good thoughts in Mikey's direction. The little rat had interrupted them!

"I... um...." Mikey kept staring at Cathal, his mouth forming an O before he glanced at Tomas and then back at Cathal. "I need to go do my homework," he finally stammered, backing away and walking briskly, almost at a run, toward the hedge at the edge of the field.

"Little shit," Tomas muttered under his breath. If the brat thought he could get away with being rude to Cathal like that, he had another thing coming.

Cathal raised an eyebrow at Tomas's comment, his own expression a mixture of amusement and indignation. "We were kissing in the middle of a field. His reaction is understandable."

"Stay here," Tomas told Cathal, glaring at Mikey's back. "I'll sort this out." If Mrs. O'Neil was still there and he told her what he'd seen.... No, that was something Tomas was not going to contemplate.

He had only got a couple of steps into his pursuit when Cathal caught up to walk alongside him. "I'm coming with you. We'll talk to him together."

"He's heading for the inn. I thought you didn't want to go there." Tomas could talk to Mikey and take care of the situation. There was no reason for Cathal to interact with him at all.

"We'll talk to him together," Cathal repeated, slipping his hand into Tomas's. "What is his name?"

"Mikey," Tomas said after a moment's hesitation. He squeezed Cathal's hand. "You don't need to do this, Cat."

"Yes, I do." Mikey paused at the hedge, and Cathal raised his voice. "Mikey! Wait!"

"What are you doing?" Tomas stared at Cathal for a moment before he was dragged toward Mikey, the grip on his hand leaving him no choice. "I told you I'd deal with this!" He hadn't realized that Cathal could be so stubborn once he'd set his mind to something, although his insistence that there was no sequel had been a strong hint.

"I am not some submissive who needs protecting, Tomas." Cathal scowled, giving Mikey a wave when he spun around to stare at them.

"I never said you were." Tomas wasn't interested in a relationship with an unequal balance of power within it. How could Cathal have thought that was what he wanted? He'd never done or said anything to suggest that he was into that kind of thing. Had he?

Cathal kept walking toward Mikey, a reluctant Tomas following and wondering exactly when this situation had been taken completely out of his control. "He was ready to talk to you until he saw me." He paused, relaxing his grip on Tomas's hand when they drew closer, giving Tomas the option to let go and put some space between them if he so wished. "Are you concerned that he saw you kissing another man?"

Damn it, he should have never confided in Cathal about the reason he'd resisted letting Roger and Alan get together in the book. Yes, he'd had issues about people knowing he was gay, but Mikey had already seen them kissing, and... this was Cathal. "No," Tomas said quietly, not willing to hurt Cathal by saying yes. After all, it wasn't as simple as that. Mikey could be persuaded not to repeat what he'd seen; of that Tomas was sure.

The smile Cathal gave in response confirmed to Tomas that he'd made the right decision. He'd denied how he'd felt for too long. Before it hadn't mattered; he didn't have anyone he'd take that risk for, but now.... He had no idea whether he and Cathal had what it took to build a relationship together, but one thing he knew for certain was that he wanted to at least try.

Mikey was waiting for them by the hedge, his face pink and his eyes fixed on the grass under his feet. His thumb and forefinger gripped the zipper of his hoodie tightly, the metal going up and down repeatedly. His head came up, gaze lingering on their linked hands, and he mumbled something under his breath, lowering his eyes again.

"I think you owe Cathal an apology," Tomas said, placing himself between them. "If that was one, you need to repeat it so he can hear it."

"Sorry," Mikey mumbled again, this time loud enough to hear, his eyes still examining the ground. He kicked at a stone. "I thought you were kissing a girl!"

"I assure you, I'm definitely not a girl." Cathal let go of Tomas's hand and pushed past him. "Tomas said your name was Mikey." He held out his hand. "My name is Cathal, but my friends call me Cat."

"Yeah, I'm Mikey." Mikey hesitated and then shook Cathal's hand very briefly. "Michael, really, but no one calls me that." He glanced at Tomas and then looked Cathal up and down like he'd done before. "Look, I said I was sorry, okay? I only came to talk to Tomas about the skateboard ramp he promised he'd build with me tomorrow, and I thought he was talking to some girl, and then when I got closer I saw you kiss and...." His tone shifted accusingly as he turned his attention onto Tomas. "You never told me you were like Donovan! You know...." His voice trailed off again.

"I'm going to presume you mean gay," Tomas said dryly. "As I'm certainly not like Donovan, as you put it." There, he'd said it. But how much had Mikey seen? Cathal and he had been a little more enthused than just a chaste kiss, and as much as Mikey annoyed him, he wasn't old enough to be witness to anything more than that.

Mikey grinned suddenly. "No, you're not like Donovan. I mean he's cool, and you're...."

"Not?" Tomas's voice dropped dangerously low. Here he was trying to be polite and merely seek an apology for Cathal, and Mikey had to make a comment like that. Okay, so he wasn't Donovan, but that didn't mean he was boring either.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Mikey hunched his shoulders and mumbled something under his breath again. Tomas fought the urge to smack him.

"What did you say?" he demanded.

Mikey flushed. "The thought of kissing someone is just gross."

"I like the way he kisses," Cathal replied softly. He seemed amused by Mikey's reaction.

"Yeah, whatever. Just do it somewhere else, okay?" Mikey shuddered. "Not that I saw much, but it was enough. I'm scarred for life, I swear."

"Thanks, Mikey, I'll take that under advisement." Tomas bit back a sigh of relief in the knowledge that they'd noticed him and stopped before he'd got any closer.

"We'll be more careful next time," Cathal promised, his brow creased as though he was trying to figure something out.

"Cat?" Tomas prompted.

"What did you mean when you said Donovan was cool?" Cathal asked Mikey. "It's not referring to temperature, is it?"

"Nah." Mikey stared at him. "You haven't heard that before? Even my dad knows what it means."

Tomas glared at Mikey.

"It means he's okay, that he's fun to be around, that kind of thing," Mikey explained hurriedly.

"So is Tomas," Cathal said. He smiled suddenly. "Maybe I should meet Donovan sometime after all."

"I bet Tomas hasn't told him about you." Mikey observed brightly. "I bet Heidi and Mrs. O'Neil don't know either, 'cause she would have said."

"Mrs. O'Neil doesn't know everything," Tomas snorted. "She just thinks she does because she does research."

Cathal glanced between the two of them. "Who's Mrs. O'Neil?"

"Someone you don't have to concern yourself with," Tomas said quickly. The thought of Mrs. O'Neil and Cathal talking was not somewhere he wanted to go right now. Mikey was bad enough, but she'd give Cathal the third degree and be convinced she knew everything just because she could.

"I think that's my decision, not yours." Cathal narrowed his eyes. For some reason he did not take well to Tomas trying to protect him in any shape or form. "Does she visit Heidi at the inn?"

"Every Wednesday like clockwork." Mikey grinned. "I know because Donovan's never around on those days. He and Mrs. O'Neil have kind of a love-hate relationship. He hates listening to her opinions on everything and anything, and she loves telling him anyway."

"Where does he go?" Tomas was curious now. Donovan's old car was still in its garage, as was Heidi's Land Rover, so it couldn't have been far.

"No one knows," Mikey said, gesturing toward the inn with his head. "I think he does something in one of the outbuildings. There's a lock on the door, and I've never been able to get in there. Even Heidi doesn't have a key."

Tomas raised an eyebrow. "I thought Heidi knows everything that goes on around here." She hadn't said as much, but she struck him as someone who had her finger on the pulse, especially anything that took place on her premises and had any chance of impacting her.

"When people are friends, they trust each other," Cathal pointed out. "Privacy is also important, as is respecting the need for it."

"That wasn't what I was saying," Tomas protested, wondering if Cathal's answers were just observations or the voice of experience. He suspected the latter, especially with the firm tone in Cathal's voice.

"Cat's right," Mikey butted in somewhat smugly. "Friends trust each other." Tomas felt his temper bristle with Mikey using that name, but it wasn't his place to correct him, especially as Cathal had given permission when he'd introduced himself.

Placing one hand on Tomas's arm, Cathal gave Mikey a smile. "You said that Tomas had promised to build you a...," he stumbled over the phrase as though it was unfamiliar, "skateboard ramp?"

"Yeah." Mikey's annoying grin was firmly back in place. "We're going to build it in the field over there." He gestured toward a piece of open grassland backing onto hedge on the far side directly opposite where they were now. That section of hedge seemed to act as a boundary between the inn and the farm next door. It was difficult at this distance to tell which property the shed-like building to one side of it belonged to or exactly how big it was. "Are you doing anything tomorrow afternoon? You could help if you want."

"I'm sure he has other things to--" Tomas started to say.

Cathal's smile widened. "I'd love to help, thank you for asking."

"Cool!" Mikey poked his tongue out at Tomas. "How did someone like you manage to meet someone with such good manners?" He winked at Cathal. "I had to prompt him to thank Heidi for breakfast this morning, you know. And he's meant to be the adult."

"It wasn't like that at all," Tomas scowled, not sure why he was justifying himself to some kid.

"I'm sure it wasn't," Cathal agreed, his tone definitely one of amusement as he watched both of them. He opened his mouth to add another comment, saw Tomas give Mikey a smug look, and closed it again, shaking his head.

"What?" Tomas and Mikey asked together.

"Some thoughts are better not said." Cathal moved closer, sliding his hand into Tomas's again. "It has occurred to me that I'm not sure how much of a help I will be tomorrow." He paused, looking a little sheepish. "Umm, what's a skateboard, and why do you need a ramp for it?"

Mikey stared at Cathal. "You're kidding me, right?" He shook his head. "Everyone knows what a skateboard is, unless they've been hiding under a rock for the last hundred years or so."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know." Cathal sighed, his attention taken for a moment by a familiar black speck heading toward them. When he continued, his words were slow as though he was choosing them carefully. "I'm not from around here, although I do visit from time to time. That's why I'm unfamiliar with some of your customs and sayings."

"Oh." Mikey frowned, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. "I thought you were dressed a bit weirdly too." He indicated Cathal's shirt. "It's kind of out of date. Something I'd expect to see in an old movie or something."

"I like it," Tomas said. The loose shirt with its laces instead of buttons suited Cathal's personality, giving him an air of being a little different, yet at the same time familiar. Come to think of it, he'd been wearing the same clothing each time they'd met and still hadn't told Tomas where he lived. Actually, these clothes were rather like he'd imagined Deimos would wear in his book. No, he'd had enough of crazy ideas for one day. But it was difficult to ignore the fact that since they'd role-played that scene, every time Tomas visualized Deimos, he saw Cathal.

"Thank you." Cathal squeezed his hand and blushed slightly. "I've had it a while, but it's comfortable, and I can't bring myself to throw it out for that reason. My sister made me another, but although she means well, new material is a little too stiff and formal for my liking." He smiled as though remembering something, shaking his head.

As if on cue, Blackthorn, finally deciding to grace them with her presence, walked over to Cathal, rubbing herself against his legs. He mumbled something under his breath, and she growled at him.

"That cat knows you," Mikey observed. "She doesn't do that to just anyone. I thought you said you weren't from around here."

"I did, but I also said I visited," Cathal said mildly. His tone, though quiet, was firm and suggested he did not want to be questioned further on the matter. "Blackthorn and I have known each other a while; she insists on following me around at times." The cat meowed, and he sighed. "Despite the fact it is really quite unnecessary."

"You don't argue with cats," Mikey said. "They know stuff." He bent to pet Blackthorn, and she left Cathal to sniff Mikey's hand, purring loudly. Cathal frowned, glancing at the cat and then at Mikey. "Same as dragons," Mikey continued. "I like dragons."