Magenta Mine: An Invertary Novella (10 page)

16

“Let me get changed,” Harry shouted to his cousin as he entered the house. “Then we can go get something to eat.”

“Why bother? You’re only going to swap one inane T-shirt for another.”

Harry ignored Matt, who was watching CNN on the widescreen in the living room. He didn’t have time to deal with him. His hands were full coping with Magenta. He’d left her alone long enough to calm down. She got one more night. Then he planned to hunt her down and make her talk to him. Even if it meant tying her to a chair to do it. Or the bed. Mmm, yeah, tying her to the bed was a way better idea.

He swung open his room door and flicked on the light. Darkness prevailed. “Bring me a light bulb, will you?” he shouted to Matt. “The one in my room has blown.”

He heard grumbling, but assumed Matt was digging out a bulb.

His mind on Magenta, Harry strode into the room, reached for the bedside lamp and was about to press the switch when he heard it. Scraping. Gnawing. His hand stilled. His body froze. Slowly, he turned his head towards the bed. Something moved. His heart shot to his mouth. Moving nothing but his finger, Harry switched on the lamp. The blood drained from his body.

Sitting in the middle of his bed was a huge white rat. It stopped nibbling on whatever the hell it was nibbling on, and its beady pink eyes stared at Harry. Evil eyes. Red like the devil. Harry couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Then he saw movement under his duvet. He sucked in a breath. His eyes shot to his pillow, where yet another tail twitched. His heart stopped beating altogether. He caught sight of something on the floor. His eyes flicked to it. Huge grey rats, under the furniture, peeking out from behind the chair. His heart restarted. His feet shuffled towards the door. He felt something squish under them, and looked down to see a rat’s tail poking out from beside his boot.

And then he did what every man in the same situation would have done. He screamed like a baby, while throwing himself in the direction of the door. A doorway Matt had just appeared in, looking dumbfounded and carrying a light bulb.

“What the hell?” Matt said as Harry pushed him out of the way.

He tripped over his cousin to land on his knees in the hall.

“Rats!” He was beyond caring that he was hysterical, shouting his lungs out. “Rats in my room. Rats!” He stopped shouting and started to rant. “Shut the door. Lock the door. Don’t go in there. I’ll call the rat guy. We’ll kill them all. Hairy little freakoids with their Satan-red eyes and germ-carrying teeth.”

Matt shook his head and stepped into the room.

“Don’t do it.” Harry lunged at him. “They’ll get you.”

It was too late. He’d lost his cousin. He stumbled to his feet, fully intending to lock Matt in there, along with the rats, until the exterminator got there. It was too late to save his cousin now.

“Catch,” Matt shouted, and something came flying at Harry.

He saw the grey hair first and just about passed out. Without thinking, he actually caught the damn thing. A rat. A squishy, soft rat. A velvet rat? A rat with no bones? A rat that didn’t move? He looked down at the creature in his hands and felt his world tilt.

“I’m going to kill her,” he said through gritted teeth.

Matt was laughing too hard to reply. Harry’s heartbeat settled into a normal rhythm, and anger replaced panic.

“You are such a loser.” Matt leaned against the doorframe, his laughter now reduced to an oversized grin. “The twins got you with something almost identical to this when you were a kid.”

Where exactly did his cousin think his fear of rats came from?

He noticed something moving at his mocking cousin’s feet. The white rat. Harry couldn’t speak. He pointed.

“Rat,” Harry said. “Real rat.”

“Yeah, right.” Matt looked down. The laughter stopped. His cousin let out a stream of curses as he paled. With lighting reflexes, Matt kicked the rat back into the room and slammed the door shut.

They stood side by side, shaking as they studied the door.

Harry pointed at the bottom of the door. “Rats can squeeze through spaces smaller than that gap.”

Matt’s face was thunderous when he stomped into the bathroom and came back with two towels. He rolled them up and wedged them under the door. They stared at it. Without talking, Matt left again, disappearing into his room. Harry stared at his bedroom door while listening as Matt dismantled something. A minute later, his cousin appeared with a long shelf and several hand weights. He placed the shelf against the towels and then wedged the weights up against it.

“They won’t get through that.” He didn’t sound pleased. He sounded grim. Matt turned to Harry. “I’m going to kill them.”

Harry nodded. It was obvious Matt wasn’t talking about the rats. “You deal with your sisters. I’ll handle Magenta.”

Matt’s eyes darkened as he nodded. “First I need to call pest control.” He shuddered before stomping down the stairs.

Harry followed, taking the toy rat with him.

In a booth in the pub, the twins and Magenta were laughing so hard that they had to hold each other upright. They weren’t the only ones. Dougal had talked them into plugging Claire’s iPad into the TV over the bar. Everyone got to watch, and listen, to the Harry and Matt show. Magenta had gotten over her anxiety about the plan and thought it was only fair that everyone watched. After all, the whole town had listened in on the mine debacle too.

“That was priceless.” Dougal wiped tears from his eyes.

“I don’t know what they were doing out in the hall,” Josh McInnes said. “Maybe building a barricade. Wish I could have seen it.” He turned to the girls. “Next time, two cameras.”

Considering the American singer was one of Matt’s best friends, Magenta was surprised he’d enjoyed the show so much.

“The way Matt lobbed the rat onto the bed with his boot.” Josh’s manager and best friend said. “Fantastic. The damn rat didn’t even blink; it just turned around and started eating again.”

“You can’t let them kill the pet rats,” one of the ladies of Knit or Die said. “That’s plain wrong.”

Claire shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere near Matt or Harry. Someone else will have to rescue the rats.”

“I second that,” Megan said.

Everyone turned to Magenta. “Don’t look at me. I’d have to be nuts to go near those two right now.”

“I’ll deal with the rats,” Lake said from beside Josh.

The girls beamed at him. “Our hero,” Claire told him, making his lip twitch.

“In the meantime.” Dougal’s booming voice filled the room. “You girls better find a good hiding place. Those boys are going to be out for blood.”

“Like it’s something we aren’t used to.” Megan snorted. “We’ve been at war with them since we were born.” She looked around the bar. “In case anyone is interested, the girls are winning.”

There was a cheer. Once people turned their attention back to their food and each other, Magenta leaned in towards the twins. She kept her voice low so that Lake, Josh and Mitch couldn’t hear them and tell tales to Matt. “I’m taking off for the mine for a few days until this calms down. It’s the one place Harry won’t look for me.”

“Good thinking,” Claire said. “We’re going to spend some time with our parents. Matt won’t do anything there.”

“Well, he can try, but Mum will lecture him for about a year,” Megan said. “He’s ten years older than us; he’s supposed to look out for us.” She beamed. “It’s my favourite lecture. Matt glowers, but he’s immobilised.”

“Okay, let’s head back to the house and pick up our gear before the boys hunt us down.” Magenta stood and tugged down her black leather mini-dress. It had silver studs around the neckline and a silver chain around the waist. With her thigh-high black leather platform boots and fishnet tights, she was going for a dominatrix-like don’t-mess-with-me vibe. So far, so good.

“That was brilliant,” Megan said on a sigh. “It’s been years since we pulled a prank on Harry. I miss this.”

“Me too,” said Claire. “Being mature can really suck sometimes.”

Magenta bit back a laugh. She didn’t think the twins had to worry. They, along with her, were in no danger of being called mature any time soon.

17

The three women charged up the path that led to the old terraced house they shared. The house was small: two bedrooms and a bath upstairs, living room and dining kitchen downstairs. The reason it worked for the three of them was that the owners had added a conservatory to the back of the house. They used that space as their living room, and Magenta claimed the room at the front of the house as her bedroom. That left one bedroom each for the twins, which was perfect, because no one would survive if they had to share a room.

The twins ran for the stairs. “Meet you back here in a minute,” Claire called over her shoulder.

“I need to get changed and grab my gear pack. Won’t be long.” Magenta threw open the door to her room and strode to her wardrobe. She had her dress halfway over her head when the door slammed. Squealing, she pulled the dress back down and spun towards the noise. Harry was leaning against her door.

His arms were crossed over his chest and his ankles were lazily crossed in front of him. If it wasn’t for the determination in his eyes, she would have thought he was perfectly happy to be there.

“Freaking hell, Harry, you’ve turned into a Peeping Tom now?”

“To be a Peeping Tom, I’d have to hide. Do I look like I’m hiding?” He spread his arms wide.

No. He was taking up far too much space to be anything but very, very visible. The sight of him in her room was enough to distract Magenta from her normal reaction—anger. She had to resort to faking it.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped, and hoped it sounded genuine.

“You spent time in my room. Only fair I get to spend time in yours.” He reached into his back pocket, pulled something out and threw it at her. “Fido wanted his mummy.”

She caught the toy rat. Against her better judgment, a smile fought to escape. “Fido?”

He shuddered. “Better than Plaguemeister.”

A ruckus in the hall snatched Magenta’s attention away from Harry.

“You can’t do this,” one of the twins shouted.

“Breaking and entering. Vandalising a police officer’s house. Stealing a key from our mother. Attempted murder.” Matt’s voice was steel.

“Attempted murder?” someone screeched.

“You tried to kill Harry. He damn near had a heart attack.”

“No he didn’t. We watched the whole thing in the pub. There was no heart attack, but he did nearly pee his pants.”

The idiots giggled. Even Magenta rolled her eyes.

“Ow, let go, Don Don.”

“No. You two are going to spend the night in a nice cold cell. Might give you some time to consider a change in behaviour.”

“You can’t do this. I want a lawyer. I want my phone call.”

Matt laughed. “So you can call Mum and I can spend the night listening to her go on about how precious my baby sisters are? Nuh-uh, not going to happen. Come on, dumb and dumber. If you’re really good I won’t put the rats in the cell with you. The live ones. Not the toys.”

The voices faded as the twins shouted at Matt all the way to his police car. Magenta looked at Harry. “He can’t do that, can he?”

“Who’s going to stop him?”

He had a point. As they said in those old western movies—Matt was the law around these parts.

Magenta put her hands on her hips and glared at Harry, pleased to feel some of her irritation return. Obviously not all of her common sense was derailed purely by Harry’s presence. “So, genius, do you have a plan or are you going to stand there and stare at me all evening?”

She heard the lock turn before Harry pushed away from the door. The look in his eye was intense, focused and sent shivers she didn’t want to experience running down her spine.

“I have a plan. You’re going to get changed into your nightwear. I’m going to kick off my shoes and then we are going to climb into that bed and…” He stood in front of her, close enough to touch. “Talk. We’re going to talk.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “It’s long overdue, don’t you think?”

Magenta retreated. Being around Harry clouded her brain. She needed some space to think. She walked over to the window, where a small settee sat, deliberately keeping her eyes off her queen-sized bed. The image of Harry and a bed in her head at the same time wasn’t good for her sanity.

“I don’t want to talk. I don’t want you here. I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

He actually laughed. As in hard enough to double over and hold his knees. “That’s priceless. You want me so bad you can hardly think.”

“Wow, arrogant much?”

“Accurate much. You’ve wanted me for years.” The smug look on his face made her fingers curl into fists.

“I have not.”

He gave her a wicked smile. “I found proof. I found the scrapbook.”

Her world tilted. Her eyes shot to the bottom drawer of the Scotch chest where she kept things that were important to her—like a scrapbook full of news about Harry. Photos from their shared childhood. Pictures of his graduation that his mother had sent her, and the invitation to attend that Magenta had ignored. A pressed flower, a gift during a walk when she was twelve and Harry was messing around, calling her princess. Tickets from movies they’d seen together. Newspaper articles about his company and how brilliant he was. Everything that had anything to do with Harry was in there—right back to the very first Christmas card he’d given her when she was five. Even the black-and-white photo of him she’d kissed wearing pink lip gloss when she was twelve, thinking it was a romantic thing to do. Now the thought made her want to vomit.

She closed her eyes for a second as humiliation swept over her. He’d have seen the doodles she did when she was thirteen and he was away at university. She’d missed him so much and spent her time writing his name all over her books. Along with curly, girly repetitions of her wished-for future married name—Maggie Boyle. She took a deep breath. It was fine. It was all fine. None of it meant anything. She’d been a kid. She wasn’t a kid anymore.

“You are way out of line, nosing around in my private belongings like that. I don’t care what you think you saw. That stuff doesn’t matter anymore. I only keep it for sentimental reasons.”

Harry gave her a look that said,
Yeah, right.
He turned, grabbed a chair from her desk, plonked it in front of the door and sat in it. “Tell yourself whatever you like, but I know the real reason I rate a whole book full of mementoes.”

Magenta took a deep breath. She was about five seconds away from wiping that superior smile off his face.

“What would that be, Harry? Do enlighten me.”

His wide, wicked grin made her wobble.

“You’re in love with me.”

Her world stopped for a second before it resumed spinning again.

“In your dreams.” Damn, why did she sound so shaky? Why wasn’t she denying his claim? Her palms were clammy and her brain was fuzzy. It had to be Harry’s pheromones attacking her hormones, making her lose her mind to lust. Not love. Lust. It didn’t sound convincing even to her.

“No, baby, in
your
dreams, but I can make it reality. You love me, and here I am.” He spread his arms wide. “Here for the taking.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or gag at the cheesiness of it all. Undecided, she folded her arms.

“I think it’s time you went home,” she told him.

“I would, but my room is full of rats. I can’t go back there. Ever. Guess you have a new roomie.”

“Over your dead body.”

“I’d rather be alive. If I’m sharing your bed, I’d like to enjoy the experience.”

“You can’t stay here.”

“My bed is full of rats. Your bed is full of you. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to make the right choice.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Yes, you do.” He looked so damn smug that it made her fists itch to strike out. “You want me here because you love me.”

“Argh!” She stomped over to the window as she fought the urge to scream loudly.

“Don’t even think about trying to get out through the windows,” Harry said. “I spent time jamming them when I first got here.”

She eyed her mobile phone, which was sitting on the desk.

“Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters?” He grinned, like this was the best entertainment he’d ever had. “That’s about your only option, seeing as the sole cop within miles is busy locking up your roommates.”

Man, sometimes it seriously sucked to live in a small town.

“Fine,” she ground through a clenched jaw. “We can talk. What do you want to talk about?”

His eyes narrowed. “Change first. There’s no way you want to sleep in that.”

“I said we can talk. I didn’t say we had to be in bed to do it.”

“We’re talking in bed. Where I can make sure you don’t run. Where I can hold you while we talk about some heavy stuff. So get changed, or go to bed dressed as a dominatrix. It’s up to you. But that doesn’t look comfortable to sleep in.”

Harry watched as each of Magenta’s emotions worked their way across her face. Anger. Anxiety. Lust. Longing. Fear. Pain. Anger again. Oh yeah,
lots
of anger. He made sure to guard his crotch while he watched her think. She was a spitfire, one that could go off in his direction at any minute. She was also sexy as hell in the head-to-toe leather she was sporting. Some guys he knew had a leather fetish. They dreamed of women in leather. Harry had always thought it stemmed from too much time watching
Xena: Warrior Princess
in their formative years. Seeing Magenta in her form-fitting dress that looked as smooth as butter, he changed his opinion. Leather—good. He almost purred at the sight. Leather
really
good.

“Stop looking at me like that, you perv.” Magenta placed her hands on her hips and scowled. It only enhanced the dominatrix vibe.

“I like the leather look on you.” He caught her eyes, daring her to look away. “I like any look on you.”

Her cheeks flushed and she licked her lips. He liked that. A lot.

“You’ve got two minutes to get changed, then we go to bed with you dressed like that.”

She didn’t move a muscle. Harry could have sworn she was trying to pierce holes through his skull with her eyes. Cute.

“Okay, time’s up.” He lazily stood, noticing that Magenta tensed. She was going to attack. That was
not
going to happen.

As quick as lightning, he bent over, thrust a shoulder in her stomach and scooped her up. Ten seconds later, he dumped a cursing Magenta in the middle of her bed and landed beside her. He rolled her to her side as she kicked and shouted. He wrapped an arm around her, pinning her arms to her sides and holding her tight, at the same time throwing a heavy leg over hers. She was immobilised, her back tucked tight against his front. He nuzzled her neck, knowing full well if he put any distance between their heads she’d use hers as a weapon. And Harry was fond of his nose the way it was.

“I am going to hurt you,” Magenta said. The words vibrated with anger. “As soon as I’m free, you are going to be in so much pain.”

“Better make sure I never let you go, then.” He kissed her neck, making her growl in frustration.

“If you think this is the way to get me to talk, then you’re insane. The last thing I want to do is have a heart-to-heart with you. You can hold me here all you like, Harry, but we are not talking.”

“Fine, we’ll snuggle instead.” He wriggled closer to her, feeling her tense even more. “I like snuggling. I can snuggle all night.”

They lay like that, in silence, Harry listening to Magenta huff and puff in annoyance, while the sun disappeared and darkness filled the sky. Magenta’s bedroom was bathed in shadows. Harry hoped the darkness would work in his favour, the way it had in the mine.

Hours passed as he waited for the most stubborn woman he’d ever met to let go of her anger. It was a long wait. At last he felt her body relax against him. He gave it another few minutes before he spoke.

“Why did you cut me out of your life when you were thirteen, Magenta?” His voice was soft and intimate. A whisper between lovers.

The tension surged back into her body as the question registered.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her tone was without inflection. It was as though she bit out the words.

“I need to know. I’ve been trying to talk to you for years. Every time I came back for a visit, I’d make an effort to see you and you always shut it down. This time I’m back for good, I’m not going away and you can’t ignore this thing between us.”

She growled, but didn’t deny his claim. It gave Harry hope. He caressed her hair with his nose, breathing in the scent that was purely Magenta. He didn’t know what the fragrance was, if he got the chance he’d raid the bathroom so he could find out. Right now, he loved that the scent was unique to her.

“Everything was fine until I went to uni,” he said softly. “I remember talking to you about it before I left. You knew how worried I was, scared to be starting uni when I wasn’t even sixteen. You told me not to worry. You told me that, no matter what, I’d come back to Invertary and you’d be there for me.” He took a deep breath and shook off the old pain of rejection. He was an adult. There was no room in his life for the anxieties of his childhood. He’d been devastated for a time, a long time. Eventually he’d come to realise that Magenta had a reason for what she did. Now he wanted to know what it was. It was the only way they could get past it and move on to the type of relationship he knew they were meant to have.