by Chelsea Fine
Gabriel blinked. “Pardon me?”
“Was your woman human?”
“She wasn’t his woman,” Tristan said.
Gabriel slanted his eyes at Tristan before answering Nathaniel. “Of course she was human. What else would she be?”
Nathaniel shrugged as he pulled a thick book from the stack in the corner and shuffled to a nearby table. “A demon. A shape-shifter. A nymph. A mermaid.” He turned through several crinkly pages. “A vampire. A ghost. A siren. A sea creature—”
“A sea creature?” Gabriel looked incredulous. “You want to know if my bride was a sea creature?”
“Yes,” Nathaniel said seriously. “Did she have webbed feet?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? Because women wear those awful shoes and you really wouldn’t know unless she were to take them off—“
“She was human,” Tristan said.
Nathaniel looked at Tristan, perplexed. “You saw her feet?”
“Yes.”
Nathaniel’s eyes darted from Tristan to Gabriel and then back to Tristan. “Right. In that case…” He turned another page and started reading. “Bodies only vanish after death for two reasons. Either they are called up to heaven by God,” he looked at them over his spectacles, “did you see any heavenly staircases or large groups of angels looming about her dead body?”
“What—no.” Gabriel rubbed his face impatiently.
“Then the only other alternative,” read Nathaniel, “is that she was infected with immortal blood prior to death.” He reached for something from the table.
Gabriel blinked. “But how—“
Nathaniel grabbed Tristan’s hand and pricked it with a small blade.
“Are you mad?” Tristan snatched his hand back from the over-cloaked boy.
Nathaniel looked at Tristan in confusion. “You seem unfriendly. I thought you were the kind twin. Aren’t you the brother that feeds the hungry and plays with children?”
Tristan jutted his chin. “You just stabbed me, witch.”
“I am not a witch. I am a wizard.”
“I do not care.”
“You’ll have to excuse my brother,” said Gabriel. “He’s had a difficult week and is not used to being sober, so perhaps you should ask for his permission the next time you feel the need to draw his blood.”
“I meant you no harm,” explained Nathaniel. “You said the arrow pierced your heart before striking the bride—what was her name?”
“Scarlet,” the brothers said at the same time.
“Right.” Nathaniel drew out the word, eyeing Gabriel before looking back at Tristan. “I needed a bit of your blood to do a test.” He spread blood from the knife onto a glass plate before retrieving a small vial of blue liquid from a false board in the wall.
Returning to the table, he added a drop of the blue liquid to Tristan’s dark blood on the plate and the blood instantly brightened, turning from a deep crimson to a brilliant red
Nathaniel looked up at Gabriel and grinned. “It appears that the magic that healed your brother is the same magic that stole your bride—er, Scarlet. You, my friend,” he turned to Tristan, “are filled with immortal blood.”
Gabriel’s brow furrowed. “That is impossible.”
“On the contrary,” Nathaniel pointed to the bright red spot of blood. “Immortal blood has a darker hue than that of mortals and brightens when mixed with this blue solution. I have immortal blood—which is why I can heal—and it seems Tristan does as well.”
“But how?”
Nathaniel shook the small vial. “Water from the Fountain of Youth.”
“Magic blue water,” Tristan said, remembering the story that Scarlet’s mother had told him about magic blue water being brought back from the New World by Scarlet’s uncle. “It gives eternal youth, but it is highly addictive.”
“Yes. And as it turns out, water from the Fountain of Youth also negates immortal blood, making it just the same as mortal blood.” Nathaniel pointed to the bright red blood on the glass.
“How do you know—bloody hell!” Gabriel turned furious eyes on Nathaniel, who had just sliced his hand with the same knife he’d used to cut Tristan. “You could have asked first.”
“You said I only needed to ask Tristan for permission—because he is grumpy.”
Gabriel stared at Nathaniel. “Just because I am not drunk and angry with the universe like my brother—“
“I’m not drunk,” Tristan said. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Is your wound healing?” Nathaniel asked Gabriel.
Gabriel examined his hand, his sour face morphing into one of awe as he watched his wound begin to heal. “Incredible.”
Nathaniel added a drop of the blue water to Gabriel’s dark blood and it brightened just as Tristan’s had.
“It seems all three of us carry immortal blood,” Nathaniel said. “Which means we cannot be killed. Ever.” He grinned. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
Tristan frowned, not sure if he wanted to live forever.
He hadn’t even wanted to wake up that morning.
Forever seemed a bit ambitious.
Gabriel continued watching his healing hand. “How can you be sure our ability to self-heal means we are immortal?”
Nathaniel shrugged. “Because that is the magic of the Fountain of Youth. A magic so rare I know of no other immortals in existence. We are not created, you see. We are born—to mothers addicted to the fountain’s blue water. Very rare indeed. The fact that our mothers survived their addiction long enough to have us is astonishing.”
“Are you saying our mothers were poisoned with this water?”
“Not intentionally,” Nathaniel said. “Our mothers were pregnant with us during the time of the plague and both became quite ill. My uncle Eli traveled to Spain and purchased three vials of the legendary fountain water from a Spaniard named Francis. He then gave one vial to my mother—his sister—and sold the second to your father, Cornelius. Eli and Cornelius were good friends at the time and your mother’s illness was breaking your father’s heart. Eli wished to alleviate this pain from Cornelius. Sadly, the water only brought more.
“Upon drinking the water, our mothers were instantly cured of their sickness, yet began craving the water. They drained each of their vials just weeks after we were born and, without more to sustain them, they soon grew mad and, eventually, perished.”
“But what of the third vial? Why not give them that to extend their lives?”
“The third vile,” Nathaniel shook the vial in his hand, “was my uncle’s last resort. He did not want to poison his sister further so instead he attempted to make a spell to cure her, using water from the third vile. But he was not successful. After my mother’s death, Uncle Eli hid this potion away in the walls and spoke of its wickedness, forbidding us all of touching it.
“The day I realized I could heal, I began to wonder if the blue water had somehow changed me in my mother’s womb. After years of research, I learned of the fountain’s ability to grant immortal life to the unborn and it was then that I realized I my blood was composed differently than that of mortals, making me immortal.
“I found this to be a wonderful discovery, yet my uncle was not pleased and forbid me from speaking of it or indulging in my fascination with immortality and the Fountain of Youth. Naturally, I did not heed his command, which is why I know what I do of immortality.
“Dangerous water, this is.” He shook the vial again. “Although it has its benefits. We, of course, have the privilege of living forever. So that’s brilliant.” He glanced at Tristan. “And according to my books, your immortal blood may even bring Scarlet back to life someday.”
“What?” Tristan said, his heart instantly beating against his bones with ferocity he’d not felt in ages. “What did you say?”
Nathaniel shrugged. “Scarlet was infected with immortal blood before she died, which explains why her body disappeared, and immortal blood, if put into a mortal body, will always fig
ht to stay alive. So you, essentially, have made Scarlet semi-immortal. And semi-immortal beings do not ever truly die. They vanish and return to the earth at a later time in the same body.”
Skepticism and hope warred madly inside Tristan.
“How can we bring her back?” His palms were sweaty and his heart on fire but, God help him, he would do anything, kill anyone, and break any rule to bring her back.
Nathaniel said, “Her return is dependent on the magic in her veins. It could take decades—”
“I can wait decades,” Tristan said.
“Or it could take a hundred years,” Nathaniel said.
“I can wait a thousand years.”
The wizard cocked his head at Tristan. “I’m confused. Did you know Scarlet? Because I was under the impression you were gone when she first came to the castle. You seem to care deeply for Gabriel’s wife—“
“She wasn’t his wife.”
Gabriel gave a long-suffering sigh and turned to Nathaniel. “Tristan and Scarlet were…close.”
“I see.” Nathaniel glanced back and forth between the brothers. “Well, either way, you cannot control her return. But since you are immortal, there is a good chance you will live to see her again.” Nathaniel grinned.
“That is not helpful,” Gabriel said.
“I never said I would be helpful. I said I would ask permission before stabbing you.”
Tristan was no longer listening because his heart had flown from his chest and was soaring in the sky. Scarlet would return.
He no longer wished to be drunk. Or dead.
CHAPTER 5
England 1540
Justice was within reach.
Standing in the shadows of night, Gabriel gazed upon the old, stone house that was Raven’s current hiding spot and steeled himself for what he had to do. Everything inside of him wanted to break down the door and rip her to shreds for all he’d lost.
Well, almost everything.
Raven had been his childhood ally and partner in adventure. She had challenged him and excited him, and always made him feel alive and wanted. There was a small bit of friendship lingering in his chest, reminding him of the girl he’d grown up with, the girl he’d plotted to rule the world with. She had been his friend and lover. Surely, there was still something good inside her; something redeemable.
He exhaled slowly, remembering his role as earl did not allow him to be emotional with the law. Raven had committed great crimes and it was his responsibility to have her arrested for her transgressions.
Straightening his shoulders, he knocked on the door.
He did not expect her to answer, but the door slowly pulled back and Raven stood before him. Her long, dark hair hung around her shoulders and her gray eyes glinted in the moonlight as they stared at one another.
She did not look afraid, but rather sorrowful, and it caught Gabriel off guard.
“You found me,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Have you come to kill me?” She raised her chin a notch higher, looking at him with forced bravery.
He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to punish her. He wanted to go back in time and save her from herself.
But he did not want to kill her.
“No. But I need you to come with me.”
“Why?” She swallowed. “So I might undo the curse?”
He’d hoped the wizard had been misinformed about the arrow being magic, but fear gripped Gabriel’s muscles as the possibility sank in. “You did, indeed, cast a curse?”
She nodded and the fear around his muscles became anger.
Raven had cursed him. The only person in the world he’d trusted outside of Tristan had cursed him
He tried to keep his voice even. “And what, exactly, does this curse entail?”
“I cursed you so you shall never know love without Scarlet.”
Gabriel stood perfectly still as hate crawled out of his heart and slowly clawed its way through his chest. “Can the curse be undone?”
Did it matter? Would undoing the curse change the betrayal he felt? Would it make Raven any less malicious?
No.
She shook her head. “You shall never love another woman, nor will any woman ever truly love you, aside from Scarlet, who is dead, or me. And I am very much alive.”
“You’re lying.”
“I am telling you the truth.”
Darkness invaded his lungs and throat. “Was that your plan all along? Cursing me into loving you?”
“No. My plan was to rule alongside you as your partner and friend.” Her eyes hardened. “But you abandoned me for your brother’s girl.”
“So you killed my father? You killed my bride?” he growled.
“She wasn’t even your woman.”
Why did everyone feel the need to remind him of that?
She put her hands on his chest and slid them up to his shoulders. “Do not be angry, Gabriel. Your father was awful and the peasant girl was wrong for you. Don’t you see? Everything I did, I did for us. Now we can be together.”
She was mad.
She was wicked and wretched and all things terrible. Had she been this way always? Had he been blind for all these years?
Darkness filled his insides with a warmth he knew he shouldn’t welcome. “I would rather live an eternity of loneliness than ever love something as vile as you,” he sneered, watching the insult cross her face like a sharp slap. He reached for her hands. “You are under arrest—“
A wall of magical flames shot up between them, burning Gabriel’s outstretched hands. He yanked them back with a curse. “What are you doing?”
Raven shook her head, reaching for something he could not see beside the doorway. “I did not want to do this.” She shoved something sharp through the wall of fire and into Gabriel’s chest.
Blinding, white-hot pain split through his core and the breath whipped from his lungs. Looking down, he saw a giant knife protruding from his chest.
She had stabbed him.
His childhood friend had just stabbed him.
All reason left Gabriel’s heart, leaving a hungry void in the center and he began to shake with rage. Hate, thick and black, continued to coat his insides, slipping into the void with hot comfort.
He slowly he withdrew the blade from his body and tossed it aside as Raven looked on in bewilderment.
Her words were quiet. “How did you…?”
“I’m immortal,” he said, fury pressing against his heart.
He could feel his body start to instantly heal, pieces of pain coming and going as his skin knit itself back together.
“But you are not.” His hate was more powerful than he realized and, with one swift movement, he snapped Raven’s neck, breaking it with a sickening crack before dropping her lifeless body to the ground.
He blinked.
He watched the life drain from her face and felt a cold rush of remorse swoop into him. The darkness he’d just moments ago clung to evaporated from his chest; leaving a whirlwind of fear, shame, and agony in its place.
He stared down at the lifeless body of the girl he’d once cared for.
He was a murderer.
CHAPTER 6
London 1613
Gabriel let himself into Tristan’s home and sank into the nearest chair, rubbing the side of his face.
“Please, come in,” Tristan said dryly, looking up from the knife he was sharpening in the corner.
“It is official, brother. Raven’s curse is real.” Gabriel sighed, trying to not let thoughts of the long-dead girl get the best of him. Seventy-three years had gone by since he’d taken Raven’s life, but he still carried guilt.
Had she deserved to die? Yes. But at his hands?
No.
It did not matter that being earl had given him the right to execute a criminal. It was still murder.
The only thing that seemed to offset his remorseful heart was the curse Raven had bestowed upon him. A curse, it seemed, that was far more effective tha
n he’d originally given the silver-eyed girl credit for.
Perhaps a loveless life was exactly what Gabriel deserved.
“I cannot fall in love,” Gabriel said. “I’ve tried courting dozens of women and none of them truly fall for me. Oh, they will marry me. They will take my money and my fine food and my horses, but they do not care for me. And what’s worse, I feel nothing for them.”
“You have no horses,” said Tristan.
“Exactly! All these bloody women keep taking my things. It’s exhausting.”
Tristan smirked. “Is that why you spend all your free time in taverns and gambling rings? To soothe your exhaustion?”
Gabriel leaned back in his seat. “No. I do those things to distract me from the emptiness.” And the guilt.
Nathaniel let himself into Tristan’s house as well. “Good day! What are you two talking about?”
Tristan answered, “Well, Gabriel was just complaining about love—again—and I was wondering why I even bother having a door.”
“Ah, yes. The never-ending search for true love. Ooh! Food.” Nathaniel snatched a chunk of bread off a plate on Tristan’s desk and began eating.
“You do not know what it’s like,” Gabriel said. “I have not felt anything for a woman in decades. Decades. Not since—“
Tristan looked up as Gabriel swallowed Scarlet’s name. Even though a century had passed, Scarlet was still an uncomfortable subject between them.
Gabriel pulled at his ear. “It’s just been a long time since a woman has loved me and I miss it.”
Hoping for Scarlet to come back to life was a cruel game, and Gabriel had quit playing long ago. Tristan, however, lived for the cruelty.
Scarlet might not be alive, but her presence was; her memory was. And that was enough to keep Tristan hoping. God help his poor soul.
“It is a rotten curse.” Nathaniel nodded. “And also quite stubborn in its structure.”
Nathaniel had tried many counter hexes—all of which failed miserably and left sticky, smelly messes in their wake.
He wasn’t a very skilled wizard. Entertaining and knowledgeable, yes. But magical? Not so much.
