Awry (The Archers of Avalon, Book Two)

by Fine, Chelsea

  Scarlet fell to the ground, her eyes closing against the throbbing torment in her head and her mind spinning out of control.

  She heard Heather trying to yell beneath her gag. She heard a rustling. But she couldn’t move.

  “That should keep you down for a few minutes,” Raven said.

  Scarlet cracked an eye open and tried to pull herself up. The dizziness sent bile up her throat and her limbs felt like pudding.

  Raven kicked at Scarlet’s ribcage and thrust something heavy against her chest, and Scarlet grunted as the air left her lungs.

  Watching Raven step over her body, Scarlet saw Heather’s terrified eyes glancing to the side where an Ashman was untying her.

  Scarlet tried to yell, but her lungs wouldn’t work.

  The Ashman finished with Heather’s ropes, keeping the gag in her mouth, and yanked Heather into his arms. Heather kicked and thrashed about, but the Ashman was too powerful for her to fight off.

  Scarlet tried to roll over. She had to get to Heather, she had to save her.

  Crawling up to her knees, Scarlet felt a surge of adrenaline rush into her veins and a flicker of hope began to bloom. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she could still save Heather.

  One Ashman and one Raven wasn’t too hard. Right?

  Scarlet began crawling forward on her hands and knees.

  Raven let out an unhappy exhale. “You are ridiculous. You can’t just stay down like a normal little girl? You have to fight and be brave?” Raven gripped a handful of Scarlet’s hair and yanked, forcing Scarlet to look up into the face of the woman who had caused her so much pain over the centuries. “Fine,” Raven said. “Have it your way.”

  Scarlet was unable to make her hands cooperate with her brain in time to shield her head from the heavy end of the crossbow coming down on her.

  With a heavy thud, the blunt object struck Scarlet’s skull and sent her into darkness.

  78

  Tristan tore through the onslaught of Ashmen one after another, never stopping to nurse injuries, never stopping for a breath.

  He panted and growled and slashed his way through the mass of soulless creatures that separated him from Scarlet, who had been running high on fear just moments ago until her emotions had suddenly fallen silent.

  Her heart was still beating, but the rest of her was eerily quiet. Tristan needed to get to her immediately.

  He ran a dagger straight through the throat of his current opponent, flinging off the Ashman’s head with the flat end of the blade and marched forward to the next monster.

  He crossed his daggers through the Ashman’s chest and put him down. Two more Ashman charged at him and Tristan thrust both daggers out simultaneously, running them through the hearts of his attackers with careful precision. They fell to the ground and Tristan withdrew his blades, ready for more.

  But no more came.

  Nate was a good distance away, standing over his most recent kill, Seeing there were no more immediate threats, Tristan took off at a run, tracking Scarlet’s faint heartbeat to the center of the graveyard.

  He found her body limp beside a large tree, no sign of anyone else around. Without thought, he fell to his knees beside her and gathered her into his lap. “Scarlet.” No response. “Scar.”

  She was alive. She was unconscious, but he could feel her heartbeat—

  And then it was gone.

  Torn abruptly from his chest, Tristan lost her heart completely.

  His body was absent of her pulse, empty of her soul.

  He was alone.

  “Scar!”

  79

  Scarlet felt energy rush into her with a ferocity that matched nothing else. Pumping through her body it was like drowning in life, it forced her eyes to fly open.

  The first thing she saw—the only thing she saw—was Tristan, staring at her with heartbreak on his face and glowing green eyes. Relief surged out of him as he pulled her up against his chest and muttered, “Oh thank God, thank God.”

  Scarlet let her eyes fall closed against his warm body and let the love and regret and loyalty and fear from his heart pour out of him and swarm into her.

  He loved her.

  She could feel every tendril of every fiber inside his soul.

  And his soul sang for her.

  “I can’t feel you,” Tristan said, pulling back from her and looking over her body. “I can’t feel your heart.” Scarlet felt the fear, sadness and confusion that tumbled about inside him.

  “But I can still feel you,” Scarlet looked at his glowing eyes.

  She gasped with a realization. “The transition is complete.”

  Tristan blinked and his lips parted.

  In an instant, thousands of memories assaulted Scarlet’s mind, bursting in her brain like fireworks. A storm of knowledge and time filled her head and Scarlet jumped to her feet, her amnesia completely gone.

  She knew who she was.

  She knew exactly who she was.

  “We have to go,” she said in a no-nonsense manner as she watched Tristan get to his feet as well. “Raven has Heather.”

  A muscle flexed beneath his chin. “Okay, why don’t you go back to the cabin with Nate—”

  “No.” Scarlet stepped over and stuck her hand into Tristan’s coat, retrieving a dagger from the waist of his jeans. Holding it up to the moonlight, she examined it to ensure it was still coated in dried blood. “I’m not going anywhere, Hunter.”

  Tristan cocked his head to the side. “What did you just call me?”

  “Hunter.” Scarlet raised a brow.

  Tristan’s eyes searched her face carefully. “Do you remember me?”

  Scarlet gave him a mischievous smile. “I remember everything.”

  She met his stunned gaze with hope and determination filling her soul. “We have to find Heather. Are you with me?”

  He gave her a smile that spoke a thousand words and flashed a thousand memories. “Always.”

  “Then let’s go.” Scarlet turned to leave. “We cannot fail.”

  “We won’t. Raven will die.”

  Scarlet stopped walking and looked at Tristan. “Raven is the least of our worries.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Scarlet gestured at the empty graves. “This is nothing.” She looked back at Tristan. “There are much more dangerous things ahead of us.” She looked beyond the graveyard gate. “Deadly things.”

  Tristan looked beyond the gate as well. “Well, in that case,” he turned his eyes back to Scarlet, “lead the way.”

  Scarlet took a deep breath and, with determination in her veins, headed out the gate of the ancient graveyard with her Hunter by her side and a bloodstained dagger in her hand.

  There is no victory without a battle.

  Acknowledgements

  I am so grateful to my grandparents, Johnny and Milly, for their endless encouragement and unconditional love. Thank you for your text messages and phone calls to tell me you’re proud and that you love me. Thanks to my Mom and Dad for believing in me always. You are my home. Thanks to my very first friend and editor, Cameron, for running critical eyes over my story over and over again. You never cease to amaze me with your brilliance at keeping me focused.

  Thanks to the crew of the Awry photo shoot: Ashley and Jon, your photographic talents blow my mind and I’m so grateful for your photography work on both Anew and Awry. Ashley, my soul sister, you were a shining light for me this year and I love you like whoa. Lonnie Weisgerber, thank you for being the oh-so-gorgeous face of Tristan and Gabriel. You are so talented and captivating and no one else could have done my characters justice. Kasey Goff, you are Scarlet incarnate and you sweep people away. Thank you for sharing your beautiful face with my readers and for being so beautiful on the inside as well. Cristina Gammage, goddess of hair and makeup, you make everyone
beautiful. Thank you for your time and artistic skill in bringing Tristan, Gabriel and Scarlet to life through Lonnie and Kasey. And thank you for always telling me how it is and being my mama bear. Mwah! Sarah Bel Gray, stylist extraordinaire, thank you for putting my characters together and bringing their personalities to reality. You are truly talented. Thank you also for being my very first supporter and always sparking stories in me when we talk about music and heartbreak. Kristen Miller, the hostess with the mostess, thank you for taking care of us all. Thank you for bringing me soup so I would remember to eat, tea so I would remember to sleep, and laughter so I would remember why I write.

  A huge and very special thanks to my agent, the incredible Suzie Townsend. You rock my face off. And last, but never least, my husband Brett. You keep the world turning and the house standing when I’m in my cave of concentration. And you feed me. I love that you feed me.