by Chelsea Fine
Nate set the vials on the table.
Scarlet looked around. “What are you going to do with my blood?”
Nate twitched his lips. “I’m going to examine it for any cellular changes since your last life.”
Scarlet hesitated. Then cleared her throat. “What happened with me and Tristan?”
“I told you, I’m not sure how you touched—”
“That’s not what I mean,” Scarlet said.
Nate busied himself setting up a glass plate for the microscope. “What do you mean then?”
“I mean…when I feel Tristan, he’s always conflicted about me. Sometimes he cares, sometimes he’s afraid, sometimes he’s angry. I don’t understand why he can’t just treat me the same way Gabriel does.”
Nate breathed out a laugh. “Because he’s not Gabriel. Not even close.”
“But why—”
“Listen.” Nate stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “Tristan tried to save your life five hundred years ago and, in doing so, he became the death of you. That’s not something he’s ever been able to deal with. Watching you die, life after life….” Nate exhaled. “It does something to him. It breaks him down. He probably just doesn’t know how to be around you safely. And I respect him for that. Usually.”
Scarlet sat still, watching Nate carefully withdraw a tiny drop of her blood and set it on the glass plate.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Did I ever love Tristan?”
Nate said nothing for a long time. “You tell me.”
Scarlet didn’t answer, but she could feel the truth coating her insides.
She had loved Tristan. And maybe she still did.
Her heart sank in sadness and confusion and, suddenly, the aching inside her roared back to life, causing her organs to contract and burn. Scarlet doubled over.
Nate cursed as he stopped what he was doing and put his hands on Scarlet to keep her from falling out of the chair.
She could barely breathe through the pain in her body.
Tristan wasn’t just hurting.
He was dying.
49
Tristan didn’t text him back, so Gabriel left the office and met Nate and Scarlet at the foot of the stairs.
Nate was acting like a crutch for Scarlet so she could walk. Her face was contorted in pain. Without thinking, Gabriel walked over to them and swooped Scarlet into his arms, cradling her against his chest.
“Why is Scarlet in so much pain?” Gabriel demanded. “What’s happening?” He directed he question at Nate, but Scarlet answered.
“Tristan’s dying.” She groaned as a look of anguish crossed her features. Scarlet looked at Nate in anger. “You have to let me go to him.”
“He’s probably not dying,” Nate said. His voice was steady, but his eyes looked unsure. “But if your pain doesn’t let up in the next day or so, we’ll all go find Tristan together. Okay?”
Scarlet nodded, but Gabriel’s heart began to race.
Immortals couldn’t die.
…Right?
Tristan couldn’t die. He couldn’t.
Gabriel walked to the living room couch and carefully laid Scarlet down. He sat beside her, stroking her hair away from her face.
Nate walked over and crouched down beside Scarlet. “No.” He leaned his face in. “You are going to stay here. Do you understand?”
The anguish faded from her face as Scarlet gave Nate a cold look.
The front door opened and Heather entered, carrying three large, overstuffed bags.
“Okay,” Heather said. “I packed enough clothes and beauty supplies for Scarlet to last the weekend. Sorry it took so long. Scarlet’s closet is just so overwhelming and she had so many belts to choose from and then I had to stop and pick up some Millhouse coffee because there is no way I’m going to make Scarlet drink whatever black sludge you guys make here in the woods.”
Nate said, “Our coffee is fine.”
Heather smiled sweetly. “Exactly.” She looked at Scarlet in alarm. “Is she getting worse?”
Gabriel continued running his fingers across Scarlet’s face.
“Scarlet will be fine.” Nate looked at Heather. “Have you talked to Mr. Brooks yet? We need to figure out how to read our map.”
Heather set the large bags on the floor and cocked her head to the side. “We have a map?”
Everyone in the room turned to look at her.
“Yeah,” Nate said. “The fountain map.”
Heather still looked confused.
“The map we found in my ring,” Scarlet prompted. She sat up with a wince.
Heather blinked. “The pretty ring from your hair?”
Scarlet said, “Yes, Heather. The map had an apple tree on it? It leads to the fountain of youth….?”
Worry came over Heather’s face as she watched the eyes of everyone looking at her. Then realization hit. “Oh yeah. That’s right.” Heather shook her head. “I guess I forgot for a minute.”
Nate furrowed his brow. “You forgot?”
“Yeah.” Heather blinked several times. “Weird.”
Worry filled Gabriel’s gut.
Nate looked at Heather carefully. “How do you feel?” He walked toward her and looked her over carefully.
Heather let Nate examine her eyes. “I feel fine. I just—”
Nate took Heather’s head in his hands and slowly turned her face to the side. Looking behind her ear, Nate cursed.
Gabriel’s palms began to sweat. “What’s wrong?”
Nate touched a finger to a spot behind Heather’s ear.
“Ow.” Heather jumped a bit.
Nate exhaled and pursed his lips. “Someone used a Head Ghost on her. She has a mark where the sleeping serum was administered.”
Head Ghosts could only retrieve memories from individuals who were put into an induced and heavy sleep. And the sleep serum was injected behind the ear of the victim.
“Are you sure?” Gabriel asked, walking over and gently examining Heather’s ear.
Nate nodded. “That’s why Heather had trouble remembering the map. The Head Ghost must have rattled the memory in her brain.” He looked at Scarlet heavily. “Whoever did this stole the map memory from Heather’s head. Which means—”
“Someone else knows we have a map to the fountain.” Scarlet stared blankly ahead.
Fear rose inside Gabriel. “But who could have done that? Heather was only gone for a short while. She only went to Scarlet’s house—”
“Maybe there was an Ashman at my house.” Scarlet looked pale. “Or maybe…maybe it was Laura.”
Gabriel looked at Heather. “When you went to Scarlet’s house, was Laura home?”
Heather blinked. “Yes.”
Gabriel’s stomach dropped.
“Ohmygoodness. It is Laura.” Scarlet stood up and ran a shaky hand through her hair. “It has to be.”
Heather wrinkled her nose. “Laura?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense.” Scarlet bit her lip. “Laura’s been acting so weird and so interested in my eyes and…and she knew Tristan’s name and she visited Mr. Brooks….” Scarlet looked at Heather. “Laura must have let the Ashman into my house last year when I was sleeping to get my memories. And, today, she must have drugged you and stolen your memory.”
Heather frowned. “You think the same Laura who’s scared of spiders and wears high heels to the grocery store has been trying to use Head Ghosts on you? And now me?”
“Yes,” Scarlet said, wincing a little, “I do.”
“Okay, new plan.” Gabriel clasped his hands together, trying not to sound panicked.
But he was completely panicked.
“For the time being, I think it’s best if we don’t trust Laura. Which means you,” he pointed at Heather, “are going to stay here, at the cabin with Scarlet, until further notice. We can’t keep you safe from Ashmen and Head Ghosts if you’re sleeping twenty miles away. So call your parents and say whatever you have to so you don’
t have to go home.”
Gabriel looked back at Scarlet who was lowering herself to the couch. “Call Laura and act normal. Tell her you’re having a sleepover or something so you don’t have to go home either.” He flexed his hands. “In the meantime, we need to figure out just what Laura’s connection is to the Head Ghosts and the Ashman.”
Nate nodded to Scarlet, who was now curled into a ball on the sofa. “And we need to figure out why Scarlet is in so much pain.”
Gabriel looked at Scarlet in concern. “How bad is the pain, Scarlet?”
She looked confused. “I don’t know. It comes and it goes and I can’t control it.”
Gabriel’s head was spinning.
Laura was up to something. Heather had been drugged and brain-robbed. And Scarlet was biting back tears on the couch.
Everything was going to hell.
***************
Hours after the sun had set, Scarlet and Heather followed Gabriel into the basement to the spare bedroom next to Tristan’s. Scarlet tried not to let her eyes linger on Tristan’s bedroom door as she passed by.
The spare bedroom had blue walls and white furniture. White bed, white dresser, white desk, white mirror.
White, white, white.
And blue.
Scarlet collapsed on the big, white bed, grateful to be laying down again. She felt feverish and sweaty.
Heather looked at Scarlet in concern. “I think it’s jammie time. I’ll go grab our stuff.” She darted back up the stairs.
Gabriel came over to the bed and exhaled as he looked Scarlet over. “I’m so sorry, Scarlet. I wish there was something I could do to help you feel better.”
Then let me go to Tristan.
Scarlet smiled weakly. “I’ll be fine.”
No, I won’t.
Gabriel cupped the side of her face, his thumb stroking her cheek as Heather reentered the room.
“Okay, ex-lovebirds. Kissy time is over.”
Gabriel let his hand trail down Scarlet’s face before rising from the bed. “I’ll be upstairs if you guys need anything, okay?” Scarlet nodded and pulled herself up, careful not to wince.
She didn’t want Gabriel to worry about her more than necessary. Gabriel left the white room and closed the door behind him.
“Okay.” Heather pulled a handful of clothes from one of the bags. “I have fleece PJ pants with a sweater, or yoga pants with a long-sleeved shirt. Which do you want to wear?” Heather grabbed a handful of satin as well. “I also brought this little lingerie shirt with matching shorts because it was adorable, and I was shocked to find something so sexy in your closet.” Heather twisted her lips. “But since it’s freezing down here in Tristan’s creepy basement of pianos and bookshelves—hello, tortured soul—I suggest you go with the yoga pants.”
“I want the lingerie,” Scarlet said.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
Heather made a face. “You won’t wear the sexy blue shirt to school, but you want to sleep in satin shorts that are pretty much just glorified panties in Tristan’s ice dungeon?”
“Yes.” Scarlet was getting impatient. “I’m in pain, Heather. I’m hot and uncomfortable and I don’t feel like having thick, cotton hanging all over my skin.”
“Okay, okay.” Heather tossed the satin outfit to her. “But if you get frostbite, I will laugh at you.”
Scarlet sighed in relief as she changed out of her suffocating school clothes and slid the thing, cool satin over her burning skin.
When they were tucked in with the lights outs, Scarlet laid awake as her body ached. The only light in the room was a nightlight Heather had brought from Scarlet’s house. Scarlet hadn’t even known she had a nightlight.
Heather’s breathing became heavy and regular and Scarlet stared into the darkness, thinking about the possibility that Laura had used a Head Ghost on Heather. Was Laura bad?
Laura didn’t feel bad. She felt…suspicious. But not evil.
Right?
As the hours passed, Scarlet’s aching gradually turned into torment. Barely able to breathe through the pain, Scarlet eventually rolled out of bed and crumpled to the floor.
She balled her fists as more pain wracked her body. Endless minutes passed without relief, wearing Scarlet down until she cried out in agony.
Heather sat up and shoved the satin sleep mask she wore up to her forehead, looking around in alarm. “What’s wrong?” She jumped out of the bed and met Scarlet on the floor, her pale face concerned.
Scarlet tried to swallow, but her throat wouldn’t work. “It hurts…so…much,” she whimpered.
She got on all fours and tried to keep her balance, but her muscles shook in revolt, bringing her back to the floor. Feeling completely defeated by pain, Scarlet curled herself into a ball and began to cry.
“O-M-G.” Heather began to panic. “Don’t worry. I’ll go wake up Gabriel and Nate. They’ll know what to do.”
Heather’s hands were shaking as she tried to rub Scarlet’s shoulder encouragingly.
“No,” Scarlet said between her teeth. “Don’t wake them. They’ll never…let me…leave.” Scarlet whimpered again, another sharp pain shooting through her.
Tristan was in more pain than he could handle.
Tristan…was…dying.
No!
“Leave?” Heather asked.
“I have…to go.” Scarlet tried to roll herself up into a sitting position, but the room began to spin.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Heather wrapped an arm around Scarlet’s shoulder to steady her. “Let me go get Gabriel and we’ll figure out what to do, okay?”
“No,” Scarlet protested, but it was too late. Heather was already out of the room.
Scarlet kept her eyes closed and tried to find Tristan. He wasn’t far away. He was close enough to run to. If she could just…get…up….
Why was he dying?
Scarlet’s heart raced in fear.
Was it because of her? Was he too far away from her? Was she killing him?
Scarlet cried out in agony as another wave of torment went through her.
She would not let him die.
Pulling her strength together, Scarlet sat up. The dark room was spinning, but she could see the door. Crawling on her hands and knees, she inched her way out of the bedroom, wincing with every movement. Once she reached the hallway, she forced herself to stand.
Wobbly and tortured, Scarlet’s body felt like it was ice cold and on fire at the same time. She saw the stairs, commanded her feet to move, and climbed her way up.
She reached the main floor and gathered more strength.
Scarlet kept moving until she reached the cabin’s back door and made herself stand up. With a shaking hand, she turned the doorknob and stepped outside, a cry of pain escaping her mouth.
But something about the frigid forest air, the black sky above, and the feel of Tristan’s not-so-distant heart breathed new life into her lungs and she began to walk.
She walked and walked…off the cabin’s back porch…past the shooting range where Tristan had watched her with pride…and into the tall trees.
She was getting closer to him.
Following the pull of Tristan’s heart, Scarlet walked faster into the darkness.
Her pain was easing with every step and, before she knew it, she was running.
Through the woods, through the pain, and straight to Tristan.
He wasn’t dead yet.
50
Tristan braced himself against the kitchen counter in the shack, trying not to fall over. He was in too much pain to get back to Scarlet. Even if he wanted to return to her, his body physically would not allow him fluid movement.
He hadn’t eaten in days and his muscles were just as weak as his resolve to live. He felt like his insides were being eaten alive, disintegrating one cell at a time. His joints were on fire, his bones were sore, and his head was bursting with pressure.
But the most concerning thing ab
out his condition was his heart. It was pumping angrily, as if any moment it would explode in his chest.
Or maybe it already had.
His legs were useless bolts of fire as he stepped forward, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. He put his hands out, feeling the wall beside him, as he clambered his way over to the couch. Once there, he collapsed on the soft cushions.
Torment continued to riddle him, causing him to convulse and suck in short breaths. His shaking body could not be held in one place and, eventually, dropped from the couch to the floor beside the lit fireplace.
The wood crackled and popped as flames devoured it, and gave heat to the side of his face.
Wracked with suffering, Tristan considered crawling into the fireplace and letting the fire engulf his body and singe away his suffering.
Surely, burning to death was less painful than this.
But he couldn’t even muster the strength to roll himself into the flames.
Sickness and madness invaded his mind until every sound, sight, taste and smell became nothing more than a memory.
Somehow, he knew he was dying. As impossible as it seemed, Tristan knew this is where he would die. On the dirty floor of an old shack, surrounded by the teasing flames of release and the haunting memories of a dark-haired girl with a sharp tongue.
He swam through the pain in his head until he found a picture of Scarlet laughing in his arms. He held on to the memory for dear life and waited for death to claim him.
***************
Scarlet was barefoot, but she ran with determination. The February night barely chilled her skin as adrenaline spiked her veins. Trees, rocks, and shrubs all passed her by in the silent night. Where was she going?
Was Tristan lying in the middle of the forest?
Scarlet felt the pain—and the fever—leave her little by little as she neared Tristan’s location.
Keep going, keep going.
Finally, she came upon a small hut. Tucked away and nearly hidden, it was nestled deep in the trees with a single light on inside. Scarlet ran to it.
She didn’t knock, she didn’t scream, she didn’t call out for Tristan.
