Awry (22 page)

Scarlet’s mother.

Ana opened the small box and smiled at the sight of the silver brooch inside. She pinned the brooch to her dress and kissed William gratefully.

“Scarlet, my love,” the woman said. “Did you see what your father gave me?” She pointed to the brooch as Scarlet ran up to her and eyed the shiny object.

“It’s pretty, mama!” Scarlet smiled. “Daddy loves you.”

William smiled at Scarlet and crouched down beside her. “I love you too, my little red rose.” He kissed Scarlet’s cheek.

Exiting the memory, Scarlet’s hands began to shake as she looked down at the journal. This belonged to her father. This was another piece of her past.

Trying to calm her trembling hands, Scarlet turned through the journal’s pages, finding most of them ruined by water. The ink was blurry and indecipherable, and the pages themselves were torn and wrinkled.

But near the end of the small book, a page remained untouched by water or age, and the ink, though scrawled in inconsistent lettering, was sharp enough to read.

I will not live much longer.

Desperate for more of the magical blue water we were addicted to, Francis and I traveled to the New World where we now make our home among the Avalon natives.

The natives fear the water while Francis and I are thirsty for more. The natives speak of an antidote to the addiction. A fruit that can cure the thirst, but I have searched and searched and no fruit can be found.

Our addiction has become so intense we hardly sleep or eat. Francis’s jug of magic blue water was stolen, leaving us to share my quickly-depleting supply.

I do not plan to share it with him for much longer. The water has stolen my soul and my humanity, and I feel it is time for us to give ourselves over to the pain and die of thirst.

Francis insists that he remembers the map Ana stole, and is sure we will find our way to the fountain before the addiction consumes our lives.

I hope we do not. We look young and healthy, but our minds are twisted and lost. I buckle in pain if I go even a short while without the water. Francis does the same and I fear we are both becoming mad. With a tendency to rage.

The natives keep their distance from Francis and I, as they should. The water poisons both mind and body and we are rapidly becoming monsters.

Or, maybe, we already are.

I am giving up my search for the fountain. The water is evil and I will not taste it again. The thirst will soon kill me, and this is comforting.

I have destroyed everything I have ever loved, abandoned everything that mattered. And I no longer want to live.

Ana and my young Scarlet both fled from me and left me empty of love and hope. But now I understand there is no room for love and hope in the heart of a man consumed by addiction.

I only pray no one else falls victim to the taste of the blue water. The taste of true death….

Scarlet’s lips parted as she stared at her father’s entry. Hungry for more information, Scarlet began searching through the journal again, one page at a time.

Blurry nonsense was all she found until her eyes landed on a drawing.

Scarlet gasped.

***************

Gabriel rolled up another map and put it away. So far, he hadn’t found anything helpful.

“So, what’s the deal with your love curse?”Heather was to his right, examining her own map.

Gabriel slanted his eyes to her. “Is that what Scarlet calls it?”

“No,” Heather said, rolling up her map and putting it away. “That’s what I call it. But we can give it a different name if you want. How about the Curse of Perpetual Doom?” she said with a deep voice as she looked at him in mock seriousness.

He shook his head and pulled out a new map. “What is it you want to know?”

Unrolling another map, Heather said, “Is it true your ex-girlfriend cast the curse?”

“Yep.”

“Is it true you can’t fall in love with anyone aside from Scarlet?”

“Yep.”

“Is it true that no else, besides Scarlet, can ever fall in love with you?”

“Yep.”

Heather stopped reading her map. “So you’re telling me that, in five hundred years, not one girl has fallen in love with you?”

“Nope.”

She snorted in disbelief.

Gabriel shrugged. “It’s true.”

Heather looked at him for a moment, her eyes tracing his face carefully before she turned back to her map. “Well, that sucks. Your ex-girlfriend was a bi-otch.”

Gabriel put his map away. “You have no idea.”

A moment passed.

Heather said, “Well, I’m glad you at least get to have Scarlet fall in love with you when she’s alive.”

Gabriel paused. “Did Scarlet tell you she’s in love with me?”

Heather looked unsure for a moment.

Gabriel tilted his head. “Or are you just assuming that she loves me because of the curse?”

Heather blinked. “I guess I just assumed that was how it worked.” She hurriedly added, “But Scarlet totally loves you.”

Gabriel nodded and went back to his map. He knew Scarlet loved him. And he loved her. They loved each other.

So why did he still feel empty inside? Why was the hole in his chest still lingering in the background, making him want something…more?

Thunder echoed above them and the lights in the cellar flickered.

Heather looked up, her brown eyes nervous. “If the lights go out and we get stuck down here, so help me—”

The lights went out.

Heather’s small, cold hands were immediately gripping Gabriel’s bicep. “O-M-G, O-M-G, O-M-G.”

“Calm down.” Gabriel looked around, hoping his eyes would adjust, but being underground meant no natural light penetrated the cellar walls.

They were in complete darkness.

“Uh…guys?” Nate’s voice trembled a bit as it echoed across the cellar. “Does anyone else feel like we’re in a scary movie? Perhaps one in which all the main characters die?”

“I’m sure the storm just knocked out the power, that’s all,” Scarlet’s voice said.

“Yeah,” Nate replied. “That’s what all the main characters say right before they die.”

“Nate,” Gabriel said into the blackness, trying not to roll his eyes. “You’re immortal. You can’t die.”

“But I can still feel pain!”

Heather plastered herself to Gabriel’s side, sinking her fingernails into his upper arm. “I’m not immortal. I’m totally killable.” She sucked in a breath as her pitch rose. “And I’m blond. Blonds always die first.”

“That’s true,” Nate said matter-of-factly.

Heather made a freaked-out squeaky noise. “I don’t want to die.”

Gabriel smirked. “Well, maybe being a member of Team Awesome wasn’t such a great idea after all.”

“Really, Gabriel?” Heather snapped. “A lecture? Now?”

“Ooh, ooh!” Nate’s voice chimed into the cellar again. “I might have something.”

Gabriel heard Nate rustle around for a moment before a small stream of light lit up his face.

“My handy dandy flashlight,” he said with a grin.

Shining it across the room, he helped everyone find their way back to the table in the center of the cellar. Heather finally pulled her claws out of Gabriel’s arm. Another boom of thunder rattled the ceiling.

“Okay, I think our time in the dungeon of information is done,” Nate said. “Let’s get out of here.”

One by one, they climbed back up the stairs, Nate in the lead. When they reached the door to the hallway, Nate turned the handle and found it locked.

He jostled it again, but the door did not open.

“Well, this is terrifying,” Nate said.

Heather’s fingernails found their way back into Gabriel’s arm as she squeaked, “Are we locked down here? In the dark?” 

“Try knocking,” Scarlet said. “Maybe he forgot we were here or something.”

Or maybe he was going to kill them all in his bathrobe.

Nate knocked on the door and, like magic—creepy, weird magic—the door opened, but no Mr. Brooks was beyond it.

Yeah. Field trip time was over.

In a line, they made their way back down the dark hallway, past the owls, past the cobwebs and past the hidden rats.

Gabriel pried Heather’s razor-sharp fingernails from his skin.

Nate called out, “Mr. Brooks?”

No answer.

Heather tried, “Mr. Brooks? Are you still here?”

Still no answer.

Thunder rattled the old house, causing statue owls to shuffle on their shelves.

“Maybe he left,” Scarlet said.

Nate complained, “But I really wanted to ask about the Bluestone weapons.”

“Next time,” Heather said. “You can ask about the weird blue knife next time. I want to get out of here.”

Nate sighed. “Fine.”

They made their way out of the house and found that the wind had picked up. The sky was darker and heavy rain was now falling all around them. The howling of a dog echoed in the distance.

Everyone hurried down the porch steps and headed through the rain to Heather’s car.

Once they were all inside the tiny vehicle, Scarlet said. “Mr. Brooks’ house is a little creepy.”

“A little?” Nate raised a brow. “The guy has dead owls everywhere.”

“And rats,” Gabriel said.

“And owls,” Nate repeated.

Heather asked. “Did we find anything useful in there?”

“Yep,” Scarlet announced, holding up an old book. “This was my father’s journal.”

Nate’s jaw fell open. “Are you serious?”

Scarlet nodded.

“That’s amazing!” Nate reached for the book, but Scarlet pulled it closer to her chest.

Heather looked at Scarlet in horror. “And you just took it? What if Mr. Brooks finds out? What if he hunts me down and curses me or something?”

Gabriel threw a wicked smile at her. “Welcome to Team Awesome.”

“Shut up,” Heather snapped, boring her deep brown eyes into his matching ones.

Scarlet bit her lip. “I know I shouldn’t have taken the journal, but it was my father’s. And it has all kinds of information. For instance, did you know that my father was addicted to fountain water?”

“No way!” Nate smiled. “That’s so awesome.”

Scarlet frowned at him.

He cleared his throat. “Not the part about your dad being addicted. Just the part about you finding out.”

Scarlet took a deep breath. “There’s more.”

Everyone leaned in and watched Scarlet flip through a few ancient pages. “I found a drawing of a map that my uncle, some guy named Francis, drew a long time ago. Or, at least, a copy of a map.”

Scarlet turned the book over and showed everyone in the car.

Drawn in dark ink was an almost identical picture of the apple tree drawing Scarlet had found in her brooch.

“The tree?” Heather scrunched her nose.

Scarlet nodded. “The apple tree drawing I found in the brooch is actually the original map to the fountain of youth.”

Oh. Snap.

35

Tristan sat in the stone room of the outer court, staring at his hands. Two guards stood watch at the sole entrance to his right, and another three stood watch around the perimeter.

Had it really been just that morning that Scarlet had laid in his arms and colored on his skin?

Tristan’s heart was heavy.

Escape from the court would be difficult; there were too many familiar faces, too many men who worked for his father.

But escape from the king’s army? Impossible.

Tristan was truly trapped. He would disappear at dawn and be separated from Scarlet. If not for forever, at least for decades.

And decades would be too long. She would be caught stealing and put to death. Or she would die of starvation or disease. Or she would be taken captive by a madman in the woods…

Tristan’s hands began to shake with fear and hatred.

Fear for Scarlet’s well-being. And hatred of his father’s greedy plans.

“I must see my father again.” Tristan stood from the cold bench he’d sat upon and approached the guards.

“We were given strict orders not to allow you passage anywhere,” Tennius said.

“My father will want to speak with me—”

“Your father gave the orders.”

“I must return to my chambers.”

“You will do nothing of the sort.” Tennius turned his sword in Tristan’s direction, aiming at his throat. “Now, sit down until the king’s carrier comes.”

Tristan did not sit. Instead, he snatched the blade from the guard’s hand and thrust it at Tennius, who jumped back to avoid injury. The second guard charged Tristan and they battled within the close quarters of the stone room until Tristan ran the second guard into the wall.

Tennius came at Tristan’s back, followed by two other guards from the night.

Soon, Tristan found himself outnumbered—again—and thrashing wildly, sword in hand.

Someone choked him from behind and Tristan spun about. His arm was pinned by another guard and someone kicked his legs out from beneath him.

Despite his best attempts, he was soon completely restrained and the sword was yanked from his hand.

“Your father will not be happy about this,” Tennius said.

“My father can go to hell.”

“Tristan!” Gabriel’s voice echoed through the dark courtyard.

Tristan saw his brother approach from the stone gates beyond and started fighting the guards again.

“Tristan,” Gabriel repeated when he drew closer. “What is this?” He looked at the guards in horror. “Release him immediately.”

“He attacked us, sir.” The guards let Tristan go, shoving him to the ground.

Tristan pulled himself up as Gabriel hurried to his side. “What happened?”

Tristan watched as all the guards posted themselves outside the stone room, and Tennius sneered at him.

There was no escape now.

Tristan stretched his neck. “I fought the guards and I lost.”

Gabriel looked around. “Clearly. Why did you fight? And why on earth are you enlisting in the king’s army?”

Tristan sat back down on the stone bench. “I’m not enlisting. I’m being forced away.”

Gabriel stood in front of him with a confused look. “By who?”

“Father.”

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. “The bastard. Why would he send you away?”

Tristan mocked a laugh. “For six parcels of land.”