by Chelsea Fine
“Who wants to have memorable fights?”
“People who are passionate about each other!” she said. “Geez, Gabriel. Haven’t you ever wanted to kiss someone and kill them at the same time?”
“No.”
Heather opened her mouth, but no words came.
O-M-G.
Gabriel had never had chemistry with someone. He’d never had love.
Even though Heather knew that’s what the curse was, she’d never really believed it.
But now…
Heather swallowed. “Well, even if you’ve never experienced it, surely you’ve seen what it looks like when two people are in love. Not just loving each other—like you and Scarlet—but in love with each other. It looks…I don’t know. It just looks like chemistry.”
“I know what chemistry looks like.” His eyes fell to the floor for a moment. “Tristan,” he said, lifting his eyes back to hers. “Scarlet and I have fought before. About Tristan.”
Of course.
The door to the warehouse creaked open and Raven walked into the room.
Wearing bunny slippers.
Uh…
Heather blinked and the bunny slippers morphed into a pair of evil-looking heels—which made more sense.
She was hallucinating again. Awesome.
Lack of food and sleep was clearly taking its toll.
But bunny slippers didn’t sound half bad.
“Ransom day,” Raven announced as she walked to the table and started preparing to take more of Gabriel’s blood. “Who’s excited?”
Gabriel looked bored while Raven drained another pint from him and sealed it in another vampire baggie.
Heather cleared her throat. “Um, Raven?”
“What?” she snapped, withdrawing the needle and tubing from Gabriel’s neck.
Heather licked her lips. “Could I maybe get some coffee?”
Gabriel made a face. “You have a problem.”
Cocking her head to the side, Raven smiled at her. “You’ve become quite the fan of my coffee. I bet you’re just dying to get more.”
“Uh…” Heather wasn’t sure what to say to that.
“Ah, hell,” Gabriel muttered as he glowered at Raven. “What did you do?”
Raven shrugged as she set the baggie of Gabriel’s blood on the table next to the scissors. “I needed insurance, so I’ve been tainting Heather’s coffee for the past few weeks with fountain water.”
Heather’s throat constricted in fear.
Gabriel said, “You’ve been poisoning Heather?”
Raven sighed. “Yes. The girl just couldn’t get enough of my coffee. I had to cut her off from the good stuff a few days ago.”
“So I’m like a…like a drug addict now?” Heather squeaked the words out.
“Yep,” Raven said.
No. This couldn’t be happening.
Heather didn’t do drugs. Not ever.
Raven looked at Gabriel. “This way, if Scarlet doesn’t come through with the map, she’ll have to find the fountain to save Heather. At which point, you and I,” she ran a purple fingernail down the center of his bare chest, “will just follow her there. But until then, Heather over here is going to be pretty thirsty.”
Raven turned to Heather. “I’d offer to give you more, but I took my final dose last night. And since the only cure is the one Avalon fruit by the fountain, you might be screwed.”
Heather couldn’t think. Or breathe.
“What’s the matter? Not feeling well?” Raven eyed her carefully. “I’m sure the withdrawals will start kicking in soon. It shouldn’t be long before the hallucinations begin. And then comes the madness.”
“I’m going to go crazy?”
“Only if you don’t get more fountain water. First you’ll go crazy,” Raven shrugged, “and then you’ll die.”
***************
Scarlet woke with stiff arms and legs and her head hurt. Semi-painful sleep wasn’t very satisfying. Still wrapped in the scent of Tristan, she rolled out of the big, white bed and padded across the floor. Opening the door, she stepped into the hallway and tripped over something that grunted on the floor.
Looking down, she saw Tristan sprawled on his back outside her door, an arm behind his head as if he was perfectly comfortable snoozing on the hard basement floor. He stared up at her with sleepy green eyes.
“What are you doing?” She put her hands on her hips.
He yawned. “Sleeping as close to your stubborn ass as possible so you don’t toss and turn on that noisy bed,” he looked at her pointedly, “in pain.”
Crap. The stupid bed had given her away.
He stood up and stretched his arms above his head, his shirt lifting just enough for her to see his tattoo and her insides got all soft and warm.
Moving her eyes back to his, she tried to glare at him through all the fluttering in her stomach. “You slept in the hallway all night?”
He dropped his arms and gave her a crooked smile. “You’ve been awake for thirty seconds and you’re already angry with me?”
“Yes, Tristan,” she said. “You can’t just sleep in the hallway because I’m tossing and turning.”
“I can.” He stretched out a kink in his neck. “And I will. Come on. Let’s go have breakfast.” He held out his hand.
Scarlet stared at it.
Like she was going to latch onto him with her touch of death.
“No?” He shrugged and let his hand drop as he headed up the stairs. “It was worth a try.”
“Unbelievable,” she muttered, following after him, completely confused by his chipper mood.
“By the way,” he looked over his shoulder and ran his eyes up and down her body. “I like you in my clothes.”
He smiled—truly smiled—dimples and everything. She eyed him suspiciously as he walked up the stairs and tried to tap into his feelings.
Happiness. Relief. Hope. Love.
Realization struck her. He was happy because he no longer hurt her.
Tristan stopped at the top of the stairs and stared down at her, still smiling. “You coming, or what?”
This wasn’t the dark, tormented Tristan from her previous lives looking at her with his little boy grin.
This was Hunter.
Which was wonderful and terrible at the same time.
Bossy, dark Tristan Scarlet could avoid.
But charming, sweet Tristan?
Scarlet was going to be putty in his hands.
No. I will not be putty. I will be hard as a rock. Like Play-Doh left in the backyard on a hot summer day.
Tristan stared down at her with his patient dimples.
I am dried Play-Doh.
Scarlet hardened her face and walked up the steps, trying to focus on something other than his sleepy warm body and mussed up hair.
She cleared her throat as she ascended. “I was thinking maybe Nate could track Heather and Gabriel’s cell phones. There’s always the possibility their phones are nearby wherever they are. Maybe he could get a GPS location from that.”
She reached the main floor and stood before Tristan, who wasn’t moving.
She waited.
He smiled.
With rolling eyes, she brushed past him, their chests rubbing together as she moved into the main hallway. Bliss skittered through her veins and her knees weakened for the briefest of moments. Tristan smiled.
Damn him.
Scarlet walked to the kitchen and watched him open the pantry and grab various things.
“An-y-way,” she said. “I thought the cell phones might be a good place to start.”
“Uh-huh.” He grabbed things from the fridge.
Scarlet sat down at the bar counter. “And then maybe we could go back to the graveyard and see if there are any Ashmen roaming about that we could follow back to Raven’s hiding place.”
Tristan retrieved a frying pan. “Uh-huh.”
“Or maybe go to the Millhouse and talk with Clare’s other employees.” She cocked
her head to the side in annoyance. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes.” He started mixing things in a bowl.
“And if that doesn’t work, maybe we can—what are you doing?”
“Making pancakes.”
“Why?”
“Because you like pancakes.”
“Oh my—“ Scarlet rolled her eyes again. “We do not have time for pancakes, Tristan. Heather and Gabriel are probably lying in a ditch somewhere—
“They’re not lying in a ditch.”
“Or bleeding to death—“
“They’re not bleeding. Do you want chocolate chip or blueberry?”
Scarlet blinked. “Heather isn’t immortal. She’s probably scared out of her mind and screaming at the top of her lungs—“
“Blueberry it is.”
“Tristan! I’m being serious.”
He turned to look at her with a spatula in his hand. “I know you are. But you need to calm down.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
Putting the spatula down, Tristan stepped up to the counter and leaned over so their faces were just inches apart. “Gabriel and Heather are safe. Raven doesn’t want them dead, she wants them as leverage. We don’t know where they are and until we do, there is nothing we can do to bring them back any faster. So please calm down and eat some pancakes.”
Scarlet narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want pancakes.”
The corners of his mouth turned up. “Yes you do. You want blueberry pancakes.”
“No. I want chocolate chip.”
They stared at each other, his emerald eyes bright and amused.
“Good morning, cursed ones.” Nate entered the kitchen.
Tristan went back to pancake-making.
“Morning,” Scarlet said. She glanced Nate up and down. “What are you wearing?”
He looked down at himself. “This is my bathrobe.”
Scarlet said, “It looks like a fur coat.”
Tristan pointed at Nate with the spatula. “Told you.”
Nate made a face. “For the last time, this is not a fur coat. It’s just a very thick and warm bathrobe.”
“With fur,” Tristan added.
“There is no fur—never mind. I need breakfast.” He padded to the pantry and grabbed a box of Lucky Charms. “So…how did everyone sleep? Far apart from one another and in no pain, hopefully?” He smiled at Scarlet as he made himself a bowl of cereal and grabbed a spoon.
“Yes,” she said.
“No,” Tristan said at the same time. He flipped a pancake before turning around. “Scarlet was in pain all night because she wouldn’t let me sleep with her.”
Nate coughed on a bite of Lucky Charms.
Scarlet pursed her lips. “And Tristan slept outside my door because he’s trying to die.”
Nate struggled to swallow his bite. “Sounds like you both need a time out. Or maybe a twenty-four hour chaperone.”
“No. Tristan just needs to get over the fact that distance from him causes me pain,” Scarlet snapped.
“Yeah. That’s not going to happen.” Tristan whistled as he flipped a few more pancakes.
Scarlet looked at Nate and sighed. “Would you talk some sense into him? Please?”
Nate stopped chewing and watched Tristan set a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of Scarlet with a fork.
”What are you doing?”
Tristan smiled at him. “Want some pancakes?”
“See?” Scarlet said to Nate, exasperated. “We have a serious situation at hand and Tristan’s over here whipping up breakfast pastries like our friends’ lives aren’t at stake.” She took a bite—um, delicious.
Tristan rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like you’re mad I’m feeding you.”
Scarlet swallowed her bite and glared at him. “I’m totally mad.”
Tristan grinned as he sat down beside her and started eating his own pancakes. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Nate looked at Tristan. “Are you—are you smiling?”
“Yes, he is,” Scarlet said incredulously. “And he’s sitting next to me—right next to me—like I’m not death with a fork.” She lifted said fork and pointed at his pancakes. “Are those blueberry?”
“Never fails,” Tristan muttered, sliding his plate toward her. “You always want blueberry.”
“No, I don’t.” She shoved his plate back and took a purposeful bite of her chocolate chip pancakes.
“I’m so confused.” Nate shook his head. “What’s happening here?” He waved his spoon around at Tristan. “Why are you whistling and making breakfast? Why are you doing happy person things? This is very unsettling. ”
Tristan shrugged.
Scarlet said, “He’s happy because his touch no longer hurts me—even though my touch can now hurt him,” she looked at Tristan before reaching over and taking a bite of his blueberry pancakes. “Could you try not to be so jolly that our roles are reversed?”
“Nope.” Tristan smiled.
Nate kept blinking.
“So we’ll leave for Laura’s soon?” Scarlet took another blueberry bite from Tristan’s plate. “Hopefully we’ll find a clue as to where Raven would keep prisoners.”
Tristan scooted his chair closer to Scarlet’s and she glowered at him.
“Yes. Hopefully,” Nate said slowly. He’d stopped eating his cereal and watched Tristan in bewilderment. “There were a few things I wanted to check online, but after that we’ll leave.”
Scarlet reached for another blueberry bite and Tristan wordlessly switched their plates so Scarlet had the blueberry pancakes in front of her.
“We should probably go back to the shack and grab a few more bloodstained weapons as well.” Tristan took a bite of the chocolate chip pancakes that were now his property.
Nate shook his head. “Ah, yes. I almost forgot about Scarlet’s creepy wall of bloody weapons.” He glanced at Scarlet and took another bite. “Is there any explanation for that?”
“Yep.” She finished the rest of the pancakes formally known as Tristan’s and stood from her seat. “But we can talk about that later. Right now, I want to focus on Gabriel and Heather. So can you please hurry with your internet searches so we can get going?”
Nate shrugged. “Sure, let me just slip out of my bathrobe,” he gave them a pointed look, “and we’ll be on our way.”
As Nate left the kitchen, stress seeped into Scarlet’s limbs. She was worried about Heather and nervous about Raven having Gabriel and there was absolutely nothing she could do about. Except wait.
She needed a distraction.
Looking around the cabin, Scarlet got an idea and headed out the backdoor.
Finding Tristan’s array of bows set up against the side of the cabin, Scarlet chose one of the compound bows leaning in the shadows and grabbed a quiver of arrows from a hook a few feet above.
God love Tristan and his arrow organization.
Walking to the post she’d shot from before—back when she was Amnesia Scarlet and didn’t think she knew what she was doing—she strapped the quiver to her back and took out a single arrow.
Pulling back on the powerful bow in her hands, she aimed and let loose, watching the arrow cut through the air and find a faraway bull’s-eye.
She could already feel the stress leave her body.
She shot for a few more minutes in silence.
The back door opened and Tristan stood on the porch, watching her.
“Did you come to smile and be cheerful?” she asked him.
“Maybe.” He took a seat on the porch steps and rested his forearms on his knees. “Or maybe I just like watching you shoot things.”
She smirked at him and let another arrow fly.
He cleared his throat. “Are you going to be okay going back to Laura’s house—your house—today?”
Scarlet paused for a moment, the bowstring pulled back against her taut muscles. Would she be okay?
She let the arrow fly. “I don’t know. I h
aven’t really had time to process the whole my-guardian-was-a-semi-bad-guy thing. I still don’t know how I feel about her death. Laura took good care of me, but she was also working for Raven, so…I don’t know what to think. Do I miss her? Do I hate her?”
Do I care either way?
Scarlet swallowed and pulled another arrow from the quiver. Tristan’s eyes followed the arrow as she shot.
“It’s okay to do both, you know,” he said. “To miss Laura and hate her at the same time.”
Scarlet looked at Tristan for a long time and every fiber of her being wanted to climb into his arms and cry and yell and mourn and cuss.
She was so not summertime Play-Doh.
“Hey guys?” Nate called from the back door, walking out onto the porch with a horrified-slash-perplexed expression. “You might want to come see this.”
Putting the bow and arrows away, Scarlet followed Tristan inside the cabin as Nate led them to the front door.
There, on the front porch, stood an Ashman.
But instead of a Bluestone weapon in his hand, he held a piece of paper.
Uh…?
“He just rang the doorbell. Like a dead mailman,” Nate said.
Tristan made a face. “And you answered it?”
“Well, yeah. How was I supposed to know it was an Ashman?”
“I don’t know, the peephole maybe? What’s on the paper?”
Nate chewed on his lip. “I’m half afraid he’s going to start singing and do a jig if we take it from him. Like a really creepy singing telegram.”
Tristan snatched the paper from the Ashman’s rigid hands and looked it over. “It’s a ransom note from Raven. Addressed to Scarlet.” He handed the note to Scarlet and they all peered over her shoulder as she read.
The fountain for your friend. Meet me where I you died in your last life. Sunset tonight.
Nate reread the note. “The fountain for your friend…does Raven mean Heather? What about Gabriel?”
Scarlet’s palms started to sweat and her heart pounded. Gabriel. She had to save Gabriel.
Ohmygoodness, ohmygoodness.
”And how did you know Raven in your last life?”
“And why does she know where you died?” Tristan looked like he wanted to break something.
Scarlet bit her lip. She knew she couldn’t avoid these questions forever. After all, if she wanted Tristan to live, she needed to find the fountain, so keeping the fountain’s location a secret was no longer an option.