by Chelsea Fine
Scarlet looked at herself in the mirror.
Aside from her inability to take a deep breath without ripping the tight corset in half, Scarlet actually looked…good.
She looked pretty. And healthy.
Which was incredibly misleading.
Heather clapped her hands and squealed again. Like a winter formal cheerleader wearing a blue pom-pom. “I love it! Okay, let’s do your hair.”
Scarlet looked at her long dark hair in the mirror. “It looks fine the way it is.”
“Uh…yeah. If you’re going mini-golfing. What your locks need tonight is some curl and sass.”
“My locks need nothing.”
Heather pouted her lips. “Please don’t suck the fun out of this dance for me. Let me play with your hair…please?”
Despite her sour mood, Scarlet smiled. “Fine.”
This is what normal, non-dying, teenage girls do. They get ready for dances and pretend the biggest problem in their life is finding nail polish that doesn’t chip.
Scarlet followed Heather into the bathroom and endured thirty minutes of tugging and curling before Heather was finished. The end result was a giant heap of big brown curls.
And not in an attractive way.
Scarlet looked at her poofy hair in the mirror. “I look like a lion. Like a savage, brunette lion.”
Heather examined her unruly hair with a cluck of her tongue. “You’re right. You need a clip or a few pins or something. Follow me.”
Scarlet followed Heather back into her room where she immediately headed to her bedroom mirror. “Agh. I look ridiculous.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.” Heather rifled through the jewelry box on Scarlet’s dresser. “Aha!” She held up something round and shiny.
It was the ring Nate had given Scarlet.
“This is beautiful! We’ll just pin some of your crazy curls back with this, and then you’ll look magnificent.”
“No,” Scarlet said, panicked for no real reason.
“No?” Heather raised her eyebrows. “Scarlet, look at yourself. You’re a hot mess. We need to tame your hair.”
“Right. But not with that.” She pointed to the ring. “It’s not a hair clip.”
Heather looked at it. “Maybe not, but it’s a really pretty ring...or broach…or whatever, and I can just secure it with a thousand bobby pins or something.”
Scarlet scrunched her face. “I don’t think it’s jewelry.”
Heather narrowed her eyes. “Then what is it?”
She shrugged. She had no idea, but she was sure it wasn’t a fashion accessory.
Heather sighed. “Well, whatever it is, it’s beautiful. And so are you. So, I’m going to put you two together. I’ll be right back.”
Heather ran to the bathroom and returned with an arsenal of bobby pins. She twisted a few pieces of hair from Scarlet’s face and pinned them back behind her head with the trinket—Scarlet complaining about the ring the entire time.
For all Scarlet knew, the mysterious object was a magical ring of death that summoned demons from Middle Earth or something. She would probably trigger some ancient spell by wearing it and accidentally start a war in another dimension.
The last thing Scarlet needed in her life was more voodoo drama.
She started to pry the shiny ring out of her hair when Heather smacked her hand.
Hard.
“Heather!” Scarlet furrowed her brow.
“You will not undo all my hard work, Scarlet Marie! Now,” Heather batted her lashes, “help me look in your jewelry box for some earrings to match my dress.”
Heather walked over to Scarlet’s jewelry collection and sifted through her many earrings as Scarlet turned back around and looked at herself in the mirror.
Her eyes were very blue. More blue than they’d been yesterday. Or the day before.
She was getting worse, but at least her eyes had stopped glowing. She didn’t need Heather’s keen intuition bombarding Scarlet with questions about her choice in eye drops.
Her heart kicked, reminding her that something was wrong.
Something aside from her dying heart and neon eyes.
Something was wrong with the arrow she’d found.
Something was wrong with….
Tristan.
Scarlet blinked at her reflection.
It made no sense, but she knew, inexplicably, without a doubt, something was wrong with Tristan.
She just didn’t know what.
Scarlet tried to put her colliding thoughts together.
Why would something be wrong with Tristan?
And then she remembered Nate’s words about the fountain of youth.
Short of Tristan dying, it’s the only way to kill the blood inside you.
If Tristan’s blood died, she would…live.
And, just like that, she knew why the arrow was dangerous.
It could kill immortals.
Immortals like Tristan.
The arrow can kill Tristan, and he was eager to take it from me today.
Scarlet sucked in a sharp breath, looking away from the mirror.
Tristan was going to kill himself with the arrow she’d found.
An arrow she’d practically handed over to him today.
Somehow she knew that’s what he was going to do.
Her heart started to pound.
Why would he do such a thing?
The answer didn’t matter. What mattered was making sure Tristan didn’t do anything stupid. No one was going to lay down their life for her.
Especially not Tristan.
“Okay, blue dangly earrings, or blue fuzzy ones?” Heather turned from the jewelry box and held up two earrings to her ears before rolling her eyes. “Wait, why am I asking you? You’d probably suggest I wear snowman earrings or something—“
“Tristan,” Scarlet said absently, feeling her eyes begin to burn. Without looking at Heather, she hurried out of the room.
“What are you—Scarlet, I am not going to wear Tristan on my ears! That’s just weird. And probably impossible.” Her voice faded as Scarlet descended the stairs. “Although, I would definitely wear him in other ways…. Scarlet! Where are you going?”
Scarlet didn’t answer. She headed for the front door, grabbing her keys and dress shoes before leaving.
She didn’t have time for earrings.
Tristan was going to die.
72
Tristan heard Nate enter the den, but refused to turn around. He continued staring up at the wall of weapons, holding the arrow from Scarlet’s hiding place in his immortal hand.
“Don’t do this,” Nate said.
Tristan kept his back to him. “Did you see Scarlet’s eyes? Her bloody nose?” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care.
Once Scarlet’s nose started bleeding, she usually only lived a few more days—if that.
He heard Nate take a step forward. “We can still find the fountain.”
Tristan shook his head. “There’s no time. And, let’s be honest here, the fountain probably doesn’t exist. What am I supposed to do?” Tristan turned around and looked at his longtime friend. “Let her die a hundred more times because I’m too selfish to die for her? No.” He shook his head. “It has to be now.”
Nate was silent for a long time, staring at the floor.
“You and I have had many lifetimes,” Tristan said. “But Scarlet has not. She’s had a handful of partial lives, all of them lost and confusing. None of them full and happy. She deserves this, Nate.” Tristan swallowed and softly said, “You know I’m right.”
Nate looked up and slowly said, “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes.” Tristan nodded. “I do.”
Slowly and hesitantly, Nate said, “This is forever, though. There’s no going back after this.”
Tristan turned the arrow over in his hand. “That’s the plan.”
Nate shifted uncomfortably. “What do you want me to tell Gabriel and Scarlet?”
&nbs
p; Tristan swallowed back his emotion. “The truth.” He pulled two envelopes out of his back pocket and handed them to his oldest friend. “I’ve kept these in the safe for the last few years. They’re my final words to Gabriel and Scarlet. I don’t want…either of them to think I wanted to leave their world.”
Nate’s eyes looked pained as he took the envelopes.
Tristan took a deep breath. “Thank you, friend.”
Nate said nothing as Tristan exited the den.
For the last time.
73
Scarlet tripped over her flowing gray skirt as she entered the cabin without knocking and ran down the basement stairs.
“Tristan!” She hit the basement floor and plowed into his room, her strategically placed curls falling into her face and her corset top squeezing the breath out of her.
“Tristan!” she called out wildly.
She saw a rigged bow leaning against his wardrobe, and the dangerous arrow on his bathroom counter. He appeared in the bathroom archway, dressed in a solid black shirt and black pants.
Dressed to die.
Over my dead body.
“You cannot—no, you will not do this.” Scarlet stormed past his beautiful, big bed into the bathroom and snatched the arrow off the counter.
Tristan, looking stunned and confused said, “You need to leave, Scarlet. You’re sick.”
“No!” She faced him with the arrow in her hand. “You don’t get to push me away this time! I know what you’re planning to do and I won’t let it happen.”
His eyes widened and she knew she was right.
He really was planning to die.
He looked at her sternly. “Go away.”
She shook her head and pointed the arrow at him. “You cannot kill yourself, Tristan.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Leave.”
She lowered the arrow and cocked her head to the side, trying to feel him.
He was…afraid…and determined.
He walked to the other side of the counter and started messing with drawers and cabinets.
“No.” Scarlet shook her head. “I won’t let you do this.”
He turned around, pressing his lips together with a look of sadness. “You can’t stop me.”
Scarlet’s mouth dropped open, her eyes heating up like never before. “I’m in charge of my life. I’m in charge of when I live or die. Not you! You don’t get to take your life on my behalf! I won’t let you break my heart—break Gabriel’s heart—like that!”
Tristan’s look of sadness morphed into one of fear as he softly said. “Look at your eyes, Scar. Look at them.”
Scar. He’d called her Scar again and it felt…perfect.
She turned and looked at herself in his giant bathroom mirror. Her eyes were on fire. Bright blue fire. As she watched, a single drop of blood fell from her nose and she quickly wiped it away.
Tristan’s voice was hushed and thick. “You’re dying.”
She took a deep breath as she stared into the mirror.
Standing beside Tristan, looking at their bodies side-by-side, caused her heart to twitch.
They were beautiful.
The two of them, standing together, like they belonged at one another’s side, was beautiful. And he was going to take it all away.
She looked at her glowing blue eyes for a moment longer before finding his eyes in the mirror. She kept her voice as controlled as possible. “I don’t care if I die a thousand more times.” She turned to face him directly. “I need you to live.”
She didn’t know why she needed him to live, she just did.
Tristan turned around and they stood facing each other, just inches apart. His chest was shaking with uneven breaths and his eyes flashed hurt and pain and brokenness before her.
She could cry.
She would cry.
“You don’t need me, Scar. You need life. And all I do is take it from you.”
She shook her head emphatically, feeling him slip away. “But you also give me life.”
“Yes, and you are alive right now, right here,” he looked her over with love and regret and Scarlet thought she would die of a broken heart right there on the bathroom tile, “because my blood brought you back. But I won’t let it take you away ever again.”
Scarlet opened her mouth to scream and yell and kick and fight, but all that came out was a broken plea. “Please?”
A tear fell down her face—a tear she didn’t know she had.
He was going to leave her forever.
She placed her small hands on his broad chest and looked up at him desperately. “Please?”
Tristan swallowed and she closed her eyes, feeling everything he felt.
Love…it was full and real and breaking him in half.
Fear…filling his gut and churning his insides with guilt.
Hatred…for the unfairness in her life and his.
And hope…hope for what…?
“What could you possibly be hopeful for?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
A long moment of silence passed before he answered, “I want you to have a real chance at wholeness.”
“No,” Scarlet whispered, opening her eyes again. “I don’t want wholeness…not without you….”
What was she saying?
Scarlet didn’t know why she was so desperate to keep him alive, but nothing had ever been so important to her.
Tristan’s green eyes, pouring into hers with need and sorrow, lowered to her face.
His strong jaw tilted beside her head and his perfect lips hovered just in front of hers.
Was it wrong if she kissed him?
Yes.
But she wanted to anyway.
If a kiss could keep him in her world, if a kiss could change his mind, she would kiss the hell out of him.
Because she needed him. She didn’t remember him, but she knew she couldn’t live without him.
His lips barely brushed against hers as his warm hand came up behind her neck to cradle her head.
She parted her lips and inhaled, trying to absorb as much of him as he’d let her. He smelled like leather and soap and all things wonderful as he pressed his lips to hers.
At her mouth, he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
She felt a prick behind her ear and immediately knew she had lost.
“No…,” she croaked out as her body fell limp and numb in his arms.
The crystal. He must have pricked her with the sleeping crystal.
She heard the arrow fall from her hand and hit the tile at her feet.
He gently picked her up and she could do nothing but stare up at him in disbelief and horror.
He was going to kill himself. While she slept.
He placed her on his majestic bed and tucked her in with shaking hands and wet eyes. “I’m so, so sorry, Scar.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead with soft lips as she laid, heavy-lidded, in a sea of blankets and sheets that smelled like him and filled her heart with love.
He was going to kill himself and she couldn’t stop him.
She was falling asleep….
Another tear fell down her cheek as her heavy eyes watched him retrieve the bow and arrow and head out of the room.
The bedroom door began to close behind him and, as her world began to fade into slumber, she saw a tear fall down his cheek as well.
He was going to destroy the most beautiful thing Scarlet couldn’t remember.
74
“Scarlet!” Gabriel called out in a panic as he left his car running in the driveway and opened the cabin’s front door.
He’d gone to her house to convince her not to go to the dance, only to find an agitated, blue Heather complaining about earrings and Scarlet’s erratic behavior.
When Heather mentioned how Scarlet had said Tristan’s name, Gabriel immediately headed to the cabin, terror in his veins.
Scarlet was sick and probably confused. Or worse.
“Scarlet!” he called aga
in, racing upstairs and all around the main floor. Finally he raced into the basement and barged through Tristan’s door.
There was Scarlet, beautiful and still, on Tristan’s bed.
Her cheeks were tear-stained and soft, her breathing deep and steady. Walking over to her, he shook her gently. “Scarlet…Scarlet, honey.”
Nothing.
No movement. No response.
He shook her again, but still she didn’t wake.
Where is Tristan and why is Scarlet sleeping in his bed?
On the sheets next to Scarlet’s head was the tiny white crystal from the Head Ghost.
Tristan had drugged her.
Rage fueled Gabriel’s curse words and his hands as he checked her pulse and looked all over her body to make sure she was all right.
Why would Tristan do such a thing?
Gabriel frantically ran to Tristan’s medicine cabinet to search for the antidote.
After finding it, he ran back to bed and gently tipped Scarlet’s head back. He pricked the back of her ear with the black crystal, waking her body up with the serum.
Scarlet came to and immediately started to hyperventilate, new tears springing from her eyes as she breathed out, “Tristan’s…going…to kill…himself….”
Gabriel was confused. “What?”
“He’s going…to kill himself…with the arrow…to break the curse. We have…to stop him!”
For a moment, Gabriel dismissed Scarlet’s words. She was sick. She was confused.
“Scarlet, are you sure...?”
“Yes! The arrow...can kill...immorals...that’s why...I hid it...we have to hurry!” Scarlet’s eyes lit up the room.
Gabriel was about to argue when suddenly, everything made sense. Tristan’s secrecy about who his murder victim was…Scarlet’s fear of the arrow…everything.
Gabriel’s eyes burned with fear and anger.
How could he be so selfish?
Scarlet sat up and started shaking out her limbs. “We have to go. Now!”
“No way,” Gabriel said. “You’re not going anywhere. That bastard just drugged you. You are staying here.”
Her neon eyes lit up the room. “Like hell I am!” Scarlet scrambled off the bed, her dark hair falling in a mess around her face. “We need to stop him!”