by Chelsea Fine
But she’d barely come back to life!
Her heart started to pound and her throat constricted. For a brief moment, the emptiness in Tristan’s eyes disappeared, replaced by something sorrowful.
Good.
She wanted him to feel her pain. To hate it. To want to soothe it.
But then he was back to standing stoic, staring at her like she was a stubborn child.
After a few deep breaths, and an inner monologue made up of several curse words, Scarlet kept her voice perfectly even. “Very well.”
Without another word or look in Tristan’s direction, she turned and walked from the room. She had no idea what doors led to what rooms, but she needed to get away from Tristan before she screamed. Or heaven forbid, cried. She went into the hallway, randomly chose a door, and found herself in parlor of sorts.
Frustrated and unbelievably sad, she made her way to a large, velvet chair in the corner. Sitting down, she knotted her hands together and stared out the large parlor window. Tristan was going to leave her?
A new century she could handle. Losing Tristan, she could not.
A quiet click sounded from the door and Tristan entered the room.
“Have you come to say farewell?” she asked with all the bitterness her tongue could muster.
He nodded once, shutting the door behind him. “I am leaving in just a few minutes.”
A few minutes. Her eyes stung.
She straightened her shoulders. She would not cry. “So you shall leave and then what? What will become of us?”
Tristan rubbed a hand across his mouth. “I don’t know.”
He had slipped back into his native accent and the gesture was so thoughtful it hurt.
She hated him. “And if we never find a cure, what then?”
“I don’t know.”
She hated him. “Will you leave me in every life?”
His eyes glinted. “I don’t know, Scar.”
Anger pricked her insides. “So because you cannot touch me, you will abandon me.”
“That is not the reason—“
“Isn’t it? You can’t have my body so you’ve decided not to—“
“This isn’t about touching you, Scarlet!” Frustration laced his voice.
“Do not be angry with me!”
“I’m not angry.” He exhaled. “I’m terrified. I could kill you. Kill you. Again.”
A moment of silence passed as they stared at each other, heartbreak colliding in the space between them.
“I watched you die, Scar. I watched my blood tear your heart in half. That is not something I can do again.”
“But I came back to life.” A sliver of hope splintered her chest. “I shall always come back to life—“
“And what of all the years in between?” he said. “What of the years where I live with the memories of watching you in pain, living in guilt of your agony? The years I am completely alone and inconsolable? Shall I just forget those years?”
Her heart broke apart at his words.
“I will not kill you, Scar.” His eyes were bleak, sucking the sliver of hope from her heart.
He looked at the floor. “I put away some money for you. It should be plenty for whatever you choose to do with your life. Nathaniel will make sure you can access it.”
“I don’t want your money. I want you to stay.”
He looked at her. “I am going to leave so you may have a life, Scar.”
She shook her head. “If you leave me, I will hate you forever.”
It was a lie. It was a terrible, painful, desperate lie and Tristan knew it.
He dropped his eyes to the floor and nodded his head. “Your hate would never change my love.”
And then he left.
Alone in the parlor, Scarlet let centuries of tears spill down her face.
CHAPTER 16
Charleston 1790
Scarlet exhaled through her nostrils, slowly and with a low grunt, as Nathaniel checked her eyes for the fourth time that month.
He smiled at her. “You are not a very patient thing, are you?”
“It is not a matter of patience, but a matter of I’m-fine-go-away.”
Nathaniel chuckled as he dropped his hands from her face. “You do, indeed, look healthy.” He listened to her chest with the odd device he’d been carrying around his neck lately. “And your heart sounds fine. I think my biggest health concern with you is your mood. It is dreadful.”
“Is it?” she asked dryly.
He nodded. “Yes. And you look awful.”
“You flatter me.”
He looked at her sympathetically. “Too bad medicine cannot fix a sad heart.”
“Too bad, indeed.” Scarlet sighed, not even pretending to hide her brokenness. Nathaniel knew she missed Tristan. Gabriel knew. The birds and the flowers knew. It was no secret.
She watched him take her pulse. “Have you ever been in love, Nathaniel?”
“I have loved before, yes. But I do not believe I have ever been in love. Not in the way you are suggesting, I suppose.” He smiled. “Someday, though.”
A moment passed and he cleared his throat. “I have obtained some new information about your condition.”
“Oh? Is it good news?”
“Not exactly.” He shifted. “It seems the connection you and Tristan share is stronger than it is supposed to be. Glowing eyes mean that the immortal blood in your body has taken on a greater power than it should—and they only glow when you are close to dying or incredibly frightened. The problem is that there is not a way to undo the strength of your connection once it has intensified. Had you and Tristan kept from touching in your last life, you potentially could have lived out a full lifetime, died, and then returned again. But because your connection became…stronger, you are permanently more vulnerable to death. So touching Tristan, even in the slightest, will strengthen the bond even more and make you more susceptible to your semi-immortal state. Which is why it is critical that you take your distance from him seriously. I know you are sad, but it truly is to protect you.”
Scarlet nodded. So their excessive touching in her last life had turned her into a fragile semi-immortal? Brilliant.
Just one more reason to be angry with the world.
Scarlet managed not to grumble throughout the rest of Nathaniel’s examination and, once it was over, bustled into her room. She essentially had the entire left wing of Gabriel’s house to herself. Well, herself and Beatrice—the jolly woman Gabriel had hired to tie Scarlet into dresses and force her out of bed in the morning.
“What is the doctor’s word, Miss Scarlet?” Beatrice asked, laying skirts on the bed as Scarlet entered the room.
“He says I’m healthy, but I look awful. Why is everyone so concerned about my mood?”
“Because Mr. Archer says you are a beautiful thing when you are happy and we would all wish to see that.” Beatrice smiled.
By “Mr. Archer” she meant Gabriel—since Tristan had disappeared completely—and by “we” she meant the household driver, Jensen, and herself.
“Happiness is overrated.” Scarlet stared the layers of material Beatrice was fluffing. “What is all that?”
“It is your dress for the day.”
Scarlet tried to look as horrified as possible. “And why, exactly, do I need to wear a dress?”
Beatrice smiled. “Because Mr. Archer wants to take you out and I refuse to let you go wandering around in that dirty mop skirt you’re so insistent on wearing everyday.”
“This mop skirt,” Scarlet gripped at the linen around her waist, “is comfortable. This,” she plucked up the light blue bodice on the bed and wrinkled her nose, “is misery. Will these blasted corsets ever go out of fashion?”
“Probably not. Now, quit arguing and come get dressed.”
Scarlet sighed and made herself available as Beatrice bustled about, yanking fabric over her head and around her body. “If I didn’t love you so much, Beatrice, I swear I would throw you out the window.”
Beatrice laughed. “Then it is a good thing you love me.”
***************
An hour later, Gabriel smiled as he watched Scarlet shift around in her dress in the front room, cursing under her breath in a very unladylike—yet entirely entertaining—way.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes.” She flipped a hand at him. “Let’s get on with your foolproof plan to cheer me up.”
He laughed. “Why are you so determined to be miserable? Not everything in your life is dreary. Just this morning I saw you smile at breakfast.”
“That is because you served me chocolate.”
“Then I’ll be sure to keep extra chocolate around for future bouts of depression.”
Scarlet put her hands on her hips. “I am not depressed.”
Had he not understood how sad she was with Tristan gone, Gabriel would have laughed at her. But instead, he kissed her cheek.
“Yes, you are,” he said quietly. “But that is what I’m here for.” He gave her his arm. “Come along. I want to show you something.”
As they headed out the front of the house, Jensen, the driver Gabriel and Tristan shared, tipped his hat at them.
“Where to, Mr. Archer?” Jensen opened the carriage door and helped Scarlet inside. Gabriel heard her growl as her skirts caught in the door latch, causing her to stumble against the seat inside.
“I hope in my next life, all women dress like boys. I’m never wearing a skirt again.”
Gabriel smiled. “Well, that would be a shame. You look so good in a skirt.”
“Shut up.” She gathered her dress around her and sat down, facing forward with her frown back in place.
Jensen, taking in this scene with his respectful lack of interest in Scarlet’s claiming to have a ‘next life’, waited patiently on Gabriel’s instructions.
“First we shall go to town, where I’m very much hoping there will be something to temper the cat we’ve just herded into the carriage—
“I am not a cat.”
“And then,” Gabriel went on, “I would like to take Miss Jacobs to the back of the property.”
Jensen nodded. “Very well, sir.”
Gabriel crammed into the carriage with Scarlet and soon they were on their way to town. He leaned back in his seat and shook his head with a smile.
Since her return, Gabriel’s life had felt full. He had not gambled, or gone drinking, or shared time in the company of less desirables one time and, oddly enough, he did not miss these activities.
Scarlet was alive. His hope was alive.
And dammit if he didn’t want to make the source of his hope happy.
“What?” Scarlet said with a glare as he smiled at her.
“If you continue to contort your face into that hideous scowl you will soon look like an old witch.”
“I am not scowling.”
“You are. And it’s adorable. But only in small doses.”
“Well, we cannot all be ridiculously jolly like you.”
“Ah, but we should.” He leaned over and became serious for a moment. “You are alive, Scarlet. Right here, in this moment, you are living. Stop being ungrateful for the breath you have. Smile for once.”
She stared at him.
Gabriel looked out the window. He fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt. He whistled. But he would not apologize for his words. She’d been holding onto her misery for too long.
“You’re right,” she said. “I will try to be better company.”
He smiled.
They went to town where he showed her new inventions and made her try new foods and afterward, Jensen drove them to the edge of Gabriel’s property.
Gabriel took Scarlet by the hand and led her through the wooded area behind his home.
“Where are we going?”
“I want to show you why I bought this particular property.” He squeezed her hand as they arrived at their destination.
Scarlet gasped. “It’s beautiful.”
They stood on a grassy knoll at the edge of a large, serene lake. Lowering himself to the ground, Gabriel laid flat on his back and gestured for Scarlet to do the same. She laid down beside him, her dark hair fanning out along the grass in between them, as they stared up at the happy sky.
Wind rustled through nearby tress and the peaceful sound matched the easy breaths in Gabriel’s chest.
“Thank you,” she said after a few minutes of silence.
“For what?”
“For bringing me here. Letting me see this.”
“Yes. Well, I ran out of chocolate, so…”
She smiled.
“I saw this lake on the property and knew I had to build a home here. It reminds me of home.”
He saw Scarlet nod from the corner of his eye. “Home seems like a long time ago.”
Birds chirped and the fluffy afternoon clouds began to thin as the sun lowered in the sky.
Scarlet let out a sigh.
“I wish I could take it from you,” Gabriel said, hating that her heart was so heavy. “The hurt. The loss.”
Scarlet stared at the sky. “Why must he stay hidden from me? I find the entire notion preposterous.”
“He is trying to protect you.”
“He is breaking my heart.”
Gabriel nodded. “Sometimes love makes hard decisions for the sake of what needs protecting.”
“But love should fight.”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, love should fight. But there is a difference between a valiant fight and a selfish fight. And love is not selfish.”
She turned to look at him across the grass. “For someone who is cursed to be without love you are quite wise on matters of the heart.” Sorrow filled her eyes. “I’m sorry for your curse.”
He shrugged. “It could be worse. I could be cursed to an eternity of pain or a life without chocolate.”
She didn’t laugh.
“It’s different when you’re alive,” he said softly, wishing to undo the distress on her face. He looked back at the clouds. “When you’re alive there is almost no emptiness inside me and I’m inexplicably happy at all times.” He smiled. “That sounds ridiculous, I’m sure.”
“Not at all.”
He could tell she was still looking at him but Gabriel kept his eyes above. “When you are alive, I am not cursed at all.”
She stared at him until he turned to look at her. “I’ve missed you,” she said.
His heart contracted as he stared at the girl who’d become his closest friend in his darkest times and his only cure to a hopeless heart.
He smiled. “I‘ve missed you too.”
***************
Charleston 1791
Scarlet laughed into the sky as she leaned out of the window of Gabriel’s carriage. “These carriages are amazing!”
She heard the smile in Gabriel’s voice. “Why are you hanging out of the window, woman?”
She looked back at him, her entire torso stretched out across the dirt road as it sped beneath them. “Because when the horse goes fast like this it feels like I’m flying.”
Gabriel laughed. “You wish to fly, do you?”
“Fly. Swim. Dance. I wish for it all.” A stinging pang shot through her heart at the thought of any of those things without Tristan and Scarlet hurried to rectify the sorrow closing in on her happy mood.
Tristan was gone and he was not coming back—a fact she was slowly beginning to accept. With gritted teeth and clenched fists, perhaps, but accepting all the same.
He had not returned for her as she had hoped. Perhaps he did not miss her, or perhaps his life was better without her. Either way, she no longer had her Hunter.
So she tried to live her life as though he did not exist. It was easier that way. Less painful.
She climbed back into the carriage and smiled at Gabriel.
He made it impossible for her to feel anything other than contentment and joy in his presence and she was increasingly grateful for his comp
any each day. She hadn’t wanted to cry or break anything in ages and she had actually quit complaining about getting dressed every morning.
“So what shall we do today?” she said.
“Fly, of course,” Gabriel responded. He leaned his body out of his own window and called, “Faster, Jensen!”
The carriage picked up speed as they both extended their bodies from the carriage windows and let the air sweep around them. As the wind whipped her hair, Scarlet looked across the carriage at the boy who had become her very best friend and—as she so often did in his company—forgot she had a broken heart.
***************
Through the constant ache he hated but was still thankful for, Tristan pulled back and aimed his arrow at his target board in the distance. He released the arrow and watched it sail to the center of the target.
Archery was the only comfort he’d been able to find over the past year. Something about the forest, the trees, the weapons in his hand…something made him feel centered. And with the scoring pain that lived in his body in Scarlet’s absence, being centered was what Tristan sought.
Unfortunately, the trees and bow he held brought memories along with their stability, and memories were something he’d not yet learned to cope with. He missed Scarlet with an ache that cut deeper than any cursed pain ever could.
Retrieving another arrow, he lined up and aimed again.
Jensen, God bless the nosey driver, reported to Tristan of Scarlet’s good health and Gabriel reported she was happy. It seemed the distance Tristan kept from her was working and, for that, he would endure however many more painful days and sleepless nights her life had to offer him.
From Nathaniel’s books, Tristan knew immortals could die if cut through the heart with the right weapon. And if Tristan could find a way to die while Scarlet was still alive, the immortal blood inside her chest would die as well, leaving her mortal.
So that was his new purpose: finding a way to die so Scarlet might live. He had dedicated most of his days to finding the right weapon, but being that he had no clue what type of weapon he needed, his hunt was tedious and long.
But time was something he had an abundance of so his new hobby was accumulating as many weapons as possible and eliminating them one by one.