Scarlet’s stomach dropped. “I know.”
They reached the register and Clare, looking prim and perfect with her dark hair pinned to her head in a classic way and her apron nicely pressed, smiled at them. “Hi girls. One hot chocolate and one Millhouse special?”
Heather nodded. “Yes, and one get-out-of-work-free-card for me.”
Clare raised a brow. “You can’t make it in tonight? Again?”
Heather scrunched her nose. “I’m so sorry! Call it a family emergency.” Heather bounced a little.
Clare slanted her eyes at Heather with pursed lips, but said nothing as she stepped to the side to make their drinks.
Heather muttered, “I am so fired.”
Clare returned to the register and handed each of them a hot to-go cup. She looked at Heather. “You don’t have to come in tonight, but you better be here to help with the Millhouse booth tomorrow night at the town fair, understand?”
Heather smiled sheepishly. “Is that tomorrow?”
Clare glared at her.
“Right.” Heather nodded emphatically. “I will be here.”
“You’d better be.” Clare slanted her eyes at Heather.
“I promise.” Heather smiled. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Clare waved her off. “Go, before I change my mind.”
“You’re the best!” Heather called as she and Scarlet stepped aside to let the next customer order. “And I love your coffee!”
Scarlet smiled, sipping her hot chocolate. “You’re crazy, Heather.”
“I know,” Heather said, swigging her hot drink as they left the crowded coffee shop. “But I’m also work-free for the next twenty-four hours. So first thing in the morning, we will go see Mr. Brooks. And tonight, we will convince my parents that I am a normal teenage girl who doesn’t run around with immortals and Ashmen.”
Heather’s parents had cracked down on the never-ending sleepovers and insisted Heather come back home. The plan was for Scarlet to stay at Heather’s tonight while Gabriel stood guard outside the house.
It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than asking Heather’s parents if she could stay at a cabin with three immortal boys. Indefinitely.
There was an Ashman out there, searching for the map, and until they found him, no one was safe.
Scarlet pursed her lips, looking around at the busy Main Street of Avalon as they left The Millhouse. People everywhere were setting up tables and booths and umbrella stands for the fair. It was starting to look like the Kissing Festival all over again. With less germs and more clowns.
65
That night, Scarlet sat in Heather’s living room, laughing with the Baxter family. Heather’s parents were one of those rare couples that had been married for decades, but were still madly in love.
Henry and Nora Baxter were adorable. They sat cross-legged just like their children, around the large coffee table in the living room, dealing out cards for family game night.
So cute.
The doorbell rang and Heather’s family got excited. “Is that Gabriel?” Nora asked, wagging her eyebrows like Heather always did.
Heather rolled her eyes. “Mom, please don’t be weird. He’s just a boy.”
The plan was for Gabriel to come over and scope out Heather’s room. He needed to check all the access areas of the house so he could better watch over them as they slept.
Scarlet had suggested they come up with a good reason for Gabriel to stop by. After all, random-guy-from-school-dropping-by-for-a-visit was suspicious. But cute-boy-from-school-who-happened-to-be-Heather’s-history-partner-and-needed-class-notes?
Now that sounded believable.
Heather and Scarlet hurried to the door together and let Gabriel in. “Why, hello Gabriel,” Heather said in a much too loud voice.
Gabriel smiled. “So what do I do here?”
Heather waved him in. “Follow me.” She led Gabriel into the living room. “Family, this is Gabriel. Gabriel, this is my giant family.” She gave a fake smile. “We’ll be right back.” She turned to Gabriel. “Come on.”
Heather led Gabriel upstairs to check out her room—and the rest of the house—while Scarlet kept everyone distracted in the living room.
“Heather’s history partner is cute,” said Emily.
Scarlet nodded. “He is.”
“Didn’t you used to have a boyfriend named Gabriel?” Emily asked.
Scarlet raised her eyebrows. “I did.”
Emily looked confused. “Is that the same Gabriel?”
Scarlet opened her mouth to explain how, yes, Gabriel used to be her boyfriend, but they broke up because they were under a curse that pretty much forced Gabriel to love Scarlet and made their relationship incredibly strained, but then she shut it.
“Yes,” Scarlet said to Emily with a smile. “It is the same Gabriel.”
The family carried on their card game while Heather and Gabriel were gone. When they finally came back downstairs, Heather gave Scarlet a sly thumbs up and Scarlet was able to relax a little.
“Thanks for the notes,” Gabriel said. Loudly.
They were both awful actors.
“It was nice to meet you.” Gabriel smiled at Heather’s family members in the living room before moving to leave.
“Wait,” said Nora, deliberately not looking at Heather’s warning eyes. “Won’t you join us for a game?”
Gabriel blinked and looked at Heather, who was giving him big eyes that said Don’t you dare.
“Uh…” Gabriel paused.
“Please?” said Emily, batting her lashes. She was definitely Heather’s little sister.
Gabriel smiled at Emily. “Sure,” he said defiantly, and Heather looked like she was going to die.
“Yay!” Emily said, as Gabriel joined the family circle and took a seat next to the small Baxter girl.
“I have to warn you though,” Gabriel said to Emily. “I always win.”
Emily gave him a look full of attitude. “That’s because you’ve never played me before.”
Gabriel gave her a crooked smile. “Challenge accepted.”
66
Elliot looked at the faded red design on Tristan’s hip for a long time.
“What have you stained it with?”
Tristan shrugged. “Whatever I can find that paints the skin. Grass, flowers, berries.”
“Hmm.” Elliot tilted his head. “It is well-drawn.”
Tristan nodded, thinking of Scarlet’s hands tracing the lines onto his skin. “Can you make it permanent?”
Elliot nodded. “I will get my tools.”
The old man disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a set of sharp instruments and a vile of dark liquid.
Tristan lay on the thick, wooden table in the room and looked up at the warped wooden boards of the ceiling.
Using the tip of an instrument Tristan had never seen before, Elliot gathered a drop of ink into the needle point and began to stab away at Tristan’s hip.
After an hour of continuous pricking, Tristan was numb to the feeling of the tool. Next week, he would leave the monastery and start his journey back home.
Not that he had a home to go back to. Deserting the king’s army had surely sealed his fate as an outcast.
“Who drew this design into your skin?” Elliot asked. He had been quiet for the last hour, but his eyes had studied the drawing thoughtfully.
Tristan did not answer.
Elliot stared at the lower half of the tattoo, where the design dipped across Tristan’s pelvis and below his waist. “A girl, then?” Elliot gave a knowing smile.
A picture of Scarlet’s dark hair falling into her blue eyes blossomed in Tristan’s mind, bringing him joy and sadness.
Joy for the memories.
Sadness that there might never be mo
re.
“A girl,” Tristan confirmed.
Elliot nodded. “Is that who you escape for?”
“Yes.”
“Does she wait for you?”
Tristan stared at the old ceiling for a long time, knowing Scarlet was probably already married to Gabriel. “No.”
“Then why do you return?”
Tristan swallowed and tried to push back the truth. But the truth was resilient and fell from his tongue. “Because I cannot live without her.”
***************
Scarlet saw Gabriel sitting at the dining table alone, staring at the floor. It was late in the evening and no servants were around. The only light in the dining hall came from a handful of lit candles atop the table.
It had been three days since the earl had died and one since Scarlet’s mother had passed. They had both lost their parents in a matter of hours.
Scarlet looked at Gabriel. He was now the earl.
But he was also a young boy.
And she was only a girl.
Scarlet silently entered the dining room and waited until he glanced up at her. “I am so sorry for your loss, Scarlet.” His voice was hushed. “Your mother loved you deeply.”
Scarlet nodded and pulled a chair up to his side. She sat down beside him and, for a moment, they stared at the floor together.
Without a word, Gabriel reached for Scarlet’s hand and took it in his own. He interlaced his fingers with hers and squeezed gently.
Scarlet brought their interwoven hands to her mouth and lightly kissed his knuckles.
They would be okay. They would.
One boy. One girl. Lots of heartache.
Scarlet stayed at Gabriel’s side and stared at nothing with him.
She squeezed his hand.
They were lost. But they had each other.
67
On the morning of the town fair, Tristan stood with Gabriel, Nate, Scarlet and Heather on Mr. Brooks’ porch as Heather tapped the gargoyle knocker hanging on the door.
Scarlet had referred to this place as “haunted” and, looking around, Tristan could almost understand why. It was old, dark, broken and creepy.
But haunted?
Nah.
The front door creaked open, but no one was on the other side. Heather looked at Tristan and whispered, “This is how he answers the door.”
Sure.
“Mr. Brooks?” Heather called out. “It’s Heather Baxter. You said I could come back with my friends to look at your maps again?” Wearing a bright pink dress and tall, pink shoes, she looked out of place on the dingy porch.
Tristan watched a jittery old man in a green bathrobe pop out from behind the front door, his eyes immediately shifting from side to side. He held a brown cane in his hand, but didn’t seem to require it for walking since he had it raised in the air, like the stem of an umbrella.
The old man eyed the street beyond them before his jumpy eyes looked from Gabriel, to Tristan, and back to Gabriel.
Yes, they were twins. It was interesting. Move on.
Lowering his cane to the floor, he tapped it quickly. “My maps. Yes, yes.” He lifted his cane again and swung it inside, making a whoosh sound. “Come in.”
Tristan followed everyone inside, unsure of what to expect.
Mounted owls were not at the top of his list, though he had been warned.
Stuffed owls adorned the walls and took up nearly every corner of the room. The few windows lining the front wall were coated in dust, making the sunlight seem gloomy as it floated into the otherwise poorly-lit home.
A dark hallway was to Tristan’s right, lined with more owls, but the old man led them into a parlor room on the left.
Antique furniture clogged up the room; chairs, couches, a chaise lounge, and a tall china cabinet filled with—that’s right—more owls, took up most of the far wall.
From the soft glow of the windows, Tristan could see thousands of specs of dust floating in the air. Mr. Brooks really needed a maid.
Or, at the very least, a vacuum.
A large owl with shiny eyes was perched on a brass bar hanging from the ceiling. Nate stared at the giant bird until the owl hooted loudly, causing Nate to jump.
Real owl. Not mounted.
“First, we will sit.” Mr. Brooks perched on one of the ancient chairs, resting a hand on his cane as his left leg bounced up and down. “Then we shall see about my maps.”
The owl hooted again and Nate scrambled to find a seat. He plopped himself down on the chaise lounge and a cloud of dust lifted up around him, making him sneeze.
Scarlet and Heather sat side-by-side on a red velvet couch beneath the room’s only window and Gabriel sat in a chair across from Mr. Brooks.
Tristan remained standing.
Just in case Mr. Brooks had any other predatory pets hanging around. Like a puma.
Mr. Brooks’ frazzled appearance made him look like a mad scientist. In a bathrobe. Maybe that’s what mad scientists wore.
He leaned his crazy head of white hair forward. “What do you want with my maps? What is it you seek?”
Nate eyed the owl again before speaking. “Uh…we’re looking for apple trees…in the Avalon area.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Brooks looked suspicious as he twitched his lips and started bouncing his other leg. “Why apple trees?”
“No reason, really,” Nate lied. “We just want to know where to find apple trees. You know…just in case we want apples. Or…trees.”
Oh. Dear. God.
Mr. Brooks shifted his lower jaw back in forth, thinking. His eyes were alert as he spoke quickly. “No.” He shook his head forcefully. “What you seek has been the death of many souls and I will not be responsible for another.”
Nate looked at his friends, then back to Mr. Brooks. “What, uh…what do you mean?”
“You seek the fountain of youth!” he announced, tapping his cane several times on the floor.
Everyone froze.
Scarlet cleared her throat. “Do you know where the fountain is?” She spoke casually, like she was asking for directions to the nearest gas station.
“No.” Mr. Brooks sharpened his eyes at her. “I can only tell you the disaster it will bring. And disaster,” he tapped his cane again and lowered his voice dramatically, “it will bring.”
“What disaster?” Heather asked.
“Well, for one, death!” Mr. Brooks’ eyes stayed huge and intense as they gazed about the parlor.
Why was he yelling?
Heather puckered her lips. “But I thought the fountain of youth was supposed to give people eternal life.”
A wild cackle fell from Mr. Brooks’ mouth. “Indeed! The legend is powerful, is it not?” He waved his hands widely, the cane still clutched in his right hand as he swung it into the air, nearly knocking the live owl from its brass bar. “Everyone believes that there is a stream of water that makes you beautiful and keeps you young forever. But that is a lie! There is a fountain, oh yes. But it is a fountain of death. And you,” he jabbed his cane at Gabriel, “all of you are headed for death if you search for it!”
Heather said, “How is it a fountain of death?”
Mr. Brooks’ eyes hardened. “The water is highly addictive. A drug. A parasite that infects both mind and body.” Mr. Brooks nodded emphatically and raised his voice. Again. “Once you have tasted water from the fountain, you cannot live without it. It sinks into your veins, poisons your body…destroys your soul!”
Tristan tried not to wince. Seriously. There was no need to holler.
Mr. Brooks continued. “Without the water, your mind goes mad. You become crazy, lost, and completely psychotic. After that, you become violent. And then…then the pain starts.” He narrowed his eyes. “The unbearable pain of withdrawal. Far beyond any drug known to man.”
> Yes. They already knew all that.
Well, maybe not Heather.
Gabriel squinted at the old man. “How do you know so much about the fountain?”
Mr. Brooks raised his shaggy eyebrows. “Legend, mostly. I dedicated much of my life to finding the fountain of youth, wanting to live forever. But I gave up my search once I learned of the fountain’s evils.” He stared at them. “You children have a death wish and I will not help you find the fountain. Eternal life is not worth it.”
Tristan ran a thumb down his jaw. “What if we’re not searching for eternal life?”
Mr. Brooks turned his head to Tristan. “Then what is it you seek?”
“A cure,” Scarlet said.
He narrowed his eyes as he looked around at everyone. “A cure for what?”
“I’m sick,” Scarlet said. “I’m dying.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Brooks leaned back and puckered his lips. “I am sorry to hear that, my dear. The fountain would cure whatever ails you, but it would rob you of life. You are better off accepting whatever natural illness you suffer from.”
“It’s not natural.” Scarlet’s eyes stayed steady as she looked at the man. “I’m cursed.”
Tristan clenched his jaw. He didn’t like sharing personal information with strangers. Especially crazy, old men who wore bathrobes and surrounded themselves with mostly-dead birds.
Mr. Brooks shifted his jaw again. “Cursed you say?” He stood up and swung his cane back and forth as he started pacing. “Cursed? Cursed to die?” His eyes darted around the room and fell back to Scarlet.
She nodded.
“By who?” Mr. Brooks kept his eyes on Scarlet.
“A witch,” Gabriel said.
“With what?”
“An arrow,” Scarlet replied.
Awry (The Archers of Avalon, Book Two) Page 30