by Chelsea Fine
“The best way to undo the curse is to find the fountain of youth. Water from the fountain is what gave Gabriel and Tristan their immortality and I thought it was the only thing that could cure me, but Tristan found out that if he managed to die his immortal blood inside my body would die as well, so I wouldn’t get sick again. And that’s what he tried to do tonight.” Scarlet blinked, feeling the fear of losing Tristan skitter through her limbs.
”Tristan tried to kill himself with a special arrow and I…I sorta got in the way.” She pointed to the bloodstains on the back of her dress. “The arrow hit me instead of Tristan and I died.” Scarlet hurriedly added, “But I came right back to life. I’m all healed. See?” She turned around to show Heather her smooth back and braved a very forced smile.
Please believe me.
Heather said nothing.
Scarlet cleared her throat. “So I’m not sick anymore and Tristan is alive. But we still need to find the fountain of youth. Until then,” Scarlet shifted her weight, “I’m semi-immortal.”
Heather had listened without moving. She was like a statue.
A blond, well-dressed statue, with red fingernails.
Regret crept into Scarlet’s head, admonishing her for dumping five hundred years of unbelievable information on her friend in the span of five minutes.
Scarlet felt her palms begin to sweat. She waited. She wiped her hands on her skirt again.
Eventually, Heather opened her mouth. “Are you…are you telling me the truth?”
Scarlet nodded. “I swear.”
“You’re not lying to me? Or joking?”
Scarlet pursed her lips and shook her head.
Heather blinked. “Gabriel and Tristan are immortal?”
Scarlet nodded.
“And you’re semi-immortal? And all of you are cursed?”
Scarlet nodded again. “I know it sounds insane.”
Heather looked scared. “And are you…are you dying right now? Are you sick?”
Scarlet answered, “Not this time. Not yet. My death tonight reset my body.”
Heather stared at Scarlet and nodded. “Um….” She swallowed. “Um….”
This was it. Scarlet was about to lose her best friend. Heather was probably going to run out of the house, screaming bloody murder, and Scarlet wouldn’t blame her.
She watched emotion fill Heather’s eyes and, suddenly, Heather’s arms were wrapped around Scarlet, hugging her until the corset was no longer Scarlet’s biggest breathing obstacle.
“I love you,” Heather said, her voice shaky. “And I don’t want you to die. Ever. I don’t care about any curse or fountain. All I care about is you. You can’t die.”
Relief filled Scarlet’s heart. “Hey…” She hugged Heather back, more grateful than ever for her crazy friend. It felt so good to tell Heather the truth. To confide in her and be accepted. “It’s okay. I’m not going to die. I’m going to find the fountain and everything will be okay.”
Maybe.
Heather squeezed Scarlet one last time before releasing her and wiping her wet eyes. “You better. Because I need you.” She added, “And I’m so happy you’re not some crazy serial killer.”
Scarlet nodded. “Me too.”
Heather furrowed her brow. Confusion crossed her face, followed by a look of pure joy. “Oh!” She took a step back, looking at Scarlet’s outfit, and smiled. “You’re not from this century!”
Scarlet raised her eyebrows.
“You’re brand new! Modern day life is a whole new world for you!” Heather laughed, clasping her hands together. “No wonder you don’t know how to dress yourself!” She laughed again with a sigh. “Oh, I’m so happy. You’re fashionably-impaired, but it’s not your fault. Wow. It all makes so much sense now.” She smiled, putting her hands over her heart. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”
Scarlet shook her head.
She had just told her best friend that she was a semi-immortal girl on the hunt for the fountain of youth, and what was Heather’s response?
Relief. Because Scarlet’s lack of fashion sense was justified.
“You’re crazy,” Scarlet said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Heather nodded, looking Scarlet over again. “But I’ll love you a lot more after you take a shower and wash the death smell out of your hair.”
Scarlet sniffed her hair. “I do not smell like death.”
Heather wrinkled her nose. “Well, you certainly don’t smell like roses.”
“Fine. I’ll go take a shower.”
As she made her way upstairs, Scarlet tried to take a deep breath. She had another chance to break the curse. To live.
And this time, she would do both.
10
The next morning, Tristan did everything he could to avoid Gabriel. Things had been tense at the cabin since Scarlet’s mysterious resurrection and neither brother had spoken since.
His cuts from the fight had all healed, leaving no reminders of his brawl with Gabriel but, in a way, Tristan wished the scars had remained. At least then he’d feel somewhat punished for what had happened to Scarlet.
He had brought her death. Again.
Exiting through the cabin’s back door, Tristan stared at his compound bow leaning against the side of the house. Funny how only days ago shooting practice helped him cope with the torment of being so near to Scarlet. But now….
Now, he wanted nothing to do with bows or arrows. It was all just a reminder of his misery.
Dressed for running, Tristan pulled the hood of his jacket over his head, shielding himself from the morning wind and set off without direction through the forest.
Winter was in full swing, the forest trees dead, the icy breeze wailing into the stillness. Soon there would be snow on the ground and jogging through the woods would be impossible. But, for now, Tristan could navigate through the dead life of winter, snow-free, and run away from the cabin.
From the memories. From the guilt.
From the ghosts of all his mistakes.
A minute passed and soon his lungs began to burn.
His connection to Scarlet was stronger than ever before, making the agony in his bones more acute now that she was no longer nearby.
Further and further he ran.
Breathing in.
Breathing out.
Hating himself.
His eyes caught sight of something glinting up ahead and he slowed to a walk. Moving closer, he saw it was sunlight bouncing off the window of a small shack. The shack was hidden in a dark cluster of trees, barely noticeable but for the shining windowpane.
Tristan didn’t remember there being any other buildings on his property. How far had he run? A half-mile, maybe?
He looked closely at the tiny hut. The trees surrounding the shack were large and wide, providing a thick cover of shade and camouflage for the small dwelling, and dirt coated the outer walls, making it nearly impossible to differentiate the shack from the forest around it.
Tristan had first bought the twenty acres of Avalon land he lived on shortly after Scarlet’s last life had ended, and he’d roamed the property many times since then. But he’d never seen the hut before.
He strode near the wooden house, the wind rushing at his face as he pulled back the tree branches and bushes that acted as a perimeter for the building.
It was very old and looked abandoned. Dirt, leaves and twigs covered the porch and gathered on the roof, and the wooden boards of the structure were weathered and cracked. The windows, dusty and forgotten, were lined with cobwebs, and the front door stood slightly off its hinges.
Tristan looked around for a moment, making sure no one was around, and stepped onto the porch. The wooden planks beneath his feet creaked as he moved, spooking a family of bats from under the roof. Dark whirls swept past Tristan before the bats disappeared to find a safer resting area.
He eyed the dusty knob on the door before gently turning it in his palm. Groaning against the movement, the door shift
ed, and then fell completely off its hinges and crashed to the porch.
Tristan stepped back as the heavy door broke through a row of boards, sending up a cloud of dust and dirt, and scared more bats from their nesting place above.
He looked around before carefully stepping inside the shack.
It was tiny.
No more than twenty feet wide and thirty feet long, the hut was a rectangle in layout, a single wall dividing the space into two parts; the front room, which was the majority of the space, and a small back room.
Tristan stood in the front room. To his right was a small kitchen, consisting of a very outdated oven and an oversized sink, and to his left was a small sitting room with a single torn couch. A neglected fireplace took up the center of the sitting room wall and a musty rug lay sprawled in between the couch and the kitchen.
Making his way to the back, Tristan found a small bedroom barely large enough for the bed it housed. Aside from that, there was nothing in the shack.
No papers, no pictures, no proof of life.
Tristan eyed the place one last time before exiting through the now-doorless entryway. He stared at the fallen door on the splintered porch boards as he stepped over the mess and pinched his lips.
More brokenness. More disaster.
It followed him wherever he went.
He stepped off the porch and looked around again.
Without looking back, Tristan jogged away from the shack and back into the trees.
Still trying to outrun his ghosts.
11
Scarlet sat cross-legged on her bed with Heather jabbering away beside her as they flipped through magazines.
Most people, upon learning their best friend comes back from the dead, would probably ease their way into the whole I’m-going-to-believe-every-word-of-this-nonsense thing.
Not Heather.
“Were you alive in the 20s? Because I loved the style back then.” Heather looked up from her magazine.
“Uh…I’m not sure.” Scarlet bit her lip. Had she been alive in the 1920s?
Amnesia sucked.
“Oh, that’s right.” Heather waved a hand. “You don’t remember any of your former lives. Just the life you shared…share?...with me.” Her eyes got big. “Ooh! I wonder why your memories are gone? Do you think that’s, like, a curse thing? Or maybe your brain can only reincarnate so many times without suffering some memory loss.” She tapped a finger to her chin, thoughtfully.
Heather was taking this way too well.
“How many immortals are out there in the world?” Heather’s eyes widened. “Millions?”
Scarlet smiled. “Uh, no. As far as I know, it’s just Gabriel, Tristan and Nate.”
“Who’s Nate?” Heather cocked her head.
“Nate is their best friend. He was born in the 1500s, too, but I don’t think they met each other until after my first death.”
Scrunching her nose, Heather said, “Did Nate’s mom drink fountain water when she was pregnant with Nate, too? Is that how he’s immortal like Gabriel and Tristan?”
“Yep.”
“What about their moms? Are they immortal?”
Scarlet furrowed her brow. “No. I think…I think both of their moms died.”
“After drinking from the fountain of youth?” Heather made a face. “That’s a letdown.”
Scarlet bit her lip and nodded. Why hadn’t their mothers become immortal?
Heather continued, “But the boys all became immortal?”
“Yeah. But Gabriel and Tristan didn’t know they were immortal until the end of my first life, when the cursed arrow went through Tristan’s heart and he survived.”
“So when Tristan told me a magical arrow changed his eye color, he wasn’t kidding?”
Scarlet shook her head. “I’m sure Tristan had brown eyes just like Gabriel until the day he jumped in front of Raven’s arrow.”
“Ahh!” Heather threw her head back dramatically. “I can’t believe Tristan was willing to die for you—twice! Wow.” She looked at Scarlet and sighed. “It’s just so romantic.”
Scarlet scowled and pretended to be interested in the lipstick ad she was staring at. “There’s nothing romantic about death.”
“But there is something romantic about sacrificial love.” Heather smiled.
“Tristan doesn’t love me. He’s just…he’s just….”
“He’s just…willing to die for you? Yeah. Nothing about that screams I love Scarlet.” She flashed her palms.
“Whatever.” Scarlet’s heart started to race. She liked talking about Tristan. Which was a problem, because she had a boyfriend.
A very hot, very amazing boyfriend. Who was probably freaking out right now because she hadn’t returned the four text messages he’d sent her asking if she was okay.
Heather’s face lit up as she gazed down at her magazine. “Ooh, I want these shoes.” She pointed to a pair of pink heels. “I could wear them to the town fair.”
The Avalon Town Fair was a weeklong event that took place at the end of every February. It came fully equipped with clowns, carousels, and confetti, and schools shut down for the celebration. Avalon, Georgia was probably the only town in the world that closed school for a week just to have a fair. But the town fair was a big deal and everyone in Avalon was always ridiculously jolly about the event.
Everyone except Scarlet.
The fair wasn’t as bad as the dreaded summer Kissing Festival—Strangers kissing under paper stars in the streets? Gag me.—but was still annoying.
“Isn’t it a little early to pick out which shoes you’re going to wear to something that’s months away?” Scarlet raised a brow at her friend.
Heather looked dead serious. “It’s never too early to plan an outfit.” She emphatically added, “Never.”
“Whatever.” Scarlet squinted at the shoe ad. “But those pink heels aren’t really good carnival shoes. They look too uncomfortable. And high.”
“They’re pink. They’re pretty.” Heather shrugged. “They’re perfect.”
Scarlet shook her head with a smile. “Whatever.”
“Laura would agree with me.” Heather turned the page.
Laura Walker was Scarlet’s legal guardian. With her long, red hair and sexy taste in fashion, Laura was one of the most beautiful women in Avalon, Georgia. And also one of the wealthiest.
She worked for an international company doing procurement of some sort and had taken Scarlet in happily. The two of them were like sisters.
Heather ran a finger down the glossy page before her. “Does Laura know about you?”
Scarlet shut her magazine and looked up with wide eyes. “No. And you can’t tell her. You can’t tell anyone.”
Heather looked up and frowned. “Why don’t you want Laura to know?”
“Because she’s my foster parent and she doesn’t have to keep me. If I start talking about curses and eternal life, Laura could turn me over to the state, or have me committed or something.”
Heather scrunched her nose. “You think Laura would really do that?”
“I don’t know.” Scarlet briefly envisioned what her life would be like if Laura rejected her. “But I’m not willing to risk it.”
Heather nodded and turned another page. “My lips are sealed. Where is Laura, anyway?”
“She’s still in Europe for work. She gets back…” Scarlet looked at the calendar on the wall, “in eight days. Which means I have eight more days until I have to start acting normal again.” Scarlet looked back at her magazine. “Hopefully, we can find the fountain and this whole thing will be over.” She sighed. “The curse, the dying, the Ash guy—”
“Ash guy?” Heather’s hand froze mid-page-turn.
Scarlet made a face. “Did I not tell you about the bad guy?”
Heather’s eyes widened. “Uh….no. Ash guy? W-T-H?”
Scarlet’s palms started to sweat as she thought back to the night the Ash guy had come into her house. “Yeah, that’s what we called
him because we didn’t know what he was. But he broke into my house while I was sleeping and tried to steal my memories with this Head Ghost brain thingy.”
Wow. Everything that comes out of my mouth sounds dumb.
Head Ghosts were black market devices designed to pull memories from the brain. But they were dangerous. And the Ash guy from a few weeks ago had obtained not one, but two of these illegal devices. Both of which were now safely stored away by Nate.
“Are you kidding me?” Heather’s mouth fell open. “Some creep broke into your house? That’s so scary!”
“I know.” Scarlet nodded. “But Tristan was here, so he stabbed the guy and saved me.”
Heather dropped her head to the side. “Of course, he did.”
Scarlet started to argue. “Tristan was only here because he was in pain—”
“Sure.” Heather nodded. “Yeah, Tristan just ‘happens’ to be around whenever you need saving. That’s normal.”
Scarlet ignored her.
“I can’t believe someone broke into your home while you were sleeping. Your house isn’t safe, Scarlet. We’re going to stay at my house until Laura gets back. My parents won’t care and no Ash guys will be sneaking into my bedroom.” Heather shook her head. “I can’t believe there’s something out there that can steal memories. Why was the Ash guy after your memories in the first place?”
Scarlet blinked. “Because apparently I know where the fountain of youth is. I just can’t remember.”
“You know how to get to the place you need to go in order to break the curse that keeps killing you but…you can’t remember?” Heather shook her head. “That sucks.”
“I know.”
Heather tucked her lips in. “I’m sure your memory will come back. Maybe you just need to hit your head really hard or eat a lot of green vegetables—”
Scarlet gasped.
“What?” Heather looked around in alarm, her blond hair flying over her shoulder. “Is there another Ash guy here?”