Gabriel crossed his arms. “And how, pray tell, shall I do that?”
“I don’t know. Convince her I’m not worthy. Convince her to fall in love with you.”
Clearly, Tristan had lost his mind.
“Convince her?” Gabriel stood with his mouth open for a long minute. “Have you not met Scarlet? She does not convince easily. She’s stubborn and temperamental and obnoxiously independent. No.” He shook his head. “I cannot do what you’re asking. It feels wrong.”
Well, there’s a sentence Gabriel never thought would come out of his mouth.
“You must,” Tristan insisted. “Do you understand what’s at stake here? Death. Scarlet’s death. Again and again until we find a cure or the damned fountain and the chances of either are slim. Do you want her to die again?”
“No.”
“Then take her away from me. Do whatever you must to change her affections.”
“Why me?” Gabriel said. “Why not have her fall in love on her own with some other poor fellow who is doomed to always be second place in her heart?”
“Because you I will not kill,” Tristan said. “Some other ‘poor fellow’ would get his bones crushed.”
The hardness in Tristan’s eyes left little doubt in Gabriel’s mind that Tristan would, indeed, kill any other poor fellow.
Gabriel shook his head. ”You cannot possibly mean what you’re saying.”
“I do.”
“Really? And what if she wants to kiss me?” Gabriel lifted his chin.
“Then kiss her.” No emotion on Tristan’s face.
“And if she wants to touch me?”
“I won’t stop her.” Tristan eyes flickered for the briefest of seconds.
Gabriel needed to push harder, he needed Tristan to see how preposterous this idea was. Tilting his head, Gabriel slowly said, “And if she wants to sleep by my side?”
Tension swamped the room.
“Sleep with her and I’ll kill you.” There was no mercy in Tristan’s voice.
Gabriel smiled, relieved as he took a step back. “See? I cannot do this Tristan. It’s not what you really want.”
Tristan flexed his jaw. “How is it that you seem to have no sense of decency when it comes to your personal life, yet when I ask—practically beg—you to take the girl you want away from me, you suddenly have a moral compass?”
Gabriel shrugged. “You must be rubbing off on me.”
One point for Tristan.
Damn him.
”Very well,” Tristan said, renewal in his eyes. “You do not need to convince Scarlet to love you. Just promise me you’ll love her in my absence. Promise me you’ll protect her and provide for her and keep her happy.”
“I feel we’ve had this conversation before…” Gabriel tapped his chin in a mocking way.
“Then promise me again.”
He pursed his lips. “The last time you left Scarlet in my care, a witch killed her. And I distinctly remember you shoving a sword against my neck afterward.”
“That was before my touch was deadly to Scarlet.” His voice cracked. “Please, Gabriel.”
It was in this moment, at the sound of Tristan’s vulnerability, that Gabriel folded. He had been selfishly trying to protect himself from going through the pain of loving—but not quite having—Scarlet, again. But when Gabriel saw the pain in Tristan’s face, he made his decision.
For Tristan. Not Scarlet.
“I will do it.” Gabriel exhaled. “This could end us, Tristan. You and I.”
Indecision flashed in Tristan’s eyes and, for a moment, Gabriel thought Tristan was going to revoke his proposal—an idea that brought Gabriel both joy and disappointment—but Tristan didn’t budge.
“You are my brother,” Tristan said with resolve. “Nothing could end us.”
CHAPTER 14
Charleston 1741
Tristan knocked on Nathaniel’s door and waited impatiently on the doorstep. Having been in the New World for over fifty years now, Gabriel, Nathaniel and Tristan had set up homes for themselves and had fully assimilated into the rugged and adventurous land. They had gone on many quests to the lower regions, spurred on by rumors of the eternal fountain, and had traveled to the northern regions where the established cities held whispers of magic and immortality. But they were still without a cure for Scarlet.
Which was unacceptable.
The great door opened. “I would say this is a pleasant surprise,” Nathaniel said, “but since you’ve been in an awful mood for fifty years I’m assuming you are not here to sing or dance or anything jolly like that.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Well, then by all means,” he gestured him inside, “come in and depress me.”
Tristan smiled at his tolerant friend. He tended to be his darkest around Nathaniel. Why, he wasn’t sure. But still the chap was always pleasant. “I will try to keep my depression contained today.”
“And wouldn’t that be a feat?” Nathaniel smiled. “So. What can I do for you?”
Tristan paced farther into the foyer. “I would like to go through all your books on immortality.”
Nathaniel led him back to his office—which was half medical and half magical—and bustled about, retrieving books from shelves and tables and under the legs of otherwise-wobbly desks.
“What exactly are you looking for?” He began stacking his collection of books upon one of the wobbly desks.
“An alternative cure for Scarlet,” Tristan said.
“I’m afraid my books may disappoint you on that end, but you are welcome to borrow them anyway.”
Tristan nodded. He would read. He would scour. He would do anything to find a pebble of hope amidst the rocks of despair that sat upon his shoulders.
Nathaniel added another volume to his pile and the desk wobbled, spilling the books all over the floor.
Tristan bent to help Nathaniel gather the books and his eyes caught on a page that had fallen open. The words “true death for an immortal” were scribbled at the top.
He jerked his head to Nathaniel. “We can die?”
Nathaniel waved a hand at Tristan. “Supposedly. If our hearts are cut in half. But it is not true. You yourself were shot through the heart with an arrow and did not die. Clearly, the splitting of an immortal heart is not fatal.”
Tristan’s mind began to race and, for some reason, hope flared in his chest. “What if it was not the splitting of my heart that failed, but the arrow itself? Do you think immortal death would be possible with the right weapon?”
Nathaniel shrugged. “I suppose anything is possible.”
“Interesting.” Tristan wasn’t sure what this new information meant, but for the first time in decades, his heart beat with a purpose.
***************
Several weeks later, Gabriel patted Nathaniel on the back and hollered above the noise of the crowded bar, “Another round for the good doctor!” before winking at Greta, the bartender of his most-frequented pub.
And by “most-frequented” he meant daily. And nightly.
They had been hunting for the Fountain of Youth without success for decades now, and still had no cure for Scarlet and, therefore, no cure for his curse.
So Gabriel was still without love—a plight he endured with endless women, plenty of card games and, yes, booze. Which was why he’d wrangled Nathaniel out of his home filled with medical equipment and insisted he come out to play in the taverns tonight.
Where Gabriel had spent the last few decades gaining and losing wealth, and Tristan burying himself in books and, lately, an unnatural interest in weapons, Nathaniel had dedicated his time to his pursuit of medicine—and was actually becoming quite a skilled physician. Medicine suited him much better than witchcraft.
Greta poured another two shots for them and Gabriel lifted his glass to Nathaniel. “Drink up, my friend.”
Nathaniel smiled and drank along with him. “You are in good spirits tonight.” He set his empty glass on the bar.
“Yes, well, thanks to those lovely women,” Gabriel nodded at the group of colorfully-dressed ladies batting their lashes in the corner, “and my beloved Greta,” he smiled at Greta, whose only response was a “Hmmph”, “I am in good spirits most every night.”
“So I hear.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Has Tristan been complaining about my activities again?”
“No. He simply takes note.”
“Yes, well, I wish he would throw away his note pad and join in on the party every once in a while.” Gabriel waved a finger at Greta for more liquor. “It is a draining thing to be the only happy family member.”
Nathaniel laughed. “Is that what you are?”
“I am certainly not the disgruntled family member.” Gabriel drank up what Greta poured.
“No. I suppose you’re not.” Nathaniel watched Greta pour more into his glass and drank as well. “Have you noticed a change in your brother lately?”
“Yes. I’ve noticed he’s no fun at all. He used to be pleasant, you know. Friendly and content. The bastard.”
“No.” Nathaniel wrinkled his brow. “I mean, have you noticed a darkness in him? He seems…different.”
Gabriel shrugged. He did not have enough alcohol in his body for this conversation. “His love died. Who wouldn’t be dark at that?”
Nathaniel scratched his jaw. “Yes. I think that may play into why he has withdrawn from the world as he has. Scarlet’s death was horrendous.”
A sharp pain shot into Gabriel’s chest and he waved at Greta again to numb it away. He did not want to think about Scarlet and the hope she brought him when she was alive. He did not want to think at all.
“Now, no more talk of Tristan, he is souring my pleasant mood and he’s not even here,” Gabriel said. “Let us speak of other things. Like the card game being held later tonight.”
Greta refilled both their glasses.
Nathaniel smiled. “You have already lost your fortune twice since we’ve been in South Carolina. I’m not sure a card game is wise.”
High stakes made Gabriel feel alive and, without Scarlet, he mostly felt dead. “I have an eternity to win and lose my fortune, so I shall play until card games go out of fashion.”
“You are truly reckless.”
“Why, thank you.” He smiled. “Now, drink up!”
CHAPTER 15
Charleston 1789
Scarlet shivered against the cold chill the wailing wind brought to her body. She slowly opened her eyes to the cutting sun of a winter sky shining off the snow-covered ground, and blinked.
Where was she? And why had she been sleeping outside in the snow? She could not remember anything about her whereabouts and had just started to panic when she saw him.
A boy—a beautiful boy—stood a few yards away from her wearing a pair of low-slung pants and an open black coat over his bare chest. He was breathing heavily, like he’d been running, and looked at her with relief and fear on his face.
“You’re safe,” he assured her, looking like both protector and predator.
But staring at him, Scarlet realized she did, indeed, feel safe.
Slowly, she stood up and took him in. He was not dressed for winter at all and his shaggy dark hair was tousled and wild. But his eyes…his eyes were breathtaking.
Green and piercing, they looked into her and held her captive. Her heart started to pound and somehow Scarlet knew she knew this boy. She just couldn’t…remember….
A commotion behind the beautiful boy broke out and two other figures slowly approached from the forest beyond.
“Scarlet.” A boy identical to the one Scarlet had been staring at carefully neared her, carrying a large blanket in his hands as he smiled.
The third boy, who looked nothing like the other two, said nothing but smiled broadly.
Unlike the first stranger, the other boys were dressed for winter, with coats and gloves and clothing covering their chests. And they both looked pleased to see her, which was more than she could say for the quiet stranger in black, standing off to the side now, but never taking his eyes from her face. She had the sudden urge to touch him.
His eyes darkened for a moment before her attention was called away by the twin boy who was now standing before her.
“Scarlet,” he said. “Do you remember who you are?”
“Yes. I’m Scarlet Jacobs,” she said automatically.
“Do you remember us? Or when you were born?”
She thought for a moment, fear creeping under her skin as she realized she had no recollection of ever being born, let alone when.
Shaking her head, she took a step back.
The twin boy who, she now realized, had brown eyes and not green, smiled at her lovingly. “We are your friends and you were born in 1523.”
Click.
A burning began behind her eyes and the forest disappeared as she slowly went blind with memories. Hundreds of memories. Swooping into her mind, each memory clicked into place against another one and, suddenly, Scarlet remembered everything.
Struggling to get back to the present, she blinked until the forest returned. “Gabriel!” She threw her arms around him with joy and an overwhelming sense of relief.
But then she remembered Tristan and his green eyes and open heart…and the way he’d loved her and how he had fled from her when she had started to die—
“Tristan!” Her arms fell from Gabriel as she whipped around in search of her Hunter, desperate to embrace him.
But he had vanished.
“Where is he?” Scarlet looked first to Gabriel, then to Nathaniel.
“He has left in order to keep you safe,” Nathaniel said.
“If it is so critical to keep us apart, then why did he come to the forest to get me?” Scarlet put her hands on her hips, determined to argue her way into Tristan’s arms, if only for a moment.
Gabriel wrapped the blanket around her. “Tristan is the one who found you, Scarlet. Because of your connection he can feel where you are.”
“Oh.” Right. Tristan could feel her. Could he feel how she wanted to run after him right now?
Nathaniel cleared his throat, his smile a bit too bright. “You’re alive again. Isn’t that wonderful?” He spoke with a strange accent. Odd.
“How long was I dead?” Scarlet asked.
“About a hundred years.” Gabriel said pleasantly, as if skipping a century of time was good news and not severely bizarre.
His voice held the same accent as Nathaniel’s, no longer sounding English. It sounded…less soft.
“Come,” Gabriel said. “Let us take you back home.”
The boys chatted away endlessly as they led her through the trees, telling her about the new land they occupied and what the world was now like. Scarlet was barely listening.
A hundred years. She’d lost a hundred years. She was overwhelmed and confused. And she was impatient to get back to Tristan, where she always felt at home.
They came upon a large home nestled in a thick clump of trees with tall, white pillars in front and shrubs lining the drive.
“This is Gabriel’s home,” Nathaniel said.
“And it shall be yours too.” Gabriel smiled at Scarlet.
She raised a brow. “I will be living with you?”
“Yes,” Nathaniel said. “And I live not far away, so I shall be able to check on you every few weeks, to ensure you are healthy.”
“Nathaniel has become a doctor in your absence,” Gabriel explained. “And, unlike magic, he is actually quite good.”
Nathaniel glared at him.
They entered the house and took Scarlet to a large open room where Tristan was waiting for them. His arms crossed, his face expressionless. He looked older than before, and more wearisome. He stood on the farthest side of the giant room while Gabriel placed a gentle hand on Scarlet’s arm to keep her at the exact opposite side of the space.
“What is this?” She looked down at where Gabriel was latched onto her, annoyance pricking
her insides.
“This is us, keeping you safe.” Nathaniel said.
Nathaniel stood casually in between Scarlet and Tristan. “Since we now have a better understanding of how fatal Tristan’s presence is to your heart, we have decided it’s in everyone’s best interest if you and he are separated in this life.”
“I decided no such thing.” Scarlet’s eyes stayed on Tristan, hoping to break down his icy stare with the anger she knew he could feel swirling inside her chest.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “It’s only until we find a cure for you.”
Scarlet slowly turned her eyes to Gabriel, staring at him with a harshness he didn’t deserve. “The cure you’ve been seeking for a hundred years without success?”
A pained expression crossed his face.
She turned back to Tristan. “And you? What are your thoughts on this?” She started to walk toward him, but Gabriel’s soft grip tightened.
Scarlet snapped her eyes to him. “Let go of me.”
“You can’t touch him, Scarlet,” he said softly, sincere regret on his face.
“I will not touch him. I only wish to speak to him.”
And maybe touch him.
With a warning glare, Gabriel slowly released her arm and Scarlet took a few steps deeper into the room until she was halfway to Tristan.
“What are your thoughts on this plan?” she asked again.
Tristan was silent for a moment. “It was my idea.”
He had the funny accent too. What was happening? Everything had changed. Everything was different.
“Your idea?” She stared at him in disbelief then turned to Nathaniel. “Isn’t Tristan in pain when he is away from me? Surely we can formulate a less severe arrangement. Why should he subject himself to discomfort on my behalf?”
“Because I’ve already lived for hundreds of years, Scarlet,” Tristan’s weary voice matched the look in his eyes. “And pain is nothing when compared to death, so I am leaving. Today.” He kept his eyes carefully mounted to her face. Blank. Empty of feeling.
Scarlet blinked.
Today? He was leaving today?
But she’d barely come back to life!