Awry (14 page)

Tristan said nothing.

Gabriel lowered his voice. “Asking her to love you back is the same as asking her to die.” He paused. “Don’t ask her to die for you.”

Whistling wind flew past the porch, wrapping around Gabriel and shooting out into the forest.

Tristan looked to the trees for a moment, before staring back at Gabriel with a tight jaw.

Gabriel said,“You’re not safe—”

“I know.”

“Then act like it.”

Tristan narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “What do you want me to do, Gabe? Wear a shock collar that paralyzes me when I come within five feet of her?”

Actually, yes.

“Of course not,” Gabriel said.

“Then what?” Tristan stepped forward. “What do you want from me?”

Gabriel thought for a moment. He knew what he wanted. He just didn’t know if it was fair for Tristan.

But, then again, Tristan wasn’t the person he was trying to keep alive.

Gabriel inhaled. “I want you far away from Scarlet so she won’t be curious enough to get herself killed.”

It was unfair, asking Tristan to leave. Asking Tristan to put himself through horrendous pain by being away from Scarlet.

But it was the safest way to keep her alive. Would Gabriel regret it?

Maybe. Probably.

Did it matter?

No.

Turning to head up the porch stairs, Gabriel didn’t look back when he said, “I want you gone.”

***************

Scarlet drove to Heather’s house as the afternoon sun began to dip behind the tree line. She was grateful Heather had asked her to come over—she needed some distance from a certain green-eyed Archer.

She bit her lip, torn by her feelings. Every time she was around Tristan, her heart went wild and her soul came alive. When she felt his sadness, it hurt her heart. When she felt his guilt, she wanted to kiss it away. And when she felt his desire….

Well, she wanted to do a lot more than kiss him.

Tristan was a beautiful, broken enigma and she wanted to piece him back together one touch at a time.

I am the worst girlfriend ever.

Scarlet dropped her head to the side, wishing she didn’t care about Tristan and his brokenness.

She pulled up to Heather’s house and parked. The Baxter family lived just a few streets down from Scarlet on Cherry Drive. Heather’s house was two stories, like Scarlet’s, but much smaller. The front yard was meager, but well cared for, with a slim flowerbed beside the front door and a mostly-green square of grass by the driveway.

Scarlet got out of her car and walked to the red front door. She raised her hand to knock, but the door swung open before her fist hit the red wood.

“Scarlet!” Heather’s little sister Emily squealed, pulling Scarlet inside. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been trying to draw a castle all day, but my drawings keep looking like birthday cakes. Since you know how to draw, will you help me? Please, please?”

A happy eight-year-old, Emily had long, curly blonde hair. Lighter than Heather’s, it tangled around her face and glowed like a halo, fitting Emily’s sweet and innocent disposition perfectly.

Scarlet smiled. “Sure. Lead the way.” She followed Emily into the Baxter’s small kitchen. The room was decorated bright yellow and red, with roosters.

Lots and lots of roosters.

Rooster magnets, rooster salt and pepper shakers, rooster cookie jars….

Scarlet couldn’t help but think cock-a-doodle-doo every time she entered the room.

Heather’s two brothers, Jason and Wade, were standing beside an open refrigerator. Jason was pouring chocolate syrup into his mouth, and Wade was drinking milk out of the carton.

Ick.

At seventeen, Heather was the oldest of the Baxter children. Then came Wade, followed by Jason, and Emily was the baby.

Emily held up a piece of paper with a lopsided castle on it. “See?” She pouted her lips. “I’m no good at drawing castles.”

“Sure you are.” Scarlet took the paper and sat down at the round kitchen table in the center of the room. Crayons, markers and crumpled drawings of castles littered the rooster tablecloth. Finding a clean piece of paper, Scarlet picked up a pink crayon.

“The trick to drawing a good castle,” she began, “is starting with the main tower.” Scarlet sketched a tall tower, surrounded by two smaller towers and a castle wall.

It was weird to think that she had, at one time, lived when castles and drawbridges and knights in shining armor were a common thing.

Scarlet watched Emily try to mimic Scarlet’s castle. “There you go.” Scarlet looked at the little girl affectionately. “Your castle looks great.”

Emily finished the sketch and stared at her drawing with a proud smile. “Wow. It doesn’t look like a cake.”

“Ew, get out of the fridge.” Heather entered the kitchen and stared at Wade, who was now drinking orange juice from the carton. “You’re such a pig. You’re like a little Neanderthal, with oversized feet and a germ-ridden piggy mouth.”

“Oink, oink,” he retorted, making a point to put his lips fully around the juice carton’s spout.

Nasty.

Heather made a disgusted face at Wade before looking at Scarlet. “You wanna come upstairs?”

Scarlet looked at Emily, who was happily drawing a butterfly and a bee around her castle.

Scarlet touched Emily’s shoulder as she got up from the table. “Thanks for letting me draw with you.”

Emily smiled at her.

Scarlet followed Heather upstairs.

The Baxter house had three bedrooms, so Emily and Heather shared a room that was divided in half.

Literally.

A long piece of painter’s tape stretched from the bottom center of the back wall, up to the ceiling, across the middle of the ceiling, and back down across the wall by the door.

On one side of the tape, Heather’s side, the walls were light green with a large window that overlooked their small backyard. Beneath the window, was a twin bed covered in green and white blankets that, when made, probably looked quite fashionable.

But Scarlet had never seen Heather’s bed made up. Because Heather was messy.

Shoes, books, bras and magazines were scattered at the foot of Heather’s bed and leaked out of her closet—which was also split down the middle with tape.

On the other side of the room, Emily’s side, the walls were bright pink with fluffy, white clouds painted on them. Emily’s twin bed was wrapped in pink and purple sheets and a plethora of stuffed animals adorned her pillow.

Her dolls and toys were well-organized beside her bed and dozens of drawings were taped to her side of the wall. Drawings of teddy bears, penguins, rainbows and her family members hung above her bed like little pieces of Emily’s heart on display.

Scarlet loved the Baxter girls’ room.

“So, how was your trip to see Nate?” Heather asked, sliding open her closet door. A mess of clothes, bags and belts sprung free from the doors as Heather immersed herself in the madness.

Scarlet sighed and answered indirectly. “Fine. Tristan and I shot arrows.”

Heather pulled her head out of the closet and stared at Scarlet. “Like, Robin Hood style?”

Scarlet nodded. “Apparently, I know how to use a bow.”

And I’m good at it.

Scarlet hadn’t missed a single shot.

“Well that’s...neat,” Heather said. “Medieval archery skills are sure to come in handy the next time we need to hunt for elk or storm a castle or something.”

Scarlet smiled. “Yep.”

Heather started riffling through her clothes, yanking out dress after dress and throwing them to the floor.

“Well, it’s official,” Heather looked at the mess of discarded dresses on her bedroom floor. “I need a new dress to match my new pink shoes for the town fair next month. Want to go shopping with me tomorrow?”

“Not even a little.”

Scarlet strode over to Heather’s bed and sat down in the tangle of green blankets. The brooch in her pocket poked into her hip through her tight jeans and Scarlet leaned back to pull it out.

“Oh, come on,” Heather pleaded. “We could get you a cute little dress, too.”

Scarlet made a face. “Who wears a dress to a carnival?” She rubbed her fingers across the smooth ring.

“Oh good!” Heather eyed the ring in Scarlet’s hand with a broad smile. “I’m so happy you didn’t lose that pretty ring thingy when you had your little mini-death. Now you can wear it in your hair for the fair.”

Scarlet frowned. “It’s not a hair clip, Heather. It’s a brooch that used to belong to my mother and I’d rather not douse it with hair spray and bobby pin it to my head.”

Heather’s eyes brightened as she turned away from her closet and came over to sit on the bed next to Scarlet. Grabbing the ring from Scarlet’s hands, she eyed it appreciatively. “This was your mother’s? It’s beautiful.”

Scarlet took the ring back, looking at the stitched design on the side. It was quite beautiful and looked handcrafted. She ran her finger over the engraved markings…and the markings moved.

Acting like a tiny latch, the cluster of markings slid over and out, revealing an opening to the inside of the ring. Cylindrical in shape, the ring was hollowed out and the design had acted as a fastener to keep it closed.

Scarlet’s heart began to pound.  A secret compartment?

As she looked inside the ring, she saw something rolled up within the silver shell.

“What is that?” Heather asked, looking over Scarlet’s shoulder.

Scarlet blinked. “I don’t know.” She tried to pry the object from the ring, but her fingers were too big.

“Here.” Heather quickly bent over and grabbed something off the floor. “Use this.” She handed Scarlet a bobby pin.

Sometimes, messy bedroom floors came in handy.

Scarlet took the bobby pin and carefully slid the object out of the ring.

It was a rolled up piece of paper—like a tiny scroll. For a moment, Scarlet just stared at it. The paper could be anything.

It could be good.

It could be evil.

It could be the undoing of all mankind—

“Open it!” Heather demanded, sinking her nails into Scarlet’s shoulder.

Scarlet slapped Heather’s fingers away as she took the scroll in her hand and slowly unrolled it.

For a moment, they both stared at the aged piece of paper, cocking their heads to the side and squinting their eyes. It was quite small, only about four square inches, yellowed with time and ripped on one side. Stained on the edges, it had faded markings in the center that looked like a picture of….

“Is that…an apple tree?” Heather leaned in closer.

Scarlet tilted her head. “I think so.”

A tree took up most of the scroll space. Drawn in brown, the trunk was thick and had lines running down the center, giving it dimension. The branches extended out across the majority of the scroll, each branch dotted with leaves and more lines. An apple hung from a branch at the top right, and water surrounded the trunk.

“Why would your mother shove an old drawing of an apple tree in her shiny ring thingy?”

Scarlet continued staring at the picture. “I have no idea.”

24

It had been nearly a month since Scarlet and Tristan’s encounter with the earl’s men in the woods, and they had spent nearly every day together.

Tristan was quickly becoming a permanent part of Scarlet’s heart. Which completely terrified her. She knew, one day soon, he would leave her. He would grow to have responsibilities. He would marry a proper woman and start a family, a life, without her. It would happen.

But until it did, he was her hunter.

“Up here, Hunter.” Scarlet called from a tree limb above him. Tristan looked up and smiled at her in puzzlement. “What are you doing in the trees?”

Scarlet lifted the corner of her mouth. “Beating you.”

“It is not a competition, Scar.”

She loved it when he called her Scar. Like her name belonged to his lips.

Lips shewanted to kiss.

“Oh, but it is,” Scarlet said. “Today I shall make a kill before you and it will be heavenly.”

He laughed. “You are mad, woman.”

“That I am.” Scarlet moved from one limb to another, Tristan walking beneath her. “Tell me about your family,” she said absently, finding a new perch for herself.

He pulled at a leaf hanging on a low branch above him. “My family?”

“Yes. You know all about mine, but I know nothing of yours. Aside from your father being the earl.”

Tristan nodded. “My father is the earl and he cares more about his estates than he does his children.”

“Children?” Scarlet looked down at him. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“I have one brother named Gabriel.”

“And what is this Gabriel like?”

Tristan smiled. “He is impulsive, but good-humored. He is smart with politics and cares about current affairs. He is a skilled archer and competes in all the games.” Tristan wagged his eyebrows up at Scarlet. “And he is in love with a witch.”

Scarlet grinned. “A real witch?”

Tristan breathed out a laugh. “He is in love with the daughter of Eli Fletcher, have you heard the name?”

“Fletcher?” Scarlet’s ears perked up in recognition. “The house of dark magic?”

“The very same.”

“Oooh,” Scarlet smiled. “I’m sure your father loves that.”

Tristan laughed again. “My father hates it. But not just because the house of dark magic is feared by many. My father hates Eli Fletcher, personally.”

“Why?”

Scarlet watched Tristan look around at the trees. “My father blames Eli for my mother’s death. Eli gave my father a potion that was supposed to cure her of an illness she contracted when she was pregnant with me. And while the potion did cure her, there were other…side effects, I guess. I’m not exactly sure.” Tristan paused. “But my mother died shortly after giving birth and my father has blamed Eli ever since.”

Scarlet’s heart went heavy. “How awful for your father.”

Tristan nodded. “He has held a grudge for many years and now,” Tristan said, looking back up at her with a small smile. “And now, my brother is courting Eli’s daughter, Raven.”

Scarlet shook her head with a smile. “Is your father furious?”

“I’m not sure.” Tristan wrinkled a brow. “My father does not believe the two will ever marry. He does not believe Eli will let Raven marry Gabriel any more than he would let Gabriel marry Raven. So it is a happy circle of hatred.” Tristan grinned.