Anew: The Archers of Avalon, Book One (25 page)

Gabriel and Nate had been across town, trying to figure out what would cause a person to immediately turn to ash upon death, when Gabriel received Scarlet’s text message.

Seeing Tristan and Scarlet come up from the basement together, Gabriel’s first thought was jealously.

But it was quickly replaced by fear when he saw Scarlet’s eyes.

Her very bright, very
neon
blue eyes.

Ash people were no longer Gabriel’s primary concern. “Scarlet, are you okay?” He looked at Tristan with hatred. “What did you do?”

Tristan shot Gabriel a dark look. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Look at her eyes!”

Scarlet started shaking her head. “Forget about my eyes. I had a flashback.”

She felt something warm trickle down her face and touched a hand to her nose.

Blood.

Her nose was bleeding.

Tristan cursed, looking away with clenched fists.

Nate sucked in a breath.

Gabriel came in close to her, taking her face in his hands. “You’re sick, Scarlet. This is serious.”

“I’m fine.” She wiggled out of his arms and backed away, wiping at her nose. “Listen to me, I had a flashback and I feel like someone is in danger.” Scarlet took a deep breath. “I hid an arrow. In one of my other lives, I remember running away with an arrow and hiding it because I knew it was dangerous. The arrow made me afraid and I was desperate to protect it.”

All three of them looked at her intently.

“The arrow is going to kill someone…or, or something. I don’t know.” Scarlet groaned in frustration. “I can’t remember why, but I know it’s dangerous. The arrow made me sad and scared, so I hid it. Do you guys know what I’m talking about?”

They all shook their heads.

“You thought the arrow was dangerous?” Nate asked, looking at her closely.

“You never told me anything about a hidden arrow,” Tristan said, his voice soft as he looked at her nose.

Was she still bleeding?

“Me neither.” Gabriel’s eyes looked concerned. “Scarlet, are you sure it was a flashback? Your eyes are bright and your nose is bleeding, which means you’re very ill. Do you think maybe you blended two memories together?”

“I might be sick, but I’m not crazy, Gabriel. I hid an arrow! I ran around some old house and looked for a safe place and I hid it!”

They just stared at her.

“Agh!” Scarlet suddenly remembered the wardrobe she’d seen in Tristan’s room. “I’ll show you.” She spun on her heel and rushed back downstairs to Tristan’s room.

They followed after her.

Scarlet entered the forbidden bedroom and rushed over to the cabinet in the corner. It looked exactly the same, but for some wear and tear.

She pulled out the bottom drawer and emptied its contents on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Tristan eyed her carefully.

“Proving I’m not insane.” Scarlet ran her hand against the bottom of the drawer until she found a notch. She looked up at the boys with an eyebrow raised as she lifted the false bottom. “See?”

Everyone in the room stared into the secret compartment with mouths open.

There, as if no time had passed, lay a slim arrow, its tip glinting in the bedroom light.

“Wha…?” Gabriel leaned down to look at the arrow.

Tristan reached a hand down and swiftly snatched the arrow into his palm. “You hid this in my wardrobe?”

Scarlet shrugged. “I guess.”

“Tristan,” Nate said, slowly. “Maybe you should let me hold on to that.”

Tristan said nothing.

“Do you have any idea why Scarlet thought it was dangerous?” Gabriel looked at Nate.

Nate looked at Tristan. “I have a guess.”

Tristan cleared his throat. “Until we know why Scarlet hid it, we should probably keep the arrow safe. I’ll lock it up in the den with the other weapons.”

Nate glared at Tristan. “How about
I
lock it up?”

Tristan glared back. “No, thanks. I’ll take care of it.”

And with that, Tristan left the room. Taking the arrow with him.

Scarlet watched Tristan leave and turned to Gabriel. “The arrow is unsafe.”

She had no idea how she knew that, but it was true. The arrow was deadly.

Gabriel nodded, looking at her in concern. “Okay. Well, you don’t have to worry about it anymore. I’m sure Tristan will put it somewhere safe.” He looked closely at her eyes—her burning eyes.

“How do you feel?” Warmth trickled from her nose again and Gabriel’s eyes widened in fear.

“I feel fantastic.” Scarlet swiped at her face, her hand coming away bloody. She so did
not
feel fantastic. She felt nervous. And shaky.

“Scarlet, your eyes are flashing out of control.” Gabriel placed his hand against her cheek and looked at her in worry.

Nate took a step toward Scarlet. “You need to get out of the cabin. Tristan’s presence is only going to—“

“I know!” Scarlet cut him off. Why was she snapping at Nate? He hadn’t done anything wrong. No one had.

So, why was she freaking out?

“I know, I know.” Scarlet moved away from Gabriel’s hand. “Tristan’s killing me, I get it. I’ll leave.”

She was angry. And frustrated. And…sad?

What was going
on
with her emotions?

Scarlet moved to leave the room. “I need to get ready for the dance anyway.”

Gabriel reached for her hand to stop her. “I don’t think we should go to the dance. I think you need to take it easy. Get some rest—“

“And what? Drink orange juice and eat chicken noodle soup? No, Gabriel! I don’t have the flu. I have a rare heart condition sealed with immortal blood and curable only with magic water. I’m not sick, I’m just
dying
.”

Gabriel spoke softly, “Which is why I don’t think you should go to the dance tonight.”

The funny thing was that Scarlet hadn’t wanted to go to the dance to begin with. But something about Gabriel telling her
not
to go made her want to show him just who was in charge of her life—and her death.

“No. I’m not going to stay tucked away in my bed like a weakling, waiting for death to come get me. I want to go to the dance.”

Wow.
Never in a million years did I think I would say those seven words.

“No.” Gabriel said sternly. “You need to rest.”

Scarlet took a step closer to him and looked up into his attractive, over-protective face. “I’m going to the dance, Gabriel. With—or without—
you
.”

She turned around and marched back up the cabin stairs, her heart still thrumming wildly within her.

She didn’t see Tristan anywhere, but she knew he was nearby. Her heart knew.

She slammed the front door behind her as she walked down the drive, got into her car, and drove home.

With every mile that passed, her raging heart quieted a beat.

But her eyes continued to burn.

“Who’s excited about winter formal?” Heather squealed, barging into Scarlet’s room with a ridiculously fluffy blue dress on. She held up a long garment bag.

“Yay,” Scarlet said, half-heartedly. She wasn’t really in the mood to dress up. Or go dancing. Or do anything, really, other than stress-out about the arrow she’d found.

And how every guy in her life was trying to tell her what to do.

“That doesn’t sound excited. That sounds depressed. This is a big deal, Scarlet! Get happy!”

Scarlet faked a smile at Heather’s good intentions. “I’m happy. I just don’t like dressing up.”

“Uh, that’s because you suck at it. But fear not! I am here to make you dazzling.” Heather shuffled over to Scarlet’s bed and started unzipping the garment bag. “Wait until you see what I picked out for you. It’s ah-mazing.”

“Please tell me you didn’t get us matching dresses,” Scarlet said, truly terrified she’d have to go to the dance dressed like an oversized blueberry.

“No. But I’ll do that next time since I can tell by your tone how very thrilled you are with the idea of looking just like me.” Heather gave a playful smile, as she pulled out a mess of gray and black material. “Ta-da!”

Scarlet looked at the elegant dress in her friend’s hands. “Heather, that looks like a prom dress.”

“It is.”

“But, this isn’t prom. This is winter formal.”

Heather’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “This is your first dance with a real, live human boy who totally digs you and is smokin’ hot! You need a killer dress.” She wiggled the hanger. “Boo-yah!”

Scarlet shook her head. “I’m going to look ridiculous in that. I’ll look like…a doll.”

“Ye-ah. A super hot fashion doll! Come on, put it on.”

Scarlet furrowed her brow.

Heather dropped her head to the side. “What else are you gonna wear, Scarlet? That pale yellow sundress in your closet that makes you look like a sad banana? I don’t think so. Get dressed.” Heather threw the dress on the bed.

Scarlet regretted her outburst at the cabin earlier. She wished she hadn’t been so adamant about attending the dance because, now, she absolutely did not want to go.

But she couldn’t change her mind now. Her creepy, blue-eyed pride was at stake.

Scarlet reluctantly picked up the elegant gown and slid into the dress. It had a black corset top—far too tight for Scarlet to breathe normally—and a long, bunched up, gray taffeta skirt.

Scarlet looked at herself in the mirror.

Aside from her inability to take a deep breath without ripping the tight corset in half, Scarlet actually looked…good.

She looked pretty. And healthy.

Which was incredibly misleading.

Heather clapped her hands and squealed again. Like a winter formal cheerleader wearing a blue pom-pom. “I love it! Okay, let’s do your hair.”

Scarlet looked at her long dark hair in the mirror. “It looks fine the way it is.”

“Uh…yeah. If you’re going mini-golfing. What your locks need tonight is some curl and sass.”

“My locks need nothing.”

Heather pouted her lips. “Please don’t suck the fun out of this dance for me. Let me play with your hair…please?”

Despite her sour mood, Scarlet smiled. “Fine.”

This is what normal, non-dying, teenage girls do. They get ready for dances and pretend the biggest problem in their life is finding nail polish that doesn’t chip.

Scarlet followed Heather into the bathroom and endured thirty minutes of tugging and curling before Heather was finished. The end result was a giant heap of big brown curls.

And not in an attractive way.

Scarlet looked at her poofy hair in the mirror. “I look like a lion. Like a savage, brunette lion.”

Heather examined her unruly hair with a cluck of her tongue. “You’re right. You need a clip or a few pins or something. Follow me.”

Scarlet followed Heather back into her room where she immediately headed to her bedroom mirror. “Agh. I look ridiculous.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.” Heather rifled through the jewelry box on Scarlet’s dresser. “Aha!” She held up something round and shiny.

It was the ring Nate had given Scarlet.

“This is beautiful! We’ll just pin some of your crazy curls back with this, and then you’ll look magnificent.”

“No,” Scarlet said, panicked for no real reason.

“No?” Heather raised her eyebrows. “Scarlet, look at yourself. You’re a hot mess. We need to tame your hair.”

“Right. But not with that.” She pointed to the ring. “It’s not a hair clip.”

Heather looked at it. “Maybe not, but it’s a really pretty ring...or broach…or whatever, and I can just secure it with a thousand bobby pins or something.”

Scarlet scrunched her face. “I don’t think it’s jewelry.”

Heather narrowed her eyes. “Then what is it?”

She shrugged. She had no idea, but she was sure it wasn’t a fashion accessory.

Heather sighed. “Well, whatever it is, it’s beautiful. And so are you. So, I’m going to put you two together. I’ll be right back.”

Heather ran to the bathroom and returned with an arsenal of bobby pins. She twisted a few pieces of hair from Scarlet’s face and pinned them back behind her head with the trinket—Scarlet complaining about the ring the entire time.

For all Scarlet knew, the mysterious object was a magical ring of death that summoned demons from Middle Earth or something. She would probably trigger some ancient spell by wearing it and accidentally start a war in another dimension.

The last thing Scarlet needed in her life was
more
voodoo drama.

She started to pry the shiny ring out of her hair when Heather smacked her hand.

Hard.

“Heather!” Scarlet furrowed her brow.

“You will
not
undo all my hard work, Scarlet Marie! Now,” Heather batted her lashes, “help me look in your jewelry box for some earrings to match my dress.”

Heather walked over to Scarlet’s jewelry collection and sifted through her many earrings as Scarlet turned back around and looked at herself in the mirror.

Her eyes were very blue. More blue than they’d been yesterday. Or the day before.

She was getting worse, but at least her eyes had stopped glowing. She didn’t need Heather’s keen intuition bombarding Scarlet with questions about her choice in eye drops.

Her heart kicked, reminding her that something was wrong.

Something aside from her dying heart and neon eyes.

Something was wrong with the arrow she’d found.

Something was wrong with….

Tristan.

Scarlet blinked at her reflection.

It made no sense, but she knew, inexplicably, without a doubt, something was wrong with Tristan.

She just didn’t know what.

Scarlet tried to put her colliding thoughts together.

Why would something be wrong with Tristan?

And then she remembered Nate’s words about the fountain of youth.

Short of Tristan dying, it’s the only way to kill the blood inside you.

If Tristan’s blood died, she would…live.

And, just like that, she knew why the arrow was dangerous.

It could kill immortals.

Immortals like Tristan.

The arrow can kill Tristan, and he was eager to take it from me today.

Scarlet sucked in a sharp breath, looking away from the mirror.

Tristan was going to kill himself with the arrow she’d found.

An arrow she’d practically handed over to him today.

Somehow she
knew
that’s what he was going to do.

Her heart started to pound.

Why would he do such a thing?

The answer didn’t matter. What mattered was making sure Tristan didn’t do anything stupid. No one was going to lay down their life for her.

Especially not Tristan.

“Okay, blue dangly earrings, or blue fuzzy ones?” Heather turned from the jewelry box and held up two earrings to her ears before rolling her eyes. “Wait, why am I asking
you
? You’d probably suggest I wear snowman earrings or something—“

“Tristan,” Scarlet said absently, feeling her eyes begin to burn. Without looking at Heather, she hurried out of the room.

“What are you—Scarlet, I am
not
going to wear Tristan on my ears! That’s just weird. And probably impossible.” Her voice faded as Scarlet descended the stairs. “Although, I would definitely wear him in other ways…. Scarlet! Where are you going?”

Scarlet didn’t answer. She headed for the front door, grabbing her keys and dress shoes before leaving.

She didn’t have time for earrings.

Tristan was going to die.