Avow (15 page)

He was not drunk.

“Scarlet is going to come back to life again.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I refuse to cause her death. Again.” Tristan ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “But I cannot be trusted.”

Gabriel squinted as Tristan’s tall frame went out of focus for the briefest of moments.

“Which is why I need you.” Tristan pressed hard against Gabriel’s chest until he had no choice but to give him his undivided—albeit blurry—attention.

Plucking his brother’s hand away, Gabriel said, “Right. Let’s hear it, then. What is it you need?”

Tristan looked at him for a long moment, his green eyes more ablaze than usual and the hairs on Gabriel’s neck began to prick. He scratched at them in a desperate attempt to soothe his nerves. Something was off.

Tristan inhaled slowly. “I need you to keep me from Scarlet.”

Gabriel blinked. “I don’t follow.”

“Do you still love her?”

Well, now that was a loaded question.

Narrowing his eyes, Gabriel leaned back. “Is this a trap?” He tugged at his collar. “Are you planning to punch me?”

“Just answer the question.”

Gabriel twitched his lips. Confessing that you still love your brother’s girl was a dangerous move. And it almost always merited a punch in the face.

Ah, what the hell. How bad could a fist really hurt a numb face?

“Yes,” Gabriel admitted. “Yes, I love her still.”

“And she loves you,” Tristan said more to himself than to Gabriel.

Gabriel blew through his lips. “Well, that’s debatable. I mean, there was a time, maybe—“

“She loves you, Gabriel.” Tristan eyes cut into him. “I felt it when she was alive. I felt her love for you.”

Ah, yes. Tristan could feel Scarlet. A lovely side-effect of their semi-immortal connection—wait,
what
?

Scarlet loved Gabriel?

Gabriel’s ears and cheeks heated. He tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. “She does not love me as she loves you.”

“Not yet.”

“Not ever.” Regardless of what Tristan had felt in her, Scarlet loved Tristan and he loved her and blah, blah, blah.

“It doesn’t matter what Scarlet feels for me,” Tristan said. “I need you to take her away from me.”

At this, Gabriel tried to sober up. “Hold on there, brother,” He stood, pleased with himself for not wobbling. “I will not take Scarlet away from you. And she wouldn’t let me even if I tried.”

“If you don’t remove her from my reach, I will grasp onto her in every fragile life she has, bringing her immediate death.”

Gabriel scoffed. “No, you won’t.”

“But I will,” Tristan said. Warning clouded his voice and a sharp shine in his eyes had Gabriel questioning just who, exactly, was standing before him. It certainly was not the same Tristan he’d grown up with, carefree and happy. And it was not the Tristan who was so typically rational and generous.

No. This Tristan was desperate and wild, with a darkness Gabriel had never seen before.

He rubbed the side of his face. “Are you telling me you have such little control over yourself that you can’t keep your hands off of Scarlet—even to save her life?”

Doubt flashed in Tristan’s eyes as he rubbed a hand across his mouth. “It’s not just my hands that are dangerous. It’s my presence as well. I don’t trust myself.”

“It will never work, brother. Without a cure, Scarlet will die anyway. Me ‘taking her away’ from you won’t heal her heart.”

“No. But it will allow her to live longer. In her next life, I will leave so she cannot find me. I will go somewhere far away where I cannot hurt her and leave Scarlet in your care. All I need you to do is keep her from loving me.”

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?”