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Authors: Chelsea Fine

Tags: #Speculative Fiction

Avow (9 page)

BOOK: Avow
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“Hmm…” The doctor shuffled about, checking Tristan’s pulse and his forehead, looking in his eyes and listening to his chest. “Very odd. Very odd.” He shook his head and then—foolish man that he was—the doctor pinched Tristan’s bicep. For what reason, Gabriel was not sure.

Tristan lashed out from the pillow and pinned the doctor against the wall, wrapping a hand around his throat and squeezing until the man’s face turned purple.

Slow and low, Tristan bit out, “Do. Not. Pinch. Me,” before releasing the stunned physician and returning to his miserable groaning into the bed.

Coughing and gasping, the doctor hurried away from the bed and looked at Gabriel and Nathaniel with wide eyes. “My, my. He is not well at all. He seems healthy—at least healthy enough to kill a man. Lots of muscle. Healthy skin color. But this apparent pain he suffers from—and his violent temperament—is perplexing.”

Nathaniel looked at the doctor. “Do you have any solutions?”

The doctor sighed. “None other than lavender water and prayer.”

Doctors were useless.

“Then I believe we are through with your services.” Gabriel tried to sound polite.

“I must say,” said the doctor as he gathered his things, “this has been a most perplexing month. I treated a monkey with a liver infection, if you can believe that. Monkeys make the most atrocious sounds. And I had to perform surgery on an old bloke named Henry who thought he could cut out his chronic toothache with a knife—that one was rather gory. The human mouth is madness.”

Gabriel wanted to strangle the man for all his nonsensical chatter.

The doctor continued, “And then there was the young girl without her memories. Poor thing was lost, scared, and completely mad. I put her in a carriage and swiftly sent her far away. Named Scarlet, though I thought she looked more like a Mary. I nearly missed the ball because of her and I hate missing a good ball feast. And now I have this young man with an invisible pain, punching the bed sheets and choking me—”

“What did you say?” Tristan whipped around, obviously forgetting about his great pain as his wild green eyes stared at the doctor.

The doctor scoffed. “I was merely stating that I am mystified by your impossible pain and a bit offended at your attempt to kill me—”

“No.” Tristan sat up in the bed. “What did you say about the girl named Scarlet?”

The doctor paused in the doorway. “Oh. She was found wandering the woods a couple of years ago, quite close to here. Sad, really. She does not know anything but her name. I gave her some lavender water, but I hardly see how that will help her remember or help her temper. She was a mean little thing—”

“What was her full name?”

The doctor rubbed at his beard in thought. “I believe it was Jacobs. Yes. Scarlet Jacobs.”

Gabriel was lost for words.

Could it be?

“She was a pretty thing,” the doctor said. “But feisty and not ladylike in any way. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she were raised in the wild.”

“Neither would I,” Tristan said slowly.

Gabriel saw the raw hope in Tristan’s eyes and felt a similar emotion stir in his own chest.

Was Scarlet truly alive?

CHAPTER 8

 

Tristan’s heart was pounding. Joyous, terrified, excited, nervous—there was no emotion within the spectrum of human existence he wasn’t currently experiencing.

He knew it. His heart, his soul, his pain-stricken body
knew
Scarlet was alive. And she was close.

Gabriel, Nathaniel, and Tristan rode in Gabriel’s carriage to a small inn far outside of town where the doctor had said Scarlet would be.

Tristan rolled his shoulders, willing the ache from his bones as they rode along. When they’d first left, Tristan’s body had been so filled with pain that he’d groaned at every jostle and bump in the road. But the longer they rode toward Scarlet, the less he hurt. It was as if the mere idea of Scarlet being alive was curing him.

He
ran both hands through his hair, his nerves jumping like feet on hot coals.

When the carriage finally pulled up to a large inn, they jumped out and headed for the front door of the old building. Upon entering, the three of them stopped in their tracks.

There were people. Everywhere.

“Brilliant,” Tristan muttered.

“The inn-yard must be hosting a play today.” Nathaniel strained his neck, trying to see above the crowd to the courtyard beyond. People lined the halls and outside balconies drinking, singing, and laughing. It was chaos.

“How will we find her in this mess?”

“We’ll split up.” Nathaniel looked at Gabriel. “You take the right wing. Tristan, you take the left. Since I do not know what she looks like, I‘ll ask the people upstairs about the girl without her memories.”

Gabriel nodded and headed down his designated wing, while Nathaniel clutched Tristan’s shoulder and gave him a brief smile, as if he understood Tristan’s desire to run around the inn and knock people over until he found Scarlet. “Deep breath, my friend. If she is here, we shall find her.”

Before Tristan could respond, Nathaniel headed upstairs.

Tristan strode through the left wing of the inn. People, people, people.

No Scarlet.

At the back of a large gathering room, he found the innkeeper counting a handful of coins he’d collected from play-goers, dropping them into a pouch one by one.

“Pardon me.” Tristan hoped his smile looked warm rather than impatient. “I’m looking for a young girl named Scarlet Jacobs. I believe she was sent to work here a few weeks ago.”

The innkeeper looked up. “The mad girl?”

Tristan almost hit the man. “The very same.”

“What do you want with her?”

Life. Love. A reason to breathe again.

Tristan said, “I have something of hers.”

This was true
.

The innkeeper waved toward the right wing. “The back of the washrooms.”

Tristan gave a nod and turned away, fighting through crowds of people lining the right wing. He picked up his pace.

Gabriel was going to find her first, dammit. And he would probably say something wildly inappropriate or have the poor girl drunk by the time Tristan’s feet carried him to the washrooms.

Bloody Gabriel.

As he hurried along, a strange sensation came over him. Strange and warm and…wonderful.

Love.

A happy love—a safe love—blossomed in Tristan’s chest, spreading like serene fog through his body. Love for…Gabriel?

Tristan stopped walking. Maybe this was part of his illness. Maybe he’d contracted a sickness that began with excruciating pain and then morphed into a ridiculous love of one’s sibling.

No. That
did not
sound right.

And come to think of it, he was no longer in horrific pain. Very odd. In fact, the atrocious pain he’d suffered just that morning was almost completely gone from his veins.

Shaking his head, Tristan moved forward, nearly running as he made his way to the other side of the building, rounding corners and knocking into people shamelessly.

Soon, he found the washrooms and skidded across wet floors until he managed to connect his feet to the solid ground. He paused and headed for a small room off to the side. Why, he wasn’t sure, but something was pulling him that way.

He turned into the room and his heart stopped. And then it sang.

Scarlet.

He sucked in a long, deep, God-given breath of redemption and miracles and all things heavenly. Never was there a better sight than this.

She was more beautiful than he remembered, her face flushed and her dark hair loose and wild around her face, but her eyes were the same. Blue and severe, showing the strength and stubbornness she housed inside.

As he suspected, Gabriel had found her first as was speaking to her in hushed, comforting tones. The room was empty, save for the three of them, but Scarlet had not yet seen Tristan.

Her voice matched the smile on her face as she looked into Gabriel’s eyes and excitedly said, “I remember, now. I remember, I remember. When you said what year I was born it was as if all my memories woke up.” She put a hand over her mouth, bouncing on her toes a bit.

An odd soiree of emotions suddenly began to swim through Tristan.

Confusion, hope, love, fear, safety, confusion…

He paused. Why was he feeling these things?

It did not make sense.

Ignoring the odd twinge in his chest, Tristan opened his mouth to call out to her when Scarlet threw her arms around Gabriel and started kissing his cheeks and his forehead giddily.

Tristan’s insides went empty as sharp jealousy cut through him
and
drained him dry. She was
kissing
him.

Possessiveness was coursing through his veins, but suddenly he felt safe and happy.

What the bloody hell? This was all too strange. He could not understand what was happening to him or why he was feeling such things. It was almost as if…as if….

Realization dawned on him.

Scarlet.

Somehow he knew he was feeling Scarlet. He was sensing her gratitude for Gabriel; how Gabriel made her feel happy and safe. How he made her feel loved. And how she loved him back...

There was no more air and no more light; there was only hollow blackness clouding Tristan’s vision and pressing down on his chest as the jealousy swirled into sadness.

She loved him back…

Scarlet’s eyes turned from Gabriel, caught site of Tristan and, suddenly, his black world burst into color. The love in Scarlet’s chest exploded into a sensation more powerful than words, expanding inside Tristan in indescribable colors.

Her love for him was safe and dangerous. Passionate and soft. Wild and fierce.

It was its own being, held captive for ages and now released into new life. And it made Tristan want to shout.

Which was exactly what Scarlet did.

“Tristan!” Rushing over to him, her face flushed with awe and eyes brimming with tears, Scarlet crashed her body into his and wrapped her arms around him.

An unbelievable pleasure flooded his veins at her touch, but his mind did not care to ponder the bliss. Scarlet was in his arms. Nothing else mattered.

 

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

 

Scarlet clung to Tristan, shamelessly pressing her body against his as they kissed and embraced.

How was she alive? How was Tristan alive?

Ah! She did not care. Whatever had happened—whatever was happening now—did not matter. She had her Hunter. She had everything.

Her heart swelled so large it felt as though it might burst. Actually, it felt like it was bursting already. Harder and harder it beat against her ribcage.

He tucked her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head as she pressed herself against his body.

She inhaled deeply and the scent of leather and water met her nose, reminding her of Hunter and the time she shared with him in the forest and how he had loved her and how she thought she’d lost him. She was so happy she could cry.

She’d been floating through this strange world for two years, so lost, so hopeless. And now she felt at home, safe and loved and happy. She buried her face even more into his chest, wanting to hide there until her world forever made sense.

The fierce pounding inside her grew almost painful and she put a hand to her chest to keep her heart from leaping out.

Tristan shifted away from her with a concerned expression and, almost instantly, the pounding softened.

“I see you’ve found her,” said a voice behind Scarlet. “Fantastic.”

Turning, she saw a stranger with messy brown hair approach them with a smile.

Suddenly aware she and Tristan were not alone in the room—somehow, she had forgotten about Gabriel, oops—Scarlet dropped her hand from her chest and took a reluctant, yet socially appropriate, step away from Tristan.

She looked at the stranger. “Who are you?”

His brows lifted. “Oh. Oh, right. You
do not
know me.”

“This is our friend, Nathaniel,” Tristan said.

“And I’m a wizard,” Nathaniel smiled.

“Barely,” Gabriel corrected. “He is barely a wizard.”

“Hey now.” Nathaniel said in mock offense. “I’m getting better.”

“No. If anything, you are getting worse,” Gabriel said.

Scarlet was confused. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

“Well, you were dead. And now you are alive.” Nathaniel smiled.

“Right
,
” Scarlet said. “And how is that possible?”

“Immortal blood.” He nodded. “It’s a long story.”

Scarlet crossed her arms. “Then start at the beginning.”

 

BOOK: Avow
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