Awry (2 page)

He smiled down at her and two dimples framed his mouth. He was handsome. And younger than she’d first thought, a teenager like herself. He looked carefree and strong and she thought of how he probably had a family somewhere that he was trying to provide for.

Guilt stung her soul.

But survival quickly soothed it.

Scarlet blinked away the handsome hunter and started cutting into the fallen creature.

He watched her for a moment. “Are you not scared that I might overtake you without a weapon? You are quite small. I could probably shove you away from my kill with one hand and run off with the deer without sharing.”

Scarlet did not look up. She felt no threat from the hunter. In fact, she felt as though he was amused with her. “That would be risky, hunter, since I’m the one with a butcher’s knife in my hand and all the skills necessary to dismember you.”

He laughed softly. “You are brave, I’ll give you that. And you speak without fear, which is refreshing only because you are a girl covered in the blood of a deer.” A moment passed. “Tell me. What is it you steal for?”

“Pardon me?” Scarlet looked up from her bloody task.

He smiled. “Most thieves are broken men, desperate to pay back debts or poisoned with greed. You, however, are a young girl who hardly looks broken.”

Scarlet went back to the deer. “Some thieves steal with a purpose outside of themselves.”

“Interesting.” He squatted down in front of her, only the deer separating them. His bright eyes bored into hers shamelessly, and warmth spread through Scarlet’s body. She quickly looked away.

“And what is your purpose?” he asked with a kind voice.

Scarlet paused and looked at him warily. Why was he speaking to her? Why did he care?

“Family,” she said simply.

The hunter spoke quietly. “Ah, the most noble of reasons.”

Guilt returned to her heart. What if he had a baby to feed? Or a sick wife? An elderly father? “Is this deer for your family?” Shelooked up at him.

He was silent for a long time as his eyes canvassed her appearance.

“No,” he finally said.

Standing up, he started walking away. “The deer is yours. I do hope you have the means to carry the creature by yourself.” He stopped and turned around. “And please be careful out here on your own.”

Scarlet raised a mocking eyebrow. “For fear of thieves?”

His eyes darkened. “There are worse things in the forest than thieves.” He turned back around and marched away, leaving his kill, and his warning, at Scarlet’s feet.

3

Gabriel’s legs were numb as they carried him through the Avalon forest. His eyes locked on the sight of Scarlet’s lifeless body draped over Nate’s arms as they ran to the cabin.

This can’t be happening.

Only moments ago, Scarlet had been running through the woods. Healthy. Alive. Chasing after Tristan, trying to save his life.

And now….

Fear clogged Gabriel’s throat as he followed Nate through the cabin’s front door and into the kitchen. Nate gently placed Scarlet on her stomach across the large dining room table, turned her face to the side, and positioned her body so the arrow in her back was fully exposed.

The black corset top she wore was stained crimson and her full, gray skirt hung off the table onto the floor, blood running down the fabric.

She’s not dead. She can’t be dead.

Nate hurried about the kitchen, grabbing rags and a large white medical box from a cabinet Gabriel had never noticed before. Opening the white box, Nate pulled out several surgical tools, lining them up on the table beside Scarlet.

Gabriel, Nate and Tristan were immortal and throughout the centuries, they had all learned emergency medical care. Some more than others.

Nate was the most skilled physician of them all, having worked in hospitals and warzones for many years. Gabriel trusted him without question.

“What happened?” Nate began cleaning the area around Scarlet’s wound, smearing blood away from the deep gash.

“I don’t,” Gabriel swallowed. “I don’t know. Tristan was trying to kill himself and…” Dear God, Tristan had been trying to kill himself? Was nothing right in the world anymore? “And I don’t know…Scarlet just…she just ran after him.” Tears stung his eyes. “And I…I followed her but…but I was too late.” His voice cracked. His heart cracked.

Scarlet still wasn’t moving.

“Too late for what? What happened?” Nate demanded, his eyes steady on Scarlet’s flesh as he made an incision around the wedged arrowhead.

“I think the arrow was set to shoot Tristan. Scarlet must have gotten in the way. I don’t know.” Gabriel felt sick. His hands and heart were shaking, his body was revolting against itself. He stepped closer to Scarlet, reaching his palm out to try and stop some of the bleeding.

Nate knocked his hand out of the way. “Don’t touch her. I need space, so back up.”

Nate sounded upset. He sounded scared.

Gabriel’s heart rattled in his chest.

He pulled his hand away, but refused to back up. “Is she going to be okay?” He coughed as a tear fell down his face. “Is she—”

“Dead?” Nate blinked, his voice wavering. “No. Not yet. She’s just…” He shook his head. “She’s hurt. And I need to fix her.” Nate gently began to pull the arrow tip from Scarlet’s body, withdrawing it through the careful incision he’d made.

Blood oozed from the torn flesh, a fresh stream of red falling across Scarlet’s back. Gabriel closed his eyes as dread swallowed him whole.

She was dying. His beautiful, wonderful Scarlet was dying.

Gabriel could not lose her.

Ignoring Nate’s protests, he went around the table to where Scarlet’s soft face lay still. He took her hand in his and held it like the delicate thing it was. Her other hand was fisted shut, clasped around something round and silver.

Bending near the table, Gabriel placed his other hand on Scarlet’s cheek and stroked away the dark tendrils of hair that had fallen against her eyelids. He brought his face close to hers, his eyes filling with moisture and distorting her face.

“Scarlet, don’t give up, okay?” He swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re not just my girlfriend. You are my best friend. You are amazing and this world is colorless without you. You can’t leave. Please don’t leave me.” A tear fell from Gabriel’s face and landed on Scarlet’s cheek, leaving a shiny streak on her skin.

He kissed her gently and gave her hand a tight squeeze.

Nate silently stitched away at Scarlet’s ripped skin. The only sounds in the kitchen were Gabriel’s ragged breaths and Nate’s shuffling feet.

And from somewhere far away came the sound of the cabin door opening. Then closing.

More ragged breathing, more shuffling, and a new sound—the sound of pacing—filled the kitchen.

Tristan was in the room.

A heavy tension filled the air as Scarlet fought for her life and Gabriel fought the urge to hurt Tristan.

Dark feelings swarmed Gabriel’s soul. Anger…rage…hatred….

Tristan was the reason Scarlet’s life hung in the balance.

Tristan had been careless—trying to kill himself like a martyr. And because of his selfishness, Scarlet had been shot.

After what seemed like years, Nate finished stitching Scarlet and bandaged his work. He took a step back. The three boys said nothing for a long minute, each of them staring at the unconscious girl on the table.

Gabriel gave Scarlet’s hand another squeeze, hoping for a response.

Nothing.

He cleared his throat and looked at Nate hopefully. “Will she be okay?”

Nate blinked. “Maybe.” He eyed Scarlet’s face. “I did everything I could. But the arrow went in pretty deep—”

“But she’ll be fine, right? She’ll heal. She’ll be okay. Right?” Gabriel’s voice rose, his pitch falling in and out of normal. “Right?”

Nate glanced at Gabriel, then at Scarlet. “I don’t know. Just…just give her a minute.”

Silence.

No ragged breathing.

No shuffling.

No pacing.

Just silence.

Then, from the far corner of the kitchen, came a guttural sound. The kind of noise that signified defeat and unbearable pain.

Gabriel and Nate turned their attention to Tristan in the corner. Dressed in all black, with Scarlet’s blood all over his hands, Tristan’s face contorted in pain.

“She’s gone.” Tristan choked on the words as he leaned against the wall and sank to the floor. “I just lost her…I can’t feel her anymore.” His eyes looked hollow.

Gabriel’s soul fell to the ground, followed by his heart, and his every breath. If Tristan no longer felt Scarlet, that meant….

Numb all over, Gabriel looked at the lifeless hand of the girl he loved, wrapped in his palm for safe-keeping.

Scarlet was dead.

4

A spooked flock of birds darted into the sky causing Tristan to pause on his horse. He didn’t normally travel to the earl’s eastern woods, but when he did, he kept a careful guard up.

The earl’s region was vast and consisted of two great forests.

The western forest was lush and beautiful, known for its sparkling rivers and constant village traffic.

But the eastern forest was dark, thick, and known for thieves and bloodshed. Tristan didn’t enjoy traveling to the eastern lands, but it was the only place he could hunt without interference from his father—the earl.

Tristandid not need the food, but the villagers did. And, contrary to his father’s beliefs, Tristan felt everyone deserved to eat. Even the poor.

Large game was hard to come by in either forest and since the earl had declared both woodlands noble land, the villagers were no longer able to hunt for themselves. They were forced to purchase meat from the earl directly, which made the earl more wealthy and the villagers more poor.

Here in the dark woods, Tristan could hunt and deliver his kill to the villagers without being discovered. If his father found out he was feeding villagers with game from his own land, well.It would not be pleasant.

The earl was not known for his generosity.

The flapping birds above him had Tristan on alert.

He gently pulled on the reigns of his steed and searched the area around him when he heard a gasp. Small and faint, it had come from the trees to his right. He scanned the trees and watched three figures emerge in the distance, closing in on something.

Tristan maneuvered his horse into the shadows so as to spy on whatever was playing out before him. Something about the gasp he’d heard kept his eyes trained on the three men.

“Here, here lovely. Come out, come out….” The voice of one of the men rang through the trees. Tristan watched as they crept toward the area on his right.

“There is nowhere to run, lovely. Come out and we shall be nice,” a second man said.

Lovely? Tristan’s brow furrowed in confusion. What could possibly be lovely in the eastern woods? What were these men hunting?

Tristan looked about the area, searching for their prey, and his eyes found a swath of clothing peeking out from behind a large tree trunk.

Someone was hiding. Someone wearing a long cloak. Someone “lovely”….

Tristan’s heart began to pound.

The girl thief. The one who had tried to steal his deer over six months ago. It had to be her. What other lovely creature had ever roamed these woods?

He watched in horror as the three men inched closer to her hiding spot, now only yards away.

Were the men planning to steal from her?

Possibly.

But their body language, and the venom that dripped from the mouth of the speakers, told Tristan otherwise. These were not just hungry thieves in the forest. These were true villains.

Tristan silently dismounted his horse, withdrew an arrow from his pack, and lined it up against his bow.

As he contemplated which villain to take out first, he heard a rustling from the girl’s hiding spot and watched as she came out from behind the tree with an arrow drawn. She pointed directly at the man closest to her.

“I doubt you have any intention of being nice,” she said with a steady voice, “so why don’t we skip the lies and go straight to the part where I pierce your heart with my arrow?”

The men stopped moving, but seemed unafraid.

“Lovely,” the closest man said, his jagged yellow teeth showing through an evil smile, “you cannot kill us all. You have one arrow drawn and retrieving a second would take more time than we would need to capture you.”

“Then I suggest you decide which one of you wants to die first.” She lifted her bow, drawing her arrow back farther. “I might not have time to draw another arrow, but the knife in my belt is easy to retrieve and your throat looks like it needs a good slashing.”

Tristan was stunned. The girl knew she was outnumbered and had little chance of winning, but she still planned to fight. Which was brave.

And stupid.

The jagged-toothed man took a step forward, holding up a deadly knife of his own. “I’m afraid I must call your bluff, lovely.”

“So be it.” The girl thief let her arrow fly and chaos erupted.

Her arrow flew straight, but her target jumped away. The arrow missed his heart and sliced his upper shoulder instead.

The girl gave no pause as she pulled the knife from her belt and met her second attacker head-on, slicing into his gut with the sharp blade.

Readjusting his bow, Tristan tried to get a clean shot, but the girl thief was too swift with her movements. She fought fearlessly, stabbing her opponents without hesitation and evading their attacks with swift, careful movements.

She was a skilled fighter, no doubt. But she was also in the way.

Tristan watched the fight with his arrow ready, but the girl kept jumping into his line of sight.

She fought, she jabbed, she darted out of reach, but one of her attackers twisted her elbow back and quickly disarmed her.

It was now or never.

Tristan moved from behind the cluster of trees, his bow drawn on the thug who held her arm at an unnatural angle behind her back. “Let her go.”

The girl glanced at him, eyes filling with recognition, then returned her attention to the thug who had entrapped her. Taking advantage of the distraction Tristan had provided, she elbowed her thug in the gut with her free arm and wriggled out of his grasp. Wasting no time, she drew her own arrow and pointed at the second thug.