Awry (33 page)

“That was my battle cry.”

“Really?” Gabriel winced as he took a step forward. “It sounded more like the cry of a wounded animal. A cat, maybe. Or a small monkey.”

“Shut up.” Nate looked at Gabriel’s bleeding torso. “Are you okay?”

Gabriel looked down at where blood poured from his side. “I should be soon.” He touched the wound gingerly and grimaced at the pain lashing back at him.

Nate tried to throw on some lights, but gave up. He went to a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out two flashlights.

So that’s where they kept the flashlights.

Nate also retrieved two lanterns from the pantry floor and turned them on in the kitchen.

He walked over to the nonexistent window with the giant sword still in his hand and looked outside. “I think he’s gone. Was that an Ashman?”

Gabriel nodded as he carefully stepped toward the kitchen. With every step, his wound exploded in pain.

Nate sniffed. “Tristan was right. They smell weird.”

Gabriel grunted as he entered the well-lit kitchen. “Can you go check on Heather? I don’t want to track blood up the stairs.”

Nate’s eyes got big. “Oh, yeah. I forgot there was a girl in the house.” He ran upstairs and quickly returned with a flustered and confused Heather.

“O-M-G! Gabriel, are you okay?” With her sleeping mask pushed up on her forehead, Heather scurried over to Gabriel. “An Ashman broke in and stabbed you?” She caught sight of his wound. “O-M-G. You need a doctor and a hospital and some disinfectant—”

“Heather, I’m fine. I’m immortal. I’ll heal.” Gabriel clenched his teeth as he tried to lower himself to a kitchen chair.

Nope. That wasn’t happening.

Instead, he sat on the edge of the kitchen table and slowly leaned back.

Nate looked at the floor and sighed. “Dude, you’re tracking blood everywhere.”

Heather’s mouth dropped open as she eyed the bloody floor. Scooting her fuzzy, pink slippers away from the red pools at her feet, she started hyperventilating. “O-M-G, O-M-G, O-M-G.”

Gabriel looked down at his gash, blood still oozing out of him. “Why am I not healing?”

Nate eyed the wound. “Your skin should have already started to close up.”

“Maybe it’s deeper than it looks?” Gabriel said.

Heather was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “O-M-G, O-M-G, O-M-G.”

“Heather,” Gabriel said with a pinched smile. “Please shut up.”

She nodded and stopped chanting, but her eyes remained wide and glassy.

Gabriel looked at Nate’s sword, now resting against the far wall of the kitchen. “I can’t believe you stabbed that guy through the chest and he justgot up and ran out of here like nothing happened.”

“I know.” Nate nodded. “You know what else is weird?” He picked up the sword and pointed to the clean blade. “No blood.”

Gabriel stared at the shiny blade. “What does that mean?”

“It means our intruder has no blood. Which rules out human. Or vampire. Or werewolf.” Nate looked at the sword. “Which is a shame because I totally know how to take down vampires and werewolves. These Ash creatures, though…they’re a whole new monster.”

“Ashmen,” Heather whispered the correction. “O-M-G, O-M-G—”

“Heather.” Gabriel glared at her and she shut her mouth. Looking back at the sword, he narrowed his eyes and leaned forward to get a closer look, but a throbbing pain assaulted his rib and he sucked in a breath. More blood gushed from his wound.

Heather squeaked.

Nate shook his head. “You’re not healing at all, dude.”

Gabriel grunted. “That’s impossible.”

Nate inhaled. “Is it?”

Heather kept her eyes on the bloodstained floor, and began practicing—what Gabriel could only assume were—yoga breathing methods. She raised her arms in the air and inhaled deeply, then exhaled with her eyes closed and brought her hands to her chest before repeating the motion.

Girls were so weird.

When ten minutes passed and Gabriel’s wound still hadn’t closed, Nate said, “You gotta stitch it up, man. You’re bleeding too much and it’sreally messy.” He looked at the bloody table with a frown.

Sucking air in through his teeth, Gabriel agreed. “Hand me the med kit.”

Nate retrieved the med kit he’d used on Scarlet just weeks before and brought it to Gabriel.

Nate said, “You want me to do it or—”

“No.” Taking several deep breaths to calm his shaky fingers, Gabriel carefully cleaned his wound and began to stitch it closed. Nate was definitely a more practiced doctor than Gabriel, but when it came to sutures, Gabriel and Tristan were just as skilled as their friend. And Gabriel didn’t feel like letting anyone else near the searing pain in his side.

“Are you stitching yourself up?” Heather’s sounded awed.

Gabriel winced. “Yep.”

“That’s scary,” Heather said. “And…kinda hot.”

When he had sewn his flesh back together and covered the wound with a bandage, Gabriel looked at Heather.

She looked terrified. Truly and utterly freaked out.

Her big lips quivered. “Did that Ashman just walk right in and start attacking you?”

Gabriel made a face. “Sorta.”

Nate looked at the hole in the living room wall, then at the tarp on the floor. “Apparently, windows are good at keeping out more than just woodland creatures.”

Gabriel shut his eyes as throbbing pain washed over him again. “The new window is supposed to be here tomorrow.”

“Perfect timing,” Nate muttered. He looked at Gabriel. “So the Ashman has a weapon that can injure an immortal, huh?” He exhaled. “That’s a bummer.”

This realization had settled upon Gabriel sometime between the knife cutting into his side and the two pints of blood that had fallen from his body onto the wood floor. “Yeah.” Gabriel nodded. “And the blade was blue.”

“What?” Nate froze. “Do you think…? Do you think that’s what Bluestone weapons are? Weapons that can injure immortals?”

Dread sucked at Gabriel’s lungs. “That would explain why I’m not healing.Go get the arrow Tristan tried to kill himself with. Let’s check out the tip.”

Nate disappeared down the hallway with a flashlight and quickly returned with the arrow in his hand. He and Gabriel examined the arrowhead in silence.

The tip of the arrow was blue.

Gabriel cursed. “How did we not know about immortal-killing weapons? Where are they coming from?”

Nate shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“That’s so scary,” Heather said. “Does that mean you’re not…you guys aren’t immortal?”

“I don’t know.” Gabriel looked at Nate. “What do you think the Ashman wanted?”

“The map,” Nate said matter-of-factly.

“How can you be so sure?”

Nate shrugged. “It’s the only memory Heather had trouble with. It makes sense. Laura—or whoever—probably snagged the memory and sent the Ashman after the map.”

Heather gasped. “Is this my fault? Am I the reason Gabriel got stabbed?” Her lower lip quivered again. “O-M-G, O-M-G, O—”

Gabriel shook his head. “Of course not.”

“It is.” Heather nodded with sad eyes. “If you guys hadn’t let me join Team Awesome, then I wouldn’t know where the map was and no one would have used a Head Ghost on me and that Ashman wouldn’t have hurt you tonight.”

“Heather.” Gabriel looked at her. “You didn’t do this. An Ashman did this. A curse did this. None of this is your fault.”

Heather covered her mouth with her hands. “Do you think he found the map?”

Nate shook his head. “Nah, it’s up in my room. But he might come back for it.”

Gabriel winced again as he repositioned himself on the table. “Sowhat do we do now?”

Nate twitched his lips as he looked around the bloody kitchen and the wrecked living room. “Find a mop?”

Gabriel stared at him. “What do we do about the Ashman? And the Bluestone weapons?”

“Oh.” Nate took a deep breath. “I have no idea.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Me neither.”

They needed a plan. And manpower.

They needed Tristan.

56

Tristan looked around the dark shack and bit back a curse.

Still seated on the couch, Scarlet looked around. “I don’t suppose you have a generator?”Shadows from the fireplace—the only remaining light in the room—danced on her cheeks.

Tristan exhaled. “Nope.”

His eyes caught on hers and neither of them spoke. Scarlet had remembered what happened between them in her last life. Which wasn’t bad.

But it also wasn’t safe.

If their connection was strong enough to suck him into a flashback with her, then….

Well, then they definitely shouldn’t be having any sleepovers.

He took a deep breath. “Since we won’t have a heater tonight, you can sleep out here by the fireplace and I’ll sleep in the bedroom.”

Yes. That was a good plan.

All he needed to do now was leave. Walk away.

Tristan glanced at the darkened doorway of the cold bedroom that promised him no sleep whatsoever.

Gathering the blanket around her, Scarlet moved from the couch and folded down to the floor in front of the fireplace.

Tristan watched her watching the fire for a long moment.

“It’s peaceful, you know. Watching a fire burn.” Her eyes followed the flames. “Hypnotic, even. The way the flames wrap around what they devour until there is no more to consume. A roaring fire, destined to become quiet embers.”

Looking up at him from her blanket cocoon, Scarlet’s eyes flickered in the firelight. “Wanna sit?”

No.

He needed to leave. He needed to make his feet move him away from Scarlet and into the back bedroom. He did not want to sit.

Tristan sat down beside her.

They watched the flames without speaking for several minutes.

“Do you think it will always be this way?” Scarlet’s eyes stared straight ahead.

Tristan wasn’t sure if she meant the curse or their relationship. But the two were so related it didn’t matter.

He inhaled deeply. “I think…the only thing in this world that is truly immortal is hope. So, no.” He watched a flame lick around a dying piece of wood. “It won’t always be this way.”

Scarlet’s lips parted with a sad smile. Her voice was soft. “Sometimes you say beautiful things.”

He mirrored her broken smile. “Only to you.”

Her blue eyes slid from the fire to Tristan, looking lost and brave at the same time.

God, he loved her.

Their gazes locked for a few moments, before Tristan turned his eyes back to the fire. Scarlet did the same.

She cleared her throat. “Nate thinks your touch erases my memories. He says immortal blood can do that.”

This was news to Tristan. “Is that why he thinks your amnesia is worse this time?”

Scarlet nodded.

Tristan wanted to kick himself. Not only did he kill Scarlet with his touch, but he erased her memories too? He belonged in Hell.

They sat in silence for a while and eventually Scarlet’s eyes grew heavy. She slowly laid down beside Tristan, still wrapped in her blanket as she closed her eyes.

Sleepily, she said, “I know you’re going to leave me.” The fire crackled. “But don’t go, yet.” Her voice trailed off. “Not…yet.”

Tristan looked at her restful face until her breathing became even and peaceful. He had no intention of leaving her.

Not now.

Not ever.

He looked back at the flames and watched the roaring fire burn itself down into embers.

57

The next morning, Scarlet trudged through the wet forest at Tristan’s side as they headed back to the Archer cabin. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, leaving the air clean and crisp. Scarlet stomped as she walked because she was wearing a pair of Tristan’s shoes that were much too giant for her feet.

In her haste the other night, she hadn’t bothered to slip on a pair of sneakers before running to find Tristan, and since Tristan refused to carry her back to the cabin—you could die, blah, blah, blah—Scarlet had settled for a pair of his hiking boots.

She also had on his black leather jacket. Which smelled like him and made Scarlet wish she could attach it to her skin.

They were silent most of the walk, Tristan keeping a good distance between them. Careful, as always.

Well, not always….

Scarlet’s mind drifted back to the flashback of her and Tristan kissing and heat flooded her face.

What a memory. What a wonderful, hot, passionate—

Tristan cleared his throat.

Scarlet stopped reminiscing.

When they finally reached the cabin, Gabriel and Heather met them by the back porch. Heather ran up to Scarlet and hugged the life out of her.

“I’m so happy you’re okay.” Heather pulled back and pointed at Scarlet with a stern face. “Don’t you ever run away again! Do you know how scared I was?”

Scarlet was about to say something sarcastic, but she saw tears in Heather’s eyes and quickly changed her response. “I’m sorry I scared you. I won’t run away again.”

Heather hugged her again. “You better not,” she said into Scarlet’s hair, which was wild and wind-blown from her walk with Tristan.

Heather stepped back and looked Scarlet over.

Scarlet was still wearing her satin pajamas with Tristan’s black jacket hanging below her hips, in addition tohis muddy boots. Her hair was tangled and dirty and she didn’t have a trace of makeup on.

Here we go.

Heather looked at Scarlet’s boots, her pajamas, her hair, her face, and said, “I’m happy you’re safe.”

Scarlet blinked.

Heather smiled.

“Oh good.” Nate exited the cabin and stepped off the back porch. “You guys are back and everyone’s alive. Yay. A little update.” Nate tapped a finger to his lips. “An Ashman broke into the cabin last night and stabbed Gabriel with a Bluestone knife that can, apparently, injure immortals, and then ran away, proving tarps are not effective windows and blonds will freak out if enough blood gushes across the floor.” Nate pursed his lips. “Oh, and side note: We need more bleach. At the rate people are bleeding out on the kitchen table, we may as well buy in bulk.”

With a furrowed brow, Tristan looked at Gabriel. “What happened?”

Gabriel explained, “An Ashman stabbed me with a knife that my body couldn’t heal from.” He lifted the edge of his shirt, revealing alarge bandage. “It’s fine, but it hurts like hell.”