Chelsea Fine: Awry

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.

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.

Tristan did 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.