Now was not the time to worry about Scarlet’s selective memory. Right now, he’d worry about getting Scarlet to like him.
He took a deep breath as they came to a grassy spot where a Spin-The-Bottle tournament—set up like a poker tournament—was going strong.
Scarlet raised her eyebrows. “Personally, I find it disturbing to watch senior citizens bet on who the best kisser at the table is.”
Gabriel watched the game for a moment with a crooked smile. “What, you don’t find it fascinating and sexy?”
Scarlet laughed. “I find it as sexy as the sidewalk dentist.”
Gabriel laughed back. Oh, how he’d missed her.
As the game continued, the feisty contestants became more and more entertaining. Who needed reality TV when you could go downtown and watch two little old ladies box one another over a WWII veteran named Jimmy?
Classic.
When the game ended, the three of them walked together along Main Street. Stars dangled from trees and people kissed in greeting all along the road as music played loudly from the nearby bandstand.
Heather chatted endlessly about summer coming to a close and how school would soon begin and how very “lame” that was and blah, blah, blah.
Gabriel had just started tuning her out when she said, “So, Gabriel Archer,” her voice rose to adjust to the volume of the music, “how old are you?”
More questions. Awesome.
“Seventeen,” he answered.
“Really?” Heather raised an eyebrow at him. “You look older than that.”
Gabriel bit back a sigh.
Hanging out with Heather was definitely going to be a problem. She was too inquisitive. And while he appreciated that she interrogated people who entered Scarlet’s life, he couldn’t afford to be one of them.
“I get that a lot.” He gave her his best smile and turned to Scarlet. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”
Scarlet’s dark hair brushed against her small face as she tucked in a smile, “Have I? I guess it’s just been so noisy.”
It was then that Gabriel impulsively decided to ask her out.
It was risky. There was a possibility she’d say no.
Which would suck.
But Gabriel had waited a long time to be back in Scarlet’s life and he didn’t want to live one more minute without her.
Play it cool, don’t scare her off.
“Well.” Gabriel swallowed and tried to look as carefree as possible. “Maybe you and I could hang out sometime…someplace less noisy.” He shot her his most genuine smile and held his breath. “You know, just the two of us.”
Immediately, Gabriel regretted his bold decision.
It was weird.
She didn’t remember him. She didn’t know him.
She was probably going to say no and then where would he be?
Cursed to be without love, that’s where.
Bad idea, Gabe.
Slowly—so slowly Gabriel thought he might suffocate—Scarlet answered with a smile. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”
Relief rushed through him. “Tomorrow night, then?”
Scarlet looked at him with her pretty eyes and smiled. “Sure.”
He smiled.
Things were going to be different this time.
Better. Wonderful.
All he had to do now was find a way to keep Scarlet alive.
5
Tristan’s green eyes examined his most recent acquisition in the soft light of the den. He turned the ancient blade over in his hand, the ornate handle weighing heavy in his palm. The long blade glinted in the lamp light of the room as he continued to turn it over.
He’d spent years searching for this dagger. A dagger believed to have magical energy.
Or mystic powers.
Or voodoo or something.
Tristan wasn’t sure. But he didn’t care what kind of powers the blade possessed as long as it would take the life he was trying to end. A life that was proving far more obstinate in its existence than he’d anticipated.
He polished the blade carefully, running an execution plan through his head.
There were so many details involved when committing murder, so many loose ends. Killing took careful planning, patience and, most of all, resilience.
He could not give up. No matter how terrible or unforgivable his mission was, he could not stop.
The curse needed to end.
He finished polishing and made a place for the blade on the west wall of the den among the other weapons.
Measuring thirty feet in length and fifteen feet high, the wall was covered from floor to ceiling with an arsenal from the last five hundred years. The weapons ranged from the most primitive of clubs to the most modern of knives.
But no guns. That was a personal preference the brothers shared.
One of the few.
Tristan hung the dagger and stepped back to view the collection of weapons. He’d been trying to end the curse for nearly two years. He’d used nearly every weapon he owned on his brutal quest and all had failed him.
Hopefully, the dagger would not.
Tristan sighed as he retreated from the den to the large office next door. He made is way to the back of the room and sat behind the large mahogany desk. He clicked on the computer.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Tristan started his Internet search. A few months ago, he’d discovered the best way to kill his target was to hire a hit man.
Not because he enjoyed including others in his grisly task, but because he simply could not do it alone.
He’d tried—and failed—too many times to count.
And time was of the essence.
His computer came to life and alerted him of a new message waiting in his inbox—a fervent response from one of the assassins he’d tracked down.
It was amazing what you could find on craigslist.
The message contained a time and location to meet so they could exchange payment.
Tristan’s gut churned. It was easier than he’d ever imagined to find someone willing to kill for money. And, although he was sickened by the scoundrels who’d responded so eagerly to his online request, he was grateful for it.
Because he couldn’t do this without help.
Maybe this time it would work. Maybe this time there would be a dead body, an empty soul; a chance for Scarlet to truly exist and for Tristan to be permanently free of the curse.
Tristan responded to the assassin’s email.
I’ll be there.
He closed his computer screen and stared across the office, hoping it would all be over soon.
6
The next morning Scarlet awoke to the shrill sound of Heather’s far-too-cheery voice—which was better than waking up alone in a forest, but not by much.
“Rise and shiiiiiine, sleepyhead!”
Even before opening her eyes, Scarlet could tell Heather was smiling.
“Go away,” she mumbled.
“No can do, Sleeping Beauty. We’ve got things to do today. Get up, up, up!”
Scarlet cracked an eye open. “Are you seriously waking me up on a Sunday morning? In the summer?”
“It’s for your own good.”
Scarlet rolled over and closed her eyes again. “I no longer acknowledge our friendship. You’re dead to me.”
Heather scooted to the other side of Scarlet’s queen-sized bed and sat on the edge. “Dead in a good way? Like a hot girl zombie?”
Ignoring Heather’s joke, Scarlet turned into her pillow. “Who even let you in my house?”
“Laura.”
Traitor. “You’re still dead to me.”
Heather wiggled closer to Scarlet. “But I brought coffee from The Millhouse.”
Best coffee in Georgia.