Gabriel scoffed. “No, you were just in a drunken haze that lasted five days and cost me eight servants and two court healers. Who knew you were such an awful drunk?”
Tristan glowered at his twin. Awful or not, being drunk kept the memories away and, therefore, kept him sane.
“Here we are,” Gabriel said as they came upon a large house. He quickly dismounted his horse.
Tristan followed suit, but not as quickly, his sluggish body unaccustomed to being upright with the sun. “Where are we?”
“The Fletcher home.”
“The house of witches?” Adrenaline shot through Tristan’s body. “Is this not where Raven lives?”
“It was. But she is no longer here.” Darkness clouded Gabriel’s eyes. “If she were, she would already be in shackles.”
“If that horrendous woman is not here, then why are we?”
“Because her cousin, Nathaniel, is the boy from the caves. And he may have answers for us.” Gabriel strode to the front door and knocked.
Tristan followed after him and watched as a small, square panel in the center of the door slid to the side, revealing a pair of nervous eyes.
“Earl Archer,” said the eyes, blinking rapidly.
“Are you Nathaniel Fletcher?”
“I am.” The eyes widened. “But I do not know where my cousin is. Please do not kill me.”
“I am not here for Raven,” Gabriel said.
Nathaniel’s eyes shifted to the side. “Are you here about the pheasants? Because that was an accident.”
“What pheasants?”
“Nothing.” Nathanial seemed relieved. “One moment.”
The small panel slid back into place and the door opened to reveal an odd-looking fellow with bushy brown hair that stuck out on one side and a pair of eyeglasses caught in the mess. Despite the warm weather outside—and the fact that he was, indeed, inside—Nathaniel Fletcher wore a thick, black cloak that hung too long for him and dragged across the dirty floorboards.
“Welcome to my home, Earl Archer.” Nathaniel nodded at Gabriel as they entered and shut the door behind them. He then eyed Tristan and took a step back, stumbling over his cloak. “You must be the earl’s twin brother. But your eyes…how are they so green?”
“They were brown until your heathen of a cousin shot me through the heart,” Tristan said crossly.
“Ah.” Nathaniel nodded. “She used magic on you.”
“No. She used an arrow.”
“Then it must have been laced with magic.” Nathaniel examined Tristan’s eyes more closely. “Only powerful magic can alter physical appearances such as that. Perhaps a spell or a curse—oh! You were shot through the heart! And you are not dead?”
“Unfortunately, no.” The snaking started around Tristan’s heart again.
Bloody hell, he wanted wine.
“That is why we are here,” Gabriel said. “My brother’s body is able to heal itself and I’ve seen yours do the same.”
”But I—but that—”
“I am not here to threaten you,” Gabriel continued, “but I need to know what witchcraft allows you to heal. I believe the same magic has been used against my brother and may be responsible for the disappearance of my bride’s body.”
Nathaniel sucked in a breath. “Then it is true! She did disappear? I had heard the rumor, but was not certain.”
“The arrow went through Tristan’s heart first, then struck my bride before her body vanished. Do you know of this magic?”
Nathaniel scratched the back of his head. “I know of magic, but this….” He retrieved his spectacles from the nest of his hair and put them on before tripping his way over to the tower of books. “Was she human?”
Gabriel blinked. “Pardon me?”
“Was your woman human?”
“She wasn’t his woman,” Tristan said.
Gabriel slanted his eyes at Tristan before answering Nathaniel. “Of course she was human. What else would she be?”
Nathaniel shrugged as he pulled a thick book from the stack in the corner and shuffled to a nearby table. “A demon. A shape-shifter. A nymph. A mermaid.” He turned through several crinkly pages. “A vampire. A ghost. A siren. A sea creature—”
“A sea creature?” Gabriel looked incredulous. “You want to know if my bride was a sea creature?”
“Yes,” Nathaniel said seriously. “Did she have webbed feet?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? Because women wear those awful shoes and you really wouldn’t know unless she were to take them off—“
“She was human,” Tristan said.
Nathaniel looked at Tristan, perplexed. “You saw her feet?”
“Yes.”
Nathaniel’s eyes darted from Tristan to Gabriel and then back to Tristan. “Right. In that case…” He turned another page and started reading. “Bodies only vanish after death for two reasons. Either they are called up to heaven by God,” he looked at them over his spectacles, “did you see any heavenly staircases or large groups of angels looming about her dead body?”
“What—no.” Gabriel rubbed his face impatiently.
“Then the only other alternative,” read Nathaniel, “is that she was infected with immortal blood prior to death.” He reached for something from the table.
Gabriel blinked. “But how—“
Nathaniel grabbed Tristan’s hand and pricked it with a small blade.
“Are you mad?” Tristan snatched his hand back from the over-cloaked boy.
Nathaniel looked at Tristan in confusion. “You seem unfriendly. I thought you were the kind twin. Aren’t you the brother that feeds the hungry and plays with children?”
Tristan jutted his chin. “You just stabbed me, witch.”
“I am not a witch. I am a wizard.”
“I do not care.”
“You’ll have to excuse my brother,” said Gabriel. “He’s had a difficult week and is not used to being sober, so perhaps you should ask for his permission the next time you feel the need to draw his blood.”
“I meant you no harm,” explained Nathaniel. “You said the arrow pierced your heart before striking the bride—what was her name?”
“Scarlet,” the brothers said at the same time.
“Right.” Nathaniel drew out the word, eyeing Gabriel before looking back at Tristan. “I needed a bit of your blood to do a test.” He spread blood from the knife onto a glass plate before retrieving a small vial of blue liquid from a false board in the wall.
Returning to the table, he added a drop of the blue liquid to Tristan’s dark blood on the plate and the blood instantly brightened, turning from a deep crimson to a brilliant red
Nathaniel looked up at Gabriel and grinned. “It appears that the magic that healed your brother is the same magic that stole your bride—er, Scarlet. You, my friend,” he turned to Tristan, “are filled with immortal blood.”