Stuffed owls adorned the walls and took up nearly every corner of the room. The few windows lining the front wall were coated in dust, making the sunlight seem gloomy as it floated into the otherwise poorly-lit home.
A dark hallway was to Tristan’s right, lined with more owls, but the old man led them into a parlor room on the left.
Antique furniture clogged up the room; chairs, couches, a chaise lounge, and a tall china cabinet filled with—that’s right—more owls, took up most of the far wall.
From the soft glow of the windows, Tristan could see thousands of specs of dust floating in the air. Mr. Brooks really needed a maid.
Or, at the very least, a vacuum.
A large owl with shiny eyes was perched on a brass bar hanging from the ceiling. Nate stared at the giant bird until the owl hooted loudly, causing Nate to jump.
Real owl. Not mounted.
“First, we will sit.” Mr. Brooks perched on one of the ancient chairs, resting a hand on his cane as his left leg bounced up and down. “Then we shall see about my maps.”
The owl hooted again and Nate scrambled to find a seat. He plopped himself down on the chaise lounge and a cloud of dust lifted up around him, making him sneeze.
Scarlet and Heather sat side-by-side on a red velvet couch beneath the room’s only window and Gabriel sat in a chair across from Mr. Brooks.
Tristan remained standing.
Just in case Mr. Brooks had any other predatory pets hanging around. Like a puma.
Mr. Brooks’ frazzled appearance made him look like a mad scientist. In a bathrobe. Maybe that’s what mad scientists wore.
He leaned his crazy head of white hair forward. “What do you want with my maps? What is it you seek?”
Nate eyed the owl again before speaking. “Uh…we’re looking for apple trees…in the Avalon area.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Brooks looked suspicious as he twitched his lips and started bouncing his other leg. “Why apple trees?”
“No reason, really,” Nate lied. “We just want to know where to find apple trees. You know…just in case we want apples. Or…trees.”
Oh. Dear. God.
Mr. Brooks shifted his lower jaw back in forth, thinking. His eyes were alert as he spoke quickly. “No.” He shook his head forcefully. “What you seek has been the death of many souls and I will not be responsible for another.”
Nate looked at his friends, then back to Mr. Brooks. “What, uh…what do you mean?”
“You seek the fountain of youth!” he announced, tapping his cane several times on the floor.
Everyone froze.
Scarlet cleared her throat. “Do you know where the fountain is?” She spoke casually, like she was asking for directions to the nearest gas station.
“No.” Mr. Brooks sharpened his eyes at her. “I can only tell you the disaster it will bring. And disaster,” he tapped his cane again and lowered his voice dramatically, “it will bring.”
“What disaster?” Heather asked.
“Well, for one, death!” Mr. Brooks’ eyes stayed huge and intense as they gazed about the parlor.
Why was he yelling?
Heather puckered her lips. “But I thought the fountain of youth was supposed to give people eternal life.”
A wild cackle fell from Mr. Brooks’ mouth. “Indeed! The legend is powerful, is it not?” He waved his hands widely, the cane still clutched in his right hand as he swung it into the air, nearly knocking the live owl from its brass bar. “Everyone believes that there is a stream of water that makes you beautiful and keeps you young forever. But that is a lie! There is a fountain, oh yes. But it is a fountain of death. And you,” he jabbed his cane at Gabriel, “all of you are headed for death if you search for it!”
Heather said, “How is it a fountain of death?”
Mr. Brooks’ eyes hardened. “The water is highly addictive. A drug. A parasite that infects both mind and body.” Mr. Brooks nodded emphatically and raised his voice. Again. “Once you have tasted water from the fountain, you cannot live without it. It sinks into your veins, poisons your body…destroys your soul!”
Tristan tried not to wince. Seriously. There was no need to holler.
Mr. Brooks continued. “Without the water, your mind goes mad. You become crazy, lost, and completely psychotic. After that, you become violent. And then…then the pain starts.” He narrowed his eyes. “The unbearable pain of withdrawal. Far beyond any drug known to man.”
Yes. They already knew all that.
Well, maybe not Heather.
Gabriel squinted at the old man. “How do you know so much about the fountain?”
Mr. Brooks raised his shaggy eyebrows. “Legend, mostly. I dedicated much of my life to finding the fountain of youth, wanting to live forever. But I gave up my search once I learned of the fountain’s evils.” He stared at them. “You children have a death wish and I will not help you find the fountain. Eternal life is not worth it.”
Tristan ran a thumb down his jaw. “What if we’re not searching for eternal life?”
Mr. Brooks turned his head to Tristan. “Then what is it you seek?”
“A cure,” Scarlet said.
He narrowed his eyes as he looked around at everyone. “A cure for what?”
“I’m sick,” Scarlet said. “I’m dying.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Brooks leaned back and puckered his lips. “I am sorry to hear that, my dear. The fountain would cure whatever ails you, but it would rob you of life. You are better off accepting whatever natural illness you suffer from.”
“It’s not natural.” Scarlet’s eyes stayed steady as she looked at the man. “I’m cursed.”
Tristan clenched his jaw. He didn’t like sharing personal information with strangers. Especially crazy, old men who wore bathrobes and surrounded themselves with mostly-dead birds.
Mr. Brooks shifted his jaw again. “Cursed you say?” He stood up and swung his cane back and forth as he started pacing. “Cursed? Cursed to die?” His eyes darted around the room and fell back to Scarlet.
She nodded.
“By who?” Mr. Brooks kept his eyes on Scarlet.
“A witch,” Gabriel said.
“With what?”
“An arrow,” Scarlet replied.
“And what makes you think the fountain will undo this curse?” Mr. Brooks stopped pacing.
“Because the curse was sealed with immortal blood,” Nate said.
Tristan let out a frustrated exhale.Why are we sharing our deepest secrets right now?
“You have immortal blood in your body?” Mr. Brooks asked Scarlet.
She nodded.
Setting his cane against the wall, Mr. Brooks began pacing again, his green bathrobe flying out behind him as he glided up and down the room. The loose belt around his waist did little to keep the robe around him as he walked, revealing a white undershirt and a pair of faded pajama pants beneath.
At least the Mad Scientist had the decency to wear clothes under his robe.
Mr. Brooks clasped his hands behind his back, wringing them together as his eyes stayed on Scarlet. “Immortal blood. Interesting.” His eyes shifted wildly as he paced and muttered to himself, “Immortal blood…a witch…a curse…”
“Look.” Tristan was growing impatient. “We need the fountain. Can you help us find it or not?”
Mr. Brooks stopped pacing and pointed at Tristan. “I do not know the exact location of the fountain, only a general area.”