Their eyes locked for a super awkward second and they both scooted in opposite directions, going back to their respective sides of the van. Not looking at each other.
Their bumpy trip continued, but the bumps were less awkward now that no body parts were rubbing together.
Scarlet growled when her seatbelt wouldn’t come undone. “I hate your car, Tristan.”
They had just arrived at the forest and Nate was already out of the car and digging through the trunk for his gear. Because his seatbelt wasn’t the spawn of Satan.
“Here, let me do it.” Tristan reached over and brushed her hand away from the demon clasp.
A zing of pleasure skittered up her arm at his touch and she really wanted him to touch her again.
No she didn’t.
Yes she did.
He easily undid the belt buckle and freed her hips.
“Thanks,” she said, giving the seatbelt one last dirty look before climbing out of the car.
She and Tristan went to the trunk and started pulling out their supplies as well.
Their trip to Avalon forest had gone by swiftly. After leaving the cabin, they’d stopped by Laura’s house, which was technically still Scarlet’s house, but it no longer felt like home to her.
She expected to be sad and emotional when she walked inside, but instead she felt…nothing. So she ran around and packed up clothes and shoes for herself and Heather and then she left Laura’s house without looking back.
“Don’t you guys just love road trips?” Nate smiled as he shrugged into his backpack.
“Meh,” Scarlet said.
Tristan shrugged.
“Well, I love road trips. Molly and I used to go on road trips all the time. We would pack up the car and just drive—without a plan. We’d just go and go wherever the roads took us.” Nate kept smiling. “It was awesome. Freeing, you know? And we’d listen to music and sing off key and talk until all hours of the night.” He nodded. “I love road trips.”
Scarlet smiled. She liked it when Nate talked about Molly. It made her feel hopeful. Like maybe Nate wasn’t permanently broken. Maybe he would find love again. Did he want to find love again?
Scarlet secured her backpack to her shoulders and strapped a quiver to her back as Tristan armed himself with more weapons than she knew a person could carry at one time.
Grabbing her compound bow and throwing it over her shoulder, she then tucked two knives into her waistband.
Tristan was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt—which was like his uniform, apparently—as he threw his own backpack on and started clipping things into place.
Tristan shut the trunk and looked at Scarlet. “So what’s the plan?”
“We’ll hike about a mile in to the cluster of large boulders where Raven and I met in my last life. Hopefully, that’s where Heather will be.” And Gabriel.
Scarlet’s palms started to sweat. “If we come up from behind the rocks, I think we’ll have a better chance of viewing the meeting place without being seen. We can scope it out and see what our chances are of rescuing Heather without negotiating the map.”
“Awesome.” Nate grinned. “This is like epic camping. With bad guys.”
“And potential death,” Tristan added.
“I know.” Nate nodded, still grinning. “Epic.”
Scarlet took a deep breath and started for the trees. The last time she’d set foot in this forest, she hadn’t come out alive.
Guilt pressed against her lungs as she glanced at Tristan.
History was about to repeat itself.
CHAPTER 37
Gabriel and Heather were tethered to a handful of Ashman with leashes made of rope.
Like dogs.
The Ashmen led them through the forest with Raven as their leader.
Gabriel counted only twelve Ashmen in their immediate vicinity—all of whom had Bluestone weapons. Where were the rest of her minions?
Gabriel could probably take the nearest Ashmen out and attempt another escape, but he didn’t want to invoke the wrath of Raven and risk hurting Heather again.
Raven’s black hair swished across her back as she walked ahead of Gabriel and he noticed the Ashmen were loaded up with camping gear. Lots of camping gear.
How long did Raven plan on being out here?
Heather stumbled against her leash but quickly resumed her walking. He looked at her cut up bare feet and frowned.
“So Raven,” Gabriel tried to sound casual and friendly. “Where are we going?”
“Why are you talking?” she snapped.
“Because you forgot to gag me.” He stretched his neck. “How much longer until we get to wherever we’re headed?”
Raven whipped around and marched up to Gabriel.
“Whoa…” he said, caught off-guard by her appearance.
Raven looked older. Much older than she had a few hours ago.
Her dark hair was graying at the roots, the skin around her eyes was crinkled and weathered, and her cheeks were a bit sunken.
She no longer looked thirty. She looked fifty.
“It’s not pretty, is it?” Raven sneered. “I need that fountain now! And if you keep whining like a toddler I will break your neck over and over again until you beg to be mortal!” She screamed this at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing off the trees around them. “We will get there when we get there!”
Gabriel stared at the clearly-insane witch, speechless. Beside him, Heather looked terrified.
Raven started marching forward again, yelling at the Ashmen nearest her, “And why is everything on fire?! Put out the fires!”
Gabriel blinked. There were no fires anywhere.
Given that the witch was off her rocker and Heather was probably scared out of her mind, Gabriel decided not to talk anymore as they made their way deeper into the trees.
Heather winced as she stumbled over more sharp rocks. The Ashmen yanked on the ropes around her body, causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground.
“What is the problem?!” Raven crazy-yelled, whipping around to glare at Heather. “Get up!”
With her wrists bound, it took Heather a moment to stand up and, when she did, she gingerly took a step forward on the rocks and looked like she was going to cry in pain.
Gabriel moved to help her but the leashes around his body tightened. “Faster!” Raven yelled.
“Here.” Gabriel shifted to kick his shoes off. “Heather can wear my shoes.”
Raven looked furious. “We do not have time for shoe switching!”
Good God. Could the woman yell any louder? And what was with her face? It was growing more wrinkled by the second.
“Heather can’t walk fast with bloody feet, Raven.”
She marched toward Heather with a knife in her hand. “Then I’ll just have to motivate her!”
Oh hell no.
“I’ll carry her!” Gabriel said, desperate. Again. He’d been desperate a lot lately. “I’ll carry her the rest of the way. That way you won’t have to injure your leverage and we’ll get there faster.”
Please dear God, let this work.
Raven huffed. “Fine.” She pointed to an Ashman who picked up Heather and her bloody feet and brought her over to Gabriel.
Gabriel lifted his tied hands, making a hoop for the Ashman to move Heather’s body through so she was draped over his shoulder, then lowered them back down over Heather’s legs.
“Thanks,” Heather whispered by his ear.
Her breath warmed his neck and a funny sensation skittered inside him.
The skirt of her poufy, pink dress rode up a little and Gabriel smoothed his bound wrists down the back of her body in an attempt to pull it back down.