Once the hallway door had shut behind Mr. Brooks, Heather looked at everyone. “Is it just me, or did the person Mr. Brooks sold his weapons to sound a lot like Laura?”
Gabriel marched over to the podium, everyone else right on his heels.
Laying inside the case was a single knife. The handle was dark and solid, without any markings, and the blade was made of blue stone.
Sharp and polished, the blue blade glinted in the light of the dozens of bulbs above, looking like marble.
Gabriel threw his eyes to Scarlet. “What are Bluestone weapons?”
Scarlet’s mouth fell open as she pulled her eyes away from the weapon. “How would I know? You’re the one talking about them like you’re an expert.”
“I was bluffing.” Gabriel sighed and looked back at the knife. “You really have no idea what Bluestone weapons are?”
“No.” Scarlet shook her head. “But it sounds like Laura does.”
Gabriel rubbed the side of his face.
Heather mumbled, “I guess now we know what Mr. Brooks sold that made him wealthy again.”
“Maybe Bluestone weapons are collector’s items.” Nate looked up from the podium. “Maybe Laura has a knife fetish that we don’t know about.”
Yeah.
Or maybe Laura was plotting to destroy the earth.
“What if they’re not collector’s items?” Scarlet put her hands on her hips. “What if they’re more important than that? I’ve never seen a single weapon at my house, let alone an entire arsenal of knives.” She shook her head. “I have to believe Laura wanted them for a different reason.”
“If it was Laura at all,” Nate said. “We don’t know for sure.”
“Ooh!” Heather’s face brightened. “Maybe that’s what Laura had in her suitcase. Maybe she bought Mr. Brooks’ weapons to take to a road show…or something…and that’s why she was so weird about you touching her luggage. She didn’t want the valuables inside to break. Or fall out and stab you.”
Gabriel paused. “Maybe.”
Scarlet bit her lip.
“Here’s what we’ll do.” Nate clasped his hand together. “After we’re done searching for apple tree stuff, we’ll talk to Mr. Brooks and find out what is so special about this knife.” He nodded. “Until then, we need to stay focused on Scarlet’s drawing.”
Gabriel nodded. “Where should we start?”
Nate turned around in circles for a moment, trying to take it all in. “Okay.” He pointed to Gabriel. “You look for maps; anything that has a fountain or an apple tree on it is ideal. You,” he pointed at Scarlet, “go through journals. Maybe Mr. Brooks has a crazy uncle that liked to write about trees or something. And you,” he pointed at Heather, “stand guard at the stairs in case Mr. Brooks returns with a magic wand and tries to turn us all into stuffed owls or something. If you start hooting, we’ll know to run.”
Heather glared at him.
“Okay, fine.” Nate sighed. “You can look through the maps with Gabriel.”
She smiled, looking proud to have a job.
“What are you going to do?” Scarlet asked Nate.
He looked around. “I’m going to find any and all city plans and drawings from the 1500s. There might have been a significant apple tree somewhere in Avalon’s history.” Raising his voice a tad, Nate said, “And chop-chop everybody. Apparently, there’s a time limit to being down here. Mr. Brooks said an hour and I’d rather not find out what happens to meddling kids who spend more than an hour in his cellar.”
Scarlet turned and headed to the journals. They were old and dusty, and most smelled of mildew and dirt. Running her hand along the first shelf she came to, Scarlet tried to determine where to begin. But it was hard to find a starting point when she didn’t really know what she was looking for.
Pulling journal after journal from the shelf, Scarlet eyed authors and pages, but nothing spoke of the fountain or apple trees.
Time passed slowly and Scarlet grew frustrated.
She turned and started walking back to find Nate, when a journal on a low shelf caught her eye.
The journal itself was bland and severely weathered, but on its cover was a drawing of a beautiful woman with dark hair and exotic eyes.
Instinctively drawn to the picture, Scarlet carefully removed the old journal from the shelf. Inside the cover was the author’s name.
William Jacobs.
Click.
Scarlet’s eyes began to burn.
Scarlet was a little girl, watching a man—her father—give a box to a beautiful woman. The same beautiful woman whose picture was on the journal. “For you, my sweet Ana,” he said.
Scarlet’s mother.
Ana opened the small box and smiled at the sight of the silver brooch inside. She pinned the brooch to her dress and kissed William gratefully.
“Scarlet, my love,” the woman said. “Did you see what your father gave me?” She pointed to the brooch as Scarlet ran up to her and eyed the shiny object.
“It’s pretty, mama!” Scarlet smiled. “Daddy loves you.”
William smiled at Scarlet and crouched down beside her. “I love you too, my little red rose.” He kissed Scarlet’s cheek.
Exiting the memory, Scarlet’s hands began to shake as she looked down at the journal. This belonged to her father. This was another piece of her past.
Trying to calm her trembling hands, Scarlet turned through the journal’s pages, finding most of them ruined by water. The ink was blurry and indecipherable, and the pages themselves were torn and wrinkled.
But near the end of the small book, a page remained untouched by water or age, and the ink, though scrawled in inconsistent lettering, was sharp enough to read.
I will not live much longer.
Desperate for more of the magical blue water we were addicted to, Francis and I traveled to the New World where we now make our home among the Avalon natives.
The natives fear the water while Francis and I are thirsty for more. The natives speak of an antidote to the addiction. A fruit that can cure the thirst, but I have searched and searched and no fruit can be found.
Our addiction has become so intense we hardly sleep or eat. Francis’s jug of magic blue water was stolen, leaving us to share my quickly-depleting supply.
I do not plan to share it with him for much longer. The water has stolen my soul and my humanity, and I feel it is time for us to give ourselves over to the pain and die of thirst.
Francis insists that he remembers the map Ana stole, and is sure we will find our way to the fountain before the addiction consumes our lives.
I hope we do not. We look young and healthy, but our minds are twisted and lost. I buckle in pain if I go even a short while without the water. Francis does the same and I fear we are both becoming mad. With a tendency to rage.
The natives keep their distance from Francis and I, as they should. The water poisons both mind and body and we are rapidly becoming monsters.
Or, maybe, we already are.
I am giving up my search for the fountain. The water is evil and I will not taste it again. The thirst will soon kill me, and this is comforting.
I have destroyed everything I have ever loved, abandoned everything that mattered. And I no longer want to live.
Ana and my young Scarlet both fled from me and left me empty of love and hope. But now I understand there is no room for love and hope in the heart of a man consumed by addiction.
I only pray no one else falls victim to the taste of the blue water. The taste of true death….