The Soul's Mark: FOUND

by Stoyanoff, Ashley

  A hand touched her forearm. "You okay?" Erin whispered.

  Instantly, Amelia was back in the classroom just in time to hear the professor announce a pop quiz. It took a moment and a few deep breaths and then she put on her best cheery smile and nodded.

  Erin wasn't convinced. "You're crying."

  Amelia hadn't noticed, but as soon as Erin said it, she could feel her prickling, puffy eyes and her damp cheeks. She kept the smile, wiped at her eyes and said, "Allergies."

  Erin didn't believe her for a minute, but luckily the TA handed them the test and that kept her from pushing the subject.

  Amelia finished the test in twenty-three minutes. It was a breeze, solely on ring theory. Thanks to Mitchell, she was sure she had aced it. She mouthed a silent washroom to Erin, who still had a few questions to answer, shouldered her backpack and went to hand in her completed test and paper.

  She snuck into the washroom just outside the lecture hall. A few girls, locals she recognized but whose names escaped her, stopped talking as soon as she walked in. Amelia had a feeling that she had been the topic of their gossip. It was pretty obvious from the way they clamped up and scurried out of the washroom.

  Great. What had she done now? Last week they would have chatted with her. They would have wanted to know what she had done on the weekend, how she had liked the party.

  Amelia dumped her bag and slammed the stall door hard, causing it to bang back and nearly smack her in the face. She had just flushed when the washroom door banged open and a familiar voice called her name.

  Fiona. Her voice had a ring to it that signaled authority and status. Amelia held her breath and listened. The last thing she needed was to have another face off with the Barbie Squad. She just wasn’t in the mood, not today, not ever. "Did you know the little tramp was all over Eric, too? It wasn't just that trash Tyler."

  There was a collective gasp. "Eric, really?” That was Jessica, Amelia was sure of it. “Mitchell’s going to kill them. Does he know?”

  "Sure he does,” Fiona said, followed by a cruel laugh. “It's not like she's hiding it. He deserves better. Too bad Kandi and Adam didn't finish her off at the party. He'd be better off without her."

  Go out there. Stand up for yourself, Amelia’s nagging conscience urged. She knew Fiona was a witch but she had never thought her to be that bad. Did she really just say it was too bad that she hadn’t died? Amelia found herself holding her breath as they continued. She crouched onto the toilet seat and made herself into a small ball, hoping they wouldn’t notice she was there.

  "So it's true,” Amber gasped. “They came back to town?"

  "They did and it's a good thing, too,” Fiona said. Her voice sounded forced, as if her lips weren’t moving, Amelia could almost picture her painting on a devil-red lipstick. “Someone needs to get rid of her. Mitchell’s a mess. He put out another notice to all the vampires. We’re supposed to watch out for her. He's making us her babysitter. And can you believe that he threw me out last night?"

  "He what?" Jessica and Amber said in unison. Why would she have gone to him anyways? Amelia didn’t know, but a sick feeling was creeping in.

  "He threw me out. With Amelia here he won't give me the time of day. He’s acting like the last hundred and twenty years didn't happen."

  "What are you going to do, Fiona?” Amber asked. “What if he makes you leave? You're young and, no offence, but you haven't added much value except for warming his bed."

  "I'll figure something out. Amelia won't last. There will be an accident. I guarantee it. Then he'll come running back to me."

  No. No. No. No. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Fiona and Mitchell? Not possible. Dammit! Why do I even care? Maybe she knew Amelia was there. Maybe Fiona was just talking to get a reaction from her. But if that was true, then why, why would she admit that she was planning on an accident? What kind of accident? Was she really planning on getting rid of her, just to get Mitchell? What was so great about him anyways?

  "Justin said he's not hunting either,” Amber said. “He said that Mitchell is considering banning it because she doesn't like it. And he's drinking the bagged crap.” He is? Amelia thought. She hadn’t really thought about it and had tried not to because the whole blood thing turned her stomach. “She's not even giving it up for him but she'll slut around with Eric. I bet she's even letting him bite her."

  Amelia heard the door open again. "Yo, Millie. Hurry up," Erin's voice carried, bouncing off the walls.

  "Wrong room, freak," Fiona snapped. "Get out."

  Fiona sounded vicious, and Amelia knew she had to get out there. She sucked in a breath, hopped down off the seat and opened the stall.

  Amelia had never wished she had a camera as much as she did at that very moment. All three girls froze horrified, wearing the same expression as if they had just seen a ghost. Amelia laughed, a cold, humorless laugh, but on the inside, her nerves were shot and she was petrified. She pushed her shoulders back, held her chin high and walked over to the sink to wash her hands. She risked a quick glance at Jessica and was relieved to see the sad look in her eyes. Fiona and Amber were mean girls but Jess was sweet and Amelia really did like her. "Watch it, Fiona," Amelia said coldly. "Accidents do happen and like your friends said, you have no value to us."

  Amelia knew right away that she had gone too far. Fiona’s eyes flashed and her fangs slid down, terrifying. "Look who's got all high and mighty,” she hissed. “News flash Amelia, Mitchell rules this town. Not you. You are nothing."

  Erin cleared her throat. The look on her face clearly said she was struggling to stay strong. Her mark was still showing and Amelia now knew how important it was for her to stay hidden, so when she spoke, drawing the attention to herself, Amelia’s whole body went cold, and she visibly shuttered. "Hey, Fiona, you’re getting pretty careless. Bet you’re wondering how you missed her heart thumping away.” Fiona’s horrifying eyes focused back on Amelia and she could see the exact moment that Fiona realized what Erin was saying. “Isn’t it funny how the bite changes everything? So if you didn’t notice her that must mean you want to hurt her. Mitchell probably heard everything you just said, too. Better run home and pack your bags. You are so done here."

  Without warning, Fiona charged at Amelia, fangs bared, and for a quick second she thought she was going to die, but just as quickly, tiny Jessica charged, pinning Fiona against the wall. Erin and Amber screamed. Fiona flailed, kicking and struggling and Amelia stood still, frozen. “Fiona,” Jessica snapped, her voice low and deadly. “Stop struggling. I have three hundred years on you. You don’t stand a chance.” Fiona thrashed about for another second and then she went limp, fangs folding back into her gums, and eyes returning back to a golden hue, which was of little comfort. Jessica kept a firm grip around her neck and glanced over her shoulder at Amelia. “She will be dealt with, Amelia. You have my word.”

  Amelia nodded, unable to do anything else and watched as Jessica escorted Fiona out of the washroom, Amber running along behind them.

  Once the door was shut and Erin pulled in a few shaky breaths, she asked, “You okay?”

  "Just fine."

  "Good, ‘cause I have something for you that you probably won’t like.” Erin handed her a black rose. "Adam stopped me just as I was coming in. He said you need to go to Madame Crystal for the answers to your questions. He said that there’s a way out and Madame Crystal was the only one who could help you. And he said she could tell you what happened to your parents."

  Amelia took the rose, twirling it around and around, head spinning with questions. Holding it was just as bone-chilling as the look in Fiona’s eyes. "Who's Madame Crystal?" she asked in a small voice.

  “She a quack. Calls herself a psychic.”

  Amelia gave the rose one long, hard look and then tossed it in the trash. She sunk down to the floor, resting her head between her knees. “I'm not going to a psychic.”

  Erin crouched down in front of her and waited until Amelia finally looked up. “I think yo
u should, Millie. She might be able to help. Fiona’s after you. You keep getting these black roses and with Mitchell…” she paused to think. “I just think it couldn’t hurt. Maybe she can help.” She shrugged. “Besides, this could be your only chance. We’ve got no chaperones and with what just happened the sooner the better. So get your skinny little butt off the ground and let’s go.”

  ****

  Why in the world had she agreed to this? Amelia wondered as she followed Erin up the steps towards the flashing neon signboard that read, “Witch and Psychic.” Vampires, fine she could deal with it, but witches and psychics? This was crossing the line.

  The morning’s downpour had stopped, except for a few sprinkles, and a thick fog covered the ground, eerie and unnerving. Amelia was relieved to see the sun desperately trying to peek out from behind the clouds and she couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, the sun would shine and lift away the thunderstorm that had settled over her world.

  Other than the bright neon lights, the place looked normal. It was a small house in an older part of town with a white picket fence and grass green shutters on the windows. Erin went first, opening the whitewashed door. A bell chimed, announcing their arrival, and Amelia followed her in.

  "Amelia Caldwell?" Madame Crystal, Amelia assumed, said. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, contrary to Amelia’s expectations. She was young, maybe thirty, with long, knee-length jet-black hair. “I've been expecting you. I thought you would have come sooner.”

  “If you’re really a psychic wouldn't you have known that I wouldn't be here until today?” Amelia glanced around the bare room and noticed the pile of suitcases against the wall. There were three chairs around a rickety card table in the middle of the room, but otherwise, the house was packed up. “You going somewhere?”

  “Yes, once I help you, it’ll no longer be safe for me here, and your message was delayed,” Madame Crystal said and took a seat at the card table. “You should have received the rose at the party. How is your head by the way?” Amelia was unnerved by the unexplained depth of her knowledge.

  “Erin, we should go,” Amelia said. This was nuts. This woman couldn’t help her. “I changed my mind. This is a waste of time.”

  "Shut up, Millie,” Erin snapped. “Madame Crystal, the message she got said you could help her. Can you break the bond?”

  “Slow down, Erin," Madame Crystal laughed. Erin was overly animated, like always. “I can't break the bond between souls, but little Amelia can.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Amelia asked. She could feel the annoyance bubbling up and she took a deep breath, hoping to calm herself. The last thing she wanted was to draw Mitchell’s attention and after the Fiona thing, which she was sure Jessica would be telling him about, she knew it was only a matter of time before he tuned in.

  “Look deep inside, Amelia,” Madame Crystal said. “You have always known you were different. It's time you learn why.”

  “Millie, just sit down and listen to her,” Erin urged. Amelia couldn’t believe that she was actually falling for this crap, but the look on Erin’s face showed she was hanging onto every word.

  Madame Crystal’s blue eyes focused on Erin and she smiled, a sad sort of smile. “She is not the only one who needs guidance today, Erin. Please sit as well. I will start with you.”

  “Yes, ma'am,” Erin said, and sat down, folding her hands in her lap.

  Amelia couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Was Erin really falling for all this? “Your life line has grown shorter since the last time we spoke, Erin. The choice you made today will come at a great cost. Trust the enemy. Your friends are not as they seem. Only your enemy can save you from yourself."

  “I don't understand,” Erin said, and looked over at Amelia, lost and confused.

  “You will when the time comes,” Madame Crystal continued. “Your friend will show you the truth and you will know what must be done. Memories can be deceiving, little one. We block what we wish not to see."

  A sullen, fearful expression covered Erin’s face. Amelia couldn’t stand it. She needed to do something, get them out of there. She marched over to Erin, grabbed her hand and pulled her off the chair. “Erin, don't listen to her crap. Come on, let’s just go."

  "Your parents’ death was not an accident,” Madame Crystal said softly, and Amelia stopped. “Have you ever wondered why you were not killed?”

  Amelia whirled around, glaring daggers at the ‘so called’ psychic and yelled, “You don't know anything about my parents!”

  Madame Crystal was unfazed by her outburst. She kept her eyes focused and the sad smile on her lips. “Oh, but I do. You were tied to a chair, bound and gagged and forced to watch while a man stabbed them. He left you to watch as they bled out onto the floor. Why did he leave you alive?”

  Erin’s hand went cold and clammy in her grip and Amelia shot her a look, making sure she was okay, before she answered, “He said it wasn’t my time yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Shouldn't you already know that?” Amelia spat. All the painful memories were suffocating. She had spent years trying to figure out why he hadn’t just killed her. Terrified that he would come back to finish the job. It had taken years for her to accept that he was a psychopath. There was no other explanation. She wanted to leave, get out of there and never see this woman again but she just couldn’t move. There was some part of her that needed to hear more. Erin must have noticed because she pulled Amelia over to the table, pulled out a chair and they both sat down.

  “I do. Your parents were sacrificed in order to bring you to Mitchell.”

  "Are you telling me he had something to do with their deaths?” Amelia asked, but all the fight had left her voice. It wasn’t possible. He wasn’t there. And there was no way that Amelia would believe he would do something that horrible, not to her, she was sure of it. “Mitchell wouldn’t do that.”

  “All the guilt and anger,” Madame Crystal said. Erin squeezed Amelia’s hand to reassure her. “It's black and dangerous, Amelia. You need to control your temper.”

  “Control my temper? You've got to be kidding me. You sit here and act like you just told me some wonderful insight to my parents’ death. Am I supposed to be impressed? It wouldn’t take much to find out how they died or that I was there. It was all over the news. You're just some fake.” Amelia tried to stand up but Erin firmly held her in place and gave her a pleading look. She didn’t want to hear this. It was all too close to the truth and Amelia had fought too hard to forget.

  “Amelia, I know how hard this must be for you to hear, but we really do not have time for you to wallow in self-pity. Think about it. When did the dreams start?”

  “The night before they died.”

  “Their death was all part of a plan to get you with Mitchell. You’re in grave danger, Amelia. Now that he has found you, the time is coming for your reunion with the killer. Your only chance to stop it is for you to accept what you are: a witch. Now that you are eighteen, you can access your gifts.”

  A rush of heat settled into Amelia’s cheeks and she gritted her teeth. “Are you completely insane?” she uttered, her rising anger just waiting to erupt. She bolted up from her chair, shoving it back and letting it clatter to the floor. “There’s no such thing as witches!” Amelia reached out to Erin, grabbing her wrist and yanking her to her feet. “We’re leaving.”

  “I cannot let you do that, Amelia,” Madame Crystal whispered.

  Suddenly, a violent shock surged through Amelia’s hand, as if she had grabbed hold of an electric fence, and she dropped her grip on Erin. Out of the corner of her eye, a glimmer of light drew her attention. Amelia gasped. A halo of bright, golden light striped out in ribbons from the psychic. Before her eyes, Amelia watched dumbfounded, as a pistol formed in Madame Crystal’s hand, and she pointed it menacingly at Erin.

  “Neither of you are leaving,” the psychic hollered, hand trembling around the gun. “You will not survive this if you do no
t listen to what I must tell you.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Amelia shrieked.

  “I’m sorry, but you need to accept what you are,” Madame Crystal said, her voice shaky.

  “Millie,” Erin whispered, “Just do what she says.” Amelia glanced at Erin’s fear-stricken form, the gun just inches away from her head.

  Amelia took a deep breath. “Put the gun down,” she said in a deathly undertone. “I swear if you hurt her I’ll have every vamp in town after you in a flash.”

  Madame Crystal laughed nervously, turned the gun onto Amelia and pulled the trigger. The world around Amelia seemed to freeze at the metallic click of the bullet leaving the chamber of the gun. Before she knew what she was doing, a burst of steaming energy settled in her stomach and in a split second she yelled, “Immobilize!” Erin screamed. Amelia pushed on the hot energy that had gathered in the pit of her stomach and watched as it shot out in a rainbow of colors towards the bullet. The air around the silver bullet pieced together, as if building up a wall, and the bullet’s velocity slowed, before clattering to the hard wood floor. Amelia dropped to her knees panting.

  Madame Crystal sighed in relief and smiled wide. “I’m sorry to go to this extreme but we really didn’t have time to use a more conventional method of drawing out your power.”

  “Holy shit,” Erin breathed.

  Madame Crystal ignored her and pushed on. “There is much I need to tell you but we have a lot of work to do first. Mitchell is a good man but he has no control when it comes to you. His love blinds him. You need to block him out. You may be able to break the bond later if you choose but that will take work. For now, we will need to block his connection.”

  Amelia pulled herself off the floor, snagged the chair that she had knocked over, and plopped down. “I'm not a witch,” she said, but even to her own ears it didn’t sound believable. She could feel a sudden burst of energy coursing through her veins. It was comforting, like warm tea with honey. It reached from her toes to her fingertips. She had felt it once before, on her eighteenth birthday, but she had brushed it off, thinking it was just the flu.