CHAPTER 15
Luke squeezed Lola’s knee and offered her a small smile, but it didn’t help. She wanted to go after Amelia so much that it physically hurt. It was torture watching her suffer like this, and Lola seriously thought that letting Mitchell follow her while she was … unstable was a mistake. One that they were all going to regret.
Megan was chattering away with Eric about Amelia’s thoughts on the bond. Her voice grated on Lola’s nerves like a rusty nail scraping along metal. Eric didn’t add much to the conversation, only grunting blunt responses every few seconds, and if Lola wasn’t so stressed, she probably would have told him to get out of his jerky mood.
As it was, Lola kept her eyes glued to the empty doorway, wishing Amelia or Mitchell, or preferably both of them, would come back. She understood the logic behind what Mitchell was doing. Amelia needed to realize that he wouldn’t always be at arm’s reach to soothe her magic when it went all haywire, but still, watching her go through it wasn’t easy.
Lola still didn’t get how Mitchell could calm Amelia so well. Maybe it was her soul trapped within him, but still, without the bond Lola hadn’t thought that he could have this kind of effect on Amelia. But he did. All Mitchell had to do was touch Amelia and her magic would all but vanish into thin air.
She could almost feel Amelia’s pain. It was a feeling in her gut, an instinct telling her that Amelia needed help. Luke said it was normal. Amelia was her child now, and no matter how far apart they were from each other, she’d always be able to feel if Amelia was in trouble, but it was seriously uncomfortable.
Erin whimpered softly, drawing Lola’s attention. Lola watched as Erin clenched and unclenched her fingers. Each time her fists balled, her boney knuckles protruded, and the veins along the top of her hands popped. She hadn’t realized that everyone was so nervous about Amelia biting Mitchell, but as she glanced around she noticed that they all were.
Lola lurched in her seat as a violent shiver spread along her spine. “It’s going to be okay, honey,” Luke mumbled, patting her thigh. He offered a forced smile, before focusing back on the doorway Mitchell had just left through.
It’s not going to be okay, Lola thought, but again, could not voice her fears. If anything happened to either of them, nothing would ever be okay again; Lola was sure of it.
“So after she bites him she’ll be normal again?” Erin asked, breaking through Megan’s excited rambling. “No more flaming balls of magic?”
“That’s what he hopes,” Luke said through his teeth. He was stressed, which was odd for Luke. Since Lola had met him, he’d always been the calm one. Nothing ruffled his cool, in control exterior. But right then he looked as unnerved as the rest of them.
Silence stretched over them, thick and suffocating. Lola couldn’t remember the last time everyone had been so tense. She felt like crying and yelling and laughing. Her emotions, jumbled, like a ball of yarn after being attacked by a kitten.
“Why are you guys so scared about this?” Lucy asked meekly. “Amelia wouldn’t hurt him, right?”
The question made Lola jerk in her seat. It was a question that had been playing through her mind since Mitchell had become human, and again, she found herself wondering what she would do if Amelia actually hurt him.
“Not intentionally,” Luke said, giving Lucy a reassuring smile. He rubbed his thumb in gentle circles along Lola’s knee as if to soothe her.
It wasn’t working.
Lola didn’t understand his answer. It seemed like a stupid answer to a simple question. Either she would or she wouldn’t. Not intentionally just seemed so … vague. She was about to tell him as much when Eric rolled his eyes and grunted.
“Of course she won’t hurt him.” Eric’s lips thinned and he shot Lola a look. “You’ve got to chill out. You may have a tie to her now, but you’re making this whole thing worse than it has to be.”
“I was trying to help,” Lola said, as tears bit at her eyelids. “I just wanted her to wait until he could change again.” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “So she couldn’t hurt him.”
The screech of a chair, sliding across the marble floor made everyone jump. “I need …” Angelle started, standing up. She looked tired and sad. Really, really sad. It was weird. Lola knew that Angelle had liked Tyler, but it wasn’t real love. More like infatuation. A vampire couldn’t love anyone other than their soulmate. Luke had taught her that. “I need …” Angelle tried again, but her voice hitched and a tear snaked down her cheek. A small sob escaped and she shrugged her shoulders as if to say she really didn’t know what she needed.
Megan stood up, and reached out a hand towards Angelle. “Come on, Angelle. You look like you could use some girl talk.”
Eric growled. It came from the back of his throat, deep and rough. His hand jumped out, grabbing Megan’s wrist in what looked to a painful grip. “Sit down,” he said, yanking Megan back to her chair.
“Eric!” Luke growled. He stood up, slowly, his eyes locked on Eric with a menacing intensity.
“What the hell, Eric?” Megan snapped, trying to shake off his hand. But Eric didn’t get a chance to answer.
Right then, Lola gasped as wave after wave of chills rushed over her skin. Something snapped inside her, like a branch breaking in half. She squeezed her eyes shut, and sucked in a noisy breath. “It’s done.”
CHAPTER 16
Amelia clung onto Mitchell’s hand in a dream-like state as they walked across the grass. The dry blades itched at her bare feet, and the smell of pollen and dust was thick in the air.
She saw herself gliding along in her lacy black bra and underwear and she saw him. His strong arm supporting her, his pearly white smile. Mitchell was in faded jeans and a squash-colored T-shirt. His wavy brown hair rested on his forehead, and hugged his sculpted cheekbones like an outline.
His blood was like alcohol, making her mind cloud, and her reflexes drag. He chuckled as she stumbled, but the sound wasn’t velvety like usual, it was rough and hoarse.
The bond was alive, feeding her mind with all his thoughts and his plans. She could see how sick he really was. She caught glimpses of the rags filled with blood from his coughing, and she could feel the fire burning through his body from the fever. It all slipped in no matter how hard she tried to push the images away. And she could feel him in her mind, too. The soft buzz and the light pull as he moved things aside as if he was searching for something.
“Love, that’s brilliant,” he said, leading her up the terrace steps. He guided her through the French doors, and began pulling on her magic. It was a soft pull, as if he wasn’t consciously doing it, and it felt … right. As if her magic missed him, missed the connection as much as she had.
“What’s brilliant?” she asked, her voice slurring over the words. “Why do I feel ... drunk?”
The pull came again and she saw her magic leaving her body, weaving with the golden chain that tethered them together. He led her over to a chair, and she plopped down in an ungraceful heap.
“The spell,” he said, smiling down at her. “The spell is brilliant and you feel drunk because it’s the first time you’ve drank fresh blood straight from a human. It’ll pass, love.”
His explanation made absolutely no sense and her face screwed up as she attempted to understand. “But I drank from Josh,” she said. She rubbed at her face and rolled her shoulders, before looking up at him.
“Josh wasn’t human. He was still a witch, if not a hunter.” He smiled, a full, white smile, and then he coughed. It was a wet cough, and it hurt. Amelia could feel that he was in pain through the bond. It was an uncomfortable feeling, not actually hurting her, but she knew it hurt him. The knowledge gripped at her, twisting and tearing at her heart, and an overwhelming urge to stop his suffering filled her.
Mitchell turned from her, as his chest heaved and his shoulders shook. He tugged on her magic again, more forceful this time, pulling it to him until his body was saturated in white gleaming light. Within sec
onds, the coughing subsided and he pulled in a shaky, wheezing breath.
“You were right,” she whispered. “I didn’t really know if you’d be able to use the magic. I hoped but ...”
Mitchell slowly straightened, the white light of magic dissipated into the air. “It’s our souls that let me access it, Amelia. It had nothing to do with me being a vampire. Our souls have always connected us.”
Amelia’s head was slowly starting to clear. She gazed out the window, the sky had turned to twilight, gray and with a hint of deep blue, and black clouds were slowly rolling in. “The first day is almost over,” she whispered. How? Amelia could have sworn it was only early afternoon. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she cried.
“We’ll figure it out, love,” Mitchell said, his voice full of assurance. “Together.”
Together. The word played through her head. A word that she never truly believed would apply to them, not really. They were a couple, they always would be, but together ... it seemed like a dream.
Mitchell’s fingertips brushed against her cheek as he knelt before her. His warm eyes met hers, and his lips twitched into a playful smile.
“I missed this feeling,” he said. “It’s like I’m floating. The bond, the magic …” He sighed then, a wistful kind of sound, and a playful humor danced across his eyes. “Are you ready to fix me?”
Amelia groaned. “Who are you and what did you do with my Mitchell?” she asked, eyeing him closely.
He took her hand, fitting it within his own, and raised it to his lips. His lips pressed against her soft skin, making her heart flip-flop and sparks race through her blood. Her magic flared, lapping along her skin like an excited puppy, littering her with kisses.
“Do you want me to say the spell with you or just try to stabilize the power?” he asked against her skin, as his lips trailed up her arm. Amelia forgot how amazing this felt. The tingling of her skin, the way the bond connected them. It was as if they were one, his emotions pushing into her and hers into him in a delirious whirlwind of heat mixed with raw passion.
“Just make sure I don’t blow anything up,” she breathed, lost in the sensation of his touch. She shook her head, trying to clear it, and cleared her throat. “I should get …”
“No,” Mitchell said firmly, plucking the thought from her head, and cutting her off. “If something goes wrong, I don’t want the others to get hurt.”
Amelia reluctantly nodded. He was probably right. She really didn’t know if she’d be able to control the energy. It wasn’t that the spell was all that complicated, it was just that Mitchell was really, really sick. The amount of power that she’d have to use, well, it was more than she’d ever dreamed of using before.
Mitchell made himself comfortable in one of the chairs, his hands tightly gripping the armrests. He kept his eyes locked on her, and tried to keep the playful smile on his lips, but Amelia noticed the corners of his mouth tighten and thin a little.
Amelia pulled herself out of the chair, and padded over to him. She rested a hand on his; the contact would help her channel the magic, and he nodded, a silent indication that he was ready. With a deep, calming breath, she closed her eyes. Her energy heated, pooling in her stomach and snaking through her veins. She squeezed his hand tighter as she pushed it towards him, coating him in the power.
It trickled from her with steady drops of energy. She could feel it warming him through the bond and she focused on it, forcing it out of her in a steady stream. When she was certain that she was in complete control of the power, she let the spell surface in her mind, focusing not just on the words, but also on her intended outcome. Heal him, she thought. Regenerate his body and erase the sickness. Amelia pictured his illness as a rotting apple riddled with mushy brown spots, and in her mind’s eyes, she imagined herself erasing them, one spot at a time. Heal him. Heal him. Heal him, she silently chanted, letting her words mingle with the power that flowed freely from her to him.
Mitchell grunted, his hand stiffening within hers, and suddenly the magic ripped from Amelia, pouring into him like a flood.
Amelia screamed. Her knees gave out and she crumpled to the floor. Her bones felt like they were snapping, and blinding pain shot through every inch of her body. She wrenched her hand away from Mitchell, but the magic kept flowing, tearing from her body, and saturating him.
His mouth was open in a silent scream and his eyes wide and round as quarters. His body convulsed, he blinked, and then she watched in horror as his eyes rolled back into his head.
****
Something cold slithered through Amelia. Something that felt a lot like fear. It slid through her veins and prickled along her skin.
Mitchell wasn’t moving. His eyes didn’t flutter. His chest stayed level, not rising and falling as it should. If it wasn’t for the soft buzz in his brain, she would have been certain he was dead.
Luke stood over him, his hazel eyes full of questions. He ran a hand across Mitchell’s forehead and his nostrils flared as he sucked in breath after breath.
She could hear the rest of her family outside the door whispering to each other. Their voices rising and falling, but nothing that was said made any sense to her scattered brain.
“Amelia,” called Luke, shaking her lightly. She looked up at him and then down to his hand that rested on her shoulder. He was looking at her expectantly, as if waiting for an answer.
“Yes?” she inquired, her voice barely a whisper.
“What did you do?” Luke was smiling, a big, bright smile that Amelia couldn’t understand. She glanced down at Mitchell’s cloudy white face, slumped to the side at an uncomfortable looking angle.
“I … I …” her voice hitched on a prickly lump, and her eyes stung with tears. She swallowed hard, and blinked fast. “Tried to heal the infection.”
Luke picked her up, his arms encircling her waist, and spun her around. She squealed a startled sound, and gasped as Luke set her back on her feet. “Amelia, breathe,” he said with excitement. It was the oddest thing she’d ever seen. Luke never got excited, always wearing the same calm and calculated mask. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards Mitchell and placed her hand on his neck, trailing it along his cheek and forehead. “The fever’s gone, Millie.”
“But he … he looks dead,” she screeched. She didn’t understand how Luke could be so happy. Mitchell didn’t even look like he was breathing. He had to be, she knew that; she could hear the steady thump of his heart beating, but he looked …
Amelia fell to her knees, burying her face into Mitchell’s lap. She felt as if her very essence had been torn from her, leaving her utterly empty. “Wake up, Mitch,” she cried, clasping onto his leg. “Dammit! Wake up.”
CHAPTER 17
Angelle was restless. She couldn’t stand still. Her brain wouldn’t turn off and her fangs kept snapping down. She was going crazy trapped in this house, watching Mitchell sleep like the dead. She’d left him and the rest of her family an hour ago, retreating to her room. She didn’t want them to see her struggling, because that would lead to questions. Questions that she did not have answers to.
Tyler hadn’t called yet, and he wouldn’t answer her calls either. He’d only been gone a day now, but with each second that ticked by, another thread of self-restraint snapped within her.
The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains, casting ribbons of light onto the buttery yellow walls of her room. Angelle watched the golden threads of sunlight dance around the room as the curtains fluttered in the soft summer breeze.
She needed to do something, but she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. She could feel each nerve in her body, twitching and twisting, and she wished she understood why.
“You okay?” Megan asked from the doorway, drawing Angelle’s attention. Megan’s scarlet curls hung over her shoulders, framing her freckled face, and her leafy-green eyes shone with concern. Her tan capris and mocha tank top were lined with deep folds and fine wrinkles, and the dark smudges un
der her eyes showed that she, too, had had a sleepless night. But then, Angelle was certain that not a single one of them had slept, not when Mitchell …
Angelle really didn’t know how to answer the question and right then she wished it was Amelia standing in the doorway and not her look-a-like cousin. Amelia wouldn’t have had to ask that question. She would have known what was bothering Angelle, and she would have said something ridiculously naive that she would’ve meant as encouraging. But, of course, Amelia wouldn’t have come, not with Mitchell lying unconscious. Most likely, she hadn’t even noticed that Angelle had left.
“So, Eric finally let you go,” Angelle said, after a moment, not really ready to talk about Tyler, and noticing the red fingerprints encircling Megan’s wrist.
“Eric is being a dumbass,” Megan said with a groan. “Seriously, are all men this stupid?”
Angelle laughed. It wasn’t the bubbly laugh she was used to, but it felt good nonetheless. “When it comes to their soulmates, yep, they are. What’s going on with you guys? You never fight. Honestly, I didn’t think you guys would find anything to trigger the pain.”
Megan leaned against the doorframe, hugging her arms across her chest. Her expression was like stone, hard and detached. “I don’t want to change. He wants me to.”
“You don’t?” she asked, her eyebrows rising. “Why not?”
Megan didn’t look like she was going to answer. She just stared at the wall with blank eyes. Angelle figured that was her cue to say something awesomely chipper, but she couldn’t think of anything.
After a moment, Megan blinked, as if she just realized that she hadn’t answered the question. She said, “Simple. Just look at Millie. She’s been a flaming ball of fire since she changed. I don’t want that. The whole witch-vampire combo clearly doesn’t work.”
The Soul's Mark: CHANGED Page 9
