“No, but it was entertaining,” he said with a chuckle.
She turned slowly, caught off guard by his playful laughter. He was in his human form, the form from before he was a spirit. Tall and thick, with gentle eyes that always gleamed with humor. Sandy hair cut close and full lips. He wore black jeans with a tan golf shirt and leather strapped sandals.
She smirked playfully. “I think you want her to succeed as much as I do.”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “Or maybe I’m setting her up for failure. She is still quite stubborn, isn’t she? That look on her face when I told her Mitchell knew what to do was priceless.”
Mother Nature’s lips thinned with annoyance. “I’m sure it was.”
“The others believe that she’s already failed. They’re prepping your replacement as we speak. I wonder what they would say if they knew you were sending hints.”
“I sent nothing to Amelia.” Her voice trembled with a note of pleading and she cursed herself for it. Whether she liked it or not, she was just a vessel for them. No more than an outlet for the elemental powers to join together.
Water stepped towards her with a teasing smirk. “Not directly, but the message will be shared.”
“What do you want?” she asked, holding her ground. She knew there was something. He wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t. And right then, she knew she would give anything to keep him quiet.
His eyes darkened, and he said, “I believe you already know the answer to that.”
CHAPTER 20
When it was settled, Amelia rested her cheek on Mitchell’s chest for a long moment, listening to the sound of his heart and then kissed his forehead before she went in search for a shower. She was determined to wash away the lingering sense of failure and weakness that had seeped into her bones.
After the too short shower, she toweled off her hair, wrapped the damp towel around her, and went to the door. She could sense the stillness in the room beyond it. Everyone had gone off to do whatever it was that they thought they were supposed to do, and she pulled the door open, to discover Eric lurking on the other side. “Was this really the time for a shower?” he demanded.
Amelia stepped aside and went past him, up the landing and to her closet. “I need a clear head for what I’m about to do, Eric. Really, you need to get over whatever it is that’s turned you all jerk-ish.”
Eric rolled his eyes. “Hurry up. I’ve got other things to do today aside from making sure you don’t blow up the entire town.”
Amelia ignored him, disappearing into her closet. She pulled on a pair of black, knee-length leggings and a lavender empire-style tank and then went over to Mitchell, still sleeping. She brushed his hair out of his unmoving eyes and whispered, “I love you.” And then, she went for the door, determination spurring her on.
The street was barren. It had always had a secluded feel with the thick tree line blocking the houses from view, but now it felt deserted. The only sounds Amelia heard as she walked towards the gates were the sounds of nature. Birds singing, the rustle of leaves in the summer breeze. No voices or cars or doors opening and closing. The vacantness of her gated street pierced her with dozens of sharp-tipped needles of cold. Amelia shivered as she searched the street for any sign of the living.
Although the sun had just come up, the world around her seemed stripped of color. The once perfectly manicured trees and lawns that had always glowed with life were now dull and listless. Overgrown patches of weeds clustered at the bases and along the cement edge of the curb.
Eric had offered to come with her, except she was pretty sure that he didn’t want to. It was a Lola condition; Amelia was sure of it. He trailed her, a pace or two behind. She’d tried to ask him a few times what was up with him, but each time she opened her mouth the question didn’t feel right. If she’d paid more attention, she’d already know. He was her best friend, and yet, he felt like a stranger.
Amelia gave him a sideways look as they walked. The slap of their soled shoes hitting the pavement echoed in the silent air. She took a breath. “What’s up with you, Eric?” she asked, watching him closely. “You look like someone ran over your dog.”
He laughed at that, but there wasn’t much humor in the sound. “If I had a dog and someone ran over it, I imagine it would feel a lot like this.” He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Amelia was almost ready to give up on it when he blurted, “Why does she want to leave me?”
Amelia stopped and turned towards him, at a loss. She figured she was supposed to know what he was talking about, but really, she didn’t. “What are you talking about?”
“Meg,” he said. “Meg doesn’t want to be changed. She wants to leave. She …” He sucked in a breath and raised his hands helplessly as if he didn’t know how to finish what he wanted to say.
“Meg wouldn’t ...” Amelia started, but he waved her off.
“It’s what triggered the pain.” He started walking again. “Who do you want to start with?”
His voice was cold, detached; it was clear that he didn’t want to talk about it. Amelia thought about ignoring it and forcing the conversation, but she didn’t. He’d talk when he was ready, and she knew him well enough to know that right now, with the way he was acting, it would only lead to an argument that they really didn’t have time for.
“Actually, I was thinking of dealing with them all at the same time,” she said, as they neared the small park at the center of the street. She turned in, Eric following along, and she said, “You should probably pull on Megan’s magic and make yourself a shield.”
Amelia wandered over to the center of the small park-like area. She knelt down in the overgrown grass, placing her hand on the lawn, feeding her magic through her palm. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure Eric had done what she said. He had. His skin shimmered with a thin layer of scarlet energy.
Her breath came steady, but her heartbeat skittered in her chest erratically. The ground began to crack beneath her touch and her thoughts went to Mitchell. She really hoped he was right about this, but even so, she couldn’t seem to push away the trepidation that was squeezing at her heart. Her exposure could lead to his, and if he was exposed as human …
She pushed away the thought. After what she was about to do, not a single one of them would cross her, or at least that’s what she hoped.
Amelia let her energy take over, flowing freely from her body and into the ground. The soil beneath her rocked steadily, groaning and grinding. Hairline fractures snaked out from where her hand touched, and the groaning turned into thunder-like cracks.
A breeze picked up, ruffling her hair, and then she heard the voice. “Amelia? I thought you were on vacation.”
Amelia grinned, letting her fangs drop. She sent another thundering blast into the ground, hoping to draw them all out with the energy, and then rolled up to her feet, scanning Jake up and down. His bulky, roped muscle frame was covered only by a black pair of boxer shorts. His short dark blond hair was sticking up on one side and flattened on the other, and his light blue eyes looked startled, wide, and a bit guarded.
“Shit.” Eric’s murmured voice reached her ears. Amelia almost spun around to make sure he was okay, but then she heard the rustle of movement all around her.
“Just the person I wanted to see,” Amelia said, keeping her focus on Jake. Her voice was cold, emotionless, firm. She clapped her hands together and her frosty grin grew a bit wider. “I hear you like torturing your soulmate.”
Jake’s jaw dropped a little as his eyes traced her fangs, and then moved up to her crimson gaze. “He turned you,” he croaked, and Amelia wasn’t certain, but she thought she saw a slight shudder rush over his skin.
Amelia laughed, a shocked, bubbly kind of sound. A hand squeezed her shoulder with a firm warning grip, but she shrugged it off and stepped closer to Jake. She leaned into him, and whispered, “You’ve got four minutes to give me an explanation, Jake.”
“Screw off,” Jake snapped, leaning back from her a
nd scowling. He folded his arms over his chest, and let his fangs drop.
“It wasn’t a request, Jake,” Amelia growled. “Want to know what happens when the four minutes are up?”
Amelia let her magic flow freely around her. The crimson light twisted and swirled in streams. She let it build until her skin sizzled from its warmth and then with an audible suction, she pulled every bit of it into the palm of her hand and she juggled the blazing sphere, tossing it back and forth from hand to hand.
Jake went deathly white and jumped back from her, and she felt the hand return to her shoulder, squeezing tighter than before. “Careful,” Eric hissed. “You’re going to lose control.”
Amelia gave him a reassuring smile, although she didn’t think it helped much. He looked unnerved and his hand felt jittery on her shoulder. “I know what I’m doing,” she whispered, shrugging off his hand. It wasn’t entirely true, she really wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she knew she was in complete control of the magic. It was responding to her, not consuming her, and that had to count for something. She gave Eric another smile and he grimaced in response.
“From what I hear, you all think it’s okay to drain your soulmates until they’re seconds from death.” Amelia made a tsk sound and clucked her tongue, scanning the crowd of vampires that surrounded her. They all stood with loose, predatory poses, eyes blazing and fangs down. She did a quick mental count, confirming they were all there. “What would Mitchell say?” she asked to no one in particular.
“Clearly, he doesn’t have anything to say about it,” someone said, although she wasn’t sure who had spoken.
“Wow,” she said with a laugh. “You really think it’s a good idea to give attitude to the girl that’s juggling a ball of fire?” She tossed her flaming ball of magic into the air, catching it easily. “I’m going to say this once and only once. The next time one of you so much as looks at your soulmate the wrong way, you’ll have to deal with me.”
A snake-like hiss sounded from behind her and Amelia spun, just in time to see Jake’s feet leave the ground as he lunged at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught more movement, and a chorus of snarls filled her ears.
The ball of magic dispersed in a blink, and Amelia laughed, a startled and more than a little freaked out burst of sound. She reached out, grabbing Eric’s hand, yanking him close to her side and then summoned her magic. Flames leapt from the ground, circling them in a wall of fire, just as the swarm of vampires enclosed on them. Amelia heard the blood-curdling screams and smelled the harsh scent of skin burning before she could pull the magic back.
CHAPTER 21
Mitchell turned in slow circles, taking in his surroundings. Inky shadows flitted past him, blending in and out of the blackness. The walls around him shimmered and rippled like disturbed water, moving from ceiling to floor almost like a waterfall, except there was no mist or spray, and the black fluid-like walls seemed to seep into the stone ground beneath his feet.
Where the hell am I? he wondered, reaching out to touch one of the moving walls. His hand melted into it, slick and cold, and when he pulled it away, oily water dripped from his fingertips.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mitchell caught a glimpse of a pulsing black light. He swiveled, his gaze focusing on it. Tyler stood in the dense blackness so still that Mitchell swore he wasn’t even breathing. He started out as only an outline, just a thin line of a shadow, but as Mitchell strained his useless human eyes, he gradually identified the contours of his face and shoulders. He was in black, the rest of his body seemingly melting into the darkness around him, as if it was trying to swallow him up.
The light pulsed again. It was coming from Tyler, flickering on the side of his neck. His soul’s mark, Mitchell realized, watching the black, ink-like mark as it glowed and flickered.
Mitchell stared at the mark. He’d never seen one pulse with life before. It meant something. He was sure of it. He opened his mouth, calling out to Tyler, but no sound came out. He took a step, reaching a hand out to him, but his hand passed right through, as if Tyler was made of the same substance as the walls.
Tyler turned to the side, giving Mitchell a full view of the mark. It pulsed brighter; a soft white glow around the thick black lines. Mitchell squinted against the light as it snaked along the lines and then it dropped below, scrawling letters across Tyler’s neck, spelling out a name. Angelle O’Connor. It blinked and flickered, throbbing like a heartbeat. The name burned into his vision, clear and bright, and then it wavered, and Tyler was gone.
Inky darkness enclosed around Mitchell, thick as tar. The walls caved, crashing like a wave colliding with a rock cliff. The black water crept up his legs, swallowing him up. It was heavy, creeping around his waist and pushing at his chest, expelling his breath slowly, hissing through his lips like a punctured balloon. He tried to suck in air, but his chest wouldn’t expand. His lungs burned. His face felt as if it was about to explode. His arms were encased in the heavy …
WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! A familiar voice hollered into his mind. It was airy but sharp, pushing and pulling, back and forth through his ears like a tug-a-war, jarring him in his sleep.
Mitchell blinked. A starburst of white pin-lights danced across his eyes. He blinked again, and sucked in a greedy breath. It burned through his empty lungs as if the air had lit them ablaze. He sat up slowly, which was still too fast. His stomach heaved and his head swam with dizziness. He swallowed hard fighting down the nausea, gasping for air, and blinking furiously, trying to rid himself of the dancing specks of lights that blurred his vision.
His bedroom was as silent as a grave. The coppery scent of blood was thick in the air mixed with the stale, sweaty scent of fever. Mitchell scanned the room. It was as empty as it felt. The curtains were pulled tightly closed; slivers of light streamed from the edges. His eyes landed on a crusty brownish-red stain on the carpet beside his bed. Blood.
Mitchell sat still for a long moment, waiting for his spinning head to clear as he stared at the blood. It was only a few drops. Nothing to worry about, but his heart twisted with anxiety as he looked at it. Were those few drops enough to leave such a thick coppery scent in the air? He didn’t think so, not enough for a human to notice, anyway.
He scanned the room again slowly, searching for more. His eyes zoned in on mugs and blood bags littering the coffee table and the nightstand beside him, and relief washed over him like a tidal wave.
Mitchell pulled in a deep, calming breath, letting the air fill his lungs. He closed his eyes, as the air hissed out bit by bit from his lips, the last of the dizziness floated out of him with his breath. A flash of his dream played through his mind. Tyler’s mark. Angelle’s name. His head started to swim again and he squeezed his eyes tighter, wishing the spinning would stop.
His mouth was dry, his throat, parched. His lips felt chapped and cracked but … Mitchell ran his hand along his forehead and down his cheek and neck. His skin was grimy, gritty feeling, but dry. No sweat, no fever. He breathed in a long breath through his nose easily; no whistling, or clogged nostrils. He felt … better. Better than better. He felt alive.
The door squeaked on its hinges and Lola walked in. Her short blond hair was wet and un-styled, dropping around her face in shaggy rope-like strands. The shoulders of her aqua T-shirt were speckled with spots of water droplets and her off-white shorts looked crisp and clean.
She walked into the room, her eyes fixed to the floor, with Luke behind her. He looked stressed, Mitchell noticed; deep lines creased his forehead and along the edges of his mouth.
Mitchell watched as they wandered into the room without glancing in his direction, and sat down in the big brown leather chairs. They looked as if they’d lost their best friend, grim and sad and tense. That’s when it all hit him with mind-numbing intensity. Amelia. The bite. The bond. The magic. The pain burning through his veins. He gasped as the memories assaulted his mind. She did it, he realized. She healed me.
“You’re awake,” Lola squ
ealed. Suddenly she was standing over him, her eyes big and round and more excited than he’d ever seen them before. He scuttled back an inch, watching her with leery caution.
Mitchell cleared his dry throat and swallowed. “How long have I been sleeping?” he asked. His voice cracked from dryness and he licked at his lips.
“Thirteen hours,” Luke said, as he made his way up the landing to hover over Mitchell’s bed. “Lola, go get him some water.” Lola glanced between Luke and Mitchell, and her smile dropped slightly. She looked as if she was about to protest, but then she dashed out of the room.
Sudden panic squeezed at Mitchell’s chest. Thirteen hours. They didn’t have thirteen hours. Mitchell felt sick. Very sick. He looked at Luke, desperate to say something, but his thoughts were all jumbled up. It was as if his brain and his mouth were no longer connected to each other. Thirteen hours.
A glass of water was shoved into his hands. He lifted it to his lips, downing it all in a few gulps. He slid off the bed on shaky legs and padded down the steps of the landing.
His heart hammered painfully fast against his ribs. Luke grabbed his shoulders, twirling him around. Shooting pain cut through Mitchell’s head, and his heart jumped into his throat. “Where’s Amelia?” he gasped. “I need to tell her about the dream I had.”
“What dream?” Luke asked; his inquisitive eyes suddenly felt invasive.
“Luke, please, where is she?” His voice was whisper soft. Something was wrong. Mitchell could feel it in his bones. He had missed something. Something important. And he had a sinking feeling that letting Amelia bite him was the biggest mistake he had ever made. The voice that woke him up, he was certain he knew who it was. It was so familiar, airy and soft with that sweet chirp that Amelia had in her own tone. Mother Nature was giving him a hint; he was sure of it. It was something to do with a mark; an unclaimed soulmate.
The Soul's Mark: CHANGED Page 11
