“The … the … I don’t know,” Eric wailed in frustration. “She fell, and there are shadows …” Eric caught a glimpse of a hand, and he growled. “They have bows and arrows.”
Mitchell grabbed his shoulders, and shook him roughly. “Eric, you have to stop thinking about her. You’re going to pull her to you.”
“I have to help her!” Eric shouted, thrashing about as he tried, unsuccessfully, to get Mitchell’s hands off of him. All at once, he drew the lines that he hadn’t been able to connect before. She was real. She was his. And someone was trying to hurt her. He didn’t know why or how he knew this, but he did. He could feel it in his bones, in his heart, in his essence. She was his soulmate.
As if Megan knew he was watching, in that moment of realization, she shifted her head, giving him a clear view of her neck, and it was there—the mark—a black figure eight with a solid line passing behind the bottom loop. His soul’s mark.
“Then you have to let her go,” Mitchell said sternly. “She needs to keep running. Trust me.” There was desperation in his voice, as if he was begging Eric to listen. “You need to stop watching and let her run.” He paused for a second, and his eyes misted. “Please stop,” Mitchell pleaded.
But Eric couldn’t. He had no control over whatever was happening. He didn’t understand it. Why couldn’t Mitchell see that? Eric watched helplessly as Megan’s body began to separate, as if her spirit was leaving her, and suddenly a wavy image of her floated above as her body collapsed to the ground.
Eric cried out, terrified, and his body began to shake.
“Mr. Carter?” Megan screamed, panicked. Her voice filled the room, and her erratic heartbeat hit Eric’s ears like a punch in the gut. He swiveled his head, following the sound, and he sucked in a startled breath. Her green eyes were piercing and full of alarm, and her blood red curls, untamed.
Mitchell cursed. And then, in a swift motion, he grabbed Eric’s chin and twisted, and everything went black.
****
Eric woke up with a start. His neck snapped and popped, and he could feel his spine piecing together under his skin. His neck muscles tightened, and with another uncomfortable snap, they loosened again. He gasped, and the air burned through his lungs as if he had been holding his breath for hours. His eyes began to water, and he scrubbed at his face. What the hell happened?
“Eric, I want you to check on Megan,” Mitchell said.
Eric dropped his hands from his face, and shifted his gaze to Mitchell. He was sitting at the edge of his bed, with a grim expression, and he wouldn’t meet Eric’s eyes.
In a split second, everything came racing back. The soul’s mark. The curse. Megan. She had been scared. She had been here. His eyes blazed, and his fangs snapped down. “What did you do?” Eric demanded.
Mitchell cringed, and shuffled around on the bed uncomfortably. After a moment, he took a deep breath and said in a rush, “You pulled her spirit here, so I broke your neck.”
“You what!” Eric seethed.
“I needed to break the connection. If someone was chasing her, she had to keep running, and she couldn’t do that if she wasn’t in her body,” Mitchell said, as if it was simple logic.
“Where is she?” The words came out in a growl, and Eric glared at Mitchell. I can’t believe he broke my neck!
“I don’t know,” Mitchell said, his calm and controlled demeanor back in place. He tossed up his hands and waved them around. “Hence, why I want you to check on her.”
“How in the hell am I supposed to do that if you don’t even know where she is? She was just here!” Eric had seen her. She had been here which meant, obviously, that no one was chasing her.
Mitchell nodded. “In a way, yes. I’ll explain it all, but first you need to see if she is okay. Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and look for her.”
Eric did what he was told for two reasons. One: he really wanted to make sure Megan wasn’t just an illusion. And two: Mitchell was getting annoyed, and that never ended well.
When Eric closed his eyes, Mitchell said, “Now, when you find her, try to pick out anything around her that will help you track her location. If she falls again, drop the thought. I don’t want you bringing her back here in case she is still in trouble. She needs to stay with her body.”
It made no sense to Eric, but he did as he was told. He couldn’t say how long he sat there trying to visualize Megan. It felt like hours, but no matter how hard he thought about her, he saw nothing. Only blackness. He was just about to give up when he heard a soft whimper. There was some crunching, as if someone was walking on gravel, and then a thud. A gasp and skin slapping skin.
“Eric, stop!” Mitchell said. “Stop!”
CHAPTER 8
The sun rose and then it set, and still Eric didn’t have any answers. Not that Mitchell hadn’t tried to give them, he had. It was just that Eric couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the idea that the girl of his dreams was actually real, alive, and out there somewhere. And it really didn’t help that every five minutes Megan was screaming, and each time she did, it wrecked havoc on his heart. Mitchell said it was a good thing that she was screaming. It meant that she was still alive, but Eric couldn’t stand her feeling so scared.
“So you don’t have any idea where she is?” Lola asked for at least the hundredth time.
“No,” Eric said, and he ran his hands through his hair. Luke, Lola, Angelle, and Mitchell sat around the round oak kitchen table staring at him. They were all giving him a look that said they didn’t believe him. Did they really think he would be sitting here with them if he knew where she was?
“Well, you need to find her,” Angelle chirped, as if it was the first time it had been said.
When Mitchell said that the soul’s mark gave a vampire a connection to their soulmate, he hadn’t been lying. From what Eric understood, his soul was in Megan, and the mark allowed him to use his soul to, in a sense, push hers out of her body. When that happened, he could then call her to him. Mitchell explained that this usually only happened while the vampire and soulmate were asleep, like a vivid dream.
In the dream state, Eric could also use the mark to force his soul out of her body for a limited amount of time. And this was exactly what Mitchell wanted him to do. If Eric did, then he would appear where she was, and he might be able to narrow down her physical location.
“I can’t try if we are both awake, now can I?” Eric snapped, frustrated and annoyed, and maybe a little hungry.
Since Eric seemed to have absolutely no self-control, Mitchell had insisted that he needed to learn some. He claimed that it would help find Megan, and self-control was allegedly the only way their race could survive, although Eric thought his father was just trying to punish him. For what, he didn’t know, but there always seemed to be a reason. All he wanted to do was find Megan, but each time he did, Mitchell would force him to stop, and Eric was really getting tired of having a broken neck. Eric knew Mitchell was doing it to keep Megan safe. The only times he had been able to grip onto her spirit was when she was running for her life, but still, it was infuriating.
They had wandered around Willowberg for ten hours in the frigid snow while Mitchell introduced him to fear, love, and anger. Forcing the emotions on him and making him breathe in the scents that came from them. And then, when Eric thought he would surely die of starvation, Mitchell had forced him to walk away. Walk away from the pounding hearts, the sound of blood quickening in their veins, and not give in to the temptation.
It had been the worst lesson yet. There was something about the strong emotions that made the blood sweeter. Alluring. Magical. Just the thought of it made his teeth sharpen, ripping through his gums like thick needles through flesh. And with all the insane emotions he was feeling with Megan’s fear rupturing inside him, mixed with the lesson, he was famished.
But the lesson, not that Eric would ever tell Mitchell, had worked. When Megan screamed, it was easier to keep control and le
t her run instead of bringing her to him.
“You actually saw her?” Luke asked Mitchell, his hazel eyes questioning.
“No,” Mitchell said, shaking his head. “I didn’t have time to look. But she was here, and as soon as I heard her voice, I stopped him.”
“How?” Luke asked simply, before Eric had a chance to spit out exactly what he thought of Mitchell stopping him.
“Before the fire …” Mitchell started, and then stopped, swallowing hard. He glanced out the window, but by the look on his face, Eric was pretty sure Mitchell wasn’t actually seeing anything. The silence grew thick in the air, and Eric noticed that the others were looking at Mitchell with deep sympathy.
“Mitch, you don’t have to talk about her,” Angelle said, breaking the awkward stretch of silence. She pulled her chair closer to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, giving him a squeeze.
Mitchell smiled, a sad kind of smile, and then he took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “When Amelia was scared, when her emotions were running wild, I could latch onto her and pull her out while we were awake. When I did, well she appeared as herself, and anyone around could see her, touch her, as if she was really, fully there.”
Eric blinked, and then blinked again. What? Who was Amelia? What fire? How many things did he not know? Or maybe the better question was how many of Mitchell’s lessons had he ignored?
“She used your vampiric energy to gain substance,” Lola said matter-of-factly. Everyone looked at her then, and she shrugged. “What? After she died, I did some research about the connection. It’s more common than you think, especially when the connection is strong.”
They were all still gaping at Lola as if they had never seen her before, when Eric blurted, “Who is Amelia?”
Mitchell opened his mouth to speak, but to Eric’s amazement, he closed it just as quickly. For the first time since Eric met him, Mitchell looked … broken. Utterly and completely broken. There was no mask. His emotions were thick in the air; cold, broken, and empty. It was as if a piece of him died at the mention of her name, but behind the brokenness, Eric also caught something else, self-loathing and a burning hatred. Even Eric knew that was a dangerous mixture.
“She’s Mitchell’s soulmate,” Angelle said. She whispered a few soothing notes in Mitchell’s ear and rubbed his shoulder, her arm still wrapped tightly around him, before she continued. “She was burned as a witch just over three-hundred years ago, and he hasn’t been able to find her since.”
“She died, and you’re still looking?” Eric said it as a question, because well, it was. Mitchell smiled at him, or that’s what Eric thought it was supposed it be. It looked more like a freaked-out sneer than a smile.
“Eric, no human really dies,” Mitchell said, his voice thick with emotion. “Their body may, but the soul never does. Even if you don’t find Megan in this lifetime, she’ll come back to you in another.” He offered another scary looking smile, and Eric cringed.
Not find Megan? That wasn’t a scenario that Eric wanted to think about. It was right then that he decided what he would do. The others continued on, telling him about the mark and some kind of bond that happens after a human gets bitten by their vampire soulmate, but Eric wasn’t listening. No, he was too busy forming a plan. A plan to find Megan before whatever, or whoever, was after her found her first.
CHAPTER 9
Eric was being held—restrained. He figured it was his own fault; he should never have attempted to come up with a plan while the others had been trying to explain what was happening to him. Mitchell had said it was evident, written clearly across Eric’s face. So … Mitchell had locked him away, supposedly to stop Eric from doing anything rash and impulsive. Mitchell claimed it was just until they all knew what they were dealing with, but Eric didn’t care why.
The cellar was damp and dark, and the chains that kept Eric pinned to the wall were cold. But he hardly noticed any of it. All he had really noticed for the last three days was the relentless tug around his heart. Three excruciatingly long days. And each day, Megan’s fear was stronger. And the stronger it got, the harder it was to stay civil. He wanted to go on a rampage, killing anyone that stood in his way. He had never felt so useless before. But right now, that’s exactly how he felt. Useless.
“Eric, this is for your own good,” Mitchell said. He had been sitting in front of Eric, blabbing on and on about soulmates, and dreams, and God only knows what else for hours now. “You’ll only put her in more danger by chasing her.”
“You don’t know anything!” Eric snarled, yanking against the chains. He wanted to kill Mitchell—literally. All he could think about was ripping out his throat. And the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to break the chains, drive his hand through Mitchell’s chest, and tear out his heart. He felt like a wild animal, savage and ruthless, and although he knew this was not him, he relished the thought of watching Mitchell’s body fall in a lifeless heap at his feet.
Mitchell rose from his chair, and his eyes flashed red. “I’ve spent seven hundred years dealing with this bond, Eric. If you’re not thinking clearly, you’ll hurt her. You could even kill her.”
“You’re insane,” Eric hissed. Kill her. He wouldn’t hurt her. Never.
Mitchell tossed his hands up in exasperation, and started pacing the dirt cellar floor. “I’m trying to help you. You’re too young for this.”
“How can you tell me she’s real, and then lock me up like a rabid dog?” Eric spat, barely hearing Mitchell’s pleas. “I thought you cared about me. I thought I was your family.”
“I do care, Eric,” Mitchell said softly, and then he sighed, a sad kind of sound. “I know you don’t understand, but it is because I care that I can’t let you run after her until you know where she is, and what’s chasing her. You’ll only make things worse.”
“I hate you!” Eric yelled. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Mitchell looked … well, he looked like Eric had physically punched him, and it was awful. Completely and utterly awful. He may want Mitchell dead, but he also loved him. It was the most confusing mix of emotions that Eric had ever felt.
Mitchell dropped down into a chair and scrubbed at his face as he whispered, “I know.”
****
Lola brought Eric dinner that night. It was a blonde with bright blue eyes, and she was overly willing to donate her blood. She even urged him to take more than he needed, and Eric was pretty sure she would have let him drain every last drop of blood she held within her body if she had thought it would make him happy.
She was curled up on the dirt floor beside him, her head resting on his bare chest. “Will you please leave,” Eric said through gritted teeth, again. He lifted his shoulder from the wall with a jerk, in an attempt to dislodge her head from his chest. It didn’t work.
She shifted her cheek so she could glance up at him through sad, sleepy eyes. “Why don’t you like me?” she asked, pouting. She ran a finger up and down his chest, playing with the top of his slacks before dragging her nail back up again.
Eric just shrugged. What was he supposed to say? I don’t like you because you are just a meal. You are food, that’s it. It sounded overly harsh, even if it was the truth. What did these humans expect? Did they really think they could be more than a handy meal? And really, did the girl miss the fact that he was chained to a wall? She had been delivered to a prisoner (well, not really a prisoner, but she didn’t know that) and she was begging for more of him. Whatever manipulation Lola had used, she had definitely gone overboard.
“Am I not good enough for you?” she said, her voice whiney and overly grating.
“What?” he asked distractedly, and nudged her head again, but this time she wrapped an arm around him, holding him tightly to her. He wished that Lola would come back and take her away, because small talk with food was really, really not something he wanted to do.
“Is there someone else?” she whispered, nuzzling against him, her breath warm against his sk
in, and she lightly trailed her fingers down his chest again.
Eric groaned loudly. He was going to wring Lola’s scrawny little neck the next time he saw her. If this was her idea of a joke, brainwashing some poor girl to offer herself to him in ways that she shouldn’t even think of offering to anyone but her husband, he would throttle her.
“Mr. Carter?” Eric cringed at the sharp tone. Megan. He reluctantly followed the sound, glancing up, certain that he would see anger in those pretty green eyes.
He did.
Her eyes were bright and full of fury. He should have known she would pop up now. Since Mitchell had put him here, she seemed to only show up when he was doing something he did not want her to see, or when she was terrified and running for her life. She hadn’t been sleeping much, too scared to close her eyes, but over the last few days … well, she had found him in a few embarrassing situations.
And of course, like every other time she had appeared, Mitchell wasn’t here to see her. Eric was certain that if Mitchell could just see Megan, he would let him go.
“Hello, Megan,” Luke’s voice boomed from the doorway, before Eric could even open his mouth.
Megan spun on her heels, her hands on her hips. “Who are you? Why are you in my dream?” she blurted in a frenzy. Then she turned back to Eric, and her eyes shimmered with angry tears. “Who is that girl all over you, Mr. Carter?” she demanded, with a little stomp of her foot.
“I should ask you that. This is your dream,” Eric said, and chuckled. He couldn’t help it. Megan was just so darn cute when she was angry. She pursed her lips and put her hands back on her hips, tapping her foot and waiting for more of an answer. If she only knew that I was real, Eric thought, she would probably try to stake me. Because with the look she was giving him, well, Eric wasn’t sure if she was going to try to kill him or go after his meal.
Waking Dreams (A Soul's Mark Novella) Page 4
