The Soul's Mark: Broken (24 page)

“Well, that sucked,” Cole said, massaging
the hand that had been attached to Amelia’s as if she had stung him.

“Am I right to assume you do not feel
anything different other than a little crispy on the fingers?”  Sally asked,
and Amelia nodded, annoyed.  “What are we missing?” she continued,
thoughtfully, releasing her hold on Megan.  “You are the
Mother’s
blood,
so theoretically you, actually, you both, can wield her magic.”  She bent down,
picked up the pack of matches, and began relighting the candles.

“Did anything else stand out in the
vision?” Tyler questioned, watching them all with a mix of fear and awe.  He
shifted awkwardly on the bed, and inched back a bit.

“Only Mitchell,” Amelia said, letting his
name float out of her lips with a longing sigh.

“Obviously, she’s not strong enough,” Josh
said, his cold eyes avoiding Amelia.  “It takes less power to break a spell
than it does to cast it.  The groundwork was already there, all I had to do was
find it.  We need to break the original curse.”  He let his eyes land on her
then and said, “I will not let any more of my people die because of you.” 
There was something else hidden under his words, something cold and sinister,
that reminded Amelia of when he pointed an arrow at her heart, and she was
certain there was an underlying threat in his statement.

“Are all you immortals this petty?”  Amelia
hissed.  “You realize that it’s not normal to threaten a person just because
that person doesn’t want you, right?  Jeez, between your and Mitchell’s mood
swings, I’m surprised I’m not dead already.  I’m sorry I made you.  I’m even
sorrier that I let you kiss me.  But I can’t change that!  And acting like a
two year old isn’t going to fix it.”  The words just flew out of her, without
caution or care, and after they were said, she felt … better—clearer.

If her words had any impact on Josh, Amelia
didn’t know.  He was a mask of indifference, blank and emotionless.

“Millie, can you show us?” Megan whispered,
her eyes filled with grief.

Josh shrugged, as if to say
whatever
,
and he took a seat in one of the chairs.  One by one, Sally and Cole did the
same, and Megan curled up beside Tyler on the bed, all waiting to watch what
had happened all those lifetimes ago.  Once they were all seated and ready,
Amelia evoked the spell, displaying her past for everyone to see.

Amelia couldn’t say how many times she had
played it over and over.  She had lost count after the ninth time.  They picked
it apart, fast-forwarding, rewinding, pausing, watching as the slithering
blackness entwined with her aura, and the bright light of Mother Nature washed
over her grief stricken features.

After a while, they had ruled out the curse
that Amelia had used to condemn the vampires and began focusing solely on
Mother Nature.  They memorized her hand gestures, watched her aura brighten and
dim and then become blinding.  As they watched, Amelia found herself wondering
who the woman was, but it was impossible to tell.  Her aura was brilliant,
shooting out like rays from the sun, masking her face and hiding her features.

Amelia was just about to rewind again to
the point where Mother Nature appeared, when Cole blurted, “Millie, the light,
it’s coming from you and Mitchell, not from her, look.”  He jumped up and
rushed over to the chalky image that floated in the center of the room and
pointed.  And right then, in that frame, Amelia couldn’t see the blackness that
had surrounded her.  Brilliant light was coming from Mitchell and herself, like
party streamers, shooting out into the sky and weaving within and around each
other.

Amelia backed it up a frame, and her aura
was so dark and cloudy that she could barely make out her own face.  She began
to play it slowly, frame by frame, and a chorus of gasps rang out as they
watched the darkness disappear, and then when the spell ended, it draped back
over her like a thick blanket.

“Oh my God, she used you guys as an anchor,”
Sally gasped, smacking her hand to her mouth.  “Soulmates,” she murmured, and
Amelia could almost see the wheels turning and the smoke coming out of her ears
as she tried to put it all together, and then her eyes widened, she dropped her
hand, and she blurted, “You need your soulmate!”

“Eric,” Megan said with feverish
excitement.  “We can use Eric and me to anchor the spell.”

“I think I might keep her,” Eric said, as
he fiddled with the lock on the cell door.  “She’s hot and who knows, a witch
could come in handy.”

Eric bent the hairpin that he had managed
to snag from Megan’s hair to a ninety-degree angle and jammed it back into the
lock.  Who would have thought that the lesson on picking locks Mitchell had
tried to give him (which he had promptly ignored) would have ever come in
handy?  At the time, Eric had thought it was a waste.  He was a vampire for
Pete’s sake.  He had super human strength.  Never had he imagined that he would
need to know how to pick a lock when he could just bend the bars or break the
door.  What had his father been thinking when he built cells that a vampire
could not break out of?

“Hmmm,” Luke mumbled distractedly.  He sat
in the corner of his cell staring at the ceiling, constantly rubbing at his
chin in what Eric thought of as the
beard stroking contemplation look,
except Luke didn’t have any facial hair.  Eric tried to picture Luke with a
beard, or even a goatee, and couldn’t.  He was too neat and tidy, his hair
always kept clipped close and gelled with that
walked into the wall
front
flip, and his clothes were always pressed. 
Nope
, Eric thought,
facial
hair was out of the question
.

“But then again, maybe I’ll just eat her,”
he continued.  “She was tasty.”  He wiggled the pin around in the hole
uselessly and scrunched his brow, thinking that x-ray vision would come in
handy right now, and for a second he wondered why, out of all the crazy powers
they had, x-ray vision wasn’t one of them.  If he could see through the lock,
maybe he could figure out where to stick the damn pin.

“Shut up, Eric,” Luke snarled.  He had been
getting testier with every passing second since Megan had shown up to
chat
last night, and Eric couldn’t help but egg him on.  It wasn’t as if he got many
chances, being the youngest and all.  But with Luke locked up in a separate
cell, it was the perfect time, and he couldn’t pass it up.

“What?” he asked, forging innocent
stupidity into his voice.  “I have to weigh out all the options.  She was
pretty fun, you know, in bed.”  He wiggled his brow suggestively at Luke who,
of course, rolled his eyes in response.   “But I guess I could always find
someone else to help in that department.”

“I’m starving,” Luke snapped.  “And I’m
sick of this bagged crap.”  He kicked at the empty plastic bag at his feet, and
his eyes washed red.  “I need to get out of here.  I need to hunt.”

“Me, too,” Eric agreed.  He gave up on the
lock and plopped down on the stone bench.  “Oh, I’ve got it,” he said with a
quick snap of his fingers.  “Maybe I should keep her as a toy.  I could hunt
her, catch her, take a little blood, and then play with her.”

There was something about the idea that
made his stomach turn.  Eric could remember drinking from her, and he certainly
remembered holding her silky, naked body against his own, but it didn’t seem
real, more like a dream than anything else.  When he thought about her, really
thought about her, he could swear his heart began to beat faster.  Maybe, that
should have bothered him.

It’s her blood.

The idea of blood usually made his heart
jump around like a jackhammer.  The problem was that he knew it wasn’t the
blood that was making him want her.  It was something else entirely, and he
didn’t understand it.  It was her long and flowing red ringlets, and her
shimmering emerald eyes.  Her voice, soft and sweet.  He could remember smiling
when she was near, and he knew that at one time he thought he would have done
anything to just hear the musical notes of her laugh.

Eric’s throat burned, and his frustration
grew. 
It doesn’t make sense!
  He wanted to scream it out, but he bit
his tongue on the words.  Why the hell would he care about something as stupid
as the sound of her voice or the way her hair fell over her shoulders in
perfect spirals?  He focused on the memory, spinning it around in his mind,
looking for anything that would make sense, and as he scanned his memory of
her, he saw it.  It was just a small shimmer of golden light, and when he
looked closer, he saw tiny rings, like a chain, protruding from her chest.  He
followed it, watching it stretch out in his mind’s eye, and when he saw what
was on the other end of the chain, his blood boiled.

“That witch!” Eric snarled.  “She’s using
magic on me! She planted the memories.”  That’s why he had thought that maybe,
just maybe, he had given a crap about her.  She was messing with him.  Trying
to make him look like a fool. 
Finally!  Something is making sense!
his
brain howled as it pieced together all the memories he had about Megan.  And
every single one had that chain linking them together.

It’s the chain from the soulmate bond,
a small voice, so small that it was like a mouse’s whisper in his
head, told him.  But he shook it off.  The soulmate bond didn’t make sense
either.  Soulmates were not real, not for vampires.  Eric knew damn well that
he had lost his soul when he was changed.  And no soul meant no soulmate,
which, of course, made a bond impossible.  His brain tried to reason with him,
but he blocked it out.  The emptiness he had been feeling was suddenly making
sense.  It had nothing to do with the witch’s charm; he was hungry, and he was
certain if he could just feed, the emptiness would vanish.

“Mitchell’s here,” Luke said.  He stood up
abruptly and paced the few steps to his cell door.

“Dude,” Eric groaned, annoyed that Luke had
interrupted his revelation.  “What the hell are you mumbling about?”

“Shhhh,” Luke hissed, holding his index
finger to his lips.  He tilted his head, slightly to the left, and whispered,
“I hear them.  He’s here.”

Eric closed his eyes and stretched his hearing. 
“The sewers?” he asked, as his eyes fluttered open, and he searched the floor,
certain he had picked up a sound under his feet.  He spotted a drainage grate
about ten feet down the dimly lit hallway.  It jiggled, lifted, and then
scratched along the stone floor as it slid to the side.

Megan squealed, clapping her hands, and
began to jump up and down.  Her face lit up, and she threw her arms around
Amelia’s waist, spinning her in circles.

“Seriously?” Tyler asked, laughing.  “All
we need is Eric?”  He said it mockingly, as if he couldn’t believe that Eric
was the answer, but he also looked so … happy.  It was as if just knowing that
they were close to fixing the bond had lifted years off of his face, and it
made Amelia feel all kinds of guilty and a little sick that she hadn’t figured
it out days ago.

Megan gave him a playful smack, snagged
Amelia’s hand, and began dragging her from the room at a flat out run.  As she
passed Josh, Amelia noticed the firm grip Cole had on his shoulder, and she
felt his glare burning a line up and down her back.  But she didn’t care.  All
she cared about in that moment was how close she was to getting Mitchell back. 
She could figure out the
Josh
problem later.

Amelia and Megan bounded down the hallway,
with the others right on their heels.  As they veered left into the foyer,
Sally said, “Souls never stray far from a body that is at unrest,” through
wheezing breaths as she struggled to keep up.  “Mitchell’s soul must have been
hovering nearby, and Mother Nature used it.”  There was a magical fairy-tale
tone to her voice, as if she was in awe and inspired by the spell, and
honestly, so was Amelia.   The idea gave her hope, like a sunburst within her
chest.  Bright and deliriously warm hope.  “She must have pulled upon your
souls to create the bond, using your already established connection as
soulmates.”

“But he’s not dead now,” Josh said, easily
keeping pace with the witches.  His voice was lifeless and callous; his face,
closed and blank, and it sent a bunch of small shivers through Amelia. 
Something had shifted in him, something cold and unnerving, and Amelia was
pretty sure it was her fault.  Had she been too harsh?  At the time, she hadn’t
really thought so.  He had needed to know that it was all a mistake and he
needed to focus on what was important, not obsess about something that was
never going to happen.  Everything she had said to him was true.  She should
never have created them, never kissed him, never led him to believe that there
could possibly be a chance between them.  But now, she was kind of wishing she
had bitten her tongue, at least until she had gotten Mitchell back. 
Does
that make me a tease?
she wondered. 
Probably.
  Did she care? 
Not
really.
  Would she later? 
Definitely.

“Theoretically, he is dead and tormented,”
Sally said through huffs and puffs.  “His soul will hover.”

They veered left, and as they passed the
kitchen, Amelia silently cursed the house for being so big.  She pushed a bit
harder, the burn in her muscles soothing her jumping nerves. 
This has to
work.  This has to work.  This has to work,
she told herself over and over,
as she ran.