“I can see through your act, Mitchell.” She unplugged the boiling kettle and began pouring the water into the mugs, adding tea bags with it. “You won’t hurt me. You’re just a big old teddy bear.” She poured a dollop of milk and a teaspoon of sugar in each mug, stirred, and removed the tea bags. Then she carried them to the island, set the mugs down, and took a seat.
Astonished. That was exactly how Mitchell felt as he watched Sally sip her tea. Did she realize he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown here? If she did, she obviously didn’t care. He could hear the sound of breathing behind him, and he knew that the others were there. Most likely, they were just as confused as he was.
“Who is that?” Eric asked, his voice wound as tight as a clock spring.
Mitchell didn’t answer. Instead, he sat down across from Sally. He had a hunch that this (whatever this was) was bigger than he was, than all of them. It was the only thing he could think of to explain this woman’s sudden appearance and Amelia’s disappearance. And he knew without a doubt that he would need the psychic’s help. He took a deep breath, attempting to control his raging emotions, and said, “Tell me where they are.”
“Mitchell, you can’t go after them yet,” Sally said. “Amelia has to find her way through this.” Sally took another long sip of her tea, taking her time in swallowing, before she continued, her expression changing to ominous and stormy. “And I’m afraid if you follow her now, you’ll end up dead. The paths of destiny have been crossed.”
There was a chorus of gasps and a low growl, presumably from Eric. Mitchell’s heart shattered again, and he was sure he looked every bit as broken as he felt. “No,” he whispered, clutching the cup of tea that had sat in front of him untouched. He was hoping the warmth would help, but it didn’t. “They can’t cross. Not now. I just found her.”
Sally sighed and cast her eyes down to her mug. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”
“How is fate my fault?” he asked, but it was a pointless question. Who else could there be to blame? Everything had changed after the lifetime Amelia had been burned as a witch, and that was also his fault. He should have saved her then, but he hadn’t.
As if Sally could read his mind, she sighed and then said, “There are some things you need to know about Amelia. About her past lives after she was burned.” Sally looked past him, and smiled a sad kind of smile to his family. “You all might as well sit. This affects all of you.”
CHAPTER 4
As Josh dragged Amelia up the steps of the deck, to what she was sure was her imminent death, she put out every stop she could think of. She struggled, pleaded, cried, and begged. She tried using magic. She even promised Josh that she’d stop fighting him and do what he wanted. But nothing worked. He ignored her and kept pulling her along as if she was merely a small misbehaving child crying for a new toy.
The last time Amelia had been here, she’d almost ended up as a little snack for two seriously scary vampires, and the house had been packed full of college students partying it up and having a good time. Now it was very quiet. He stood on the deck with a smug look on his face, but other than him, there was no one else to be seen.
“With the way you’re carrying on, you’d think I tried to kill you before or something,” he said, and laughed at his own joke.
“You won’t get away with this, Tristan,” Amelia snarled, and she was floored at how vicious her voice sounded. Maybe living with vampires was starting to rub off on her.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to scare the psychotic, evil vampire who stood before her. It only made him laugh harder.
“Amelia,” Josh groaned. She kept struggling and managed to land a punch into his stomach. Her hand throbbed instantly, and with the way he was looking at her, she was certain the punch hurt her more than him. “No one is going to hurt you. Will you stop already?”
“What’s wrong with you?” she shrieked. Her power shot out from every inch of her skin as she desperately thrashed about trying to get out of his grasp, but it just bounced off him as if he was shielded. “He’s a vampire. You’re a vampire hunter. In case you forgot, that means you’re supposed to kill him.”
Josh wasn’t listening. He continued to drag her along as if he didn’t have a mind of his own. His face was slack, void of emotion; his eyes, vacant. It was as if he was… Brainwashed, the thought hit Amelia hard and fast. Heady power coursed through her, sparks ignited along her skin, and she focused the new stream of energy on Tristan.
“Cole,” Tristan said, before she could let loose any of her power. He was eyeing Amelia closely, his lips pressed into a tight white line, and the flares of her magic reflected in his beady black eyes. “Kill that one,” he growled, and pointed to Megan who was still thrown over Cole’s shoulder. “We don’t need her.”
Amelia’s magic sputtered and then went out like a match dipped in water. “No,” she screamed. She stopped flailing instantly, and her skin turned icy. She didn’t doubt for a second that Tristan was serious. He was cold and callous. She had witnessed it firsthand the night he had brutally killed her parents. Stabbing them over and over and forcing her to watch them bleed out. She remembered his smirk as if he enjoyed watching them die. It was the same smirk that was twitching at his lips now.
Everything happened quickly after that, except to Amelia, it felt like she was watching it in ultra slow motion. Josh’s eyes widened, and he shook his head violently from side to side. He glanced between Tristan, Cole, and Megan, and then he let go of Amelia and rushed at Cole. Cole dropped Megan to the ground and notched his arrow, pulling the bowstring taut. Tristan shot at Amelia, knocking her over. He then grabbed Josh by the collar and flung him to the ground. His razor sharp fangs snapped down, and a menacing snarl ripped from somewhere deep within his belly.
“Wait,” Josh yelled, pulling his hands up over his face, as if his hands could stop the vampire’s wrath. “Their magic is tied together. We need them both to break the curse.”
Break the curse? Amelia was sure she hadn’t heard him right, and she almost asked him to repeat it, before she caught herself.
Cole looked at Tristan with the same vacant expression that Josh had worn seconds ago. He tilted his head from side to side slowly as if he was examining all angles, and his skin rippled and began to melt away.
“Cole!” Amelia shrieked. “It’s Meg. You are pointing that arrow at Meg!” Cole let his eyes graze over Amelia in a slow and long look, and a shiver rushed over her. His eyes looked empty, completely void of emotion. Another ripple rushed over him, and the last bit of skin that remained vanished.
Tristan was murmuring something that Amelia couldn’t make out. He had one thick black boot planted in the center of Josh’s chest, the other on the ground. From where Amelia stood, she could see his milky glass eyes focused on Cole. “Tristan, please,” she begged, terrified to move.
He just smiled at her, a full toothy smile, and said, “I believe Josh warned you about using magic on us. Her death is on you.”
Cole focused back down at his target. Megan was still out, peacefully sleeping on the ground below him. Josh growled something at Tristan, but Amelia had no clue what it was. Tristan began murmuring to Cole again, and Cole centered the arrow, lining it up squarely on Megan’s chest.
Amelia couldn’t think. Tristan was a good ten feet in front of her, Cole fifteen. She wouldn’t be able to get to either before the arrow found its mark, and she knew that if she tried, they would move faster than her human legs could go. She tried tapping into Mitchell’s senses. She called to Mitchell. She screamed into Megan’s brain. She willed Josh to get up and fight. But it was useless.
Tristan’s purely evil smile widened, and blistering heat rushed through Amelia’s veins in response, pulling her out of panic mode. She summoned her power, and sent out a thread of white-blue light, snapping it like a whip around Tristan’s midsection, and then she yanked.
Tristan lost his balance for a split second, but that was enough for Josh to slip
out from under his foot and launch himself at Cole. Amelia kept yanking, pulling the rope of magic as if she was in a tug-of-war match, keeping Tristan slightly off balance.
Cole released the arrow just as Josh tackled him to the ground. Megan shot up, and her blood-curdling scream ripped through the dawning morning like a herd of banshees.
The sound punctured Amelia’s eardrums. Any focus she had rushed away, and the strand of magic that held Tristan dissipated and then vanished. Tristan was on Amelia faster than her mind could comprehend. He raised his arm and swung at her, and then she was flying through the air.
Growls, grunts, and screams echoed around her, and then they were gone. Amelia slammed into the side of the house with a cracking thud. The air rushed from her lungs. Her vision blurred.
Tristan moved in on her, gliding along the ground like a snake. Amelia tried to scramble to her feet, but every inch of her body screamed out with breathtaking pain. He laughed, and Amelia swore she saw three sets of fangs in his toothy smile.
Her heart raced, and her blood ran cold. Tristan bent down, crouching in front of her, and he began speaking to her. She could see his lips moving, but the sound of his voice evaded her ears. Suddenly his hand shot out, and he buried his fingers in the thick of her curls. He yanked her to her feet, holding her by her hair against the cold brick of the house.
Amelia whimpered. She felt it bubbling from her belly, through her lungs, and up her throat. She tried to swallow it. She didn’t want to give Tristan the satisfaction, but she couldn’t do it. It gurgled out of her lips, and his eyes flashed with unmistakable pleasure.
With his free hand, he grabbed Amelia’s chin and turned her head, holding her neck at a close to breaking angle. She could feel her pulse drumming in her throat, and his breath pushing against her skin. His lips were surprisingly, and nauseatingly, soft as they pressed against her neck. They trailed up to her ear, and his voice sent a rolling chill down her spine. “You smell like sweet flowers,” he murmured. And right then, his fangs slid under her skin, and Amelia felt her blood being sucked from her body.
****
Every muscle, every bone, every inch of skin hurt. Her eyes felt swollen, and it hurt to swallow. Amelia forced her eyes open and then squeezed them shut against the bright light that glared from overhead. She tried to cover them, but her hands were stuck beside her.
“Don’t move,” a deep voice urged, and a warm hand threaded through hers. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, and you’re pretty broken up.”
“Mitchell?” Amelia croaked, and she tried to open her eyes again. She peeled them apart to little slits, and her heart broke when she saw the face that was looking down at her.
“I can’t believe you’re still thinking about that bloodsucker,” Josh said in a toxic tone.
A swarm of memories filled Amelia. Cole and Josh kidnapping them. Tristan’s beady eyes. Cole shooting Megan. Amelia felt cold and hot and sick. “Where’s Meg?” she demanded, struggling again to move. Hot pain shot through her limbs, stealing her breath. Sweat broke out along her forehead and back.
“Amelia, please don’t struggle. You’ll only make it worse,” Josh urged, and brushed some matted curls from her sweaty forehead. “Megs is alive.”
Amelia glared at him, or at least that’s what she tried to do, but her eyes were so swollen that she wasn’t sure if she succeeded. “Where is she?” she demanded again, her voice catching and shaking on another blast of excruciating pain.
Something happened then that Amelia didn’t understand. Josh’s eyes widened, and a look of disbelief mixed with paranoid fear flitted across his face. He clamped his lips shut, biting on them as if he was fighting against the urge to answer her. He trembled, but not in the losing skin kind of way. Amelia thought it was more like he was trembling to keep his lips from moving, as if the effort in doing so was a strain on his body. He paled and squeezed her hand a bit tighter, and then, with a long and gusty sigh, he pointed across the room. Amelia followed his outstretched finger, and her eyes landed on a large television screen fixed to a gray cement wall in front of her.
“No,” she gasped, and tears sprung to her eyes as she took in the cage that held Megan’s beaten form. Her eyes were closed, and blue welts dotted every inch of her skin. Her arms were stretched out, and her wrists were secured to the cage with thick, gold chains; her ankles were chained as well. Blood dripped from puncture wounds on both of her wrists.
Amelia jerked up, and a loud crack resonated around her, mixing in with her own agonizing scream. Her eyes shot to the pain, and she almost threw up when she saw the bone protruding from her forearm.
“Amelia, please don’t move,” Josh begged, and his voice cracked in agony. Golden light washed over her, and the pain receded. That’s when she noticed the glowing chains that surrounded her wrists. The same chains that were holding Megan. They shimmered with magic. Josh must have noticed her staring at them, because he said, “It’s for your own safety.” He fixed his eyes on the ground and whispered, “So you can’t hurt yourself with your magic.”
His words made no sense. But then nothing was making sense. How was she still alive? How was Megan’s heart still beating? That’s when she noticed the silence. The missing buzz of thoughts. The lack of pulling at her heart. I can’t believe you’re still thinking about that bloodsucker, Josh’s words replayed in her mind. Her throat felt tight, and the pain in her chest was unbearable. “Did you kill him?” she asked with a voice as utterly empty as she felt.
Josh didn’t answer. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at her as if he couldn’t understand what she was asking. Amelia’s white-hot rage spiked, and all she could see was red. She fought against the restraints, ignored the snapping and cracking of her bones. Her blood boiled, masking the pain she would certainly feel later. She summoned her magic, gathered it together in the pit of her stomach, and sent out a blast. It formed at her chest, peeking out, and then with a puff, the white glowing ball dispersed into thin air.
Amelia tried again. She could feel the magic coursing through her veins. She pushed on it, expelling it from her body, and just like before, it vanished as soon as it hit the air.
Confusion hit her first, and then pain. Her breath was coming hard and fast, and a scream ripped from her throat. And then she smelled it. Cotton candy, honey suckle, and gumdrops. Before she could try to fight it, her breathing regulated, her pain melted away, and her thoughts fogged together.
“Amelia.” Josh’s voice made her skin sizzle. “I don’t want to have to force you to accept this, but I will if you make me.”
Amelia sighed, inhaling the sweet scent. She smiled at him. His yellow-green eyes shone brightly, and she giggled. “Can you keep your skin on?” she asked, and then she giggled again.
“Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want,” he said. He bent down and pressed his lips to her forehead, and then he murmured, “Now stay still. I’m going to try to mend your bones.”
CHAPTER 5
Erin tiptoed down the grand staircase, hugging the wall closely. She stretched her senses, listened for any movement close by, and held her breath until she picked up the voices of her family. She picked out each one, and by the sound of it, they were still all gathered in the kitchen planning out the rescue mission with Madame Crystal. But now, Erin was positive it was too late. She was certain Amelia was already dead.
She had snuck away from the meeting when the first squeeze around her heart had come. Her family hadn’t noticed her leave the room, and they hadn’t noticed when the pull around her chest made her crash to the floor on her way out of the kitchen. Their focus was on the psychic, and their thoughts on Amelia and Megan.
During the past several months, Erin had spent hours upon hours studying the journals with Amelia, helping her hone in on her powers. And right now, the knowledge that she had picked up was resurfacing and filling her with heartbreak. She knew that there were only a few ways to break a spell. The first and easiest way was for the witch that cast it to lift it.
Other than that, there were only two other ways. One was for another witch to break it using the same magic that cast it, and the other was for the original witch to die the final death. The last option was the one Erin feared the most. The one where Amelia was dead and never coming back.
Erin wanted to believe that Amelia wasn’t dead, but it was the only thing that made sense. She was from the first coven. It would be next to impossible for another witch to tap into that kind of power and break the spell that Amelia had cast to change her bond with Tristan. And that spell was definitely broken. She could feel him, hear him … Tristan was a part of her again.
Come to me, Erin. Tristan’s voice filled her thoughts, and the chain around her heart pulled tighter, urging her forwards. I know you can hear me, his teasing voice called again, and she threw caution to the wind, running out the door at full speed.
Tristan, where are you? Erin asked as she ran. She had never thought she would see him again, and honestly, it scared the hell out of her, but dammit, it also made her stomach flutter and her heart race.
Follow the pull, honey, he answered, his voice doing things to her that she never thought were possible, and just like that, Erin ran faster.
It was energizing. Feeling him again; feeling whole. She ran faster than she ever had before. The wind cut through her tank top and beat against her bare legs. Her pigtails flapped against her cheeks as the pull at her heart urged her forwards. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Erin knew she should turn back. She was pretty sure Tristan would kill her, but the pull wouldn’t let her stop.
Erin let the feeling wash over her. It pushed against her conscious until the only sound that she could hear was Tristan’s voice. She skidded around a corner, coming to a stop in front of her old house, and her breath caught in her throat.
Soul's Mark 3: Broken Page 3