The Soul's Mark: Broken (27 page)

Power.  Steaming, luminescent power flowed
through Amelia’s veins, filling her with a building, delirious heat.  It
started at her toes, climbing through her body, warming her bones and muscles. 
Mitchell squeezed her hand, and Amelia was pretty sure he whimpered softly as a
moan escaped her lips.  A chorus of gasps rang, like wind chimes on a gusty
day, one after another, and scuffling sounds of shoes against the hardwood
floor echoed in her ears.

“Are you ready?” Mrs. Caldwell asked.

Amelia locked eyes with Mitchell, and in
the moment, all the memories they had shared flitted through her mind.  Her
first dream.  How he comforted her the night her parents had died.  The first
time she physically met him.  How he looked like an angel, his aura shining brightly. 
The first time they kissed.  The skin-tingling passion.  His mindboggling jealousy
and his sweet and encouraging guidance.  She wanted it all back.  Everything. 
The good and the bad. She wanted him.  Forever.  She felt the smile twitch at
her lips, and in unison, they breathlessly said, “Yes.”

The air swirled around them, and the fresh
scent of just washed laundry filled Amelia’s lungs.  “Lost souls hear me,” Mrs.
Caldwell cooed, as if she was coaxing a frightened animal out of hiding.  “Find
your other half and bind together.  Through the mark of the soul, let the
vampire find a link to humanity, and let them find love through their mate.”

Power crackled in the air like lightning,
and delicate, wispy beams of whites and golds shot from every inch of Amelia’s
skin.  She gasped.  The beams hit Mitchell, and a golden chain began to piece
together from his chest, stretching towards her.  His thoughts hit her in an
incredible mess of confusion, and her skin tingled and heated where he touched.

The zapping crackle of energy increased,
and Amelia felt as if she was floating.  She was weightless, swimming in a sea
of emotion.  Love, blissful and complete, brushed around her like hundreds of
soft feathers.  It was perfect, radiant, and absolutely awe-inspiring. 
Oh
God,
I love you, Amelia,
Mitchell’s voice—velvety and warm—filled
her mind, and her heart flip flopped in her chest like a fish caught on land.

And then someone screamed.

“No!” Mitchell yelled.  His face crumpled,
broken and twisted.

An explosion resonated, ringing in Amelia’s
ears, and then something pinched at her skin.  It started soft, annoying, and
then the pinching sensation increased to ripping and tearing, and she couldn’t
breathe.

Amelia glanced down.  A circle of deep red
was growing, seeping into her shirt.  Mitchell cupped her face, lifting her
head back up.  His eyes were frantic, and he was speaking, but Amelia couldn’t
understand what he was saying.  Thoughts.  His thoughts she realized were
exploding within her brain, and it was loud.  So loud.  And then … there was
nothing.

Amelia picked a daisy and brought it to
her nose, inhaling the sweet scent.  She plucked the petals lazily, as she
basked in the warm sunshine.  Sally Crystal sat beside her, running her fingers
along all the wild flowers.

The meadow was breathtaking, filled with
yellows and purples, and the spring air was sweet and fresh, like tea and
honey.  The sun beat down, glittering off the dew dampened flowers, making them
sparkle and shimmer as if they were encrusted with precious stones.

“When the dust settles with the rising
sun, you will need to choose a path,” Sally murmured.  “Your past holds the
answers.  But you must break a branch and set one of them free.”  She fixed an
unseeing stare on Amelia, and her voice held a frothy and far away tone.  “When
this is over, Mitchell will hunt Josh, and Josh will hunt Mitchell if you do
not break the branch and let one of them go.”

Sally rose, rolling up to her feet in
jerky motions as if someone was forcing her limbs to move.  She looked down at
Amelia with an odd grin, and whispered, “Break a branch.”  And then with the
same jerky, forced movements, she turned and walked away as she chanted, “Break
a branch.  Break a branch.  Break a branch.  Break a branch.”

 “How?” Amelia screamed, jumping up. 
“Tell me how!”

And then suddenly, she was gone, and
Amelia was alone.

****

“Mitchell,” Amelia breathed, blinking
herself awake.  She tried to sit up, and a sharp pain in her side ceased her
breath.  She clenched at it, her hand feeling gauze and padding.  She tried to
sit up again, but only managed to prop herself up with her elbows.

“Stay still, kiddo,” Luke said, his voice
booming and firm.   He put a soft hand on her shoulder, nudging her back down
onto the bed.  “You were shot.  You need to rest.”

Shot!
 
Amelia looked down, examining the blood stained padding that was affixed to her
side. 
Shot?
How? Who? 
She looked up through narrowed eyes,
meeting Luke’s concerned ones, and she was about to blurt out a slew of
questions when she noticed the sun just starting to peek over the tree line
through the window.  Sally’s words bombarded her brain,
When the dust
settles with the rising sun, you will need to choose a path.

“Where is he?” Her stomach twisted in knots
as she frantically searched around the room for him.  She could feel him.  The
pull of the bond and the soft hum of his scattered thoughts made her skin
tingle.  It took her a second to realize she was in Luke’s room instead of her
own, and she was about to ask why, but then her eyes found Lola.  She hovered
nearby, fiddling with the cushions on the bed and, Amelia thought, Lola was
trying hard, too hard, not to look at her.  Her skin was paler than normal,
more gray, and less porcelain.

“He’s with Mother Nature,” Luke said
tightly, as he continued to rub her arm gently.

“Mother Nature?” Amelia heard the high-pitched
spike in her voice as her panic gripped at her throat.

Luke sighed.  “Yes, kiddo, your mother is
Mother Nature.”

“I can’t,” Mitchell said again, emerging
from the closet with another armload of clothes.  He dropped them on the bed
and began shoving them in a suitcase.  He couldn’t see her, not like this. 
Since Amelia had arrived, she had been subjected to death, and he was not going
to keep putting her through it.  If leaving would keep her safe, then he’d do
it.

The last twelve hours had been a blur.  He
was still having a hard time wrapping his head around why McLean would shoot
Amelia.  Not that he’d ever know the truth.  As soon as McLean had shot her,
Luke had taken him down.

Mrs. Caldwell had lifted all the spells
that surrounded the houses and town with a flick of a finger when Amelia began
to fall.  Mitchell figured that was a good thing, because he hadn’t stopped to
think before he had scooped her up into his arms and raced from the house with
her limp body.

In the hospital, Mitchell had sat with her
as the doctors patched her up.  The bullet had passed through the fleshy area
on her right side.  The doctor had said that she was lucky that he had been
standing in front of her, blocking most of her body and stopping the shooter
from gaining a good aim.  But all Mitchell heard was,
it’s your fault she
was a target.

Once Amelia was stable, Mitchell had
brought her home, against his better judgment.  It had been Mrs. Caldwell’s
forceful encouragement that made him take her from the hospital, and it had
also been her that had placed Amelia under Luke’s care, claiming that they had
some things to discuss.

By the time they had gotten back, Angelle
had gotten rid of all the humans that had been dozing in the media room.  With
the help of a little persuasion, she had handed them all checks and thanked
them for putting on a wonderful fair, and they had left.  Unfortunately, the
hunters hadn’t been that easy to get rid of.  They were still milling about the
house, on edge, and waiting for Amelia to wake up.

“Yes, you can,” Mrs. Caldwell, or Mother
Nature, said.  That was another thing that Mitchell just couldn’t wrap his head
around.  Mother Nature—the first witch—was Amelia’s actual mother.  She was air
and water and fire and earth all mixed together.  She was the creator and the
destructor, and Amelia, his sweet, innocent Amelia, was her child.

“No, I can’t,” he said with more
determination than he felt, as he continued to shove things in his suitcase. 
“Look at what her life has become.  How many more times will she almost die?”
Biting tears flooded his eyes, and he scrubbed at them.  “I can’t do this to
her anymore.”

Mrs. Caldwell climbed the steps on the
landing and perched on the edge of his bed, crossing her legs at the knees. 
She had Amelia’s smile, Mitchell noticed.  The soft upwards curve that was
always a bit higher on the right than the left.  “There’s another option,” she
said.

“There’s no other option.  She’d be better
off without me.”  Saying it out loud twisted at his heart, and the emptiness
grew within him.  But he knew it was true.

Creases littered her face as she frowned. 
“Do you really think that’s what she wants?”

Probably not.
  That’s what he wanted to say.  He huffed, biting back the truth. 
“It doesn’t matter.  I’m no good for her.”  He hated to think it, but maybe
Josh was better for her—safer.

“Mitchell, you are just as stubborn as she
is.”  She laughed, a soft musical sound.  “Don’t you see?  You are the reason
this started.  You are what she has been missing.  You are what she needs.”

“Not like this.”  He let his fangs slide
down, and his eyes flared red to emphasis his point.  “I won’t hurt her
anymore.  I don’t deserve her.”  He turned abruptly, and padded back to the
closet looking for the other suitcase.

“You don’t have to stay like this,” she
lilted when he emerged, and set the bag on the bed.

“What?” he snapped, annoyed that the woman
wouldn’t leave it alone, and he fixed the coldest glare he could muster up on
her.  Couldn’t she see how hard this was?  Didn’t she know how much he wanted
to stay?  He was leaving for Amelia.  Not for himself, but for her.  She
deserved better than this, better than he did.

There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye,
and she placed a hand on his forearm, not at all scared of the flecks of
crimson that he was certain were in his eyes.  “Mitchell, I’m the first witch.”

He dropped down on the bed, sitting on the
edge beside her, and he was sure all the hope that was igniting inside him was
clear on his face.  He tried to douse it, but it burst inside him, and steamy
warmth leaped through his body.  “What are you saying?”

She smiled a little.  “I can make you
human.”

“What?” He shook his head and picked at his
ears, certain he didn’t hear her right.

She laughed.  “I can make you human again,
if that’s what you want.”

“Yes!” he said without thought.  “Yes, do
it.”

She laughed again, and her smile grew. 
“Don’t you want to think about it?  You’ll be giving up this life and …”

“There’s nothing to think about,” he said,
cutting her off.  All the possibilities flooded his mind.  They could have
children, grow old together.  They could have a life.  A real life.  Together. 
And he knew that he would give up anything and everything he had, for another
chance to be with her.

Amelia thought her head was going to
explode.  So many things were trying to click into place all at once.  The
familiar voice.  The memory of her past.  The magic.  The threat to strip her
magic.  She had known it all along and yet, she hadn’t. 
My mother is Mother
Nature.
  And she was with Mitchell now.  Right now.  Downstairs.  In her
house.  It was just too much.  It should have been comforting to know her
mother was here and not dead, but it wasn’t.  It made Amelia’s hands sweat and
her legs shake.

Break a branch,
the words clouded Amelia’s brain.  Taunting her.  Dangling in front
of her just out of reach.  It hit her then, and swift clarity washed away her
clattered thoughts.  She sat up, and the pain in her side stole her breath, but
she didn’t let it stop her as she franticly ripped at the blankets, trying to
get out of bed. “Where’s Josh?” she shrieked.

“He’s downstairs with the rest of the
hunters,” Lola said.  She rushed around the bed and began untangling the
blankets that were wrapped tightly around Amelia’s legs.  “Millie, you can’t go
down there.  Lay back down.”

Amelia ignored her, swung her legs off the
bed, and tried to stand.  She pushed up, rolling to her feet and looked at
Luke.  “You need to change me.” The words came out in a slurred rush, but she
couldn’t slow down.

His inquisitive hazel eyes bore into her,
and a smile twitched at his lips.  It was infuriating.  Amelia knew that look,
it was the one he gave her and Mitchell when he thought they were being rash
and impulsive and acting like children.  He folded his arms over his chest and
let out a long sigh.  “Amelia, get back in bed.  No one is changing you.”