The Soul's Mark: CHANGED (21 page)

“My problem?” Tyler asked, skeptically, forcing himself to stand still and hold his ground.  “You’re the one that practically ripped off my arm, dragging me into this room.”

The girl stopped moving towards him
, her hands still in the air.  She stood directly in front of the door.  There was a large picture window off to the side of her, the brown curtains hung partway open.  Off to his left, the bathroom door was ajar, and for half a second he thought about bolting to it and locking himself in, but the idea didn’t last.  Any vamp could tear a door like that off its hinges without much effort.  He eyed the wooden desk from the corner of his eye, wondering if he could snap a leg off before she snapped his neck. 
Not likely,
he thought bitterly.

“Because you were about to stake me out in the middle of the parking lot,” she shouted, and then groaned, cutting him a bored and slightly ticked off look.  “I’m going to ask you again.  What the hell is your problem?”

Tyler smirked and shrugged a shoulder in an attempt to hide how trapped he felt.  “Look, it’s nothing personal.  I just don’t want you.”

“Wow, that kind of sounds personal,” she said.  Her fangs retracted, and a flash of something that looked a lot like sorrow darted across her face.  Her hands fell to her hips, and her eyebrows rose.  “Do you have any idea how old I am?  I could snap you like a twig, kid.”

Sweat started to bead along his hairline, and trickle down his spine.  There was a freakish quality to the girl that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  She was too calm.  He remembered when Megan had shown up.  Eric had been a wired mess.  And Mitchell hadn’t been too sane with Amelia, either.  But this girl ... her calmness unnerved him.

“Nice,” he said, scowling at her.  “You’re lying to me already.  What a fantastic way to build our budding relationship.  You’re sixteen.  Seventeen at the most.”  His voice held confidence that he didn’t really feel.  He figured it was because he knew she was just turned.  He’d only had the mark a few days.  The one thing he was certain of was her age.

She laughed, a startled kind of sound.  “I don’t know who you think I am, but whoever it is, it’s not me.”

Tyler was silent for a moment, looking past the girl and out the window at the pub.  The sky was darkening and he wondered if he’d see it rise again tomorrow.  “You expect me to believe that you’re just some random vampire?” he asked, meeting her crystal clear blue eyes.  “That you don’t know me.  That I’m not your soulmate, and you’re not here to claim me.”

She made a strangled kind of sound from the back of her throat and her eyes bulged with shock.  She threw her hands up again.  “Whoa, let’s back up like twenty steps here.  I’m not some random vampire.  I work here.  I saw you getting out of your car and grabbing a stake.  I don’t know about where you come from, but the vamps in this town don’t take kindly to kids walking around with that kind of weaponry.  And I’m
not
your soulmate.”

Tyler snorted.  “So what, you’re some kind of do-gooder?  I find that even harder to believe.”

“Yeah, well that’s me.”  She shrugged and sat down in the lone desk chair, daintily folding one leg over the other.  “Believe it or not, I was just trying to help out before you got yourself drained for stupidity.  Where did you learn to hold a stake like that anyway?”

Tyler narrowed his eyes, not believing her for a second.  “Mitchell Lang taught me,” he said, hoping the name would mean something to her, and hating himself for using it to get out of this mess.

“Oh?”  She spoke without much interest, but her eyes darkened and flared, and in a fluid, graceful motion, she was back on her feet.  “Is that so?”

“Um, yeah, it is.”  He backed up a step, his entire body going rigid, and his throat went dry.  Clearly, the name meant something to her.  And with the way she was looking at him right then, Tyler was sure it wasn’t a
good
something.

“One of his pets.  How perfect.”  Her fangs slid down unnervingly slow, and a playful g
rin tugged at her lips.  “You run away from home, kid?”

“I’m not his pet,” Tyler snapped.  His blood ran cold, as he watched her glide towards him.  “Mitch doesn’t …”

“Mitch, is it?” she asked in a silky, flirty tone.  Flares of crimson spread through her eyes, and Tyler sucked in an involuntary, and way too loud, breath.  “That sounds pretty friendly.”

****

Angelle forgot how hard this was.  Tracking a person based on small clips of waking dreams and scent alone.  It was next to impossible.  She knew if she could just sit down and focus it would be a lot easier, but they didn’t have that kind of time, and Tyler still wasn’t answering his phone.  Out of everything that was happening, not answering his phone was the one thing that was really getting to her.  Really, the point of a cell phone was so a person could be reached while not at home, and when this was over, she planned on having a little chat with him on that concept.

It had been Lucy’s idea to track him by scent.  They’d gone to his apartment, hoping that being there would help Angelle focus on the dreams, but when they arrived outside the building, Lucy had picked up the smell of the god-awful cardboard pine air freshener that Tyler always hung from his rear view mirror.

It was an easy enough scent to follow, so obviously fake that it stuck out amongst the natural scent of the trees, but even so, Angelle hadn’t needed to track someone like this for more than a couple hundred of years and it was harder than she’d expected.

But really, the hardest thing, and the thing that had every nerve ending in her body on fire, was that Tyler was actually her soulmate and she’d stupidly let him walk away.  It was a hard thing to swallow.  It was impossible.  But even knowing how ridiculously impossible it was, she knew it was true.  She could feel it—her soul—calling to her, and when she really concentrated, she could pull on it through the mark, yank it from his body, and see small clips of his surroundings.  The problem was she couldn’t seem to hold onto it long enough to talk to him before it snapped back in place, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t call his soul to her.

Lakeridge wasn’t far off now.  Angelle could hear the whispers of civilization in the distance as they ran through the woods along the side of the road.  Erin and Lucy stayed right on her heels, barely making a sound.  The sun was falling.  It would be dark soon.  Through the trees, the sky was dark denim blue, littered with white cotton clouds.

Suddenly, spine tingling fear skittered through her belly.  Angelle skidded to a stop.  She sucked in a deep breath, her nostrils flaring, and her eyes tingled a
s a red haze washed over them.

“Angelle, what’s happening?” Erin asked.  “Why are we stopping?”

“Something’s wrong.”  Fear rushed along her skin, sending a prickling shiver down her spine.  She didn’t know why she was so afraid, but the terror felt as if it was alive inside of her, winding through her body, and pumping through her veins.  “Tyler’s in trouble.”

Amelia stood frozen on the terrace steps as sharp clarity sliced through her.  She had to fix the bond
now
.  She had to change Mitchell
now
.  She had to do it all
now
.  And she knew exactly how to do it.  She bit down on her lip as her thoughts rushed together, all fighting over one another to be heard.

Amelia couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it sooner.  There were always loopholes to magic.  Josh and Cole had taught her that, and right then, she felt a little stupid for not seeing it all.  She could have changed Mitchell weeks ago.  Her mother had been pretty specific,
None of them can change him before his body has healed.
  But she’d never said anything about Amelia doing it herself.  It was a spell.  He was human because of a spell.  She didn’t need to change him the traditional way.  And if it worked the way she saw it playing out in her mind, he’d just revert back to the vampire he once was.  It would be as if nothing changed.  He’d still be one of the oldest and the strongest vampires alive and most of all, he’d be
him
again.

The spirit was right.
He’d never said Mitchell knew how to accomplish anything; he only knew what the goal was.  But Amelia had spent weeks trying to figure out how to change the bond.  She knew how to do it all.  She knew her spell would work.  She may not have been willing to mess with Luke and Lola’s link, but she’d damn well do it with her own.

“Can we talk about this?” Mitchell asked, his voice sounding unsure, uneasy.

She looked at him.  It was a thorough look, searching not only his face, which was grim, or his body language, which was overly tense, or his scent, which held a slight wash of salty fear, but his mind.  And what she saw, she didn’t really like. It reminded her of herself from when she had been human.  The eager urge to please mixed with weary caution and outright distrust.  He was wondering how far he could push her, before he’d be writhing in pain, and he was trying to convince himself that he could handle it if it happened.

Her heart stopped and squeezed painfully tight before it
started to thump again.  “Don’t you trust me, Mitch?” she asked.

The hum of him in her brain started then, and he frowned, taking a small step back from her.  He shook his head.  “Not when your head is as clustered as it is right now, no.”  His words cut deep and she flinched, feeling them like a physical slap.  He reached out a hand, and she flinched again as if his tou
ch would hurt just as much.  “I’m sorry, love.”  He dropped his hand along with his eyes, and puffed out a slow breath.  “I shouldn’t have said that, but I think we need to talk about this.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.  “There’s nothing to talk about.”  She stepped away from him, pulling open the doors that led into their bedroom.  She knew she was being a jerk.  She’d told him the same thing just yesterday, but hearing him say that he didn’t trust her burned worse than she’d thought it would.  But it didn’t just burn.  It sparked something in her—something that felt a lot like outright rage.  And right then, she needed to put some distance between them before she did something that she knew she’d regret.

“Amelia, you can’t be serious.”  Mitchell’s hand clamped down on her wrist, stopping her.  She looked down at his hand, just a quick glance, and he let go instantly.

Amelia pulled her phone out of her pocket, and placed it in Mitchell’s hand, closing his fingers around it.  “Call Angelle,” she said with a forceful tone that made her feel a little sick.  “Tell her I’ve found another way.”

“But, Amelia ...” he started, meeting her eyes, but as he did, he cut himself short with a loud intake of breath.

For the first time since she’d bitten him, her magic flared without her calling it, and her emotions bubbled up to the surface like lava in a volcano building pressure.  She met him straight on, a crimson haze washed over her eyes, and her magic pulsed to life.  She
said, “For once, just do what I’ve asked.”

****

Mitchell stared at the shiny pink iPhone that Amelia had placed in his hand, feeling sick.  Was this how she’d felt all this time?  Was this how all the soulmates felt?  He knew she’d been tormented when she was human.  She’d wanted to love him from the start, just as much as she’d wanted to hate him.  He’d seen it, and felt it through the bond, but feeling it firsthand ... it wasn’t torment; it was torture.  Plain and simple torture.

But the torturous, gut twisting feeling brewing within him was nothing compared to the self-hatred he felt.  Amelia was making it easy on him, easier than he had for her.  She was trying to be reasonable.  She was showing him more kindness than he’d shown her.  It was amazing and nerve
-racking and sickening.  How could the girl that blew up at everything not struggle at all with him?  Everyone knew he deserved it, and no one would blame her for forcing his will.  But she wasn’t forcing anything, and he was certain that if he said no to her insane idea, she’d respect that.  And that thought alone made him feel even worse.

He glanced up, ready to tell her he was sorry, sorry for everything he’d done to her, but she was already gone.

Mitchell took in a deep breath, glancing back at the phone.  He tapped the screen, scrolling through the address book until he found Angelle’s number.  He looked at it for a long moment, not wanting to call, but knowing he had to.  In theory, he thought Amelia’s idea might actually work; it was what could happen in the process that scared the crap out of him.  He tapped the call button, dread building in his belly.  It wasn’t until she answered on the second ring that he realized that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope.  “Angelle, I need you to find Tyler and bring him home now.  Amelia’s about to do something crazy.”

****

A fire burned at the back of her throat.  Amelia couldn’t remember the last time she’d fed other than the small offering from Mitchell or a few small sips here and there from their supply, which hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy her hunger.  She headed for the kitchen, figuring she should probably get some blood into her before she went to find Megan and discussed her plans or the spell.