The Soul's Mark: CHANGED (25 page)

At the sound of his voice, Amelia stopped struggling, and she did what he said; she looked up.  Eric’s grip loosened, and he set her back on the ground, although he didn’t let go.  A starburst of dancing lights littered the air like fireflies blinking in the night, except as she watched the particles wink and shimmer, she saw what they were—shattered links of the chain from the bond.

“It’s not reforming,” Megan whispered, her voice trembling.  She spun on Amelia, her green eyes flashing with murder, and she shouted, “Why is it not reforming?”

“It needs to be anchored,” Amelia said, holding her cousin’s furious glare.  In a deathly calm voice she said, “Eric, let go before I force you to.”

Eric dropped his grip instantly, and Megan growled something that sounded lethal at him for doing it.  She darted in front of Amelia, her magic flaring in bursts of white and blue light, and she loo
ked as if she meant to use it.

“Megan,” Amelia said, her voice cool, in control.  “Think before you do this.  You’re no match for me.  I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m not letting you near him,” Megan snarled.  Her magic pulsed brighter, crackling through the air.  “I won’t let you hurt him.”

“I’m still in control,” Amelia said.  “He still has my soul.  He still has his mark.  I’m still me.”  Amelia took a step forward, expecting Megan to stand down, but she didn’t.  “Don’t make me force you, Meg,” she whispered, hating herself for even saying it.  “I will if I have to.”

“Megan!”  Eric’s tone was harsh and belting.  He moved towards her, his skin covered with the crimson glow of Megan’s magic.  “Back down,” he said.  He left no room for argument.  As he said it, he began pulling on her magic, siphoning it away from her.  The bright white light that pulsed from her lessened and dimmed.  They held each other’s gazes, Amelia was certain that they were talking through the bond, and finally Megan nodded, just once and her shoulders dropped a little as she stepped aside.

“Cole,” Amelia called, “you can stop now.”  She closed the gap between her and Mitchell as Cole let his net of magic drop.  Luke and Lola stood firmly in place, keeping
a tight grip on his arms.  “You can let go,” she said to them.  They hesitated for only a second, but they did as she asked, stepping away.

“It’s beautiful,” Mitchell said, watching the particles of winking light float around them.  “Like fireflies.”  His smile was wistful as he looked down at her, and offered his hand.  “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Amelia pulled in a deep breath and stepped into his arms.  She thought she’d be nervous, but oddly, all she felt was the calm hum of her magic.  He wove his arm around her waist, pulling her against him and leaned forward, offering his neck to her.

Disband and reform
.
She thought the last piece of the spell, lacing her silent words with every ounce of power she possessed.  She let her magic envelope them, as her fangs pierced his skin and the first drops of his blood trickled down her throat.

Amelia didn’t have to wonder if it was working.  As soon as her fangs pierced his skin, a chorus of strangled gasped filled her ears.  She knew what was happening; what they were feeling.  She could feel it within her core, too.  The shift of the bond felt like a loss of energy as if a dam had been closed, blocking her current of control, shifting it and changing it.

She went to detach herself from Mitchell, sliding her fangs out from the throbbing vein, but before she could, his hands were buried in the thick of her hair holding her close. 
Not yet,
he sent. 
You’re weak.  I can feel the burn rushing up your throat.  Drink.  Finish the last spell.

Amelia didn’t protest.  She swallowe
d another mouthful of his mouthwatering blood and as she did, she pictured the spell that had turned him human.  She saw it as a second layer of skin, as if he was a piece of fruit and all she had to do was peel away the peal.  And she imagined herself doing just that, peeling away the magic which had made him human as if she was peeling a banana, pulling it away piece by piece.  And when every speck of peal was gone, she pulled her fangs from his pulsing vein, and stepped out of his arms.

Amelia kept her gaze fixed on Mitchell, although she really didn’t think she would have been able to look away even if she’d wanted to.  He was smiling.  It was a complex smile, one that encompassed a mix of emotions, but the most prominent was his unwavering trust.  It shone in his eyes, and pushed through the bond with untir
ing force.

With her eyes locked on his, she said, “Restore him to his former self.”  Her tone was firm and calm, full of the power that filled her veins.  Magic shot from her in swirls of scarlet, saturating him in its glow.  “Restore him.  Restore him.  Restore him.”

Mitchell made a sound.  It wasn’t a groan, but it wasn’t quite a sigh either.  He shuddered, weaving on his feet.  In a heartbeat, Luke and Lola were back at his side, gripping his arms and holding him upright.  His eyes blazed like wild fire, and his lips curled back in a razor sharp toothed snarl.

Suddenly Eric was between them, pushing Amelia back.  He shoved a blood bag at Mitchell, holding it in front of him, and Mitchell bit into it, draining its contents greedily.

Amelia didn’t say a word.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, she did.  The problem was that she was too stunned that it had worked to find anything to say.  She opened her mouth, and then closed it, and opened it again, but still nothing came out.

Mitchell had just finished his second bag, and the savage tenseness of his muscles relaxed when a voice said, “Impressive.  I truly didn’t think you’d grasp it.”

Amelia turned slowly, deliberately, in place.  The water spirit stood at ease, smirking at her.  In the moonlight, he seemed to glow with a soft
, silvery outline of polished light.  But Amelia knew the light wasn’t actually from the bright moon that hung overhead.  She could feel the power surrounding him.  It was like the moment before a thunderstorm when the air turned still and thick and heavy.

Like a flash of lightening, Amelia moved, placing herself fully in front of Mitche
ll, and as she did, she let her fangs unfold from her gums.  There was something wrong.  Amelia could feel it in her bones.  There was something in the spirit’s gaze; she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but it looked like wrongness.

A hand slipped within hers and squeezed, and a shoulder pressed firmly against her other side.  Cole and Megan.  Amelia could feel their distinct magic signatures pulsing against her own.  Mitchell’s hand clasped her shoulder, flaring as he shared her power, and from the
corner of her eye, she caught a scarlet stream of light as Eric did the same with Megan.  Even Luke and Lola pressed themselves into the line, baring their fangs, ready and willing to do whatever they had to.  They felt it, too—the wrongness—she was sure of it.

The strength of the individual is in the family.
  Her father’s words filled her mind, ones that Amelia had never fully understood until that very moment.  And she also understood exactly what the spirit had meant when he’d told her she didn’t need strength.  She had an abundance of that right here at her side.

“You’ve added to your coven, I see.”  The spirit’s eyes flitted over Cole, and as the intrusive gaze inspected him, Cole took Amelia’s hand.  His palm was clammy and his fingers trembled.

“I have,” Amelia said, grinning, as she squeezed Cole’s hand, reassuringly.  She didn’t mean to grin, but she couldn’t stop herself.  There was something thrilling about beating the spirits at their little game, and conquering her demons at the same time.  “And it looks like you can’t take Mitchell anymore.”

Water chuckled and his smirk grew.  “No, I guess we cannot.”  He cocked his head to the side and as he did, Amelia caught the sounds of fabric rustling and the soft pat of footsteps.  “Too bad.
The alternative will be so much harder on you.”

Amelia didn’t have time to figure out what he meant by that.  From the shadows behind him, four other figures emerged; one of them was her mother.  Amelia thought she’d feel anger at seeing the woman who claimed to love her, but yet, willingly betrayed her, but she didn’t.  She didn’t really feel anything but sadness.

She met her mother’s eyes, saw the anguish and the self-hatred that filled them, and all Amelia could do was stand there, staring at her.  And it was while she stared that she saw the way her mother’s gaze flicked over Mitchell, and Amelia saw her lips move, forming a silent word,
Run.

If Mitchell saw the warning, he ignored it.  His grip tightened on her shoulder.  She could feel his resolve to stay by her side coursing through the reformed bond.  She glanced over the figures that surrounded her mother, but only saw inky shadows, with no substance, only outlines against the darkness of the night.  Oddly enough, she liked seeing them as shadowy ghosts.  It seemed more real somehow as if this was the true forms of the spirits.

“Why?” Amelia blurted.  “Why would you do this?”

“We needed to be sure, Amelia,” one of the shadows said in a voice that was like wind chimes, soothing and musical.  “We needed to be sure that you could handle what is to come.  The best way to test it was to put you under pressure.”

Amelia felt as if she’d swallowed a nest of worms and they wriggled in her belly.  “That’s what you call under pressure?  You threatened my family.  You threatened my soulmate.  He’s a part of me.”

“Exactly.  You share a soul with a vampire, child,” Water said, his smirk fading.  “We could not very well make you Mother Natur
e until he was out of the way. A vampire with the unlimited power of the spirits,” he scoffed, shaking his head as if it was an utterly ludicrous idea.  “You were never meant to keep him, Amelia.  He was only a way to change the world you hastily created because of him.  This is your destiny.  Leave him behind and claim what is yours.”  He waved a hand, an elaborate gesture towards the other spirits, calling her forwards to join them, but all Amelia could do was stand and stare blankly at him.

Destiny
, she thought.  What was destiny, if not a lacework of choices that overlapped one another, a pathway leading only to another choice, another branch, another path?  Life was full of choices, some easy, some tough.  Amelia couldn’t say she’d always made the best decisions, but even so, she had learned from her mistakes, and she knew she was better for them.  And as she looked at the spirits, the ones who had manipulated and threatened her and her family, she saw the gleaming fork in her pathway. One led to Mitchell—to her family, and the other, to a life that had been, and probably always would be, full of deception and death and mayhem.

“But I’m a vampire,” Amelia said, as she tried to sort through her tangled thoughts.

“You carry witches blood in your veins,” the spirits countered, their voices molding together as if they were one.  “He does not.”

Silenc
e swept over them.  Amelia could feel the many eyes of her family settling on her, waiting for her to speak, but she couldn’t find the words—any words.  Her mouth was dry, her tongue thick. 
What am I supposed to do?
  She didn’t know, and as she tried to think, her stomach heaved, and she felt as if she was going to throw-up.

“But he’s my family … and … and the love of my life,” she whispered, not understanding how they could even think of asking her to walk away from him—from any of them.  “They’re my family,” she continued, waving her hand and motioning to her friends.

“No,” the spirits chorused in annoyingly pleasant tones.  “We’re your family, child.  You may keep the witches.  They’re tied to you now through the spells you have cast here tonight, but the others ...” Amelia didn’t hear the rest of their words.  It was as if her brain just couldn’t—wouldn’t—process the sound of their voices any longer.

“Amelia, I swear to you I didn’t know,” her mother said, a note of desperation in her voice.  “The spirits do not own you.  Look into your heart, sweetie.  It
will guide you if you let it.”

The numbness was coming back to her limbs, stronger than before.  She had so many questions, like what would happen to her mother, or what would happen to her family, to Mitchell, but she couldn’t spit them out.  Instead, what she asked was, “Have I changed all my mistakes?”

“Yes,” the spirits chimed, their musical voices blending together in a perfect melody.  “The bond has been changed.  There will be no more pain to those who bare the mark.”

“Good,” Amelia said, nodding her head.  “That’s good.”  She felt as if the world was slipping away from her, and she was falling into darkness.
When the light was gone and the world faded, grayed and distorted, until all that was left was inky blackness, Mitchell was still there. He stood with his hand outstretched, his smile burning like a light, guiding her back to the one place she knew she’d always belong—to her family.

Love, I’m behind you with whatever you decide.
  His silent reassurance brushed through her mind like a warm spring breeze, and as it did, he let his hand drop from her shoulder and trail down her arm, causing her skin to hum and burn. Then he let his hand drop from her entirely, allowing her to step away from him if that was what she chose to do.

The silence that followed his gesture was more profound than Amelia had ever thought silence could be.  It was as if the world had been stripped of all life, and all that was left was her and the spirits.
When she finally spoke, her voice seemed louder than it truly was.  “I think I’ll pass on the whole unlimited power thing.”