The Soul's Mark: CHANGED (7 page)

The room was lit by a single reading lamp that rested on a round glass table beside the large
sleigh bed.  They both looked as if they had been about to go to sleep.  Lola, in a skimpy pair of checkered boxer shorts and a little burnt-orange tank top, and Luke, in his typical plaid sleep pants.

Mitchell made his way into the room, pretending not to notice Lola’s death stare.  He sat down in the first armchair he came to, feeling utterly drained.  His breath was raspy, and his lungs hurt, as if he had smoke
d a pack of cigarettes a day for the last hundred years or so.  He didn’t know how humans dealt with being sick, because this cold, or whatever it had turned into, was by far the worst torture he had ever been put through.

Once he caught his breath
, he scrubbed at his face and said, “I’m sure.  Amelia needs my help, and besides, Mother Nature hinted at it all.  She said that together we could stop the pain.  That we could change the bond into a gift.  Amelia and I are supposed to correct this, Luke.”

Luke
seemed as if he was considering what Mitchell had said as he scanned Mitchell from head to toe with a critical eye.  “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” he asked, clearly deciding to ignore it all.

“It’s not so bad.  After
living this long, I’m not really scared of dying,” Mitchell lied, gritting his teeth.  This had to be the most infuriating part of being human.  Instead of listening to him, his family only worried about looking after him now.  The only good thing that had come from his change was the new appreciation he had for all of Amelia’s complaints in the past, when he had done the exact same thing to her.

Luke didn’t believe him.  Mitchell could see the doubt in his eyes, and notice
d his shoulders slump a little.  He saw the pity on Luke’s face, and he also saw the pain and fear.  Mitchell’s stomach twisted and his chest ached.  He was about to tell him that everything was going to be fine, but Lola spoke up first.

“You’re not going to die,”
she said with a snarky clip to her tone.  “I’m sure Amelia will do something.”

Mitchell sighed
, a gusty sound.  “You can smell it.  I’ve been hacking up blood.  My lungs feel like they’re filling up …” He paused for a moment, not really wanting to give them all the details.  He knew it would only make them worry more, and he scrubbed at his face.  “It doesn’t matter.  I just hope I have enough time in this lifetime to help her fix it all and get her stable before she takes on …” He let his voice drift off, not sure if he really should tell anyone his suspicions.  What if he was wrong?  Or better yet, what if he was right?  Either way, it felt like a disaster just waiting to happen.

Lola
let out a sound that was somewhere in between a gasp and a sob, and she scurried over to him, plopping down on the floor beside him, and resting against his leg.  “Amelia called Cole for a spell to heal you,” she said, glancing up at him.  “He called Meg while the girls were in the library.  She said she snuck out to take the call so I don’t think Millie knows about it.”  Her bottom lip trembled as she spoke, and she pressed herself firmly against him, as if touching him would confirm that he was still there.  Still alive.

Mitchell squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and smiled down at her. 
Right then, he hated himself for not realizing what her issue was already.  Lola always got bitchy when she was scared; he knew that.  He’d just never thought that she was scared for him.  It seemed like such a foreign thought, really.  And he’d figured her attitude towards him was all for Amelia’s sake.  But as he looked into her eyes, he could see that it wasn’t, and his heart twisted again.

“
Amelia did what?” Luke asked, with narrowed eyes fixed on Lola.

Lola shifted her gaze at the sound of his voice. 
“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped, and waved a dismissive hand at him.

Luke
let out a small growl, and her eyes flared, but she didn’t move from her spot pressed against Mitchell’s leg.  Mitchell didn’t know what was happening between them, but whatever it was put him on edge, and he stiffened in his chair.

“You
have a free pass to my mind anytime you want it,” Lola continued with barely concealed rage.  “Use it.  You can’t expect me to report every single thing that happens to you.”  She glared at Luke for a long and hard minute before she shifted her gaze to Mitchell, softening a bit.  “If you’re sure about this, Cole is willing to change the spell a little.  It’ll hurt her, but Meg and I are pretty sure it will leave Amelia hungry enough to bite you.”

Mitchell didn’t even consider it. 
“No,” he said, with a shake of his head.  Tricking and manipulating her wasn’t the answer.  He knew how well that would work, and with her enhanced powers, he didn’t even want to think about what could happen if she snapped again like she had before.

“She’s not going to do it on her own, Mitch,” Lola
said, drawing his attention back to her.

Mitchell glared at her for a long moment.  It must have been a convincing glare, because she shrunk a little, and cringed. 
“Maybe if you hadn’t spent the last two weeks telling her how bad of an idea it was we wouldn’t be in this mess now,” he said, in a voice that almost resembled the old authority he used to have.

Lola made a whimpering kind of sound that came from the back of her throat and her eyes misted.  “I’m sorry, Mitch.  I just … I didn’t want her to hurt you.”

Mitchell forced a smile.  “I know,” he said.  There really wasn’t much more that he could tell her.  Part of him wanted to yell at her, and demand that she stays the hell out of it, but he knew he couldn’t.  It wasn’t as if she’d meant to drive a wedge between him and Amelia.  And he knew that even though he was fuming and his blood was simmering, none of this was really Lola’s fault.

“There’s more you’re not telling us, isn’t there?”
Luke asked, taking a seat across from him.  He rested his feet on the small wooden coffee table, and laced his fingers together, behind his head.

Mitchell sighed. 
“Yeah, Mother Nature also told Amelia that she’s only been her mother for a little over twelve hundred years.  And that she’s lived a full life and is ready to rest.”

“Mother Nature is ready to rest?”
Lola asked with a hint of confusion.  Her forehead creased, and she scrunched her nose as she looked up at him.

“Yeah,”
Mitchell said, letting the word coming out on a breath.

Mitchell locked eyes with Luke, watching as he did the math.  “But the curse was placed fifteen-hundred years ago,” he said, his brow furrowing.  “How could …”  Something that resembled understanding flashed in Luke’s eyes and he whispered,
“Shit,” as he most likely pieced together exactly what it all meant for Amelia.  He dropped his feet to the floor, and raked a hand through his hair.  “Shit, shit, shit.  Have you told Amelia?”

Mitchell chuckled, but there was no humor to the sound. 
“I’ve tried.  She won’t listen to a word I say.  Being human kind of sucks, guys.  No one listens to me anymore.”

“Sure we …” Lola started, but Mitchell promptly cut her off.

“You’ve been fighting me every second, Lola,” he said, looking down at her.  Lola scooted away from him, and popped up from the floor.  She flushed a little, as she crossed the short distance to Luke, curling up on his lap.  She didn’t try to deny it, and by the way she was avoiding looking at him, Mitchell was certain she was feeling a little guilty so he didn’t push the subject.

“You have any ideas how to deal with all this crap?” Luke asked, as he wrapped an arm around
Lola, and rested his chin on the top of her head.

Mitchell grimaced.  “I have a few, but you won’t like them.”

Angelle wrung her hands together helplessly as she watched Tyler gather up a hand
ful of stakes and shove them into his duffle bag.  He kept his back to her, and she was sure it was on purpose, as he moved about the tiny apartment that she hadn’t even known he still had.  Did that make her a bad girlfriend? 
Probably.

The apartment really wasn’t much.  A one
-room bachelor pad, with a little kitchenette and a click-clack couch bed.  There was a balcony with a sliding glass door serving as the only window, and the bathroom was a little hole in the wall, barely big enough for the sink, shower, and toilet.  The whole apartment wasn’t even half the size of their room at Mitchell’s house.  The floors were some kind of cheap teal colored peel and stick tile, and the walls were the basic apartment white.  Boring, really.  But it smelled like Tyler.  Strong and musky and one-hundred percent male.

She really should have known he had an apartment.  She should have …

“Ty, it’s going to be okay,” Angelle said again, but she didn’t believe it.  How was this going to be okay?  Her heart shattered with every beat.  Sure, she was more than a little touched by his determination, but that didn’t change anything.  Even if he survived his plan, she’d still lose him.  This was it.  As soon as he walked out the door, they would be over, and there was nothing she could do about it.  He wasn’t hers anymore.

“It’s not,” he said.  His voice was so cold and his shoulders tensed as he jammed another T-shirt into the bag.  “I don’t want another vamp.  I don’t want this mark.”  He turned to her then, finally meeting her square on and she gasped.  His shaggy light brown hair that fell into his deep brown eyes didn’t come close to hiding the vicious intensity that shone through them.  His muscles flexed along with his stubble
-roughened jawline, and the form fitting white T-shirt he wore showed just how much he had toned up while living with her vampire family.  He’d always had firm muscles, but now they seemed to ripple with the slightest bit of tension.  The strength she saw there should have been at least a little comforting, but it wasn’t.  Not to her.  Not when she knew that with a flick of her wrist, she could end his life, and so could his soulmate.

Angelle pulled in a deep breath, and let her eyes
wander over him until they settled on the soul’s mark that had appeared on his neck just a few days ago.  It looked like a tattoo, a figure eight with a solid line passing behind the bottom loop.

White-hot hatred swelled in her belly, and suddenly she had a fierce urge to rush out, find Amelia, and kill her.  That damn mark was her fault.  It was Amelia’s fault Derek had killed himself, and now, it was Amelia
’s fault that she was losing Tyler.  Her hands trembled slightly as the rage increased, sparking over her skin, and she forced herself to breathe.

Angelle didn’t understand what was happening to her.  Over the last few days, her emotions had been all over the place, especially when it came to Tyler.  If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn he was hers.  That’s what it felt like. 
Blinding jealousy, uncontrollable anger, crazy possessiveness.  She felt exactly like she had when she had first met Derek.  But she knew that that wasn’t possible.  Her soulmate had died the final death, and vampires never get second chances.  Tyler belonged to someone else.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said
pleadingly.  Tyler’s jaw clenched as he shot her another cold look, and then he went back to packing.  She stood there for a long second glaring at his back, waiting for him to say something, anything, but it didn’t come, and she shouted, “You can’t just take off like this!  You can’t hunt your soulmate!”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re my soulmate.”  He didn’t look at her as he said it, but the emotion that she heard in his voice was just as consuming as the emotion she was sure was painted on his face right then.

“You’ve always known that I wasn’t,” she said, stepping towards him, and placing a hesitant hand on the center of his back.  He stiffened for a second, but then relaxed into her touch.  “I never hid it from you.  We always knew this could happen.  It’s why I never changed you.”  Tears bit at her eyelids as she spoke the words that she didn’t want to believe.  She wanted him to be hers.  She wanted it more than she wanted to live.  Tyler was perfect in every way.  He was tentative, caring, sweet, strong.  He had a backbone, standing up to her family, even to Mitchell.  And he loved her.  There was no doubt in her mind that he did.  Tyler never hid his feelings, not from her, and he had made sure to tell her every day for the last nine months how much she meant to him.

“Angelle, just stop it,” he said, spinning around and facing her.  “Stop!  I can’t deal with this.”  She tried to look away, but he cupped her face with his calloused hands, forcing
her eyes back up to meet his.  His voice softened a little as he said, “I don’t want someone else, and I’m not going to let some bloodsucker take me away from you.  It’s not happening.”

“You won’t be able to do it when you find her,” she said, forging strength
into her voice that she really didn’t have.  But she knew she had to be strong.  He wasn’t hers, not anymore, and she had no right to try to keep him.

“Yes
, I will,” he said, as he pulled her into his arms.  His lips hovered over hers for just a second before he placed a featherlight kiss on her.  “I love you,” he whispered, and those three words undid her completely.  The tears broke free in a flood, cascading down her cheeks, and she kissed him fervently, certain that this was the last time she’d ever feel his warm lips pressed against hers, and the last time she’d ever hear those words from him.