The Soul's Mark: FOUND (18 page)

Luke didn’t let go.
 
“He’s going to be fine, kiddo.
 
You don’t need to sit there crying.
 
He’ll be awake in a few minutes.”

 
“You
can’t get rid of us that easily so stop crying,” Mitchell snapped.
 
Still in Luke’s arms, Amelia glanced at
Mitchell.
 
He sounded so cold.
 
She didn’t know if her expression told him
how she felt or if he heard her thoughts but he softened.
 
“I’m sorry.
 
I didn’t mean to snap at you, it’s just…” he stumbled over the words and
scrubbed at his face for a second.
 
“You
care for him.
 
I can feel it and it
hurts.”

“Sorry?” Amelia shouted and Luke, startled
at her outburst, let go.
 
She stomped
over to Mitchell, fists clenched into tight balls and jaw tensed.
 
He was sitting at the island, leaning back in
the wooden chair.
 
“You’re sorry for
snapping at me?
 
What about choking
me?
 
And correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m
pretty sure you’re the one who hit him hard enough to break his neck and all
you can say is sorry for snapping at me.”
 
Amelia drew her arm back, opened her fist and slapped him, with
everything she had.
 
She knew instantly
it had hurt her more than him.
 
Pain shot
through her shoulder, and she realized that she probably should have used the
other hand and her eyes prickled, but he just sat there, looking at her, his face
not even a little pink from where she had slapped him.

“Are you done?” Mitchell asked coldly, and
Amelia could almost see the ice frosting up around his heart.
 
He kept his expression just as chilly as he
glared at her and it made her want to cower away and hide in a corner.
 
“I don’t know what you want me to say,
Amelia.
 
I’m not sorry for hitting
him.
 
He’s lucky that’s all I did.”
 
He paused, collecting his thoughts, sorting
through them and organizing them, and she tried really hard to ignore it,
because hearing his thoughts was just… creepy.
 
“He kissed you.
 
He took advantage
of you.
 
He snuck you out of the house
this morning after I gave clear instructions that you were not to leave.”
 
Mitchell was saying it all so
matter-of-factly that it made her sick, revolted by his attitude that she was
just a piece of property.
 
“Whether you
like it or not, you’re mine.
 
He knew
that and he crossed the line with you.
 
I
have been trying to find you for over eight hundred years.
 
Even after I made contact through the dreams,
it took me another five years to find you.
 
So no, I’m not sorry for what I’ve done to him and honestly, you
shouldn’t be either.”

“I wish you had never found me,” Amelia
said through clenched teeth.
 
She turned
on her heels, crossed the short distance to Eric and sunk down cradling his
head, determined to be there until he came back.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Luke
asked, finally dragging Mitchell away from the kitchen and shoving him into
Amelia’s bedroom.
 
“You’ve got to pull
yourself together, Mitch.”
 

Luke slammed the door behind them and
crossed his arms over his chest, guarding the door as if he was determined not
to let anyone in or out.

Mitchell put his hands up in surrender and
backed away from the door.
 
Not that Luke
could actually stop him if he wanted out, but the last thing Mitchell wanted
was to hurt someone else.
 
“What I need
to do is leave.
 
Put as much distance
between us as possible.”

Luke arched a brow and hardened his
stare.
 
“It’s not that simple
anymore.
 
And even if you do leave, you
know you won’t be able to stay away.”

Luke was right, Mitchell knew that, but he
didn’t like it.
 
The bond wouldn’t let
them be apart, not any longer, and it was his fault.
 
He crossed the room, sat down on Amelia’s bed
and slouched wearily, resting his head in his hands.
 

Luke placed a hand on his shoulder and the
bed dipped with the extra weight as he sat.
 
“Look, I know it’s hard.
 
I’ve
been there… at the beginning it was a constant battle with Lola, especially
after she changed.
 
She was
a loose
cannon but we made it through.”

Mitchell shook his head.
 
“But look at what I just did.
 
It’s not just affecting her.
 
All of you are suffering because I can’t keep
it together.
 
You’d think I’d have more
self-control after this long.
 
And if the
rest of them figure it out, all hell will break loose.
 
I should never have brought her here.
 
I knew she was different and still…”

“How is she different?”

Mitchell chuckled in disbelief.
 
“Come on, Luke.
 
I know you felt it.”

Luke stood up and started pacing the rich
hardwood floor.
 
It didn’t take long for
the truth to hit him.
 
He suddenly froze
and looked at Mitchell, the color slowly draining from his face.
 
“You’re kidding!
 
She can’t be.
 
It’s… it’s not possible.” Creases indented his brow and he locked his
fear-filled eyes with Mitchell’s and whispered, “The curse…”
 

Mitchell’s lips curved into a small and
distant smile.
 
“I doubt our souls
stopped and said
wait
vampires and
witches shouldn’t be together.
 
We’re
soulmates
.
 
Destiny’s idea of a joke.”
 
A hollow chuckle erupted from his throat.

Luke broke eye contact, shuffling from
right to left.
 
“You know you can’t blame
Eric for all this.
 
He told me about
coming to you for help.
 
You knew he was
struggling with her here.”

Mitchell rubbed at his face, guilt and
shame rushing around him, making him feel sick.
 
“I know.
 
Dammit! It’s like
everything is spiraling out of control and I can’t think straight.”
 
He took a few calming breaths.
 
“She hates me you know and I don’t blame
her.
 
I don’t know how to fix this.
 
Maybe she’d be better off if I didn’t exist.”

“Don’t,” Luke snarled, not missing the
hidden message behind Mitchell’s words.

“I have to do something.
 
Neither of us can continue like this.
 
What if I can’t stop myself next time?”
Mitchell raised his eyebrows in question.
 
“What happens then?
 
She doesn’t
even know what she’s doing.
 
She doesn’t
realize that every time she gets mad she’s throwing her power at me.
 
When she throws it at me, I lose
control.
 
It’s too strong.
 
It hurts too much.
 
The bond, the feelings,
everything.
 
It’s just too much.”
Mitchell lifted his shirt to reveal reddened skin covered in welts and
blisters.
 

Luke gasped.
 
“She did that?
 
Shit, it looks like burns.”

Mitchell tugged his shirt back down and
shrugged, “It’s not too bad.
 
It’ll heal
but one of us is going to kill the other if we keep this up.
 
I have to go.”

Luke sat back down beside Mitchell.
 
“You wouldn’t just be leaving her,” he
whispered in a shock-filled voice.
 
“What
about Eric?
 
He’s your kid.
 
Are you going to just walk out on him, too?”

“After what just happened, he’ll be glad to
get rid of me.”

Luke shook his head in disagreement.
 
“You’re his idol.
 
You know damn well he won’t let you go.”
 
Luke’s eyes drifted down to Mitchell’s chest
and then back up, filled with a new intensity.
 
“We’ll help her control it.
 
We
can teach her.
 
You need to tell her what
she is.
 
She needs to know.”

Mitchell thought about that, wondering if
it would make any difference.
 
Amelia
hated him.
 
He was sure of it.
 
He could feel sparks of love from her but
most of the feelings were blinding hatred.
 
She even hated how sometimes she loved him.
 
He knew he was griping at straws, but maybe
if she knew, they could fix it all together.
 
With that thought, he smiled.
 
“I
will.
 
Tomorrow, when everyone calms
down, I’ll tell her everything.”

It took fourteen minutes and nine seconds
for Eric to come back, or wake up.
 
Amelia
thought that sounded better, less disturbing, that was for sure.
 
She sat on the cold, hard floor with his head
in her lap, her eyes constantly checking the big grandfather clock as it ticked
away the seconds.

After the first five minutes, Luke had
managed to calm Mitchell down enough to get him out of the room but for some
reason, his absence didn’t help.
 
Amelia
could still feel him and the distance was unbearable.
 
She had to intensely focus on not running out
of the room after him.
 
Why did she have
to feel this way?
 
She wished she could
understand it, but she just couldn’t.
 
How could two people be tied together like this?

Amelia was so busy trying to forget about
Mitchell that when Angelle spoke she flinched, having forgotten that she wasn’t
alone.
 
“Mabel, you really should go,”
she urged.
 
Angelle was sitting beside
Amelia braiding her hair.

The older women looked at Amelia, her brow
furrowed and arms crossed.
 
She looked
conflicted, Amelia thought, like she wanted to run from the house screaming but
was bound by a duty to stay.
 
“I’m not
leaving her,” she said.
 
“Amelia needs
one of her own on her side through this.”
 
One of her own?
 
Amelia raised a questioning eyebrow, not sure what to say.
 
“A human, Amelia.
 
You need a human on your side.”

Angelle sighed—long and sad—she looked
genuinely hurt.
 
“I wouldn’t let anything
happen to her.
 
She’s my sister.”
 
She ran her fingers through Amelia’s hair,
loosening the braid, and started again.

“Don’t call me your sister,” Amelia
murmured.
 
She wanted to move away from
Angelle but she didn’t want to disturb Eric.
 
“We’re not sisters.
 
A sister
wouldn’t betray me like you did.
 
She
wouldn’t stand by and watch me suffer.
 
You let me believe that I was crazy.
 
I told you everything and you let me continue to think that it was a
dream.
 
If you really cared about me,
really thought of me like a sister, you would have told me the truth.”

Angelle’s
hands stilled on her hair, and Amelia risked a glance at her.
 
A small tear slid down Angelle’s cheek,
leaving behind a thin, glistening trail.
 
“I wanted to tell you.
 
Please
believe me.
 
I really wanted to.”

Amelia didn’t want to care.
 
She didn’t want to believe it and she didn’t
want to accept that there was any excuse that would convince her, but she asked
anyways.
 
“Why didn’t you?”

“It’s complicated.”

“You’ve got to give me something here,”
Amelia pleaded.
 
She looked back down at
Eric’s lifeless form, ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his
cheek.
 
“Give me a reason to believe
you.”
 
Because, despite what her brain
was saying, she really did want to believe Angelle.

Angelle stayed quiet for a moment, and the
idea that she wasn’t going to explain stung.
 
Amelia really wanted to believe that Angelle was her friend, that she
had some kind of rationale for hiding Mitchell from her.
 

Another silent minute passed and Amelia
glanced at her.
 
As their eyes met, the
words suddenly came out of Angelle in a rush.
 
“Mitchell is the oldest.
 
That
makes him the strongest.
 
I can’t fight
him.
 
None of us can.
 
We wouldn’t stand a chance.
 
But it’s more than that.
 
He’s a good man, Amelia.
 
He has done so much for me.
 
For all of us.
 
So when he asked me to wait to tell you, I
did.
 
I owe him my life and all he wanted
was for you to get a chance to settle in, make some friends, get used to us
before we told you.
 
He thought it would
make it easier for you.”
 
When Angelle
finished she went back to braiding Amelia’s hair distractedly.
 
“If I thought for a second that you were in
danger I would’ve stepped in.”
 
She
uttered the last words with such fervor that Amelia knew it was true.

“But you already let the worst happen, my
dear,” Mabel said, reminding them she was still there.
 
“Have you forgotten about Derek?
 
About all the pain and heartbreak that was
caused by your actions.
 
The very same
actions Mitchell has taken?”

“Who’s Derek?” Amelia asked.

Angelle ignored her, and suddenly the braid
went from loose to pinching tight.
 
She
was just about to ask again, when Angelle hissed, “This is nothing like Derek,
Mabel, and you know it.
 
Amelia loves
him.
 
She doesn’t want to admit it yet
but she does and he would do anything for her.”

“He’s letting the devil take control of
him,” Mabel said.
 
Amelia was
thunderstruck.
 
Sweet-tempered, motherly
Mabel was glaring so hard at Angelle it made Amelia nearly cringe.
 
Angelle’s braid was so tight now that it felt
like her hair was being ripped out, and the lump on her head was not making it
any easier to stay still, but her desire to know more made her resist the urge
to jerk away.
 
“He can’t be trusted with
her,” Mabel continued.
 
“Not yet.
 
And she needs someone to look after her.
 
Someone who will stand up to him, not cower
behind a magazine while he’s choking her.”

“Does she look hurt to you?” Angelle
shouted.
 
“Are there any bruises on her
neck?
 
Your family has been with him for
seven centuries and you have been with him for sixty-one years now.
 
Has he ever threatened you?
 
Or put himself before anyone human or
vampire?”

“This is different,” Mabel said
relentlessly.
 
Amelia had never thought
of Mabel as a stubborn woman before, but she was now.
 
“Remember how you felt, Angelle.
 
She doesn’t just hold his soul, she is his
core.
 
The connection between them is
stronger than I have ever seen, even stronger than Luke and Lola.
 
A connection like that can be dangerous.
 
It plays with their minds.
 
There is a fine line between love and hate
and Mitchell is not used to anyone outright defying him.
 
And our little Amelia is a strong one.” She
looked over at Amelia, pride illuminating her round features.
 
“The light shines bright in her.
 
If she keeps fighting him, and I’m sure she
will, he may lose control.
 
All it takes
is a second and they will both regret it.”

That’s when Eric stirred.
 
The conversation between the women stopped
abruptly as his neck straightened, snapping and popping, and his eyelids
twitched.
 
“Mabel, grab some blood,”
Angelle ordered.
 
She dropped Amelia’s
hair and pushed her back.
 
“Sorry
sweetie, but he’s gonna be hungry and I don’t want him to make a mistake.”

Mabel tossed a bag of blood to Angelle and
then pulled Amelia back further.
 
Why?
 
Amelia was sure that he wouldn’t hurt
her.
 
Not Eric.
 
She watched with a mix of fascination and
horror as Eric sprung back to life.
 
One
second, his eyelids were fluttering and the next he was on his feet, snarling
savagely.
 
Angelle held him easily with
one hand; arms locked behind his back and held the bag of blood in front of him,
dangling it like a T-bone in front of a dog.
 
Like an animal, he tore into it, sucking and slurping.
 
It was bloodcurdling and nauseating and if
Amelia hadn’t been so petrified, she almost certainly would have lost her
cookies.
 

Halfway through the bag Angelle released
his arms while he continued to devour the thick, red liquid.
 
His eyes slowly turned from fiery red back to
their beautiful, vibrant green and his skin took on a light pink flush.

When he had sucked the bag bone-dry, Eric
pitched it into the sink and rolled his neck.
 
The room echoed with a pair of stomach-churning cracks, like the snap of
celery sticks.
 
“Dammit,” he said and
rubbed his face.
 
“I hate it when that
happens.
 
Where the hell is he?”

No one answered him, so Amelia searched the
link—stunned at how normal it felt—to find Mitchell.
 
“In my room,” she answered.
 
Eric looked mad.
 
She guessed he had a right to be; Mitchell
had broken his neck but even though he was justified, she felt an insistent
urge to defend Mitchell.
 
“He’s with
Luke.
 
He’s sorry,” she stuttered, hoping
that may help.

“Like hell he is!” Eric yelled at her.
 
“He’s probably wishing I was dead.
 
You probably wouldn’t care much either,” he
spat at Amelia with so much hostility that she came close to bolting.
 
She shuddered uncontrollably, mustering all
her will to force herself to stay put and not reveal her fright.

“You know that’s not true, Eric.” Angelle
put a hand on his shoulder.
 
“Amelia sat
here holding you the whole time.
 
But you
went too far with her.
 
You know it.
 
Seriously, what were you thinking getting in
between them?
 
Did you really think he
was just going to let you stop him and walk away with her?”

“At least he tried to stop it,” Mabel
snapped.

Angelle rolled her eyes and huffed.
 
“He wasn’t going to hurt her,” she sounded
exasperated and defeated.

“She wasn’t breathing,” Eric countered.

Amelia watched the three of them yell at
each other.
 
She knew it was tacky, but
she smiled inwardly.
 
This was all for
her.
 
They cared.
 
All of them.
 
They were at each other's throats about what
they thought was best for her.
 
Then it
hit her; they were fighting about her and that just wasn’t okay.
 
“Um, guys, I’m fine,” she said, a bit louder
than she had hoped, and she felt her neck burn with a creeping blush.
 
“I think Angelle’s right.
 
I really don’t think Mitch wanted to hurt
me.”

“Amelia you really need to take this
seriously,” Mabel cautioned, giving a stern look.
 
“Mitchell’s a vampire.
 
He’s a killer and you are pushing him over
the edge whether you mean to or not.”

As if he knew they were talking about him,
Amelia felt Mitchell tune in.
 
She knew
right away, with an overwhelming surge of wildness, that Angelle was
right.
 
With the way things were going,
it could get nasty between Mitchell and Mabel.
 
“Mabel, thank you for your concern, it’s
really touching but I’m fine and I need to deal with this on my own.
 
I think you need to leave.
 
Take some time off.”

“She’s right,” Eric said.
 
“If Amelia hadn’t gotten in the way you might
not have been so lucky.”

“He’s ashamed of the way he acted and I
think he’s scared for you.” Amelia added because Mabel looked determined to
stay.
 
“He’d never forgive himself if
something happened to you, Mabel.”
 
She
wondered if that was actually true and then quickly dismissed the thought, not
wanting to consider that Mitchell could be so monstrous.

Luckily, Mabel didn’t notice her
hesitation, and she visibly deflated.
 
She bobbed her head in agreement.
 
“You call me, dear.
 
Call me every
two hours.
 
If I don’t hear from you,
I’ll come back.”

In no time, Amelia had Mabel safely in her
car and when she drove away, Amelia felt as if a colossal burden had been
lifted from her shoulders.
 
One less person to worry
about.

After some coaxing, Eric went to take a
shower and get his head together.
 
He
wasn’t himself yet, not that Amelia blamed him.
 
He had just, in a sense, died.