The Soul's Mark: FOUND (29 page)

Amelia wasn’t entirely sure why, but the
thought that this was all for Mitchell enraged her.
 
“Mitchell has nothing to do with this!” she
shouted.

“Mitchell has everything to do with this,”
Tristan snarled.
 
“Everything that has
happened to you, to your parents, it’s all because of Mitchell.”
 
Adam let him go and Tristan slithered across
the floor like a snake.
 
“Your loyalty to
them is disgusting, Amelia.
 
They’ve all
hurt you.
 
Mitchell, Erin, Angelle.
 
They knew all about you.
 
But you’re still trying to protect them.
 
It’s pathetic.
 
Get a backbone.”

How could he talk about Erin as if she was
just some piece of junk?
 
Amelia couldn’t
wrap her head around it.
 
They were
bonded, or had been.
 
“What did you mean
when you said you wouldn’t have to lie to Erin anymore?”
 
Amelia played the story Erin had told her
over and over in her mind, and the pieces just seemed to click together, like a
jigsaw puzzle.
 
Erin had said she had
been killed by a vampire and Tristan, Amelia was certain, was that vampire.

“Finally.”
 
Tristan clapped his hands in
excitement.
 
“I thought you were never
going to ask the right question.”
 
He
seemed to have calmed down, but he was still pacing the room restlessly.
 
His fangs were still flashing and his eyes
still blazing.
 
“Erin and you might have
been good friends in another life time.
 
You guys are so much alike.
 
So inquisitive and so loyal.
 
Her loyalty is what killed her twice and yours will be the reason for
your
death.”
 
His tone became softer, almost caring as he
spoke of Erin.
 
Amelia knew she had to
keep him talking about her.
 
Maybe it
would stall him, give her some time to get out of this mess.
 
The flickers of raw power were coming to her
in bursts now and Amelia was pretty sure the drugs were starting to wear
off.
 
She just needed more time.
 
Tristan sat back down in front of her and his
lips started to curve upwards.

“You killed her,” Amelia said, and Kandi
and Adam laughed.
 
They were standing
behind Tristan watching her like a hawk.
 
“Erin thought it was a friend but it was you.”

Tristan’s smile grew wilder and his eyes
blazed brighter.
 
“I knew you were a
smart one.
 
It was an accident,” he
shrugged.
 
“Mitchell’s
fault.”

Another burst of warmth sparked in the pit
of Amelia’s stomach.
 
She focused on it,
pulled it together in a ball of fire and just as she gathered it, it smoldered
away, as if a bucket of water had been dumped on it.
 
A flash of white-hot rage hit her, for a
moment, Amelia thought it was her own anger, but it faded in and out, hot then
warm.
 
She closed her eyes tightly,
focusing on the feeling and she saw Mitchell’s contorted, grief-stricken face
and then it was gone.

Amelia glared at Tristan.
 
“So you blamed her death on Mitchell.
 
You told her it was him,” she said, gauging
his reaction.
 
An instant replay of
Madame Crystal’s advice to Erin flashed through her mind, “Memories are not
always as they seem.
”
 
His eyes blazed brighter and she knew
instinctively she was on the right path.
 
“Why?”

Amelia caught a movement from the corner of
her eyes just as Kandi yanked on her hair, bending her neck almost to a
breaking point.
 
“He’s taking too long,”
she said in a whiny voice.
 
“The bond is
strong with them.
 
I can smell it.
 
Let’s just kill her know.
 
He’ll suffer just as much.”

Amelia kept her eyes focused on Tristan and
for a minute he looked like he was considering it.
 
The thought passed clearly across his face
and she was sure this was the end.
 
Was that a bad thing?
 
She wasn’t sure it was.
 
It would stop her suffering.
 
It would set Mitchell free and if she was
gone, he wouldn’t have to go on with his stupid suicide mission.
 
She was pretty sure Tristan didn’t know that
she had blocked their bond, so if he killed her, maybe Mitchell wouldn’t even
feel it.

Adam noticed that Tristan was considering
the idea and he was suddenly untying her wrists, kissing and licking the inside
skin over her veins.
 
Kandi’s tongue
darted out, licking her neck, dry and prickly, like a cat’s tongue.
 
Amelia quivered and bile rose up her
throat.
 
Think about something else.
 
Focus on happy thoughts,
a voice in her head coaxed.
 
But it was no use.
 
The only thing that crossed her mind was that
Mitchell didn’t know how much she really loved him.

The pinprick of fangs pressed into her
wrist.
 
Amelia closed her eyes, held her
breath and shouted as loudly as she could through the bond,
I love you, Mitchell.

“Tristan,” a familiar, but somehow too
bitter, voice rang through the room.
 
“You’ve always underestimated me.
 
I think it has to be your biggest weakness.”
 
Amelia thought she was just hearing things
and she kept her eyes closed.
 
The voice
sounded so much like Erin’s, but it couldn’t be.
 
Erin was always animated, bubbly.
 
Never cold.
  
And she was dead.

Unexpectedly, Amelia’s neck swung up like a
slingshot and Kandi’s lips were gone.
  
She opened her eyes just in time to see Tristan hurl himself at her and
Adam dropped her wrist.
 
From behind, she
heard the dry snap of bones breaking and Tristan leapt over her.
 
He wasn’t lunging at her, Amelia realized,
and gulped down a scream.
 
He was going
for whatever was behind her.
 
She
swiveled her head around to see Erin rip Kandi’s head clean off, blood
spraying, splattering in a line across Amelia’s face, and the sound—wet and
meaty—of flesh tearing made everyone freeze, like marbleized statues.

“I never liked her,” Erin (but not Erin)
smirked, Kandi’s head dangling from her hands, her lifeless body at Erin’s
feet.
 
She shot a look at Adam and tossed
the head to him, as if she was pitching a ball.

Amelia was incredulous.
 
Little, harmless Erin.
 
All the cuts and blood
gone.
 
It was impossible.
 
Erin had looked almost dead, a pulpy, meaty
mess, dangling in front of her room from a rope, but now… now her sharp
features were smoother, lustrous and flawless.
 
Her tan was gone.
 
Her eyes were
radiant rubies.
 
Amelia was so taken aback
at what she was seeing that she didn’t notice that Adam was coming out of his
haze until Erin said, “Yo, Mitch, um, little help here would be nice.”

Adam was closing in on Erin, like a lion
stalking its prey.
 
Tristan stood still,
gaping, and Amelia bolted into action, struggling to untie her legs.
 
She had just managed to get the ropes off and
pull together a surge of white-hot iridescent light, a display of radiant colors
like a rainbow flashing in her line of vision, when Tristan grabbed her by the
neck and smashed her hard against a wall, effectively extinguishing her
concentration.

Amelia heard grunting to her left.
 
She struggled to see what was happening but
she couldn’t move.
 
Tristan held her
tightly and lifted her a few inches off the ground.
 
She couldn’t breathe.
 
Her eyes felt as if they would pop out of the
sockets from the pressure and her face started to throb.
 
“I’m really going to enjoy this,” he growled.

“Put her down!” Mitchell barked, from
somewhere in the room, out of sight.
 
“This has nothing to do with her.”

“Sure it does, old friend,” Tristan said,
keeping his scorching gaze fixed on Amelia.
 
Stars flashed in front of her eyes and she struggled, trying to get a
breath.
 
“If I kill her then I’ll kill
part of you.
 
It’s wonderful how this
soulmate crap works.”
 
Amelia was sure
her face was turning blue and she wasn’t sure how much longer she had.
 
Her lungs felt as if they were about to
burst, and he tightened his grip on her neck, crushing her air pipe
further.
 
“It took you long enough to
find her.
 
I had thought killing her
parents would have been enough to draw you out but I guess it all worked out in
the end.”

“I’ll kill you,” Mitchell growled.

“Kind of the point,” Tristan chuckled.
 
“I kill her.
 
You kill me.
 
All the problems
solved.
 
I won’t have to live like this
anymore and I get my revenge.
 
It’s the
perfect plan.
 
I’ve been dreaming of this
day for fifty-three years.”

“I know the truth, Tristan.” Amelia was
pretty sure it was Erin speaking but everything was starting to sound distorted
and the world around her was taking on a grayish tone.
 
“Funny how your manipulation just disappeared
once I changed.
 
I know you planted my
memories of Mitchell killing me.
 
You
can’t blame him anymore.”

“Shut up, Erin,” Tristan spat.
 
He loosened his grip around Amelia’s neck and
she sucked in a ragged breath.
 
He
shifted his gaze for a quick second to Erin and Amelia noticed a glazy look in his
eyes.

“I will not shut up,” Erin said, sounding
desperate, and then Tristan’s grip constricted again around Amelia’s
throat.
 
“You need to stop this.
 
Mitchell saved you.
 
You would’ve died if he hadn’t changed
you.
 
It’s not your fault.
 
And, hey,” Erin paused, and Amelia could just
imagine her snarky look and striking a pose.
 
“I came back.
 
It doesn’t need to
end like this.
 
Stop blaming yourself.
 
You were new.
 
You lost control.
 
It’s not your
fault.”

Tristan uttered something, but to Amelia it
just sounding like mere fuzz.
 
She could
barely make out Tristan’s form standing in front of her and she could no longer
feel Mitchell, not even a trace of the chain that connected them.
 
She felt cold, as if a gusty burst of a
winter’s storm engulfed her, and her vision was murky, full of shadows.
 
Then, everything around her went dark and she
was falling, tumbling in a pit of wretched darkness.

****

“Amelia, what are you doing here?” Mrs.
Caldwell said.
 
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Her airy and soothing voice wrapped around Amelia, easing her fears.

Amelia snuggled her head into her mother’s
lap and she smiled.
 
Her mother always
smelled like just-washed laundry, fresh and soft.
 
“I just had the craziest nightmare, Mom.
 
It was horrible.
 
You and Dad were dead and I was a witch and
there were vampires.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mrs. Caldwell said, and
played with Amelia’s hair, braiding it and then loosening it to braid
again.
 
She sounded sad, and a bit
agitated, and very, very distant.

Amelia sat up and looked her mother
over.
 
She was wearing her favorite white
flannel nightgown.
 
“Mommy, are you
okay?” Amelia asked.
 
Mrs. Caldwell was
frowning, and Amelia couldn’t remember ever seeing that before.
 
Her mother never frowned.
 
She always said it caused too many wrinkles.
 
“Oh my sweet, sweet child,” Mrs. Caldwell
cooed, and rested a hand on Amelia’s cheek.
 
“You were not dreaming.
 
You are a
witch, Mitchell is a vampire, and your father and I are…”

“No!
 
No, no, no,” Amelia screamed, cutting Mrs. Caldwell off.
 
“Where’s Daddy?
 
I want to see Daddy.”
 
Frantically, she scanned the room for her
father and she gasped.
 
Just a moment ago,
she had been sure she was in her parents’ room cuddled up on their bed, but the
image was fading, and now she found herself sitting on a fluffy ball of…
cotton candy?
 
Amelia hesitantly let her fingers drift
across the soft and silky surface.
 
She peeked
over the edge and saw her body, covered in blood, lying on the cold, hard floor,
and glanced back at her mother.
 
“Am I
dead?” she asked in a small, unsure voice and then pinched herself as hard as
she could and winced when it hurt.

“In a way, yes, but not really,” Mrs.
Caldwell murmured, pushing a loose curl out of Amelia’s eyes.
 
“At least not yet.
 
You are in limbo.
 
The air spirits warned me that you were not
coping well and sent me to help you.”

“Air spirits?” Amelia asked lamely, totally
befuddled, and a little scared.

“Yes, sweetie.
 
That’s the element our
family is closest to.
 
You can think of
them like your guardian angels.”
 
Mrs. Caldwell
opened her arms and Amelia went for the hug.
 
She kissed the top of Amelia’s head and smoothed back her hair.
 
“I’ve been watching you over the last weeks.
 
I’m so sorry this has been so hard for you.”

As if she was hit by a tidal wave, the
reality of what had happened in Amelia’s short life was absolutely crushing and
with the comfort of her mother’s arms, she cried.
 
Deep heart-wrenching sobs emerged so quickly
that Amelia could hardly catch a breath and her mother held her, rocking her
gently.
 
“All this time you knew,” Amelia
choked out through the sobs and pushed back slightly, just enough to meet her
mother’s eyes.
 
“You knew about
Mitchell.
 
You knew I was a witch.
 
Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mrs. Caldwell brushed the tears from
Amelia’s cheeks.
 
“The gift doesn’t
manifest until you turn eighteen, and I’ve learnt over the years not to tell
you too soon.
 
You’ve never taken the
news about vampires or witches very well.”

“How long have you been my mother?”

“A little over twelve hundred years.
 
Mabel was telling you the truth.
 
Witches always come back to the same
family.
 
It’s one of the joys of being
supernatural.”

Suddenly, Amelia felt an overpowering rush
of euphoria; excitement bubbled up and she could feel the eager expression
stretching across her face.
 
“So you and
Daddy will come back?
 
We’ll be a family
again?”

“That’s up to you.”
 
Little creases littered Mrs. Caldwell’s brow
and her lips tilted downwards.
 
“Our
purpose over the last eight hundred years was to reunite you with Mitchell.
 
He’s your true family, dear.”

“No.
 
This can’t be real.
 
I’m still
having a nightmare.”
 
Amelia fiddled with
her hair, wrapping a long curl around her finger so tight that it throbbed from
lack of circulation.
 
For a moment she
let her mind wander and she thought about just how odd that was.
 
If she was dead, or sort of dead, why could
she feel her pulse?
 
Amelia gave her head
a little shake, glared at her mother and said, “If you’re telling the truth
then why don’t I remember the past?”

Mrs. Caldwell smiled.
 
“Oh, sweetie.
 
If you only knew how many times you’ve asked
me that.
 
Not everyone remembers their
past lives.
 
But with your gifts, you can
access it if you want to.
 
I can show you
how.
 
It will help you make the choice
that is laid out for you.”

A choice?
 
How many more choices would she have to
make?
 
The last few really hadn’t turned
out so well, obviously; she was kind of, sort of, dead.
 
Maybe, just maybe—not that she would ever
tell him—Amelia was starting to think that Mitchell biting her and taking that
one thing from her wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
 
“What choice?” Amelia asked, discouraged.

“You can still go back to him, if you
want.”
 
Almost in unison, her inner
voices screamed
yes
and
no.
 
“The spirits will give you another chance at this life.
 
Or, if you so choose, you can wait until the
next lifetime and, with your father and
I
, we will
help you find him again.”

Amelia scooted back to get a good look at
her mother because her mother’s tone clearly conveyed that it would not be a
simple
everyone is happy
decision.
 
“So you’re saying if I stay
dead then you guys will come back?
 
We
can be a family again?”
 
She tried hard
to keep the burning hope out of her voice but she was pretty sure she hadn’t
succeeded.

Mrs. Caldwell confirmed Amelia suspicions
with her heartbreaking reply.
 
“Yes,
dear, but you need to understand that at some point you’ll have to let us
go.
 
We were not meant to stay on earth
for an eternity.
 
Our path was to help
you discover your own.”
 
Mrs. Caldwell
held out her hands, “Take my hands.
 
You
need to ask the air spirits to show you what you have repressed.”
 
She hesitated for just a moment and then
Amelia took her mother’s hands, marveling at how firm and solid they felt.
 
“When you’re ready, I want you to concentrate
on the heat that’s pumping in your veins and say: Past lives that have gone
astray, show me.”