The Soul's Mark: FOUND (5 page)

When she opened her eyes, Amelia found
herself in an office.
 
The sun glittered
in through the windows and gently warmed her face.
 
She brought her hand up to her eyes to block
the glare.
 
As her eyes adjusted, she
noticed what a mess the room was.
 
Papers
and files scattered everywhere, on the floor, on the table, across the desk.

Even though it was a new location, she had
still expected to see Mitchell sitting at the big oak desk.
 
But she was alone.

The smell of leather, mixed with Mitchell’s
sweet, tangy scent, tickled her nose and she sneezed.

Off to one corner were two big leather
chairs and a small oval table.
 
Amelia
padded her way over, deciding to sit while she waited.
 
There was a newspaper beside the chair on the
table and she was just about to pick it up when she noticed a slight movement
out of the corner of her eye.

She looked up to find Mitchell standing in
the doorway.
 
Little butterflies flew
happily around her stomach as she took him in.
 
His sweet smile sent sparks and chills racing through her body.

“Hello, love,” he said, in a deep, sexy
English accent.
 
“I didn’t expect to see
you so early.”

Amelia could feel herself getting lost in
his soft, dreamy, sky blue eyes.
 
Her
face felt hot and her heart fluttered erratically in her chest.

His soft chuckle snapped her back to
reality.
 
“Hey Mitch,” she said, hoping
she sounded cool and calm.
 
“What’s with
the suit and the office?”

Mitchell strolled across the room,
loosening his gray and pink striped tie on the way and taking off his
jacket.
 
An involuntary sigh slipped from
her lips as she admired his strong jaw and cheekbones.

“This is where I work,” he smirked.

“Huh…” she breathed.
 
Work?
 
She didn’t remember that ever coming up in
the dreams before.
 
But she decided it
made sense.
 
He was supposed to be a
creation of her imagination and this was definitely the kind of office she
would want her dream guy to have.
 
Top floor, corner office.
 
It showed he was important.

Mitchell scooped her up in his arms and sat
down with her on his lap.
 
She snuggled
in closer, resting her head against his lithe chest, loving the feeling of his
strong, chiseled arms around her.
 
Mitchell tilted her chin up and their eyes met.

And then, suddenly, he kissed her.

His lips were soft at first, warm and moist
and tasted sweet.
 
He kissed her chastely
for a second.
 
But in no time, the kiss
became urgent, demanding and a surge of passion ripped through her.
 
He buried his hands in the thick of her hair,
pulling her closer to him and she found herself doing the same.
 
Her body ignited as if fireworks were
exploding within her and she tried to pull him closer.
 
She opened her mouth under his and felt his
tongue brush against hers.
 
He groaned a
throaty sound that vibrated through her, shooting sparks from head to toe.

Amelia didn’t know who pulled away first
but the kiss ended just as quickly as it started.
 
She was trembling and her breath was coming
in ragged bursts.
 
When she looked at
him, she thought the expression he wore looked almost… pained.
 
And his eyes, they seemed brighter, and were
there streaks of red?
 
She blinked, sure
it was just a glare, and when she opened her eyes again the glare was gone and
he looked just as stunning as ever.

“I’ve missed you, love,” he whispered and
kissed her lightly on the forehead.

Amelia was about to tell him that she had
missed him too, but an image of Eric flashed in front of her eyes and her
nagging conscious screamed:
He’s not even
real!

Guilt poured over her, like hot lava, but
she couldn’t help but remember Eric’s soft lips on her hand and then on her
cheek.
 
It had been real.
 
She could be with someone who was real.
 
And that would be normal.
 
She wanted to be normal, and this, this was
far from normal.

Her chest hurt.
 
It felt as if her heart had dropped to her
toes, chipping and breaking into millions of pieces on its way.
 
Was she ready to let Mitchell go?
 
Could she let him go?
 
Was Eric worth it?
 
Amelia reluctantly slipped off his lap.
 
She was shaking and cold.

Part of her had expected Mitchell to stop
her.
 
But he didn’t.
 
He let Amelia leave his embrace and she could
feel his eyes burning on her back as she took a few steps and sat in the chair
across from him.
 
When she was seated, he
didn’t say anything.
 
He just sat there,
watching her and waiting.

Amelia took a deep shaky breath.
 
“Mitch…” she said, glad that her voice
sounded strong.
 
“We need to talk.”

Little creases indented his forehead and
the corners of his mouth tilted downwards.
 
“What’s wrong, love?
 
Did
something happen today?
 
Were your new
roommates unkind to you?”

She shook her head and looked away.
 
“They were wonderful,” she said, dreamily and
then huffed a gusty sound.
 
“Absolutely perfect.”

Mitchell laughed.
 
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Well, it
kinda
is,” she admitted and stood up.
 
Her
knees felt like Jell-O and she realized that maybe standing wasn’t such a great
idea and plopped back down on the chair before she continued.
 
“It made me realize something.”

“And what did you realize?” he questioned,
leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands dangling.

“Um…” she fumbled, realizing that she
really didn’t know what to say.
 
How do you
tell someone that you don’t want to dream of them anymore?
 
“That it’s time to let you go.”

Amelia could see the wheels turning as he
processed what she had said.
 
It was a
bit intimidating, not that he actually meant it to be but he was the kind of
person you could actually see thinking.
 
Even so, Amelia was relieved when she saw his face light up, as if he
had discovered what he was looking for.
 
“You still think this is just a dream,” he murmured, bemused.

His statement left her confused.
 
“Of course it’s just a dream, Mitch,” she
muttered, fiddling with the hem of her shirt, twisting it around her
finger.
 
“And I met someone today.
 
And I, um... I like him.”

Mitchell laughed and she stiffened.
 
When she looked up, he was lounging back in
his chair with a playful smile on his face.
 
Just yesterday, that smile would have turned her into a lovesick
puppy.
 
She would have run to him,
throwing herself into his arms.

But now, it infuriated her.
 
Amelia straightened her shoulders and
clenched her teeth.
 
She could feel her
fingernails digging into her palms as she balled her hands into tight
fists.
 
“This isn’t funny,” she bristled,
and shot him a fierce glare.

“Oh, love,” he chuckled.
 
The sound made her heart skip a beat and she
cursed under her breath.
 
She hated
feeling this way about him.
 
“You met
someone?”
 
Amusement filled his eyes and
he laughed, full heartedly.
 
“Let me
guess. Eric?”
 
He got up from his chair
and kneeled down on the floor in front of her so his face was at the same level
as hers.
 
“There’s so much you don’t
know, love,” he whispered, brushing her hair off her neck.
 
He let his fingers linger, lightly tracing
the outline of her birthmark.

His touch made her skin tingle, and her
body lit up like a blazing fire.
 
She
knew there was something, something that he said that he shouldn’t have known
but with him this close she just couldn’t seem to figure out what it was.
 
He leaned in and kissed her slowly, his lips
soft and teasing.
 
This time he ended the
kiss.
 
“I love you, Amelia,” he said,
brushing her hair back.
 
“You should get
some sleep, love.”

Mitchell bent forward and kissed her
forehead.
 
She was about to protest
because she was already asleep.
 
This was
her dream and she really didn’t want him to go.
 
But when she looked at him he was flickering and fading like a
television set gone to static.
 
The room
was changing, shifting, colors flashing, and then it was dark and she faded
into a deep sleep.

Morning came early, and Amelia, no matter
how hard she tried, could not sleep.
 
She
glanced over at the clock next to her bed, almost 5:30.
 
She groaned, wishing she was one of those
people who could sleep in until noon because she really, really hated
mornings.
 
For a moment she thought about
staying tucked into the warm, cozy blankets, but it seemed pointless.
 
She was wide-awake and knew she was up for
the day.
 
With another agonized groan,
she decided to get up and go for a run.
 
Exercise was the only thing that made her remotely sociable in the
morning and at least it would give her a chance to see the neighborhood.

Tumbling out of bed, stretching and
yawning, Amelia made her way to the window.
 
The sky was fixed in that special place at the end of night but before
day, neither dark nor light.
 
The stars
were just little specks, fading into dim sparkles in the gray-blue sky.

She tossed on a t-shirt and her favorite gray
yoga pants, then grabbed her water bottle and running shoes and headed out of
her room.
 
The house was completely
quiet.
 
She crept quietly down the hall,
hoping not to wake anyone.

In the kitchen, she turned on the tap,
letting the water run for a second.
 
It
gushed from the tap, crashing against the stainless steel sink.
 
There
goes being quiet,
she thought and hastily shoved her bottle under the
stream, not waiting for the water to turn cold.

Amelia pulled on her running shoes and went
out the door into the motor court.
 
She
shivered as the brisk fall breeze touched her bare arms.
 
There was a bite in the air and she knew she
would soon have to bundle up before venturing out in the mornings.
 
She headed down the porch steps and did a few
stretches, then took off down the driveway at a slow jog, warming up her
muscles.

In no time at all her blood started to
pump, her muscles started to tingle and she started to feel… alive.

The street was quiet and deserted in the
early morning light.
 
The sky was turning
a deep purple-blue and the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon.
 
She picked up her pace to a sprint.

Amelia had hoped to see some of the other
houses on the street and get a feel for the neighborhood, but the thick tree
line blocked her view.
 
She made out some
of the houses through the breaks and from what she could see, they were all
just as big and fabulous as the one she lived in.

She passed by a little opening in the
trees.
 
A small park, she assumed, with a
few benches and a garden.
 
As she passed,
Amelia felt a tingle at the back of her neck.
 
The kind of feeling she always got when someone was watching or
following her.
 
She glanced over her shoulder,
not slowing the pace, but saw nothing.

Amelia pushed herself faster, adrenaline
pumping, but the feeling of eyes boring into her back became more intense and
prickled down her spine, rolling like needles.

A loud crack, like a branch breaking, and
the rustle of leaves crunching under foot broke the silence of the morning, and
she stopped abruptly.
 
She peered into
the trees where the sound came
from,
trying to see
what was there.
 
Nothing.
 
She couldn’t see anything but the trees.
 
She waited, listening closely but the
crunching of leaves was gone.
 
Maybe a squirrel?
 
No,
too loud.
 
She knew a squirrel couldn’t
make that much noise.
 
A
fox?

Amelia tried to shake off the feeling,
knowing it was just her imagination working on overdrive.
 
She was in a new place after all.
 
Reluctantly, she pulled her gaze away from
the trees, turned back to the street and screamed.

Standing in front of her was a little
girl.
 
She was so close that Amelia could
feel a warm burst of air with every breath the girl took.
 
Amelia jumped back and clasped her hands over
her mouth to stifle another scream that was building up.
 
The girl was young.
 
Maybe eleven or twelve and she was creepy,
like little kid, horror movie creepy, with unnervingly pale white-gray skin,
big pale gray eyes and straggly shoulder length thin white-blond hair.
 
She wore an evil, devil child kind of smile.

Amelia forced her hand down from her mouth,
feeling bad at her reaction.
 
She knew
the kid was probably just as scared as she was, with her screaming.
 
“You startled me.
 
Are you lost?” Amelia
asked,
her voice a little shaky.

The girl just stood there, frozen like a
statue, cold dead looking eyes boring into Amelia.
 
A chill prickled down Amelia’s spine and her
heart started thumping like a jackhammer in her chest.
 
Unconsciously, she took another step
back.
 
The child still did not move, not
an inch, didn’t even blink.
 
“Are you
okay?” she asked, stuttering over the words.

Right at that moment, a car door slammed
from behind her and Amelia jumped.
 
She
really didn’t want to take her eyes off the creepy little girl but she couldn’t
seem to stop herself from glancing over her shoulder quickly.
 
She caught a glimpse of a short, chubby
police officer strutting towards her.
 
She flipped her focus back to the girl, but she was… gone.
 
Amelia frantically scanned the street but
there was no sign of her.
 
She had looked
away for only half a second.
 
Gone.

Amelia turned back to the police officer,
who was now only a few steps away.
 
“Did
you see that little girl?
 
Where did she
go?”

“What little girl?
 
All I see is you.
 
Who do you belong to?” the officer asked, not
unkindly, but with a definite air of authority.
 
He looked older, in his early fifties, Amelia guessed, with wrinkles
touching his eyes and the corner of his mouth.
 
His hair was graying, close-cropped, and his smile was friendly enough
but there was something careful and guarded and a bit unsure about it.

“You didn’t see the little girl?
 
She was standing right there,” Amelia
replied, flustered, and pointed to the empty space in front of her.
 
Then his question sunk in and she replayed in
her mind.
 
Who do you belong to?
 
What
kind of question was that?
 
She shook her
head, sure she had heard him wrong and asked, “Sorry, what did you just ask
me?” her voice sounding more scared then she had hoped for.

He studied her closely, eyes scanning her
over and eventually settling on her neck.
 
She fought back the urge to cover up her birthmark.
 
The way he was looking at it, examining it,
she felt as if she was being put under a microscope.
 
“Interesting.”
 
He folded his arms over his chest.
 
“You must be new here.
 
Which house are you in?” he asked, raising a
questioning eyebrow.

Amelia tried not to tremble, but with the
way he was looking at her it was hard not to.
 
She was not a fan of the police.
 
Not since the night her parents had been murdered.
 
They brought back too many memories that she
wanted to keep buried.
 
“18 Bankdale Ridge.
 
Did I do something wrong, officer…” she peered at the brassy name plate
on his jacket, “McLean?”

“You must be Amelia.”
 
He extended his right hand.
 
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.
 
And no, you didn’t do anything wrong.
 
It’s just that this really isn’t the kind of
neighborhood that a kid like you should be running around alone in at the break
of dawn.
 
It’s not safe.”

Amelia was sure she was looking at him as if
he might be crazy.
 
Not safe?
 
You couldn’t even get onto the street without
a guard opening the gate.
 
“I find it
hard to believe this area isn’t safe,” she said, trying to keep the laughter
out of her voice.
 
Then a thought dawned
on her, the amusement vanished, and her skin rose in goose pimples, “How do you
know my name?”

He gave her a long, hard stare and then
shrugged, looking, Amelia thought, as if he was trying to cover up a
mistake.
 
“It’s my job to know who should
and shouldn’t be here,” he said, too quickly for her to believe.
 
“Like I said, it’s not safe, especially for
those who don’t belong.
 
Why don’t I take
you home?”

“That’s
okay,
it’s
only a few houses down.”
 
Amelia was
vibrating all over.
 
She was
nervous.
 
She knew she shouldn’t be.
 
He was a police officer.
 
He was a good guy.
 
But he exuded an unnamed quality that
unnerved her.
 
It was probably just her
imagination but she really didn’t want to go anywhere with him.
 
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she added when he
didn’t leave.

Officer McLean didn’t look happy at her
response and Amelia was sure she saw a flicker of fear in his eyes.
 
Was he sacred of her or scared for her?
 
She didn’t know and part of her didn’t want
to know.
 
It was all just a bit too
strange, the girl, Officer McLean.
 
What
kind of a town had she move to?

He
sighed
a gusty
sound.
 
“Humor an old man and get in the
car.
 
It would make me feel a lot better
to know that you made it home okay.”

“What about the little girl?”

“Amelia, I didn’t see a little girl.
 
You’re the only person I’ve seen all
morning,” he said, shaking his head.
 
“Come on, get in the car.”
 
He
waved his hand to her, a clear signal to follow and started towards the
car.
 
She hesitated for just a moment,
then, not wanting to get into trouble, Amelia followed and got into the front
seat of the waiting cruiser.

It took three minutes to drive back to her
house but those three minutes felt like an eternity.
 
Amelia wondered what her roommates were going
to say when she showed up with a cop.
 
What a way to make an impression.
 
Not even twenty-four hours in Willowberg and she was already being
escorted home.

Sweat trickled down her neck and soaked
into her collar.
 
She tried to tell
herself it was from the run but deep down she knew it wasn’t.
 
Between the scary little girl and Officer
McLean, she was wound tighter than a coil of string.
 
Of course, she’d be sweating.
 
Who wouldn’t be after the morning she had
had?

Her throat was dry and scratchy, and when
they turned onto the long driveway Amelia had to clear it twice before she
could make her voice work.
 
“You can just
drop me off here.”

Officer McLean didn’t stop the car and he
didn’t even bother to acknowledge that she had spoken.
 
He drove around the side, entering the motor
court and to Amelia’s
horror,
he parked right in front
of the glass doors leading to the kitchen.
 
Without a word, he turned off the car and got out.

Amelia watched him saunter, in a way that
only a police officer could, towards the porch steps.
 
Maybe
they’re still sleeping
, she hoped.
 
With squinted eyes, she tried to see if there was anyone in the kitchen,
but the frosted glass gave nothing away.
 
She took a deep breath, reached to unbuckle her seat belt, and right at
the moment that her seat belt clicked, her door flew open and before she knew it,
she was yanked from the car.

“Amelia.
 
Are you okay?
 
Are you hurt?” Luke
asked, anxiously.
 
He had his hands
firmly on her shoulders, shaking her like a rag doll and his face was streaked
with panic.
 
Before she could say anything,
he turned to Officer McLean.
 
“Is she
hurt?”
 
He didn’t wait for the response but
he stopped shaking her, and with frantic eyes, started searching her over.