The Soul's Mark: BROKEN

Page 23

“You don’t have to be with him,” Josh murmured. “You could get out of all of this and just move on. We could move on.”
Amelia didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. All she could see was the black energy consuming her, and corrupting her mind. Josh must have taken her silence as a yes, because suddenly, Amelia was on her back, with Josh on top of her. He laced his hands with hers, pinning them down just above her head, and he was smiling, peering down at her through hooded eyes. And then he lowered his head, closing the distance between them. His eyes were smoldering, and his lips looked so warm and inviting. Amelia’s skin felt as if it was on fire. And he smelled so good. So sweet that all she could think of was licking him, and kissing him, and …
“What the hell are you doing, Millie?” Tyler yelled.
Josh pulled his eyes away from Amelia, and looked at the door. “Get out!” he growled.
Amelia sucked in a breath, and blinked, and all at once, she noticed Josh’s weight and his body pressing against hers. Her magic simmered in her belly, steaming like a fresh pot of coffee, and then it flared, boiling over and shooting from her skin in a blast of blinding light.
And then, Josh wasn’t pressed against her anymore.
There was a crack and a thud, and Amelia bolted up, landing on the rug. Josh was sprawled out on the hardwood floor across the room, and Tyler rushed over to her. “You okay?” he asked, his eyes checking her from head to toe.
“Fine,” Amelia said, and glared at Josh, who was pulling himself off the floor.
The concern vanished from Tyler’s face, and it was replaced by a disgusted glare. “Good, because Madame Crystal is mumbling about the television,” he said, stopping Amelia before she could lash out at Josh, or explain that she was innocent and that this wasn’t what it looked like. “She says you need to come now.”
Josh eyed Tyler with barely hidden hatred, but then he smirked, and his eyes danced and sparkled as if he knew a secret. Amelia stiffened and wanted to slap the smirk from his face. He must have noticed, because he chuckled and then abruptly turned away, and headed out of the room.
“I’d be happy to put him in with Luke,” Tyler said, glaring daggers at Josh’s back.
“Nice idea, but he’d just lose his skin,” Amelia said, and then she made her way out of the room to find Madame Crystal.
They found her in the main floor living room. Megan was perched in a wingback chair with a clueless expression that Amelia was sure mirrored her own, and Cole stood behind her, his face an expressionless mask. Josh was already there, leaning against the back wall with his arms folded over his chest and the television remote in hand. His forehead was creased in a frown, and he nodded towards the couch where Madame Crystal was sitting with the kind of grin and vacant eyes that in a normal place would most likely land her in a straight jacket and a padded room. And she was filthy. Dirt streaked across her face, and her long black hair no longer shone with health. It was knotted together and hung down her back. She patted the cushion and said, “It’s started.”
“What’s started?” Amelia asked, as she sat down beside the psychic, taking her cold and clammy hand within her own, noticing the tears in Madame Crystal’s charcoal gray suit, and the stains on her blouse. Pungent power flared around her in spurts, as if a connection was fading in and out.
“Now, Josh,” Madame Crystal said, her voice vacant and expressionless. “It’s on channel five.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged as he lifted the remote and changed the channel. Before the picture was fully visible, a silky female voice drifted through the speakers. “An increase in murders is spreading throughout the state. Police are speculating that it is gang related, and they are working around the clock to find any solid leads.”
“Now eight,” Madame Crystal said.
Josh did what she said, switching the channel, and a new voice boomed out. “The death toll is piling up.”
“And twenty-three.” A manic glee tinted her voice, but her eyes remained hollow, her expression void. The only thing that told Amelia that she was to some extent present was the tight, close to bone-cracking, grip that Madame Crystal kept on her hand.
Amelia’s heart was pounding as he flicked the station. “Thirty-one dead.” It felt as if he had turned up the volume, and Amelia yanked her hand away from Madame Crystal and clasped her hands to her ears, trying to drown out the voices.
“Try forty-two,” Madame Crystal said, robotically, as if she wasn’t actually hearing the television, but hearing something else entirely.
“We get it!” Megan shouted. Before Josh could change the station again, she jumped up, fished the cord out from behind the television stand, and yanked, ripping the plug from the wall.
“It’s happening everywhere,” Cole said, stunned. Clearly, he hadn’t thought about what could be happening outside of Willowberg, but then Amelia was pretty sure none of them had. He fixed wide and scared eyes on Amelia. “You’ve got to fix this.”
How? a voice in her head shouted. Just tell me how! She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep calming breath, because really, she knew freaking out wasn’t going to help. She blinked a few times and then focused on the psychic. “Madame Crystal, have you had any luck with the spirits yet?” Amelia asked, trying to keep the desperate hope out of her voice.
“Nope, not one single bit, and please, call me Sally,” she said happily, and then she gave Amelia a gleaming white smile. “Maybe you should try contacting your mother.”
Amelia’s shoulders dropped. “Yeah, maybe,” she said. What was it about seeking help from her dead mother that creeped her out so much? Duh, it’s the dead part, her brain confirmed, with snarky sarcasm.
A hand fell on Amelia’s shoulder, and she blinked herself out of her thoughts and turned. Josh—badass vampire hunter and immortal—stood behind her with an expression that was anything but happy. “You’re thinking the world is ending, aren’t you?” he asked softly.
“You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” Amelia responded, curtly, narrowing her eyes. Maybe she was becoming harder, less susceptible to the pain and emptiness that death brought, but she couldn’t believe the people died and I’m so sad act Josh was attempting to convey. And come to think of it, it was his fault that Mabel, Fiona, Jess, Doug, Justin, and Amber were all dead. Had he killed them, or did he just give the order? It had become more than clear to her over the last two days that there was more to him than she had originally thought. He had been sweet—sort of—but he was also more than capable of being vicious. Which one was real? Amelia didn’t know, but the other side, the mean and soulless side, was more believable. It seemed more … natural, more him.
Josh scrunched his forehead. “Do you really think that little of me?”
“Let’s see,” Amelia said, holding out her hand and ticking things off as she spoke. “You threatened to kill me. You tried to kill my family, and honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that you actually did kill some of them.” She paused, watching his face closely for any sign of guilt, but if he felt it, it didn’t show. His face was like a blank slate, and after another hard examination, she went on. “You kidnapped me. You used my power to break the bond that I didn’t want broken. Oh, and we might as well add your latest trick to the list. You used your magic to try and take advantage of me. Yup, I think I do.”
“You don’t really mean that.” He moved around the couch, taking a stand in front of her. He reached out a hand, and looked as if he was about to tuck her hair behind her ear, and she jerked away. If she had, or even still did feel something for him, she was now one hundred percent sure that it was nothing more than a sense of obligation, and she was certainly not going to let him think anything different, at least not anymore. Right now she was thinking of sticking with the I was scared and alone excuse for even considering him, or maybe the I kind of made you so I thought I should see if it would work explanation, but either way she looked at it, neither of them sounded like a good reason for her weak moment.
“Yeah, actually I do,” she said. She stood up and moved around him, careful not to touch him, and started out of the room when her phone hummed, vibrating in her pocket. She fished it out, tapping the screen without even looking at it, and then she pulled it to her ear. “Hello?” she said absently, her brain desperately trying to work through the new developments.
“Thank God,” breathed the voice on the other end of the phone. It was silent for a second, and then a frantic slew of words blasted through the speaker. “Amelia, what’s happening? My mark’s gone. All of our marks are gone, and Greg hasn’t been home since last night. He freaked out and just took off, and I can’t feel him. I’m scared he’s dead, and my mark is gone and … and … and …” A sob and hard, erratic breathing pounded through the line.
“Zooey, sweetie, take a breath,” Amelia said, trying to keep her voice even and strong, although she was pretty sure she didn’t succeed. Guilt was rushing in like a flash storm, pouring down on her, and soaking her to the bone. She should have told them—prepared them. But she hadn’t. Hell, she hadn’t even personally stopped at their houses yesterday. McLean had.
“That’s the problem. I can’t breathe. He’s gone, Amelia. He’s just gone. He won’t answer his phone.” Her voice was spiking to a high-pitched squeal, and the words were spewing out over the top of each other in a dizzying rush. “I can’t find him anywhere and McLean told us not to leave the house and we’re all trapped inside and what if those hunters killed him? And Mitchell won’t answer the phone or Eric or Luke or any of them. And Erin took Lucy and she didn’t look right and she wouldn’t talk to me and she was all cagey and freaky and not Erin.”
“Honey, listen, I’m coming over,” Amelia said, jumping in while Zooey caught her breath. “I’ll be there in a minute. You call everyone else and tell them to come to your house. Tell them to hurry, okay?”