The Soul's Mark: FOUND

Page 21

Kaboom? Time bomb? What was he talking about? Amelia didn’t know. She was about to open her eyes when someone tucked a warm blanket around her and said, “Shut up, Eric.”
Mitchell.
Mitchell was real. He was here. He was a vampire. They were all vampires. The thoughts were coming in a rushed blur. Her pulse picked up, beating painfully fast, the thumping of her heart was drowning out the conversation around her. She felt cold like ice. Were they going to kill her? If they wanted to, wouldn’t they have already done it? What had her dad said to her when she was a kid? It was something about bears when they were camping. Play dead and they won’t bother you? Does that work with vampires? She didn’t know but she thought she would give it a try.
Mitchell chuckled, a warm sound, velvety and soft. “No love, playing dead with vampires doesn’t work. We can all hear your heartbeat so you might as well open your eyes.” His voice seemed to speak directly to her heart and she felt the chain tugging and tightening and as if she had no control over her body, her eyes fluttered open and landed on him.
Amelia’s breath caught in her throat and warmth flooded in. Mitchell stood over her, looking down, a bright lemon yellow glow around him, shooting out in stripes, like rays from the sun. Amelia blinked, trying to clear her vision but the yellow haze stayed around him. The stripes of color reminded her of the second or two after you closed your eyes and flashes of colors appear before turning black. The brain wave came to her like a smack in the forehead; she could see his aura. That’s what those flashes of colors were. She remembered reading about it once. Amelia studied his face. There was so much love in his brilliant blue eyes. Not just in his eyes, she realized with a start; she could feel it, coming from him, it was as if they were linked, and his feelings were radiating from him and pulsing into her.
Amelia didn’t think she could speak. The sight of him in front of her was absolutely awe-inspiring. The dreams had not done him justice. He had always been striking, but with the yellow glow outlining his chiseled and perfectly sculpted six-three frame and mixing with his soft light brown hair, he was so stunningly beautiful that it nearly hurt to look at him.
Her mouth felt dry and the awful pulling around her heart urged her to get up, to go to him, to touch him. Before she could stop herself, Amelia was off the couch, the warm fleece blanket falling to the floor around her feet, and she was reaching out to brush her fingers across his cheek. “I can see your aura,” she breathed, more to herself than to him. “How are you here? You’re not supposed to be real.”
Mitchell took her hand in his, holding it against his cheek and leaned into it. She could vaguely feel the presence of her roommates, but it didn’t matter. At that very moment, nothing mattered more than he did.
Someone cleared their throat loudly, drawing Amelia reluctantly back to the present and Mitchell dropped her hand. “How did you know what she was thinking, Mitch?” Eric asked. He looked mad, Amelia noticed, hands balled into white fists and red tinting his face and neck. There was something staining his white shirt, which was ripped in a few places. Something brownish-red—blood? Yes, it looked like dried blood and there was some dried up under his nose and smeared on his cheek, too. He had a black eye, which to Amelia’s disbelief, was getting lighter with every passing second.
“Yeah Mitch, how did you know?” Angelle added. She was suddenly standing in front of them, glaring daggers at him. “Because I know you wouldn’t do that to her.” Mitchell didn’t bother to answer, and Amelia thought he may have looked ashamed, which made no sense at all. What did he have to be ashamed of?
Angelle and Mitchell stared at each other for a long, tense moment. “Dammit, Mitch!” she said under her breath, looking away from him. She took Amelia’s chin in her hands and gently tilted her head looking over her neck. “When?” she yelled at him and Amelia had to fight hard not to whimper, because hey, she was alone in a room full of vampires and there was an angry one holding onto her and her eyes were such a glowing red, who wouldn’t want to whimper and find a rock to hide under? This wasn’t the sugary sweet girl Amelia knew. This thing standing in front of her, holding onto her chin, was a monster.
“Leave it alone, Angelle,” Mitchell said tightly and started pacing the room. The beautiful yellow that surrounded him was fading and quickly devolving to a muddied red. It only took Amelia a second to realize what the change meant—a rising tide of anger, so strong it was suffocating.
I should run, Amelia thought, as she watched the red deepen and black flecks, like spots of dirt, appeared. Just run. God, why can’t I run? Stupid flight reflexes. What’s wrong with me?
You don’t need to run, love. No one is going to hurt you.
Amelia trembled and a shiver rushed in, straightening her spine. “You didn’t talk,” she said, the tremors coming out in her voice. “You’re lips didn’t move.”
“You project very clearly, Amelia.” Mitchell chuckled softly, and looked at her, some of the anger lifting away, and his soft smile returning. “It’s kind of like one of those amplifiers. Your thoughts just blast in, loud and clear.”
Angelle wrapped her arms around Amelia hugging her closely. For a moment, Amelia stayed ridged and held her breath. Her lungs started to burn and like a balloon popping, she let out a pent up breath in a gush and all her resistance seemed to rush out with it. There was something about Angelle that reminded her of a mother bear protecting her cub, and Amelia felt herself relax into the hug and let herself be pulled back onto the couch. “Oh honey, it’s okay,” Angelle whispered in her ear, the way her mother used to when she had had a bad dream and rocked her softly in her arms. “You’re safe. You’re going to be okay.”
“I can’t believe you’re really here.” Amelia glanced over at Mitchell just for a second and her heart fluttered happily in her chest. She supposed she should have known he was real but she had never really let herself think about it. But now that she thought about it, really thought about it, he had given tons of hints over the years and they were not always that subtle. Come to think of it, she was sure he had even mentioned vampires before. A sudden, uncontrollable giggle erupted from her lips and she quickly covered her mouth, trying to hold it in. Was this shock? It had to be shock. That was the only logical explanation. So if she was in shock then none of this was okay. She would soon realize that.
Amelia pulled back from Angelle’s arms, just enough to meet her square in the eyes. “It’s not okay. None of this is okay. I’m sitting in a house full of vampires. Vampires. This is completely insane.” The last words came out in a yell.
“What’s done is done,” Luke said matter-of-factly. Amelia hadn’t noticed him sitting in the corner. But there he was, relaxed and composed in an armchair, watching everyone with those thoughtful eyes. “All of this yelling isn’t going to change that. I think we all need to just calm down and deal with this. She loves him. We all know that, otherwise the dreams wouldn’t have happened for five years. I think you all may be underestimating her ability to handle this. Amelia is more mature than you give her credit for.”
“But she wasn’t ready. She’s still not ready!” Angelle raged, tightening her grip on Amelia.
“I don’t care if she is ready or not,” Mitchell said, jaw clenching. “I’m not going to let her run around with that boy!” He shot Eric a challenging look, “Or with you.”
“You did this to her out of jealously,” Angelle choked and continued to stroke Amelia’s hair.
“Dude,” Eric said, giving Mitchell a look of pure disgust, but bit his tongue on anything else he might have been about to say when Mitchell flashed him another terrifying look.
Amelia couldn’t imagine what was so horrible, but the grim expressions on her roommates’ faces made its graveness very clear. She pushed her way out of Angelle’s arms and stood up on shaky legs, wobbling like a tightrope walker. A sickening feeling engulfed her, and she suddenly felt a flash of cold and waves of hot all at once.
“I don’t understand what’s happening here,” Amelia blurted.
“Tell her, Mitch.”
“This is not the time, Angelle.” Mitchell sat down on the couch and pulled Amelia onto his lap, cradling her in his arms. Every place their skin touched set her on fire, burning hot. His tangy scent filled her head, pushing away all her fears. Amelia knew she should push away, but her body just didn’t want to. “Drop it.”
“Mitch, buddy,” Luke said, completely calm and in control. “She has a right to know. Think about it. It’s better to just tell her so you can both be careful. Believe me, you don’t want it to just happen.”
“He bit you, Amelia.” The bitterness in Angelle’s voice was as black and violent as a thunderstorm. She reached out, as if she was going to touch her, and then drew back, thinking better of it.
“Angelle,” Mitchell roared. Suddenly, Amelia was standing, teetering unstably, and Mitchell had Angelle off the couch, holding her against the wall by her shoulders. He looked scary. Cold, hard and overpoweringly scary, and Amelia could feel everything. She could hear his thoughts; he wanted to hurt Angelle, and she could feel it, the cold, bitter anger. She wanted to do something. She needed to stop him but she couldn’t. It was as if she was frozen in place and the only thing she could do was whimper like a little baby.
“Mitch!” Luke’s voice boomed. Amelia didn’t see him move, but he was now behind Mitchell, holding him tightly, arms pinned behind his back.
Amelia couldn’t take it anymore and she crumpled to the floor. Her emotions were already a jumbled mess and feeling all his anger was exhausting. How could anyone have that much hatred? That much rage? She just couldn’t imagine. And why could she feel everything he was feeling? “Someone really needs to tell me what’s going on,” Amelia said in a small voice.
She didn’t think anyone would answer her. They were all tense, watching Mitchell like a hawk. Luke must have been satisfied that he was under control because he let go of Mitchell and sat back in his chair. He never dropped his eyes from him though, watching closely for any sign he wasn’t completely in control of himself.