The Soul's Mark: FOUND

Page 36

Amelia could feel the drain and knew she was not strong enough to hold off the ones moving in on her. She looked at Mitchell, pleading with her eyes and held her breath. Would he call them off? Would he let them kill her? His aura was shifting faster than her vision could register and she could tell that there was not one stable emotion in him.
It was a surreal feeling, watching her life flash before her eyes. Her mother’s smile, her father’s voice, and Mitchell. The first time they kissed. The first time he said, “I love you”. All the laughter, all the love, it surrounded her, lifting her up, keeping her strong. The thoughts filled her heart with sunshine, and flowers, and kittens, and everything wonderful and beautiful. How could memories of him bring her strength? Because he is you, a voice in her head whispered. He is your other half. He is your light. He is what makes you whole.
Amelia shoved the thoughts from her mind. She would not use his strength against him. She just couldn’t. She felt squeezed, as if she was being pushed from all sides at once, as Mitchell tried to get in and take control. Amelia kept her gaze on him. If Madame Crystal was right, Mitchell would be the cause of her death, and there was no doubt in Amelia’s mind that she was right. But she wouldn’t go without a fight.
“Mitchell,” Amelia said in a strong voice. “It’s about time that you know what it feels like to have no control.” The air around her shimmered, like diamonds in the light as she spoke the words, and before she knew what she was doing, Mitchell screamed out. It was a scream so bone chilling and ear splintering that the windows shook.
Amelia tried to pull back the light. It was soaring from her, sparkling and shifting like a kaleidoscope. What was she doing? She needed to stop it. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, not like this.
Someone touched her shoulder. “Millie, you need to stop,” Angelle said in her ear, scared and sad. “You’re killing him.”
Killing him? Amelia could see it now. She could see the little sparks igniting over his skin and the smell of burning flesh drifted to her nose. A part of her, a very small part, wanted to let him die. Madame Crystal’s voice rang out, “Revenge is for the weak.”
“Stop,” Mitchell gasped. His voice, small and scared, spoke clearly to her heart, urging her to help him. Amelia blinked, shook herself like a wet dog shaking off water from its coat, and watched as the flecks of red from his eyes faded, turning back to the glorious color of a clear, blue sky.
Mitchell was looking at her as if he had never seen her before. Why? He sent the question silently and it made her feel sick. Amelia knew what he meant. She knew he was not asking why she hurt him, he understood that. He wanted to know why she would try and kill him, and that, that she couldn’t answer. Amelia looked at him for an interminable minute. Everyone else in the room faded; for that minute, it was just the two of them.
Amelia took in a deep cleansing breath, and let her gaze focus on each vampire individually. “I’m going to my room,” she said, surprised at the authority in her voice, and even more surprised at the horrified looks on their faces. Was she the monster now? “I suggest you tend to him since you can all see I’m more than capable of looking after myself.” Amelia turned on her heels, head held high and glided down the hallway.
“Millie,” Angelle called after her.
Amelia looked back, a quick glance over her shoulder. “Take care of him for me.” Angelle nodded and then Amelia slid into her room, shutting and locking the door behind her.
CHAPTER 26
“This is a waste of time,” Amelia said crabbily and tossed another journal to the floor. Two dreadful days had passed since she almost accidentally (she thought) tried to kill Mitchell. He hadn’t come to see her and she couldn’t blame him.
Somehow, she had managed to lock herself in her room—literally. It was some kind of magic, that much they had figured out but what kind no one knew. The doors opened, the windows opened but no matter what they tried, Amelia couldn’t get out and no one could get in. It was like there was an invisible dividing wall of thick plastic enveloping the room. Anywhere she pushed, it would sag, then spring back into place.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Angelle said. She was standing at the door patting down the wall, determination plastered on her face, as she tried to find a weak point. “We’ll figure this out.”
“Hey, Angelle,” Eric called from the terrace, pretending to help, but in truth he really wasn’t doing much. Amelia didn’t care because she swore his laughter was the only thing keeping her remotely sane. “You’re getting good at that mime impersonation. I bet I could rent you out for parties.”
Angelle shot him a look. “You’re such a dumb-ass.”
Amelia glanced over at Angelle and she burst into a sidesplitting laugh. Angelle really did look like a mime, especially with all the drywall powder caked on her face—her thought that taking out a wall might work proved incorrect. The laugh earned her a nasty look from Angelle, and a skin-tingling chuckle from Eric. “Will you guys shut up?” Amelia said, trying her best to sound annoyed and cover-up how ridiculously funny her friend looked. “Trying to focus here.” She snagged another one of the journals from Madame Crystal and pretended to read.
“Don’t be such a killjoy,” Eric said. “You’ve gotta admit she’s gifted.” Amelia giggled again and he winked. “You could be part of the act too, Millie. You could use your witchy talents and put her in an invisible box. Then all we’d have to do is sit back and watch her try and get out. Easy peasy. The cash will just roll in.”
“Totally throwing a wrench into your plans,” Angelle said. “You’re so not renting us out.” Musical laughter floated from her lips. She grabbed a wrench from the stack of tools she had used to knock out the wall and she chucked it through the room, straight at Eric. It connected, smacking him in the chest and Amelia was certain she heard the dry crack of bones breaking.
“Ouch!” Eric rubbed at his chest. He pushed on a rib that was sticking out, making his black t-shirt look like a mini tent, and it crunched back into place. “Hey cupcake, it’s an expression.” He was laughing, a huge grin on his face and Amelia was sure she would never get used to that. Her chest hurt just thinking about it. “Doesn’t mean you literally need to throw a wrench, and you called me the dumb-ass.”
“You guys are both dumb-asses,” Amelia shot back. “How did you do that?” They looked at her blankly for a second. She jumped up and rushed over to the door putting her hands up feeling along the blasted wall. “The wrench! You tossed the wrench and it went through the room.”
Angelle’s eyes went cartoon-wide and she squealed in delight. “This is awesome.” She snatched up a hammer from the pile and slowly, she inched it into the room, holding the end tightly. The wall shimmered around the wooden handle and as Angelle’s hand reached the edge of the force field, it snapped shut, chopping the handle in half. She snatched her hand back, the wood clattered to the floor, and she huffed, looking fiercely at the invisible wall as if trying to burn a hole in it. “That sucks.”
“Mitch’s gonna be super stoked. I never thought about trying to just pass something in,” Eric said. He was standing on the terrace looking at the broken hammer, utterly baffled. After a moment, he gave his head a shake and grinned at Amelia, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Bet you’re starving. I’m gonna make you something awesome. Be right back.”
Amelia tried to object. Eric didn’t have a great track record when it came to the kitchen, and the last thing they needed was another disaster. But it was no use, Eric had already vanished. “Millie, I should go tell Mitch,” Angelle said, shuffling her feet back and forth. “See if he has any ideas.”
“Why bother? He won’t care.” Amelia knew it sounded like she was pouting. She’d never admit it, but she missed him like crazy. Tuning into his thoughts didn’t seem to cut it. More than anything, she wanted to see him, touch him, or just be close to him. Staying away was a deliberate attempt on his part, Amelia was sure of it, and it was like a kick in the teeth. The chain around her heart that tethered them together was pulled tight, inducing a constant, relentless tugging. She was glad that she was used to it enough now that it didn’t pull her off balance anymore, but it was still maddening. The worst part was she knew without a doubt that it wouldn’t stop until they were together. She had never really believed the old saying, absence makes the heart grow fonder, but to her dismay, it was another ludicrous saying that was dead on.
“Jeez, Amelia. You really need to figure out what you want from him. You told Mitch you needed time and obviously…” Angelle rapped her fist against the barrier so hard it trembled, shimmering like disturbed water. “You need it. He’s really trying to give you what you want. You made your bed, now you’re gonna have to lie in it.”
Amelia watched, speechless, as her friend disappeared. Since talking to the stupid psychic, she had been trying to find any possible reason she could to blame Mitchell for everything that had happened to her. Especially since he refused to come and see her. Could he really be staying away because she had asked for time?
Amelia didn’t know how long she had been dazed when a metallic clank brought her back. She glanced at the door and saw Lola, kicking a tray of food over the threshold. “So you’re a witch.” She leaned against the doorframe watching Amelia.
“Screw off, Lola.” Amelia huffed and crossed her arms. “I can’t deal with your crap right now.”
Lola rolled her eyes. “Stop moping around and feeling sorry for yourself,” she said dryly. “This poor-little-me act is pathetic. Life could be a lot worse.”
Worse? How could it get worse? “Easy for you to say. Just leave me alone. You don’t understand.” Amelia shuffled over to her bed and plopped down. She snatched up a journal and started reading, hoping Lola would take the hint.