The Soul's Mark: FOUND

Page 41

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.
CHAPTER 28
“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?”