The Soul's Mark: HUNTED

Page 24

He lay back on the floor and looked up at Amelia’s handy work. It was as if the hole had never existed. If it weren’t for the dust and debris that covered the floor, he wouldn’t have known that just moments ago this room was missing a ceiling. He could feel her watching him, and his nerve started to falter. Keeping his eyes fixed upwards, he cleared his throat and swallowed his nerves.
“When you fell asleep last night, you snuggled up to me, and you were smiling. It was the most perfect smile, sweet and content and innocent.” He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to figure out how to say what needed to be said. “I tried to rationalize the way I’ve acted with you. I tried to tell myself I’m being an ass for your own good. To make you stronger. To protect you. To mold you into a leader. But no matter how I’ve tried to justify it, and believe me I’ve tried, it all comes down to me using force to keep you here with me. I’m sure all abusive boyfriends say this, but I really never used to be like this, and I really don’t want to stay like this.”
When he finished his monologue, he glanced at Amelia just as she tried to smooth out her face which was screwed up in confusion. She wiggled her nose and rubbed at her indented forehead. “Mitch, I forgave you. You need to stop beating yourself up about it. We’ve both done things to hurt each other. It wasn’t just you.”
He put up his hand to stop her, not wanting to hear her justification. “That’s just it. I know you’ll forgive me. You always do. You forgave me so many times and gave me more chances than I can count, and I keep screwing up. And honestly, I’ve expected it, and taken it for granted. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, not yet at least. And last night…”
“Don’t!” Amelia shouted. She clenched her fists into white knuckled balls and narrowed her eyes at him.
“I need to say this, Amelia. It may be the last time I have a chance to.” He sat up and took her hands, lacing their fingers together. “It was the best night of my life, but it shouldn’t have happened. I was scared. I needed you. Needed to be close to you and feel something other than the pain.” He began tracing small circles on her palm with his thumb, as he fought against his jumping heart that threatened to leap from his chest. “And again, you forgave me for all my lies. You opened your arms to me without hesitation. You never think about yourself, blindly giving me everything I need, everything I want, and I repay you by being a jerk.”
“You’re not a…” Amelia started, but she let the words fall short, unable to deny what he knew was true. Even though he knew it was true, it still wrenched at his heart.
He locked eyes with her and tried to smile. “I promise you, one day you’ll be able to say that and mean it. I will earn your forgiveness. I swear I’ll prove to you that I’m worthy of it.” For the first time since he had met her, Amelia was speechless. He held on to the silence for a moment, stunned and feeling strangely content, until he remembered the last thing he had to tell her and sighed. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right. We need the blood and you are the best one to go.”
She smirked, and her eyes glittered with a plan he was sure he wouldn’t like. “I’m glad you think so, because I have an idea,” she said, rolling to her feet and padding out of the room.
CHAPTER 17
With Mitchell’s help and a lot of putty, Amelia managed to zap Eric’s wall back together. According to the journals she had been studying, all it needed was a simple binding spell which had been used to bind unsettled spirits to the afterworld. With a few tweaks, she was able to transform the spell to something useful. However, cleaning was a whole different ball game, and it seemed as if her ancestors never bothered to use magic, or at least document the use, for the simple things in life like cooking or cleaning. So for now, the only way to get rid of the powdery dry wall dust and to paint the repaired wall was by doing it the good old human way—using a broom, dustpan, and a paintbrush.
Shortly after the repairs were done, Mitchell had gone to find some cleaning supplies. He returned promptly with a broom, dustpan, garbage can, and a seriously lame excuse about needing to make some phone calls. Within seconds of dropping off the supplies, he had taken off again, but by the grin he had flashed on his way out, Amelia was certain that he didn’t have any calls to make. He was just weaseling his way out of cleaning.
“I’m glad the wall got knocked out,” Megan blurted, as she ventured into the room with her minimal belongs. “The color sucks, and now I totally have a reason to convince him to redecorate. Seriously, how old is he?” She giggled as she pulled down a tattered Spiderman poster.
“Good luck with that,” Amelia said, as she scanned over the armload of personal effects Megan was placing on the dresser. “You sure you’re ready to move in here already?” she asked, glad she sounded nonchalant, because really, she was nervous, still waiting for Megan to jump off the deep end like she had in the beginning.
“Actually, it’s my idea,” Megan said, her cheeks flushing ruby red as her eyes fluttered across the large bed and then quickly to the floor. She cleared her throat loudly and said, “So, Mitch thinks we should test out our connection while he’s planning your adventure.” Megan strolled across the powder white hardwood floor, leaving shoe prints on her way, and retrieved the other broom, which was leaning against the wall by the door. “By the way, I went through Eric’s memories when you guys left, and he actually tried the whole drinking animal blood thing.” The words were just barely a whisper, and Amelia watched in awe as she began to sweep haphazardly. “It was crazy. He looked like an unwrapped mummy. Mitchell was right, though. He’s killed someone.”
“I’m sorry, Meg,” Amelia said, not really sure what else to say.
“I think the worse part about it is that I’m okay with it.” Megan bent down to fill the dustpan and dumped the debris into the big garbage can that Mitchell had brought up, and when she looked back up at Amelia, she was smiling. “I’ve been working through the memories I have of Mitchell, and I realized that they are just pictures and feelings. I tried to literally dive into your thoughts like I can do with Eric, but all I see is a blank wall. I was thinking, well, I’m only a half blood, so I thought maybe you could give it a try.”
Megan’s smile widened, but Amelia noticed how fragile it looked, as if it could shatter at any second. A big part of her wanted to comfort Megan, tell her everything would be fine. Not only had the girl been thrown into a world of vampire soulmates, but she had also been plopped down right in the middle of death and war. The only thing that stopped her from rushing to Megan’s side and wrapping her arms around her was the resemblance between them. Amelia knew that if their likeness ran more than skin deep, which from the little she had learned about her cousin, it did, then the last thing she would want is comfort. There would be time for comfort when the problems were solved and they all made it out alive.
So, instead of trying to think of something inspirational and encouraging to say, Amelia closed her eyes and put every ounce of focus she had into entering Megan’s thoughts. She tried from every angle, envisioning herself even flying up Megan’s nose or into her ear, but nothing worked. Each time she thought she had found a way in, she was mentally flung back, as if she had hit an invisible trampoline.
After what felt like forever, Amelia finally opened her eyes. “Nothing. I can’t get in. But it doesn’t make sense,” she said, furrowing her brow in concentration. “We’ve been seeing each other’s thoughts for months. That’s the only way to explain my infatuation with Eric.” She began pacing the room, five steps forwards, swiveling around and then five steps back.
“Seriously creepy,” Angelle said, bringing Amelia out of her thoughts. She stepped inside the room with a big glossy smile. She snagged the broom from Amelia, and with vampire speed, she set out about ridding the room of the leftover debris.
“What?” Amelia asked, trying to focus on Angelle, but she was moving too fast for her eyes to follow.
“You two are kind of creepy. If it wasn’t for Meg’s red hair, I would have sworn you learned how to clone yourself, Millie. The way you guys were pacing, wearing the same serious contemplation expressions.” She stopped moving, and a visible chill ran through her. “It’s just creepy.” She dumped the last dustpan full of dirt into the garbage, leaned the broom against the wall, and plopped down on Eric’s green and blue striped bed.
Amelia sighed and then dropped down beside her friend. “I can’t get inside her mind. But it doesn’t make sense.”
“Actually it does,” Lola said, appearing in the doorway. “I’ve been doing some research. It’s not as strong as you guys thought. The connection is solely for safety features. It uses your emotions to project images and thoughts.”
“How do you know all this?” Angelle asked, before Amelia could blurt out the same question.
Lola’s scowl was remarkably beautiful, and she waved one of Amelia’s journals in front of them. “For someone who is so smart, you’re really quite dumb, Millie. The journal is actually labeled ‘A Coven’s Safety Net.’” Along the edge of the journal, Amelia spotted an assortment of colored tabs, and Lola flipped to the first one, her eyes scanning the page quickly. “Try thinking of something and sending the picture.”
Amelia was still gawking and chewing on a bunch of nasty things to spit at Lola when suddenly, an image of Eric was forced into her line of vision. She gasped as Eric started to change. His skin began to wither, and his hair started to fall out. Within seconds, the only recognizable thing about him was his vibrant green eyes. He looked as if he had aged thousands of years in just seconds. The image evaporated, and Amelia locked eyes with Megan. “Holy shit,” she breathed.
“Told you it was crazy,” Megan murmured, her eyes glistening as tears rimmed her lids. She blinked a few times, and the tears were gone, replaced by a look of determination. “What else does it say?” she asked.