The Soul's Mark: HUNTED

Page 29

He was using her magic, siphoning her energy, Amelia realized with a start. But there was something else. Something was brewing inside her. It was as if they were combined, their auras, their life sources, their beings; everything was united on a whole new and intense level. His energy was hers and hers was his. She had never felt so powerful, so alive.
Cole made a sound somewhere in between a screech and a wheeze, and his jaw dropped, plainly stunned. He stammered over his next words while he shifted his fear stricken gaze between the three of them. “The strongest coven will be marked for the oldest vampire house, and with their alliance, the hunters will fulfill their destiny.”
Amelia laughed and opened her mouth to tell him how absolutely retarded that sounded, when someone shouted. “I can hear them. Over here.” She glanced in the direction of the new voice and could just make out four figures moving through the smoky haze, just outside the bubble of air that was keeping the fire at bay.
“You girls will join us whether you want to or not,” Cole said, inching backwards; what was left of his entourage hurried to their fallen comrades, gripped them under the arms and then followed Cole, dragging the bodies with them. As he moved, the shield of foggy mist moved with him, surrounding him and his companions like a blanket. Within seconds they had disappeared, fading into the smoke.
Mitchell went to follow them but, without the protection of the mist, the flames grew around them, jumping up as if a bottle of liquor had been dumped on them, giving them new life. Megan engaged her own magic, coating them all in a glowing sticky film, and Amelia made a mental note to learn how the spell worked.
Just then, the rescue team stumbled upon them, and Amelia was yanked from Mitchell’s grasp and dragged through the building.
The first face Amelia saw when she made it outside was a paper white Officer McLean. “Amelia,” he said with wide eyes. And then a visible tremor shook through his body as his gaze fixed behind her. He rushed forwards, bypassing her entirely, and went directly to Mitchell and said in a frantic whisper, “Get out of here before someone sees you guys.”
Mitchell put up a hand and Officer McLean clamped his mouth shut. “Did you catch them?”
Officer McLean looked dumbfounded, and he stuttered, “Catch who?”
“Dammit, McLean,” Mitchell seethed, balling his hands into white knuckled fists. “This was a damn trap. They were in there. How the hell did you let them sneak out?”
Officer McLean vaulted back from Mitchell. “Who was in there?” he questioned in a small and jittery voice. He caught himself quickly, tried to straighten his shoulders, and fixed his face in what looked like an attempt at the I’m the boss glare, but, in Amelia’s opinion, it looked more like a terrified man who knew he had seriously screwed up.
It wouldn’t have taken a brain surgeon to see that Mitchell’s temper was in danger of blowing, so Amelia promptly stepped in between them. “The hunters were here. The fire was a trap,” she said, forcing herself not to burst in frustration.
Eric pulled up in Amelia’s Jeep, stuck his head out the window and said, “Get in before the media sees you guys. We need to get out of here.”
Megan was the first to jump, and within seconds, she was in the car and was practically sitting on Eric’s lap in the driver’s seat, hugging him fiercely. Before Amelia moved, she asked, “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, Ma’am,” Officer McLean replied, his tense stance slacking a little, and he puffed out a pent-up breath. “Everyone is accounted for and fine.”
Amelia nodded, and with nothing else to say, she seized Mitchell’s hand and towed him to the car. Luckily for her, he didn’t protest, but he kept his torrid eyes locked on a blanching and trembling Officer McLean until the Jeep pulled out of sight.
CHAPTER 22
“How the hell do you know the hunter, Megan?” Amelia shouted. She was so mad that she couldn’t stay still, and she paced furiously across the slick hardwood of the main floor living room.
Mitchell sat in a wingback chair in front of the unlit fireplace not saying a word, and that did not help Amelia’s mood one bit. He was giving her a look that plainly said he did not approve of her outburst.
Amelia gritted her teeth and glared at Mitchell. What the hell was wrong with him? The argument had been going on for just over an hour now and he hadn’t said one word. Talk about infuriating. When she wanted him to butt out he always had tons to say, but now when she actually needed him to speak up and help her, he sat there silent, only shooting her the odd glare masked with disappointment.
Amelia was close to snapping at him when Megan said, exasperated, “I already told you. We grew up together. Cole taught me about my magic. We’ve been friends since sixth grade, and I didn’t know he was a vampire hunter. His dad taught me about witches.”
“You’ll have to do better than that, honey,” Lola said snidely. “Fiona is dead, another one of our kind, and you know the people who killed her.”
Lola’s words hung in the air, silencing everyone. The atmosphere quickly turned somber. For the second time since Fiona’s death, Amelia felt sick, and by the expressions on her friends’ faces, she wasn’t the only one.
At first, Amelia had been shaken that no one had seemed upset when she had told them that Fiona wasn’t coming back. Fiona may not have been everyone’s favorite, but she had been a part of their lives for over one hundred years. Amelia had thought that maybe all of the recent deaths were just making them immune to the horror. But now, she couldn’t ignore the flickers of pain and glazy eyes of her friends. It was then that she realized that mostly likely no one wanted to talk about it, because talking about it just made it all the more real.
Amelia focused on Mitchell. If the rest were hurting, she was sure he was crumbling inside. His stoic look gave off an air of unfeeling, and if it wasn’t for the bond, Amelia would have thought he truly didn’t care. As it was though, he was suffering more than any of them. He couldn’t mask the pain. At least not from her. To Amelia, it felt like a hot needle was jabbing into his heart over and over. And even worse than that, was the burning guilt he was feeling. Guilt for surviving the flames when Fiona did not.
“You led them right to us,” Eric whispered, breaking the silence. He had his back turned and forehead pressed against the wall. “My friends are dead. Mabel is dead because of you.” He hadn’t made eye contact with any of them since he had found out that Megan knew the hunters.
Megan flushed and pulled her knees to her chest, rocking herself weakly back and forth, the leather couch cushions squeaking with the movement. “I didn’t know!” she cried.
Mitchell had gone back to staring blankly at the ceiling, looking as if he wasn’t even listening. Amelia couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to know what was going on in his brain. She launched into his mind without a second thought, and what she found made her temper go from warm to white-hot.
You’re reciting the alphabet! Amelia shouted through the bond, wrathfully. He shot her another look that clearly said to stay out of his thoughts and went back to his ABC’s.
Amelia clenched her fists and was about to shout again, when Lola said, “We can’t trust her.” There was a steely look in her eyes as she glared at Megan. “She obviously told her little friends where Amelia would be tonight. It’s the only explanation as to how they were able to pull off that kind of attack.”
“Hold up,” Erin said. She darted up from the loveseat, her spiky blonde pigtails bouncing as she moved. She placed herself in the center of the room and shoved her hands into the pockets of her corduroy overalls. “She was used. You can’t blame her.”
“Yes, I can,” Eric said coldly. He turned around in slow motion, and what Amelia saw on his face made her suck in an involuntary gasp of air. He looked as if he had aged ten years in the last hour, and his usually playful demeanor had frosted over.
“Does that mean you still blame me?” Erin asked, plopping back down, the air from the loveseat cushions making a soft whoosh when she sat.
“No one blames you, Erin,” Amelia whispered, suddenly feeling like a hypocrite.
“My point exactly,” Erin said in frustration, and she tossed her arms up. “I tried to kill you. I actually helped plan your death, but you guys trust me.”
“That’s different,” Luke interjected. He shifted in his chair and crossed his legs. He smoothed out his jeans before continuing. “You’re the reason Amelia’s not dead, Erin. It was you that helped us find her in time.”
“And Megan can help us now,” Mitchell said, finally speaking up, although it was definitely not what Amelia had been expecting him to say. He gave an encouraging half smile to Megan. She stopped rocking, let her legs go, and sat up a bit straighter under his gaze.
“No,” Eric whispered. “I don’t want her here.” He fixed his hard gaze on Megan and said, “Just go.”
The tiny bit of confidence Mitchell had instilled in Megan crumbled away, and Amelia could swear she could actually see Megan’s heart shattering.
“You don’t mean that, Eric,” Angelle cooed. She patted the open space beside her in a gesture for Eric to sit.
“Yes, I do mean it,” Eric said to Angelle. “She betrayed me. She weaseled her way in here to help them kill us.” He took in a deep breath and let it puff out in three short bursts before focusing back on Megan. “I want you to leave.”
“Eric,” Mitchell interrupted with a firm undertone. “I’m not letting Megan leave. The hunters made it clear that they want the girls. What do you think they’ll do to her if they get her?”
A tense and heavy silence filled the room as everyone waited for Eric to say something, and Amelia was pretty sure that she wasn’t the only one holding her breath.
After an excruciatingly long minute, Eric finally broke the silence. “I really don’t care what they do to her.”
“I can help,” Megan pleaded, panic tainting her voice. She got up and rushed over to him. “I know him. I know all of them. I know their strengths and their weaknesses. We can beat them.” When he refused to look at her, she fell to her knees with a heart-wrenching wail at his feet and gripped onto the leg of his jeans. “Please, Eric. Please let me help you.” Eric sighed loudly, and regret etched onto his face. He bent down just enough to pry her hands from his pants, and then he left without even a backwards glance.