The Soul's Mark: HUNTED

Page 8

Eric shrugged. “Don’t know. He went out last night with Angelle and …” he paused as his lip curled in disgust, “Fiona. They haven’t come back yet.”
Fiona!
He stayed out all night with Fiona again. Amelia couldn’t believe it, and it made her blood boil. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Amelia knew that. Since she had found out that Fiona was back, Mitchell had been out every night with her.
It had been a week. A long, eternal week of waking up to find he hadn’t come home. But still, she would have much rather heard that the world was ending rather than finding out that he was out all night playing with Fiona. And frankly, Angelle going with them did nothing to ease Amelia’s red-hot rage.
Before she could say anything, he continued, “The others are still sleeping.” He let his last word draw out and emphasized it with a flick of his eyes upwards, signaling that she should keep her building scream of outrage silent.
Amelia bit back the overwhelming anger that surged within her and stomped down the steps right to the French doors. She jammed her feet into her shoes with haste and threw open the doors, deciding not to bother with filling her water bottle, and headed down the stairs into the garden.
Eric knew the routine and kept his mouth shut through the stretches and the first ten minutes of the run, letting Amelia wake up and become slightly more sociable. They took their usual route, down the hill towards the main gates.
Amelia loved running on their street. It was practically like running in the middle of nowhere. The thick tree line blocked the houses that sat behind it, and she could almost pretend they weren’t even there.
The sky was slightly overcast and a cool breeze filled the air, cooling off the crazy heat wave, and making it comfortable for the run. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it started to rain. She could smell it coming. That hot, steamy, fresh scent of the impending rain filled her nose. Even though it was cooler, sweat still trickled down her brow as she ran, and she swatted at it with the back of her hand, brushing it off before it reached her eyes.
Amelia pushed herself hard, feeling the pleasant muscle burn in her legs as she tried to run away from the images of Mitchell and Fiona that seemed to have been imprinted on her mind. What was she going to do? Now that was the question. The question that so far she had no answer to. Could she step back and let Fiona have him? Is that what he wanted? Now that Mitchell had made her fall hopelessly in love with him, was he done? The challenge was gone and now he had lost interest? Maybe he never really loved her. It was an idea that Amelia had thought about over and over during the last few days.
Trying to rid the nagging thoughts of Mitchell’s whereabouts, Amelia had used the free time and buried herself in the preparations for the upcoming town fair. The fair was supposed to be a celebration, a community event for all of Willowberg—humans and vampires. And somehow, even though it had been Tyler’s idea, she had been roped into planning and organizing the whole thing. Booking the bands, organizing venders, finding companies to supply the rides and games, and arranging food stands. The list seemed to be never ending, and the event was coming up quickly.
“Are you sure it’s him, Millie?” Eric asked out of the blue as they ran, interrupting her thoughts.
Amelia shot him a sideway glance, thrown by his question. “What are you talking about?” Her mind was so wrapped up trying to figure out what still needed to be done for the fair that even if his question had made sense, she knew it wouldn’t have done any good.
Eric hesitated for a moment, and Amelia could almost see him trying to sort through his thoughts and pick his next words. “Are you sure Mitch is your soulmate?”
Amelia stopped running, and she was sure she was looking at him as if he was crazy. Aside from all the obvious clues, Eric knew that if Mitchell wasn’t her soulmate, his name would have never appeared under her mark after he had bitten her. “Of course he is, Eric. What kind of question is that anyways? You already know he is.”
Eric began kicking at a stone, staring at the ground. “The last two weeks, I’ve been…” he started, but then let his voice fade. He kicked another stone and ran his hand roughly through his hair.
Amelia didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t too often that she got a glimpse of serious Eric, and it always threw her off. She never really knew what to do or say when he was like this, because serious Eric was kind of creepy, intense, and unpredictable. She waited an agonizingly long minute for Eric to say something. But he didn’t.
Little by little Amelia’s brain—which seemed incredibly slow at the moment—began connecting the dots and their conversation from the other night, the night that Fiona had made her return known, came flitting back and she finished his sentence, “Dreaming.”
If Amelia had been freaked out by the silence, it was nothing compared to the bottomless look in Eric’s usually vibrant green eyes when he locked his stare on her. All his hopes, his fears, his self-consciousness shone cavernously through those eyes, it was almost unfathomable. He took a long breath, plastered a fake smile on his lips, and nodded.
“That’s great. Did you tell the others?” She tried to sound ecstatic, but her voice gave her away, trembling slightly.
Eric shook his head. “No.”
“What? Why not?” she asked. She didn’t want to say too much; worried he would stop talking and laugh it off like he usually did.
Eric started to walk slowly, and Amelia fell into step beside him. “It’s complicated.” He veered off the street, strolling towards the small park and plopped down on a wooden bench. He waited for her to sit before continuing. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen her.” Amelia gasped, about to say something, but he stopped her. “Just let me get it out, okay?” She nodded, keeping her mouth shut. “I started having the dreams a few weeks after I turned. Her name was Megan, and in every dream, she was scared and always running for her life. They lasted just over two weeks and every day I searched for her. I wanted to find her and help her.” He paused and took a deep, shaky breath. “I could feel how scared she was. She was terrified, Millie. And I couldn’t find her. I had no way to help her.” Eric slumped his shoulders and let out a long sigh. “And then out of the blue, I stopped having the dreams. I couldn’t feel her anymore. And after a few weeks, it was almost as if she never existed.”
Amelia couldn’t hold it in any longer. “But if you are dreaming again, she must have come back,” she said, trying to sound hopeful. “You can try to find her again.”
Eric gave her a weak, hesitant smile. “I had forgotten about her until you came along.” Amelia couldn’t help but remember that first meeting. The way he looked at her, so curious, as if he was trying to figure something out. “You just look so much like her. I really thought you were Megan. I wanted you to be her. Everything was the same except for your eyes and hair. She had red hair with bright green eyes and a slew of freckles across her little nose.”
“You thought it was me,” Amelia breathed, not as a question but more of a shocked statement.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Well, I hoped. We’ve always been so close, and you know just as well as I do that we have some kind of connection. Everyone sees it. Mitch has even been worried about it. The way you look at me sometimes. It’s like he doesn’t even exist.”
“Oh, Eric.” Amelia reached out to touch him and then drew back, not really sure that it was a smart thing to do.
“It’s cool.” He gave her a playful shove and another way too fake grin. His eyes glistened, and he scrubbed at them, trying to hide the building tears.
“Does Mitch know?”
Eric shook his head, just a short swing. “I never really talked about it with anyone. It was just too hard at first and then none of it felt real.” He scrunched his face, deep in thought. “There’s something different this time. The dreams are like a broken connection. I can see her face. And her lips move, but there is no sound. When I reach out to touch her, my hand just passes right through. It’s like she’s a ghost.”
“Do you think she’s…” Amelia couldn’t finish the sentence. She just couldn’t. And she was glad she didn’t have to. Eric understood.
“Yeah,” he whispered.
Amelia waited for him to elaborate, wiping sweat from her forehead. But he only stared at her, and she just couldn’t help herself. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him as hard as she could. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured against his chest, and he bent down, kissing the top of her head.
Amelia? Mitchell's voice hummed through her brain, bringing her back to the here and now, and she jumped away from Eric, untangling herself from the embrace. Amelia, is everything okay? It feels like you’re crying.
Eric’s shirt was damp from where her head had rested on his chest, and her eyes felt dry and puffy. They exchanged a thoughtful glance.
Amelia, please. Talk to me. Mitchell sounded so desperate that it almost broke her heart.
Eric huffed. “Can’t he just screw off?” And then he jumped up and took off at a slow jog.
Amelia gawked after him, floored at his outburst. It took her a second to pull herself together, and then she sent Mitchell a rushed thought, Not now. I’m kind of dealing with something.
Eric? Mitchell sounded mad. What a surprise. Sometimes she swore he only had two personalities; mad and furious.
She wanted to tell him off, but in the end, she swallowed it. Yes, but don’t jump to any crazy conclusions. I’ll talk to you later, Amelia sent hurriedly and took off at a sprint after Eric, pushing Mitchell as far out of her mind as she could.
By the time they finished their three-mile run, Eric was almost back to normal. He was laughing, joking and that sparkle, although a bit dimmer than usual, was creeping back into his eyes.
Amelia stopped on the front lawn to do a few stretches, when a forceful tug threw her off balance. Eric caught her before she hit the ground. “I guess he’s home,” she sighed. Eric’s face dropped.