The Soul's Mark: FOUND (30 page)

Amelia took a few deep breaths to stop the
tremors that shook her to the bone.
 
She
wasn’t sure if she really wanted to see whatever her mother had to show her,
but she also knew she had to.
 
After a
moment of indecision, in a clear and strong voice she barely recognized as her
own, Amelia said, “Past lives that have gone astray, show me.”

The air between them shimmered and then
turned to a foggy gray.
 
An image formed
in the center, like an animated charcoal sketch, cloudy and smudged.
 
A young girl with long curly hair scrunched
under a bonnet walked with her head down and shoulders stooped.
 
She stopped at a small door above which hung
a crucifix
.
 
She hesitated
for a moment and glanced back.
 
Until
that moment, Amelia hadn’t been certain of whom she was watching but she was
now.
 
Staring at her through the murky
image was herself, the soul’s mark, clear as day, imprinted on her neck.

“Thou have come to the right
place, child,” a voice from behind the door called and the girl from the image,
turned back, opened the door and stepped in.

She closed the door behind
her and sat down on a small bench style chair, arranging her dress and folding
her hands in her lap.
 
Then she looked
through a small meshed area in the wall and said, “Father, I am
frightened.
 
A man came to me in my
dreams.”

“When did he first come?”
the priest, Amelia assumed, questioned.
 
She could just barely make out his lips in the cloudy image.

“The night my parents
passed,” the girl replied in a shaky voice.

There was a long silence, then a deep
sigh.
 
“I have feared you would be
taken.”
 
The rustling of clothing filled
the air and when the priest continued, he let his voice rise to a holler.
 
“You wear the devil’s mark and the devil hath
found you.”

Suddenly, there was a commotion, crunching
glass, wood snapping, and voices roaring, accusatorily chanting over and over
“Witch!”
 
The door flung open and Amelia
screamed.
 

Then, as if someone had taken a brush, the
image was wiped away to gray and another illustration started to form in the
center.
 
Smoke billowed around her face
and flames licked up a post.
 
The girl in
the image was bound to the post and hundreds of spectators stood watching with
fervor.
 
The chanting was deafening:
“Burn the Witch!”

Amelia watched in horror as the memories
kept flashing as vivid as if she was reliving the moment.
 
Her skin sizzled against the heat and the
rancid smell of her flesh burning turned her stomach.
 
“Make it stop,” she cried, unable to pull her
eyes away.
 
“I don’t want to see
anymore.”

The image became more intense, and the face
of her past self contorted with detestation.
 
The view shifted to show what she was looking at: Mitchell.
 
He stood motionless, tears smudging down his
cheeks.
 
The view shifted again to show
herself
, flames licking up her neck, touching at her
chin.
 
A chain emerged from her heart and
Amelia followed the line.
 
The spectators
were gone, smudged away, and the chanting had decreased to a whisper.
 
On the other end of the chain was
Mitchell.
 
He buckled, and as if the life
was sucked of out of him, crumpled to his knees.
  
He let out a cry, snarled and distorted,
excruciating and filled with anguish.
 
He
watched, powerlessly, as she was consumed by the inferno.

The image blurred and faded.
 
The air shimmered and slowly her mother’s
grief-stricken face came into focus.
 
“This was the turning point for you.
 
It was in this lifetime that you put up the wall to shield yourself from
your past.
 
It wasn’t until you were so
anguished by our deaths that Mitchell was able to break through.”
 
Her mother laughed cheerlessly.
 
“You need to understand, sweetie, our deaths,
your father and I… it needed to happen to bring you and Mitchell together.”

“I don’t believe that,” Amelia
whispered.
 
“I need you, Mommy.”

Mrs. Caldwell smoothed away the shiny trail
of tears spilling down Amelia’s face.
 
“You’ve been given not only one, but two miracles.
 
You can do so much good with these gifts.
 
The witch who cast the soulmate curse had
never anticipated that one of her own would be implicated.
 
She acted in haste, not thinking of all the
possibilities.
 
But you’re not powerless
to him.
 
You’re stronger than you
think.
 
You, my sweet child, are his
equal.
 
Together you can help
others.
 
With your magic and his clout in
the vampire world, you can stop all the pain and suffering.
 
You can change the curse to a glorious gift
for all those who it has befallen.
 
You
can right the wrongs of our ancestors.”

“Work together?”
 
Amelia shook her head, and a new sting came
to her eyes.
 
“Mom… he hates me.
 
He doesn’t want me.”

“Oh, Amelia,” Mrs. Caldwell said and made a
tsk sound.
 
“You know that’s not true.”

Amelia almost giggled.
 
Even in death, her mother knew when she was lying.
 
She racked her brain for something, anything
to say that would sound believable.
 
“Well, he wants to hate me and he doesn’t want to be with me anyways.
 
He said he was going to kill himself so he
wouldn’t have to be with me.”

Mrs. Caldwell raised her eyebrow and
crossed her arms over her chest.
 
“He
said that, did he?”

Amelia huffed.
 
“No.
 
He
thinks I don’t want him.”
 
She would
never understand how her mother always knew what she was really feeling.
 
She guessed it was another thing in life that
could be chalked up as magic.
 
That
thought shocked her though, because just yesterday she would have chalked it up
to a mother’s intuition, but today magic seemed right on the mark.

“I see.”
 
A small smile appeared on Mrs. Caldwell’s lips and her eyes sparkled.
 
“I know this has been hard for you.
 
But you need to ask yourself, do you love
him?”

“More than anything, but Mom…”
 
Passion rushed through her veins and Amelia
jumped up, pacing back and forth.
 
She
clenched her fists into little white balls.
 
“We fight.
 
We fight like
crazy.
 
We can’t even be in the same room
without wanting to kill each other.”

Mrs. Caldwell laughed.
 
“That doesn’t surprise me.
 
You’re both very stubborn.
 
Let me guess, he keeps making all the
decisions for you and you don’t like that.”

“Exactly…” Amelia said under her
breath.
 
“He’s just so… so…
infuriating!”
 
She loosened her hands and
plopped back down into her mother’s lap.
 
“He thinks he knows best.
 
He acts
like he’s some kind of king or something.”
 
Mrs. Caldwell laughed again.
 
“Stop it, Mom.
 
This is serious.”

“True love is never easy and if my memories
serve me correctly, he was a king in his human life.
 
Come to think of it, I believe he still is a
king of sorts amongst his kind.
 
Mitchell
has been on this earth for a very long time.”
 
She brushed her fingers under Amelia’s chin and tilted her head up to
meet her eyes.
 
“Don’t you think it’s
possible that he really does know what’s best for you?
 
He just may not always say it in the best
way.
 
You need to be patient with him, dear.
 
After he watched you die, it changed
him.
 
Imagine what he must have
felt.
 
All the strength of a vampire and
he could do nothing to help you.
 
And
it’s been a long time since he’s had to deal with someone so young. You know
that feeling you get when he’s around?”

A rush of emotion filled Amelia as she
tried to find the words to explain how it felt.
 
Her heart fluttered and a pleasant light-headedness swallowed her up,
the way it always did at the thought of Mitchell.
 
“Yeah, like I’m being pulled to him.
 
It’s like there is no one else in the world
when he’s there.”
 
She knew that was
right, it wasn’t even an approximation of her true feelings, but the words
escaped her.
 
Her love was ineffable.

Her mother seemed to understand and
smiled.
 
“Well picture that times ten and
that’s what he’s feeling.
 
As a vampire,
he has heightened emotions.
 
And dealing
with teenage girls is not easy for anyone, especially someone as hot-headed as
you.”
 
She brushed a tear from Amelia’s
cheek.
 
“To be honest, I kind of feel
sorry for him.
 
You’ve always been a
handful and so impulsive.
 
I know you try
to think logically like your father but when there’s no logic you let your
emotions run wild.”
 
Then she got
serious.
 
“The world needs you,
Amelia.
 
Mitchell needs you.”
 
Mrs. Caldwell waved her hand delicately across
the fluffy cotton.
 
“Look,” she said, and
pointed below.
 

Amelia glanced down and saw herself,
motionless in her bed, Mitchell sitting beside her holding her hand and
caressing her cheek.
 
“How long have I been
gone?”
 
Hadn’t she just seen herself in
the grungy basement crumpled on the floor and covered in blood?

“Almost a full day,” Mrs. Caldwell
replied.
 
“Time passes differently
here.
 
You need to decide before it’s too
late to go back.”

 
“How
am I supposed to do that, Mom?”
 
Amelia
yelled.
 
“If I go back then I’m basically
signing away your life.
 
If I stay, then
you and Dad can come back.”

“We’re ready to rest,” Mrs. Caldwell said
quietly, as if she was scared to push too hard.
 
It made Amelia think about Eric and the ticking time bomb.
 
Did everyone think she was on the verge of
exploding?
 
A small giggle tried to
escape but she repressed it.
 
“We’ve both
lived long full lives and it’s time for us to move on.”
 
Her eyes twinkled as if she was inviting Amelia
to share a secret and her voice took on a magical, fairy tale kind of
tone.
 
“And remember, you’re a
witch.
 
You have a connection with the
spirits.
 
We’ll always be here for
you.
 
All you need to do is call.”

Amelia was completely and utterly speechless.
 
How was she supposed to believe that they
didn’t want to come back?
 
How was she
supposed to be able to call her parents?
 
It made no sense.
 
If it was
possible, why hadn’t her mother come before?
 
Amelia couldn’t even begin to count how many times she had wished to see
her parents.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve.
 
I can see it so clearly, all your hopes and
dreams.
 
All the hard stuff‘s over.
 
All you have to do now is look forward to the
good stuff.”
 
Mrs. Caldwell smothered
Amelia in a hug and kissed her cheek.
 
“Amelia, you have so much good to share with the world.
 
Your friend Erin needs you.
 
She’s suffering, and you can ease that pain.”

“I understand,” Amelia
said,
eyes wide as she gazed at her mother.
 
Would this be the last time they would see each other?
 
She knew, almost instinctually, she had to go
back.
 
Her mother was right.
 
She had a chance to do good, to help people and
to be happy.
 
She tried to think of
something epic to say.
 
How many people
got a chance at a second goodbye?
 
But
she was drawing a blank, only uttering, “I know what I have to do, I just don’t
know how to say goodbye to you.”