The Soul's Mark: HUNTED (3 page)

That was all it took for him to tune in, and she instantly felt the hum of him sifting through her thoughts, picking out her location, her surroundings, and looking for any danger.  When he put all the pieces together, a mix of panic and rage flooded in so fast she staggered back.

Get away from them, Amelia!
Mitchell shouted, the thoughts erupting inside her mind as loud as the booming thunder above.

Eric wrestled Fiona off the girl, and she collapsed in a bloody mess.  Amelia dropped down beside her and pushed herself into action, quickly checking for a pulse.  When she finally found the faint heartbeat, she let out a pent-up breath.

“Eric,” she hollered.  “Eric, help me!”  She frantically ripped off her top, balled it up, and pressed it against the girl’s neck, trying to stop the steady stream of blood.  She had never seen anyone bleed so much from a bite, and she was sure Fiona must have hit an artery.

Amelia wanted to scream.  The girl couldn’t be more than twenty-one years old.  She was dirty and ragged looking, as if she hadn’t been home in months, maybe years.  Her jeans were torn, her hair was a knotted, blondish-gray mess, and Amelia couldn’t even begin to make out what color her shirt had been through the layers upon layers of dirt and grime.

Mitchell’s panicked yells ruptured through their bond in a tidal wave of fear, but to Amelia, it was just a buzz of noises as she tried to stop the bleeding.  How could he permit hunting?  And Fiona.  Did he really know Fiona was back?  He had sworn to her that it would stop—it had stopped.  No one was allowed to hunt, not here, not in Willowberg.

The blood was soaking right through her top, and no matter how hard Amelia pressed, she couldn’t make it stop.  She was talking to the girl; she was vaguely aware that her lips were moving, but she didn’t know what she was saying.  It sounded mumbled, distorted, and nothing like her own voice.  Suddenly, the girl’s eyes flew open, and a small tear slid down her cheek.  “I’m cold,” she whispered.

Amelia stared down at her, incapable of speaking, unable to move.  The blood.  So much blood.  The last time she has seen that much blood, gushing like the rapids of a river, was when her parents died.

Suddenly, Mitchell was there, pulling her away and into his arms.  “No!” Amelia screamed.  “Let go!”  She pulled and struggled, trying to get out of his grasp.  “I have to help her,” she pleaded, as she thrashed about in his arms.  “We have to save her.”

“She’s gone, Amelia,” Mitchell whispered, caressing her hair and holding her tightly to his chest.

“No!”  Amelia cried, looking up at him.  “She’s breathing.  Do something!  Change her.  Please don’t let her die.”  She watched a montage of expressions cross his brow—contemplation, guilt, pain, anger, before finally settling into a cold and closed remoteness.

“I’ll do it,” Eric offered.  He shot a menacing look at Fiona that clearly said,
Don't move,
and then he took a step towards the girl.  Her breath was ragged, coming out in short, shallow bursts, and her eyes were wide with fear.

“No, you will not,” Mitchell ordered, and as if the storm was helping him to make a point, a bolt of lightning streaked through the sky, illuminating his strong jaw, which was set in a rigid line.  He waited for the rumbling thunder to diminish before he said, “She will not be changed.”

A wave of blistering heat hit Amelia hard and fury engulfed her from his cruel and heartless words.  She let her magic push through her body, gathering it in the pit of her stomach.  She let it simmer there, warming her blood and swirling around, and waited for it to boil into a burning ball of lava.  When she felt as if she would burst into flames at any moment, she let it loose.  “You are a bastard!" she screamed.  “Let go of me.”

Stripes of gold, like rays from the sun, shot from every inch of her skin, and Mitchell snarled as the steamy energy hit him, tossing him back.  Fiona gasped and her already pale skin turned ghostly, but Amelia didn’t care who she scared.  She let her anger consume her.  The swirling storm in her belly was kicked up a notch as Mitchell’s rage began to mix with her own.  Without thinking, she pulled on it, twisting it into a fiery ball of wrath, letting his emotions fuel another blast of magic, which she launched at him.  With an excruciating howl, he crumpled to his knees.

“Ahem, err…Millie,” Eric said in an excessively cautious voice.  “Um, can you rein it in a little?”  He took a few unsure steps closer to her and placed himself in front of Mitchell.  “Come on, sweetie.  You can control this.”  He cupped her face gently and gave her an encouraging look.

Amelia, please,
Mitchell’s terrified voice filled her mind, and as if he had flipped a switch, the sound of his voice—deep and velvety— brought her back to the here and now, and the golden ribbons of magic pulled back and flaked away.

Her knees trembled from exertion, and she drew in a winded breath.  She slumped to the ground and put pressure back on the girl’s neck.  The bleeding was slowing, but there was so much blood on the ground that Amelia wasn’t sure if it would help any.  When she could find her voice, she glanced back at Eric and pleaded, “Please save her.”

Before her eyes could process the movement, Mitchell had rolled up to his feet and grabbed Eric by the arm.  “Eric, you will not change her.”

Eric let his head drop, refusing to look at Amelia, and she knew she had lost.  He wouldn’t help her either.  “Sorry.  I just…”

“Fiona,” Mitchell growled, cutting Eric off.  “Don’t even think about moving.”

Amelia stared up at Mitchell blankly, not comprehending.  All she could think was,
she’s so young. 
A small whimper filled her ears, and then Amelia looked back at the girl.  She met Amelia’s eyes; a stream of blood ran from her neck, and she choked on the air as she tried to suck in a breath.  Her lips twitched up, into a dreamlike kind of smile, and then her eyes slowly went vacant.

Amelia sat back on her heels and tightened her arms around her chest in a hug.  The warning signs were all there.  This was all her fault—she just knew it.  She knew Mitchell was hiding something from her.  She knew there was something wrong.  Why hadn’t she figured it out?  She was supposed to be the smart one.  How?  Why?  The questions were flying around so quickly that she couldn’t seem to grasp onto one.  The only thing she was certain of was, without a doubt, this was her fault.  She let her guard down and now…

Amelia, you don’t understand,
Mitchell sent silently and squeezed her shoulder.

“Don’t,” she said, quickly getting up from the ground and taking a step back, refusing to use their link to reply to him, not wanting to let him in or feel close to him.  She shrugged away his touch.  A blissful hush fell over her, and warmth rushed through her body in waves.  It took everything she had to bury the uncontrollable urge to fling herself into his arms.  To her dismay, no matter how much she wanted to scream at him, she couldn’t stop her stupid heart from fluttering erratically as he pushed the feelings to her, trying to calm her and wipe away the horror she had just witnessed.  She sucked in a deep breath and let the feelings steady her.  Then she said, “Eric, go get Ty and tell him what happened here.  Tell him to make arrangements.”

“No, I’ll handle it,” Mitchell said.  He reached out to touch her again, and she flinched away.  For a brief second, she was sure she saw an inkling of hurt pass across his eyes, but it was so quick, that even with the bond, she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Are you going to handle the mess this will cause in the human community?” she retorted, bitterly.

As if he was flicking through the television channels, Mitchell’s demeanor abruptly changed from a warm and cozy fire to a winter ice storm.  The cold icicle-like stare he gave her sent a rolling chill over her shoulders.  “Like I said, you don’t understand.  Leave Tyler out of this and go wait for me at the house.”  He groped in his pocket and fished out his cell phone.

Stunned, Amelia put her hands on her hips, opened her mouth, closed it, gathered her thoughts, and then said, “You can’t just cover this up, Mitch.  And don’t order me around.  I’m not one of your little followers.”

“Amelia,” he snapped.  And then he went on, keeping his words between them. 
Go!  I cannot deal with your drama right now.
  He glared at her, long and hard, and then fixed his cool stare on Eric.  “Take Fiona to my office and wait for me.”

CHAPTER 3

Before Amelia left Mitchell and went back to the house
,
she had spat a few more choice words at him that she hadn’t even known were in her vocabulary.  She did know she definitely would not be repeating them anytime soon.

Eric and Fiona had taken off at vampire speed once Mitchell had barked out his orders, leaving her to make her way back alone.  As she trudged through the trees, the sky opened up and the rain poured down in sheets, but she hardly noticed.  She was too busy stewing in a steaming hot pot of homemade gullible stew with a splash of roasting guilt.

She had just made it up the stone clad steps of the terrace that led to her bedroom, when Angelle suddenly appeared; looking glorious and deadly in a red, skin tight mini dress which perfectly matched her blazing eyes.  Amelia shrieked in surprise and almost fell backwards down the steps.

After a few terrifying and, believe it or not, oddly charming snarls, Angelle’s big eyes faded back to brown, and her fangs slid away.  She paled, and then her skin took on a greenish tone.  “Oh my God!  What happened?  Where are you hurt?”

Amelia blanked—completely blanked. 
Hurt?
  She didn't usually see Angelle react like this to anything.  Well, at least not in a long time.  There was that one incident at that party, but that was something Amelia really didn’t want to remember.  “What are you talking about?” she asked, taking a cautious step back.

“You must be in shock.  Ty!” she bellowed.  She scooped Amelia up into her arms like a child and carried her into her bedroom, all the while hollering, “Ty, get in here!”

Amelia’s dumb moment passed, and she clued in to her friend's concern.  “Put me down, Angelle,” she said, wiggling in Angelle’s arms.  “I’m fine.”  One thing that sucked about living in a house full of vampires was their heightened senses.  There were never any secrets, they could hear everything and smell even more.

“What’s up, babe?” Tyler asked, stepping into Amelia’s bedroom, and stopped abruptly when he caught sight of them.  “What the hell happened?”

“I’m fine,” Amelia shouted again, still uselessly trying to wiggle her away out of Angelle’s arms.

“I think she’s in shock,” Angelle said to Tyler.  “Find Mitch and get him in here.”

Tyler looked like he was about to bolt into action.  Amelia needed to get their attention and yelling at them obviously wasn’t working, so she focused on all her energy and gathered it together, sending out a quick blast.  “Stop it!” she said firmly, and then pulled the magic back quickly, making sure it wasn’t enough to hurt them, but just a small enough jolt to get their attention.  She really hadn’t gotten the hang of her newfound gift yet, and sometimes she over did it—just a little.  “It’s not my blood, and Mitch already knows.  Put me down.”

Angelle hesitated, not sure if she should believe her or not.  Amelia stilled in her arms, allowing Angelle to take a fast inventory of Amelia’s limbs, making sure everything was still attached.  Finally, Angelle set Amelia down on her feet.

“What’s the blood from?” Tyler asked, scanning Amelia’s bloodstained shorts, with a tremor in his voice and looking a bit queasy.  Even though he had stepped up two months ago, taking on the not so fun job of Human Spokesperson, dealing with unexplained deaths and more blood than most of the vampires in town ever saw, he wasn’t okay with the whole biting and sucking for food thing.  Come to think of it, Amelia was sure he had never allowed even Angelle to feed from him, and they had been together for eight months now.

“You want to know, go ask Mitch,” Amelia snapped.  “I need to get cleaned up.”  She turned on her heels and made a beeline for her bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

As soon as the door shut, her knees started to tremble, and dizziness came over her in waves of hot and cold.  She staggered to the sink, turned on the tap and splashed some cool water on her face.  When she glanced in the mirror, the first thing she noticed was her pale—almost completely gray—eyes.  They usually had a touch of blue, but now they were washed out, hollow and wide.  And then she saw her bloodstained bikini top and her blood-soaked shorts; the metallic smell from the blood became overwhelming.  Her mouth started to water and her stomach turned.

Amelia spun around, dropped to her knees and retched violently, almost missing the toilet.  When she had finished emptying the contents of her stomach, she sat back, leaning against the wall, and rested her forehead on her knees.  The heavy rain had washed away most of the blood from her skin, but it missed one or two spots on her arms where it was now drying and crusting up.  She glanced at it, scarcely believing what had just happened.  She wanted to pretend it was merely a nightmare, but she knew it wasn’t.  There was no waking up from this.  No waking up from her life.  Who would have thought that she, the abandoned little orphan with no family or friends, would end up as the soulmate and second in command to an incredible, powerful vampire?  No one.  That’s who.  Half the time, she didn’t even believe it herself.

After a few minutes, Amelia pulled herself up from the floor, stripped down and stepped into the shower.  She had just stuck her head under the water when she heard a soft knock at the door.  “Millie,” Tyler called.  “Um, I need to grab your clothes.  The smell is making
them
antsy.  I need to get rid of them.”

Amelia huffed.  “Fine, whatever.”  She knew what “get rid of them” meant.  Tyler was going to burn her clothes.  She heard the door squeak open, and then Tyler shuffled in, picking up the bloody clothes, and after that, he pulled the door shut behind him.

She slid down, sitting on the warm tiles, letting the water cascade over her.  The steam curled up into the air.  As the water ran over her body, she watched numbly as it flowed down the drain, and she wondered why she felt so calm.  Was she just getting used to the craziness that had become her life?  Was she becoming insensitive to the horrors that came along with vampires?  Perhaps Angelle was right.  Maybe she was in shock.