The Soul's Mark: Broken (18 page)

Amelia ran over the list again, and then
sighed.  “How did I get myself into this mess?” she mumbled to herself.  “And
how do I get out of it?”

“You look conflicted, and you really need a
shower,” Luke said, as Amelia rounded the corner and his cell came into view.

“You think?” she replied testily.  She
shifted the warm bags of blood, cradling them in one arm, and then took one
from the top, handing it through the bars to Luke.  He snagged it so quickly
that Amelia jumped and almost dropped the other one.

The sound Luke made when he bit into the
plastic made her gag.  It was somewhere between a moan of ecstasy and a purely
animalistic snarl, and the sounds just didn’t match.  He tore into the bag, the
thick, red liquid splashing up onto his face, but he didn’t stop.  It was as if
the blood was controlling him, as if he couldn’t stop until the last drop was
gone.  And even then, he licked up every bit, using his finger as a squeegee,
sliding it along his cheeks, chin, and forehead, licking up the drops until he
had ingested every last bit.

When he finished, he looked at Amelia and
gave her that familiar
big brother
smile he always used with her and
said, “I may be wrong, but I’m guessing you saw Mitchell.”  Amelia couldn’t
answer.  She was scared that if she opened her mouth the bile that was trying
to escape her throat would spew out, so she nodded, just a small bob of the
head.  “This is what you made him, you know,” Luke pointed out.  His hazel eyes
looked just as inquisitive as always, and it sent a chill over her skin.  How
could he be so different and yet so the same all at once?

“I know,” she sighed in response and
wandered down the hall towards Eric who was thankfully curled up in a ball on
the cold, hard floor, snoring softly.  She thought about waking him, dying to
see his grin, but then the image of Luke eating popped into her mind, and she
tossed a bag in for him and then scurried away in case he woke up, because her
stomach seriously couldn’t handle watching that again.

“You can’t have it both ways, kiddo.”

“What are you talking about, and how do you
already know everything?” she snapped, glaring at him.  Was he just trying to
get under her skin?  Was he playing mind games, hoping to distract her? 
Dammit!
 
Amelia’s conscious screamed in frustration.  She needed them right now, and it
was her own fault that she couldn’t trust any of them.

Luke tugged on his earlobe.  “Enhanced
hearing,” he smirked.  “I’ve been listening, and yes, I heard you and the
hunter last night.”

Amelia felt the blush flaring in her
cheeks.  “It was nothing, Luke.”

“You can’t lie to me, kiddo.”  He
chuckled.  “I can smell it, and right now you’re starting to sweat, and you
have a sharp scent.  It’s sweat and guilt, and it’s running off of you like a
flood.”

“It was just a kiss!  It didn’t mean anything.”

Luke turned serious, the smirk vanished,
and his eyes darkened with thought.  “Do you want us all to die?” he asked, and
then kept talking, not waiting for an answer as if it was a rhetorical
question.  “I remember that you hated us, but I also remember you loving us.” 
The way he said it was as if he was reading facts from one of her textbooks. 
There was no emotion behind the statement.  They were simply just words.

“I do love you guys.”

“I remember loving Lola.  It’s so weird.” 
He ran his fingers through his hair roughly.  “I remember what it should feel
like, but all I can actually feel now is a restless emptiness.  It’s crazy, but
I want to feel whole.”

“Oh, Luke,” Amelia whispered.  She wasn’t
sure what to think.  She reached her hand between the bars, wanting to touch
him, comfort him.

He watched her hand pass through, and his
eyes washed red as he stared, fixated on her wrist.  “Amelia, don’t come any
closer,” he snarled, his fangs sliding into place.

Amelia jumped back, and her heart jumped forwards
as if it was trying to beat right out of her chest.

Luke slapped his hand to his mouth, hiding
his fangs, and the red vanished from his eyes.  “Oh God, you have to fix this.”

“I will,” she promised, although she didn’t
have the foggiest idea how.

Luke gave her a weak smile and then he
turned his back on her, took a few steps and dropped down on the hard stone
bench within his cell.  She stood there for a moment, searching for something
to say, and hoping that he would look at her because she really didn’t want to
leave yet, but he didn’t.  Holding in a frustrated sigh, she finally left,
making her way through the dark and damp hallways, feeling worse than she had
before she had seen him.

When she made it to her room, Amelia
figured that Luke had been right, and she probably really did need a shower,
especially since she couldn’t remember the last time she had actually had one. 
Before shutting herself in her room, she grabbed a handful of power bars and
scarfed them down.

It was in the shower that she had started
to think—really think.  There was something about the hot water, the curling
steam, and the pear-scented shampoo that helped clear the fog from her brain.

So far, she had been listening to Madame
Crystal.  Amelia realized that she hadn’t tried to fix the bond because the
psychic said she didn’t have the power.  That’s when Amelia remembered the last
time she had blindly listened to Madame Crystal.  Even though she had been
helpful—kind of—Madame Crystal had also caused a huge mess with her visions and
spells, and Amelia had to admit that she really hadn’t been all that right in
her assumptions when it came to Amelia’s powers.

Now, wearing clean clothes and with wet
hair, she sat on her bed in lotus ready to dive in and figure out a way to fix
the bond.   Amelia was certain her plan was fail proof.  Watch the memory of
her past, write down the spell Mother Nature had used, and fix the bond—simple.

She had replayed the memory over and over. 
The first few times all she could see was Mitchell.  She had searched every
inch of him.  His hair had been longer, curlier, darker brown.  His skin was
tanned and bronzed from hours of working in the sun.  But other than those few
differences, it was Mitchell.  His sculpted jaw line, chiseled muscles.  His lips,
so full and soft.  And Amelia was certain that if his eyes had been open, they
would be that wonderful cerulean, just like a clear summer sky.

Once she finally wrapped her head around
the idea that it really was Mitchell and that she had loved him before, other
things started to come into focus.  After watching the scene for the fifteenth
time, Amelia had managed to jot down the spell Mother Nature had used.  She had
been about to try it, figuring that it couldn’t hurt, and had just summoned up
her power, when Josh found her.

“Holy crap, this is your bedroom?” he said,
as he opened the door and then shut it behind him.  He had changed and showered
as well, Amelia noticed, and she also didn’t miss the fact that he was wearing
one of Mitchell’s green and gray striped button-down shirts.  And on closer
scrutiny, she was also pretty sure the blue jeans were Mitchell’s as well.

“Go away, Josh,” Amelia said, trying not to
notice how well he fit into Mitchell’s clothes.  The jeans hugged him
perfectly, and she was pretty sure he left his shirt unbuttoned on purpose.

He didn’t go away.  Instead, he padded over
to her, taking his time climbing the few steps to her, with a lazy grin spread
on his face.  “I had an idea,” he said, plopping down beside her.  “What if we
don’t fix the bond at all?”

Amelia took in a deep calming breath and
closed her eyes, trying to pretend that she was focusing, but really, she just
couldn’t look at his delicious chest any longer. 
He’s a hottie
, she
thought.  As soon as the thought surfaced, Mitchell’s accusations came flooding
back, and it made her feel all kinds of guilt.  “Josh, I don’t have time for
your crap,” she said hastily.

“Just hear me out, okay?” He slid closer to
her, mussing up the comforter.  Amelia looked at him and opened her mouth to
tell him to go, but he stopped her before she could get it out.  “You could
just give the vamps back their souls.  You took them away in the first place. 
Why not just break your original curse?”

His words left her speechless.  Amelia let
the idea bounce around her brain, and when he put his hand on her knee, rubbing
small circles on the inside of her thigh, she didn’t pull away, hardly even
noticing it.  She was too busy trying figure out why she hadn’t even thought
about just giving them their souls back.  An image of the slithering darkness
and the wildly dark power came back to her and she shivered.

“You don’t have to be with him,” Josh
murmured.  “You could get out of all of this and just move on.  We could move
on.”

Amelia didn’t answer.  She couldn’t
answer.  All she could see was the black energy consuming her, and corrupting
her mind.  Josh must have taken her silence as a yes, because suddenly, Amelia
was on her back, with Josh on top of her.  He laced his hands with hers,
pinning them down just above her head, and he was smiling, peering down at her
through hooded eyes.  And then he lowered his head, closing the distance
between them.  His eyes were smoldering, and his lips looked so warm and
inviting.  Amelia’s skin felt as if it was on fire.  And he smelled so good. 
So sweet that all she could think of was licking him, and kissing him, and …

“What the hell are you doing, Millie?”
Tyler yelled.

Josh pulled his eyes away from Amelia, and
looked at the door.  “Get out!” he growled.

Amelia sucked in a breath, and blinked, and
all at once, she noticed Josh’s weight and his body pressing against hers.  Her
magic simmered in her belly, steaming like a fresh pot of coffee, and then it
flared, boiling over and shooting from her skin in a blast of blinding light.

And then, Josh wasn’t pressed against her
anymore.

There was a crack and a thud, and Amelia
bolted up, landing on the rug.  Josh was sprawled out on the hardwood floor
across the room, and Tyler rushed over to her.  “You okay?” he asked, his eyes
checking her from head to toe.

“Fine,” Amelia said, and glared at Josh,
who was pulling himself off the floor.

The concern vanished from Tyler’s face, and
it was replaced by a disgusted glare.  “Good, because Madame Crystal is
mumbling about the television,” he said, stopping Amelia before she could lash
out at Josh, or explain that she was innocent and that this wasn’t what it
looked like.  “She says you need to come now.”

Josh eyed Tyler with barely hidden hatred,
but then he smirked, and his eyes danced and sparkled as if he knew a secret.  
Amelia stiffened and wanted to slap the smirk from his face.  He must have
noticed, because he chuckled and then abruptly turned away, and headed out of
the room.

“I’d be happy to put him in with Luke,” Tyler
said, glaring daggers at Josh’s back.

“Nice idea, but he’d just lose his skin,”
Amelia said, and then she made her way out of the room to find Madame Crystal.

They found her in the main floor living
room.  Megan was perched in a wingback chair with a clueless expression that
Amelia was sure mirrored her own, and Cole stood behind her, his face an
expressionless mask.  Josh was already there, leaning against the back wall
with his arms folded over his chest and the television remote in hand.  His
forehead was creased in a frown, and he nodded towards the couch where Madame
Crystal was sitting with the kind of grin and vacant eyes that in a normal place
would most likely land her in a straight jacket and a padded room.  And she was
filthy.  Dirt streaked across her face, and her long black hair no longer shone
with health.  It was knotted together and hung down her back.  She patted the cushion
and said, “It’s started.”

“What’s started?” Amelia asked, as she sat
down beside the psychic, taking her cold and clammy hand within her own,
noticing the tears in Madame Crystal’s charcoal gray suit, and the stains on
her blouse.  Pungent power flared around her in spurts, as if a connection was
fading in and out.

 “Now, Josh,” Madame Crystal said, her
voice vacant and expressionless.  “It’s on channel five.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow at him, but he
just shrugged as he lifted the remote and changed the channel.  Before the
picture was fully visible, a silky female voice drifted through the speakers.  “An
increase in murders is spreading throughout the state.  Police are speculating
that it is gang related, and they are working around the clock to find any
solid leads.”

“Now eight,” Madame Crystal said.

Josh did what she said, switching the
channel, and a new voice boomed out.  “The death toll is piling up.”

“And twenty-three.”  A manic glee tinted
her voice, but her eyes remained hollow, her expression void.  The only thing
that told Amelia that she was to some extent present was the tight, close to
bone-cracking, grip that Madame Crystal kept on her hand.

Amelia’s heart was pounding as he flicked
the station.  “Thirty-one dead.”  It felt as if he had turned up the volume,
and Amelia yanked her hand away from Madame Crystal and clasped her hands to
her ears, trying to drown out the voices.