The Soul's Mark: Broken (2 page)

He ran through the house, trying to find
the source of the scent.  It became stronger as he reached the foyer.  He
stopped, spun around in circles, and breathed it in.

His heart was racing. A cold sweat beaded
along his forehead, and his back became damper by the second.

The motion light at the front door flicked
on.  “Out here,” Eric called, and Mitchell bolted out the door, with Luke right
on his heels.

The blood drop was the size of a penny,
just a tiny drop.  The three of them hovered over it, staring down at the
glistening scarlet droplet as if they were hypnotized, not able to look away.

Luke was the first to speak, asking the
question that shouldn’t have needed to be asked.  “Did the girls put the protective
shield back up?”

Mitchell and Eric locked crimson eyes and
in unison replied, “No.”

The first thing that Amelia saw when she
opened her eyes was her body lying in a crumpled heap below her.  “Crap,” she
breathed, as she scrutinized herself.  “No, no, no,” she whispered, shaking her
head violently from side to side.  “I can’t be dead.  I just can’t be.” 
And
if I’m dead, then Mitchell…
she couldn’t finish that thought, just
couldn’t.

Her body rolled, seemingly on its own,
smacking against a metal wall with a thud that reverberated around her.

“Cole!” Josh’s voice growled from somewhere
nearby, but Amelia couldn’t pull her eyes away from her lifeless looking form
on the ground.  “Secure them!”

“Amelia, what’s happening?” Megan’s small,
scared voice smothered Amelia, suffocating her, and it felt as if she was
drowning in the sound.  “Are we dead?  Did they kill us?”

Amelia couldn’t make her mouth work.  She
wanted to reassure Megan.  She wanted so much to tell her that they were okay,
but she just couldn’t.  There were no words, no thoughts, nothing that could
make this okay.

Cole materialized in Amelia’s line of
vision, and he began straightening her legs, and moving her body around until
she was lying flat on her back.  For a fleeting moment, he was gone, but then he
was there again, lying Megan down beside her.  He rolled what appeared to be an
old wool blanket up and lifted their heads, placing the bundle underneath them
as a makeshift pillow.  He wrapped them snuggly together in another itchy
looking blanket before whispering, “I’m so sorry, Megs.”  He bent and brushed
his lips against her cheek and then vanished again.

Why would Josh care if we rolled around?
Amelia wondered. 
If we’re dead…

Megan stepped beside her, threading her arm
through Amelia’s, which to her utter surprise felt strong, stable, and solid. 
She narrowed her eyes further, studying their bodies closely.  She fixed her
eyes on their chests, waiting forever (or at least that’s how it felt) for them
to rise and fill with air, but it didn’t come.

“You’ll both be fine,” a lilting voice
reassured from behind Amelia.  “Sorry about the dramatics, but this is the
safest way to talk to you.”

The sound of a familiar voice filled her
with an agonizing mix of fear and delight all at once.  “Madame Crystal?” 
Amelia spun around to see the clairvoyant witch, who had helped her—and came
close to ruining her life—not so long ago, floating a short distance away from
her face.  Her knee-length jet-black hair swayed around her as if there was a
breeze that only reached her.  Tiny laugh lines littered the corners of her
almost completely black eyes, which held just a touch of violet around the
pupils.

“Hi, Amelia,” she said with a big, gleaming
white smile.  “It’s nice to see you again.”

Amelia gaped at her for a moment before she
lunged forwards and threw her arms around the psychic, crushing Madame Crystal
in a fierce hug.  Madame Crystal laughed, a singsong kind of sound, and
squeezed her back just as fiercely.

Megan cleared her throat loudly.  “Sorry to
break up this little reunion, but seriously, I think the whole us being dead
thing is a bit more important here.”  Her voice squeaked, a high-pitched
squeal, on the last word that sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

Amelia’s eyes flitted over her lifeless
body again, and then she buried her face in Madame Crystal’s shoulder. 
This
can’t be happening,
she thought over and over. 
We can’t be dead.
 
Because if they were dead, then that meant Madame Crystal was dead, and most
likely her entire family were dead, and that was something that Amelia couldn’t
believe—wouldn’t consider.

“You’re not dead, dear,” Madame Crystal
said.  She gave Amelia another squeeze and then stepped back, grinning widely. 
“As I said, this was the safest way to talk to you guys.”

Amelia’s jaw dropped, and her forehead
scrunched. 
Not dead?
  She opened her mouth to demand an explanation,
because seriously, their spirits were floating over their bodies and they
looked … dead.  Megan made a frustrated sound somewhere between a grunt and a
growl, stopping Amelia before she could blurt out her questions.  Megan’s lips
were a thin line of annoyance, and she glared daggers at Madame Crystal.  She
drummed her fingers on her hips, and her eyes narrowed to little slits.

“Meg, stop it,” Amelia said, watching her
cousin’s reaction.  “She’s a psychic and a witch, and she is my friend.” 
Amelia held the glare until Megan backed down, and then she turned back to
Madame Crystal.  The psychic was grinning widely.  It seemed so out of place
and wrong.  But the grin sparked Amelia’s curiosity.  “How are you doing this?”
she asked.

“Magic,” she replied with a twinkle in her
eyes.  “And with a little help from your mother.”  The twinkle fizzled away as
if a candle had suddenly been put out, and her face darkened.  “There’s someone
working with the hunters.  He’s manipulating them, working them like puppets.” 
She raised her hands, her fingers dancing through the air as if she was working
the strings of a marionette.

“Who?” Amelia asked.  Or maybe the better
question was
what
.  The hunters, Cole and Josh specifically, were
strong.  They had easily squashed her attempts at using magic against them, and
the thought that someone, or something, was actually controlling them sent
shivers rushing over her skin.

“I don’t know,” Madame Crystal said with a
small shake of her head.  “My visions only stretch so far, and he is masking my
attempts.  It’s like he knows someone is watching.”  A small shiver visibly ran
through her, and her eyes hardened.  “I’ve almost reached Mitchell.  I’m going
to lead him to you, so be ready.  That is, if I can tell him where you are
before he kills me for helping you the last time.”

“What do you mean ‘the last time?’”  Megan
asked, but it came out as more of a challenge than a question.  And with a
sideways glance, Amelia quickly noticed Megan’s tense and freaked out stance.

“It’s kind of a long story, Meg, but she
helped me block Mitchell’s connection to me when I first met him,” Amelia said
dismissively, hoping Megan would relax a bit as she tried to work through what
was going on.  A thought dawned on her then.  “Wait a minute,” Amelia said, as
her eyes widened and her heart tightened.  “My mother is helping you?  You know
my mother?”

“Amelia, focus,” Madame Crystal said,
clasping Amelia’s face in her hands, forcing her to pay attention and listen. 
“The one that is behind all of this is waiting for you.  You need to be
prepared.  Whatever you do, do not harm the hybrids.  You need their alliance
to save the ones you love.”

Amelia knew Madame Crystal was talking. 
She could see her lips moving, she could even hear the soft lilting notes of
her voice, but the only thing her brain registered was
‘a little help from
your mother.’ 
It wasn’t often that Amelia was left speechless, but right
now, she was.  It wasn’t that she didn’t have words she wanted to say.  She
did.  The problem was they were all fighting to get out at once, getting all
jumbled up together and lodged in her mouth.

“They want to kill the ones we love!” Megan
shouted, snapping Amelia out of her stupor.

Madame Crystal let her hands fall from
Amelia’s cheeks.  She smiled and shrugged, just a small lift of the shoulders. 
“True, but in time they will see that you all share a common enemy.”

“I see you still like to talk in stupid
riddles,” Amelia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  She crossed her arms
over her chest, trying to look annoyed, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t
fooling anyone.

“I have a message from your mother,” Madame
Crystal said, choosing to ignore Amelia’s saucy tone.  Her smile vanished, replaced
by a look that Amelia thought was far too serious, and for a second, her heart
stopped beating.  “Your choices from your past lifetimes are coming to a head. 
It is now time to pick which path of destiny you will follow.  Choose wisely,
because your choice in this lifetime can end the cycle.”

“What are you talking about?” Amelia
scoffed, and began nervously twisting a long curl of her hair around her
finger.  “What cycle?  What choices?” 
And why can’t you just speak like a
normal person?

“You already know,” Madame Crystal said,
her voice floating through the air as her body began to flicker.

“Wait!  Why does Josh think my destiny is
to be with him?” Amelia asked frantically, but the psychic was already gone.

Megan’s jaw dropped, literally, and Amelia was
sure her own expression looked just as stunned. 
What was all of that
supposed to mean?
her nagging brain questioned. 
And what does my mother
have to do with this?

“Was that supposed to be helpful?” Megan
asked.  “And how are we supposed to get back into…” Megan’s words fell short,
and were replaced by a gasping screech.

Suddenly, Amelia felt as if she was being
sucked up by a vacuum.  It started slow, a small pull at her toes, and she
watched her floating frame stretch towards her body.  As soon as her virtual
toes touched her real ones, the suction increased, pulling at her from all
sides as it tried to make her one with herself.

The twisting and distortion seemed to last
for hours, and when the last pull came, it was jarring enough to snap her
spirit back in place.  Megan groaned beside her and whispered, “That was so not
cool.”

“Really?”  Amelia whispered, shifting
slightly so she could see Megan beside her, because honestly, she thought it
was awesome, and whatever Madame Crystal had done was now close to the top of
her list of witchy things she wanted to learn.  Megan rolled her eyes.

Amelia had been right.  The blanket was
horribly itchy, and Cole had tucked them together so tightly that she could
hardly move.  She began squirming around, trying to loosen the blanket, and
wiggled her way out of the cocoon of skin-crawling, itchy wool.

Once she was out, she ripped the blanket
off Megan while surveying their situation under the dim fluorescent lighting. 
They were in some kind of commercial van.  There was a small, closed door at
the front that led to the cab, and she could hear the muted voices of Cole and
Josh from behind it.

Amelia turned around, looking for anything
they could use to get out.  It was empty, aside from them, a few blankets, and
a small stack of weaponry.  She went straight for the weapons, and was sadly
disappointed.  Arrows with no bows, guns with no bullets.

“Maybe we could use the arrows like
knives?” Megan asked in a hushed tone.

“Maybe,” Amelia agreed, and then her voice
quivered as she noticed the silence in her mind.  There was no hum, no
thoughts, no vibrations.  Just deafening silence.  “Meg, I can’t feel
Mitchell.”

“He’s fine, Millie,” Megan said in a
reassuring tone.  She ran her fingers along the metallic wall of the van.  Sparks
ignited everywhere she touched.  “They’ve spelled the vehicle.  They’re trying
to block the connection.  He’s fine.”  The conviction in her voice didn’t help
as much as Amelia would have liked.

Tears pricked at her eyelids, and Amelia
squeezed her eyes shut.  Every breath she took hurt.  It was as if the air had sprouted
knives as it entered her throat, and they were slicing gashes all the way down
to her lungs.  Megan touched her shoulder, just a soft, tentative hand, but it
was enough, and Amelia shook off all the questions and fears that were flooding
through her body and trying to drown her.

“Let’s try to blast off the door,” Amelia
said.  She didn’t miss the uncertainty in her own voice, but she tried to
ignore it, rolling to her feet and inspecting the back doors of the van.  There
were no levers to open it from the inside and no windows.  She was trapped in a
box, and it felt as if the walls were closing in, the air was getting thicker
and thicker, and her chest began to squeeze tight.

“Wait.  Who was that woman?  And how did
she do all that?”  Megan looked scared, confused, and small, and Amelia didn’t
really know what to say.  She didn’t have the answers.  She didn’t know, and
right now, the only things she could think about were the closing walls and the
tight air and …

“It’s a long story, Meg,” Amelia said, her
voice raspy, and she tried to picture herself in a wide-open field with lots of
air and no walls.  It wasn’t working.  The claustrophobia threatened to consume
her. “Just help me,” she blurted, ready to start clawing at the walls.  “I’ll
explain later.  We have to get back before she gets there.”