The Soul's Mark: Broken (29 page)

“Of course you do, sweetie, it’s in your
blood; it will always be a part of you,” Mrs. Caldwell said.

Amelia almost laughed.  Almost … and then
she moved out of Mitchell’s arms and turned to her mother and said, “Explain
how and why you changed him.”

It was a very long conversation.

Saying goodbye to her mother was easier than
Amelia had thought it would be.  Maybe it was because she now really understood
that it wasn’t goodbye, or it could have been, because after Amelia thought
about it, really thought about it, she was finally ready to let her go.

Once she was gone, to Amelia’s surprise,
Cole actually thanked her for setting him free.  He explained that, as soon as
she had become a vampire, the hunters had ceased to exist—sort of.  The people
were still there, they just didn’t have the
hunter gene
anymore.  Their
weapons lost their charm, and they lost the urge to track and kill vampires. 
Most of them had left as soon as the spell was broken, running away from the
madness as quickly as they could.  Amelia didn’t blame them, not for a second. 
And without the hunter part, Cole was just a plain old witch, and he was
shockingly glad.

When Cole left, Amelia went to find
Mitchell.  She didn’t know how she was going to tell him what her mother had
said before leaving, but she knew she had to.  It was safer that way, but
still, it made her feel sick and scared all at once.

“Tristan’s dead?” Megan asked, and she
looked at Erin, just as Amelia walked into the kitchen.

“It’s okay.”  Erin sounded exhausted and
kind of, well, broken, but she smiled—a little.  “It’s better this way.  He hated
this life.”

Mitchell’s eyes found Amelia, and his smile
lit up his face, reaching his eyes. And then he looked past her, expectantly,
and Amelia knew exactly what he was looking for.  “She’s gone,” she said, just
that, plain and simple.

He looked stunned.  “What do you mean she’s
gone?  She needs to change me back.”

Amelia thought about holding it back.  It
would be easier, that was for sure, but she knew she couldn’t.  If they didn’t
know …  She sighed, and met his eyes.  “Mitch, you can’t.  Not yet.  She said
your body wouldn’t be able to handle the change again so soon.”

He had to be thinking.  He had to be. 
Amelia could see it in his eyes, and she noticed the slight scrunch on his
forehead.  And for a second she thought about biting him, desperate to know
what he was thinking.

The urge passed—kind of.  Although Amelia
suspected it wasn’t really gone.  It was hidden, masked by the memories of the
pain the bite had once caused her, and she was determined not to put him
through that, so instead she asked, “What are you thinking?”

Eric was the first to laugh.  It was
amazing, alive, packed full of raw energy, and it didn’t take long for the
others to join in.  Well, everyone except Mitchell.

“What’s wrong, old man?” Eric asked,
elbowing him in the ribs playfully.  Mitchell winced.  “You lose your humor
with your immortality?”

Mitchell hadn’t yet broken his stare with
Amelia.  It was really hard to keep doing; there was so much emotion in his
eyes that it was giving Amelia the shakes.  He was scared, she could smell
that, but there was something else, something stronger, and she couldn’t pick
out what it meant.

Mitchell raised his hand, cutting them off
instantly, and that shocked her.  They were all still listening to him as if
nothing had changed and he was still a vampire.  “Then I want you to do it.”

“Mitch, I can’t,” Amelia said, and for a
moment, there was something so painful in his eyes that it made her want to
look away.  She saw desperation and anger, filled with longing.

Mitchell cracked a smile, it was brief and
small, but it was still a smile.  “I meant bite me,” he said.  “I want the
bond, love.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she
felt her heart break all over again, in a beautiful kind of way, with lights
and bells.  Mitchell must have felt it too, because he got up from his chair
and started towards her.

The feeling didn’t last.

“Um, maybe not such a good idea, Mitch,”
Lola said, a bit shaky as if she was nervous to tell him no, and Amelia figured
that the old habits were hard to break.  She moved to Amelia’s side and put a
protective arm around her, which to Amelia was just plain weird.  He was the
breakable one now, not her.  “She’s only like two hours old.”

Mitchell nodded.  That wasn’t what he
wanted to hear, obviously, but it was the truth.  He seemed flushed, and
awkward, and he was staring at her, clearly trying to think of what to say, and
failing miserably.  But then he looked back up at Amelia and sighed, “Eat.”  He
nodded to the fridge.  “It’s better heated up.”  And just like that, the
awkwardness was gone.

Mitchell was right; it was better warm. 
She was … surprised she guessed, and a little elated.  He was being so calm,
understanding even, and it was—different.  Wonderful even.

After downing two bags and listening to
everyone’s recount of what had happened over the last few days, Amelia actually
started to think that maybe, just maybe, something wonderful could happen from
all of this.

Or then again, maybe something awful.

They were all stronger—closer.  Even Tyler
and Angelle seemed more…comfortable with each other.  More together, that was
for sure.  Eric and Megan doted on each other, and they couldn’t keep their
hands off of one another.  And Amelia noticed all the extremely private
whispers, which she shouldn’t have heard and really wished she hadn’t.

It was weird, how easily they all just
forgave each other and forgave her.  It was more charity than Amelia thought
she could have ever earned, and they just gave it to her, as if nothing
happened. 
Forgiven and forgotten.

It was like her father always said,
at
the end of the day, the only people who will always be there for you is your
family, no matter what.
  Amelia had never really understood that, not
fully, until now.

It was Luke who decided to call it a night
first, and Amelia didn’t miss the chill in his voice or the way he looked at
Lola when he said it.  And by the way she cringed, Lola didn’t either.

“Luke,” Amelia said nervously.  She started
fiddling with her hair, wrapping a curl around her finger.  “Um … don’t be too
hard on her.”  She groped around for something else to say, and then, an idea
hit her.  “Technically, she had to listen to me.  You know, because at that
point Mitch was still, well, you know.  So …” she broke off, realizing how
stupid her logic was sounding.

“I know, kiddo,” Luke said after a moment,
and he sighed.  “I just hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into and what
you both have gotten us into.  Tomorrow is a new day, and sooner or later the
people …”  He paused then, scrubbing at his face, and when he looked back at
them, there were stress lines crinkling his eyes.  “They’ll find out he’s human
sooner or later, and they will also know you’ve changed as soon as they see
you.”

Luke didn’t really have to finish his
thought.  They all knew what that could mean.  The vamps, the humans; Mitchell
was the backbone of this town.  He kept them together and ultimately in line. 
They were still acting as if he was still Mitchell, and to them he was, but to
everyone else … It freaked her out even thinking about it.

Lola was reluctant to leave.  Amelia wasn’t
really sure if it was leaving her with Mitchell, or if it was that she didn’t
want to leave her
unprotected.
  It was … weird and awesome all at once. 
And in all honesty, Amelia didn’t really want her to go, and not that she would
admit it, but she was starting to understand the worshipy sidekick comment Lola
had made before changing her.

After ten minutes of stalling, Mitchell
groaned and said, “Lola, give it a rest already.  She’s staying in our room and
that’s that.”

Angelle and Tyler had already left, and
Eric and Megan were getting up from the island, when a devilish grin began to
spread on his face.  “Hey, Millie,” Eric said.  “Try to be gentle with him.” 
He winked suggestively, and Megan smacked him.  “What?” he said, trying to look
innocent.  He failed.  “Look at them.  You know damn well …”

“Eric,” Megan shrieked, cutting him off. 
She blushed, embarrassed.  “What they do is none of your business.”

“I’m just trying to help,” he said with
mock hurt.

“Sorry, guys,” Megan said, and she grabbed
his hand, dragging him from the room.

“He’s right,” Lola said.  “Maybe you should
…”

“Lola, enough,” Luke said, exasperated. 
“If Mitch says she’ll be fine, then she’ll be fine.”  Lola didn’t move, and
Luke scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the room.

Mitchell stared at her for a second,
searching her face.  He must have found what he was looking for, because he
smiled, and then he turned and started down the hallway towards their room.

Amelia took a deep breath, steadied
herself, and began to follow him, feeling lost and alone.  Suddenly it was all
too much, and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and cry.  She wanted to
cry for everyone they had lost.  She wanted to mourn for them, and in a way,
for herself and Mitchell.  Because, well, parts of them had died during this
battle, and she wasn’t sure if those parts would ever come back to life.

Tomorrow she’d think about how to hide
Mitchell, how to keep the town going, how to deal with the fact that she had
killed someone.  But she couldn’t face that now.  Now all she wanted was to
feel the pain, as if feeling it was the first step to recovering from it.

She stepped into the room behind him and
shut the door.  She went to walk past him, completely lost in her own grief,
when he grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into his arms.  “You’re going to be
fine, love.  We’ll be okay,” he whispered, burying his face in her hair.  His
lips found hers, and he pressed a soft, burning kiss onto them, and for a
second, she believed him, well, until he pulled back and opened his mouth,
ruining it.  “Besides, how long could my body take to recover?  A few days?  A
week?”

Amelia broke away from him, barely having
to use any strength at all, and she stepped out of his reach, unable, and maybe
a little unwilling, to look at him.  “A month,” she whispered, “maybe two just
to be safe.”

He didn’t say anything, but she could smell
the frustration and anger simmering on his skin.  He paced towards her, and out
of habit, she dodged him, skidding across the room.  He groaned, frustrated. 
He wasn’t mad at her, she knew that, and she was pretty sure he just wanted to
hold her.  But it still freaked her out—just a little—especially since she
couldn’t hear his thoughts.  She opened her mouth, ready to yell for help, and
then reality hit her and she laughed.  Hard.  So hard that her sides hurt and
her jaw ached, and she plopped down on the floor, holding her stomach.

Mitchell jutted out his bottom lip, looking
down at her.  “It’s not that funny, love.”

“Yeah, it kind of is,” she said, through
her hysterical laughter.

A sexy, and maybe just a little devilish,
grin spread upon his face, and then he scooped her up off the ground, cradling
her in his arms.  His eyes darkened, and Amelia stopped laughing.

“Mitch, what are …” she started, but didn’t
get to finish.  He pressed his lips to hers, working over them with such hunger
and longing that it left her breathless.  Her skin buzzed everywhere he
touched, and she opened her mouth under his, taking the kiss deeper.  There was
something different … something that growled in her stomach, and her gums
throbbed.  Then, her fangs slid down, pinching in her mouth.

Amelia gasped, and broke the kiss
abruptly.  Revulsion washed over her in waves of hot and cold as she realized
what she had been about to do.  She opened her mouth to apologize, but he
stopped her, placing a warm finger against her lips.  “It’s okay, love.”  He
pressed a skin tingling kiss on her neck and whispered, “It’s a normal reaction.”

“But … but …” she said, but with his lips
trailing along her neck and nibbling at her ear, she couldn’t figure out what
it was she was trying to object to.

 “Tomorrow,” he said against her neck.  He
carried her up the steps to their bed, pulling off her top as he went, and
working on the buttons of her jeans, before he laid her down, his lips barely
breaking from their exploration of her skin.  “We’ll figure it all out
tomorrow.”

She smiled, and her fangs flooded back into
her gums, and she whispered, “Tomorrow.”  And then, the world melted away, and
the only thing that was left was Mitchell’s burning skin pressed against hers.

###

Ashley Stoyanoff lives in Whitby, Ontario and
loves diving into the magical world of creating fiction. When not writing, she
can be found reading sappy novels, watching cheesy chick flicks, and buying far
too many clothes.

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