The Soul's Mark: Broken (3 page)

“Why?” Megan snapped, frustrated.  As soon
as the question was out of her mouth, her cheeks flared and she quickly rushed
on. “Not that I don’t want to go home but…”

“She won’t be welcome,” Amelia said between
gasps of the horribly thick and suffocating air.

Thankfully, Megan nodded and bit her
tongue, but Amelia could clearly see the questions burning in her
eyes—questions that she knew she didn’t have answers to.  She forced those
questions out of her mind, and she called upon her magic.  It sparked up,
licking at her fingertips like a happy little puppy overjoyed to get attention.

Megan stepped beside her, releasing a
sigh.  Amelia grinned.  She knew exactly what Megan was feeling—ecstasy.  The
magic heated their veins, warmed their flesh, and swirled around them in a
delirious heart-racing kind of sensation.

“I’m ready when you are,” Megan breathed,
her voice raspy.

“Be ready to jump as soon as it’s open,”
Amelia said.  She gathered up every ounce of power she had into the palm of her
hand.  She pulled her arm back, readying herself to throw the bolt like a
baseball.  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Megan mimic her motion. 
“On three,” she said, and Megan nodded her understanding.  “One, two, three.”

They launched their spheres on three, and
for a second, it was mind-blowing.  The magic raced through the air like
fireworks, lighting the dimly lit van in a glorious burst of lights and colors.

Amelia was tossed back.  She smashed her
head against the small door at the front of the van with breath-taking force. 
White light shot at her from all directions—blinding and scolding.  Megan crashed
into her with a shriek.

The van lurched to a tire squealing stop,
and the back doors screeched, as they were ripped open.  Shadows emerged from
the blinding light and steam that was clouding the van, and then suddenly, a
strong set of arms was lifting Amelia, cradling her against a muscular chest.

She tried to struggle and kick, but it was
useless.  She glared up into the laughing gray eyes that gazed down at her. 
“Put me down, Josh.”

Josh’s grin widened to a cocky looking
smile.  He hopped down to the ground and set her on her feet outside the
smoking van.  She stumbled, and dizziness rushed over her in waves of hot and
cold.   She grabbed onto Josh’s arm out of instinct, trying to keep herself
standing.  He took a firm hold on her arm, keeping her upright, and then he
winked and said, “Look who’s getting all grabby this time.”

Amelia couldn’t come up with a clever
comeback, so instead, she just glared at him, and he laughed.  Cole emerged
from the cloud of smoky steam with Megan in tow, who was growling something
unintelligible while struggling to get out of his grip.

“Megs, you blew up my van,” Cole yelled, as
he swung her around to face him.  “Do you really hate me this much?  I’m not
going to hurt you.”

Megan spat in his face.  “No, you’ll just
kill my soulmate.”

In a lightning fast motion, Cole raised his
hand as if he was going to strike Megan.  Amelia didn’t think, she just
reacted, conjuring her energy, and launching everything she had at him.  It hit
him square on, and he stumbled back; unfortunately, he held Megan so firmly
that she stumbled with him.

Josh spun on Amelia, grabbed her by the
shoulders, and pinned her against a tree at the side of the road.  “Do that
again, and I’ll keep you subdued.  Is that what you want?” he asked with a
lethal undertone that made her bones quiver.

“He was going to hit her,” Amelia said
meekly, averting her eyes to the ground.  His skin was beginning to shudder and
change, and her body trembled even more.  This close to him, it was hard to
hide the nerves that were jumping all over her skin, and her knees began to
shake.

Josh took a long and loud breath.  He
dropped a hand from her shoulder and tipped her chin up to meet his eyes.  “I
can’t keep you safe if you’re going to freak out and attack him.”

“You keep me safe?” Amelia asked, stunned. 
The idea was ludicrous. It broke through her fear, and she couldn’t hold in the
snarky tone that coated her next words.  “News flash, you’re the one that’s
putting me in danger.”

“I’m trying to save you!” he shouted,
shaking her as if he thought it would knock some sense into her.

The motion only fueled Amelia’s anger. 
“You kidnapped me!”

He narrowed his eyes, and another shudder
rushed over his skin.  His voice was barely audible when he spoke, and it held
a nerve-racking intensity.  “I have orders to bring you in.  Not her.  You.  So
if you want her to make it, you’d better not do anything like that again.”

Amelia opened her mouth to blurt out a
bunch of questions, but he quickly clamped his hand over it, silencing her.  He
called over his shoulder for Cole to follow.  Cole nodded and scooped Megan,
who was clawing frantically at his feet, up from the ground, and placed a hand
on her forehead.  Then, just like that, she went out cold.  Cole slung her over
his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.  Josh gave Amelia a long warning look and
then began dragging her through the trees.

Josh was the leader.  Amelia was dragged
along behind him for a good twenty minutes, and the whole way she hoped that
Mitchell was watching and tracking her movements, because, well, her brain had
turned to mush, and she couldn’t figure out how she was going to get out of
this mess.  Somehow, Cole managed to keep Megan out as he carried her, keeping
up with Josh.

As soon as they had stepped out of the van,
the hum of Mitchell’s thoughts had surfaced in her mind, and with every moment
that passed, they got stronger.  She continued to call to him, but so far, she
had received no response.  It felt as if she was trying to call through a force
field that deteriorated the sound of her voice before it could reach him.

When they stepped into a well-lit backyard,
Amelia blinked against the light.  As her eyes adjusted from the dark forest,
her blood ran cold.  She dug her feet into the ground and yanked on Josh’s
wrists with all her might until he stopped.  She was sure her eyes were wide
with panic when Josh turned to her.  “I can’t go in there,” Amelia said with a
tremor in her voice.

Josh’s hard expression softened, and he
loosened up on her arm by a small fraction.  “I’m not going to let anything
happen to you.”

“Who gave you orders?” Amelia asked.  She
didn’t need to, she already knew, but something in her needed to hear that her
suspicion was correct.  All of a sudden, things were starting to make sense. 
Someone’s
manipulating them,
Madame Crystal had said, and right at that moment,
Amelia knew exactly who that
someone
was.

“He’s a friend of yours,” Josh answered,
his eyes clouding in confusion, and a small v-shaped frown began to form
between his eyes.

“Who, Josh?” Amelia pleaded, and tried to
pry his fingers from her arm, but he wouldn’t let go.

“Have you forgotten me already?” Amelia
froze at the sound of his voice.  She tried to puff out her chest and glare at
him, but she must have looked as small and scared as she felt, because he just
laughed.

The sun was just starting to rise, and the
sky was turning a Caribbean blue with small flares of light piercing through
the willow branches as it made its way over the treetops.

Luke and Eric had taken off to wake the
others, but Mitchell stood still, staring at the droplet of blood on the stone
walkway.  He knew it was irrational, but he was terrified that if he moved, he
would never find the spot again.  Or maybe it was that he was scared stiff that
if he moved, he’d find more spots just like this.  One little drop of blood was
no big deal.  She was hurt, yes, but alive.  But if there were more …

The tap of heels on the stone walkway drew
his eyes away from Amelia’s blood.  “Hi, Mitchell, I’m Madame Crystal, but you
can call me Sally,” a woman said, and she extended her hand to him.  She didn’t
even hesitate with him, shaking his hand with a firm grip, even though he could
feel his fangs bulging out from under his lips, and he knew his eyes were
blazing.  He was completely flabbergasted, and the action, not to mention this
unwelcome visitor appearing out of nowhere, threw him off guard and left him
speechless as he studied her.   She was a rather thin looking woman in her
mid-thirties, an average height, dressed in a tailored coal-black pantsuit with
a soft pink blouse underneath.  Other than her silky, extraordinarily long
black hair, she was average, nothing remarkable really, well, except that she
clearly had no preservation instincts.

The image of Amelia unleashing her magic on
him for the first time leaped into his mind, and suddenly the name clicked.  He
caught his breath on a growl.

Again, the woman was unfazed.  She looked
him straight on and said, “Let’s go inside, I need to speak to you about
Amelia.”

He stared at her with what he was sure were
utterly blank eyes, and when he didn’t move, she shoved him towards the house. 
Hard.  Surprisingly hard, and Mitchell stumbled back a step.

Mitchell caught his balance, and his skin
heated in a mix of rage and stupefying confusion, and for a moment, he just
stared at her.  He gritted his teeth and tried to process how this little thing
could have knocked him off balance.

The dumb moment passed.  He was about to
grab the woman by her collar, when Erin yelped, “Mitchell,” and skidded onto
the porch.  “Mitchell, wait!  I need to tell you something.”

The woman took one look at Erin and then
moved on, up the steps, and through the door, as if she owned the place.

Mitchell sent Erin a quick, commanding
look.  “Get the others.  Now!”

Erin hesitated, looking between him and
Madame Crystal’s back.  “It was my fault she met Millie,” she said in a rush,
and then she turned and ran back into the house.

Mitchell took a few breaths, rolled his
shoulders, and tried unsuccessfully to calm down.  He looked back down at the
blood, his only clue that Amelia hadn’t just up and left him, and his stomach
lurched with anxiety.  He didn’t have time for this.  He needed to move, find
her and Megan before …

He searched the bond again, but still, all
he could feel was the peaceful hum of a sleeping brain.  He tried again to
pinpoint her location, taking deep calming breaths and focusing with every
ounce of concentration he had, but with every second, it shifted, bounced,
changed.  One second it felt as if she was standing beside him; the next, she
seemed miles away.

Torn, confused, and outright desperate, he
marched up the steps and went to find the witch that had almost gotten Amelia
killed with her spells.

He found her in the kitchen, filling a
kettle with water.  He watched speechless as she plugged it in, and then went
about pulling out mugs, milk, sugar, and tea bags.  Without even looking
through the cupboards, she seemed to know exactly where everything was.

“What do you know about Amelia?” he asked,
when he finally found his voice.

“She’s alive and well,” the witch said, and
gestured towards the island for him to take a seat.

Mitchell didn’t move.  “Where is she?” he
demanded, although his voice was weak, and the confusion he felt was evident. 
“What have you done to her?”

The witch smiled, and the air in the room
suddenly became thick, stale, and crushingly heavy.  “I’m not scared of you.” 
Her voice held a laughter that was almost musical.

The air became thicker, pressing against
him from all sides, and the crackle of magic was deafening, ringing through his
ears.  She locked dark eyes with him challengingly, as if she was daring him to
make a move, and in that moment, he couldn’t.  He couldn’t move, couldn’t
breathe, couldn’t even blink.  Her smile widened then, and just like that, the
air around him regulated, and he sucked in a burning breath.

“You probably should be,” Mitchell said in
a matter-of-fact kind of tone, except, right now he wasn’t so sure if that was
true.  Clearly, this … this … whatever she was, could protect herself.  Her
magic was lethal.  Even now, he could still feel it in the air coiled like a
snake ready to strike.

“I can see through your act, Mitchell.” 
She unplugged the boiling kettle and began pouring the water into the mugs,
adding tea bags with it.  “You won’t hurt me.  You’re just a big old teddy
bear.”  She poured a dollop of milk and a teaspoon of sugar in each mug,
stirred, and removed the tea bags.  Then she carried them to the island, set
the mugs down, and took a seat.

Astonished.  That was exactly how Mitchell
felt as he watched Sally sip her tea.  Did she realize he was on the verge of a
nervous breakdown here?  If she did, she obviously didn’t care.  He could hear
the sound of breathing behind him, and he knew that the others were there. 
Most likely, they were just as confused as he was.

“Who is that?” Eric asked, his voice wound
as tight as a clock spring.

Mitchell didn’t answer.  Instead, he sat
down across from Sally.  He had a hunch that this (whatever
this
was)
was bigger than he was, than all of them.  It was the only thing he could think
of to explain this woman’s sudden appearance and Amelia’s disappearance.  And
he knew without a doubt that he would need the psychic’s help.  He took a deep
breath, attempting to control his raging emotions, and said, “Tell me where
they are.”