The Soul's Mark: BROKEN (The Soul's Mark #3)

The Soul's Mark: BROKEN (The Soul's Mark #3) Page 36

Amelia sighed. “Dammit. I guess my plan worked.” Because if it hadn’t worked, Josh wouldn’t be dead. She wasn’t sure why that was a bad thing, but at that moment it felt like it was. We won, she thought. Why didn’t it feel any better? “I still have magic,” Amelia said, suddenly realizing how she had stopped Josh.

“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?”