The Soul's Mark: CHANGED (24 page)

Mitchell shuddered and swallowed the prickly lump in his throat.  He didn’t know why it was there.  He didn’t want it to be there, but dammit, he was nervous.  He’d never sweated like this before.  His shirt clung to his back and his hair felt clammy against his scalp.  He didn’t want to die.  It wasn’t that he thought that Amelia’s spell wouldn’t work or that her new plan wasn’t solid.  He knew she’d never let him die.  He’d searched her mind over and over, running through the spells that she planned to use, and he couldn’t find a single thing wrong with them.  But still, the fear was there, ingrained within him.

It seemed entirely unfair that they were even put in this position in the first place.  After spending centuries searching for each other, hating each other, fighting each other, they’d both finally and fully accepted one another—accepted the bond.  He just didn’t understand what the big rush was to fix a curse that had been around for hundreds of years or why the spirits would have let them find each other if they planned on taking him away.

“Um, Mitch?”  The voice was barely a whisper.  “You ready?”

Mitchell flinched at the sound and looked up.  Cole stood within arm’s
length, his expression, grim.  Mitchell’s jaw clenched as he calmed his racing heart.  Damn, but he hated being human, not being able to hear people approach.  He felt so vulnerable.  It was like an intense pain within his gut, always present.  He cleared the startled lump from his throat and said, “I guess.”  Although the last thing he wanted to do was work with one of the hunters that had been hell bent on killing him not so long ago, even if Cole wasn’t actually a hunter anymore, it still made him uneasy.  But then if Amelia trusted him …

Cole only stared at him, as if he really hadn’t expected him to say yes.  After a minute, Mitchell asked, “Why are you here?”

The question seemed to stir a whole lot of uneasiness in the ex-hunter.  He jammed his hands in his jean pockets, as if to keep them still, and something that looked like wrongness flitted across his face.  He kicked at the ground.  “Megs told me who you think Amelia’s supposed to be.  I couldn’t say no.”

“But you didn’t want to say yes either,” Mitchell said, filling in the unspoken words that littered his face.

Cole shook his head, as if trying to shake away what Mitchell had said.  “That doesn’t matter,” he said with haste.  “I came.  That’s what’s important.”  He looked as if he was about to say more, but all that followed was an uncomfortable silence.

“Cole, just spit out whatever it is you’re trying to say,” Mitchell said, harsher than he’d intended.

“For what it’s worth, I believe she can do it,” he blurted and grimaced.  With a nervous twitch of his head, he glanced at Amelia, and then back to him.  His eyes were wild, full of something that Mitchell couldn’t understand.  “Look, you need to trust her.  I really don’t think the spirits mean for you to walk out of this alive.  Mother Nature has never had a partner.  Not one that can share her powers.”

Mitchell’s head felt heavy and thick, his eyes, bleary.  The nervous twitches coming from Cole were hard to read.  Mitchell couldn’t tell if he was lying or if his uneasiness came from being back in Willowberg, surrounded by vampires, or if it was working with Amelia after everything that had happened.
Or, perhaps, it could have been that he was just plain nervous to be messing with the bond again.  Through his teeth, Mitchell asked, “Why should we trust you?  Why should I let
her
trust you?”

“Because I showed up when you asked me to.”  It wasn’t much of a reason.  In fact, it was probably the worst reason Mitchell had ever heard.  People usually showed up when he called because they were too scared not to.  It didn’t mean he could trust them.  His thoughts must have been written clearly on his face because Cole added, “You’re only a human, now.  You’re really not that scary.”  And then he turned away.  “Come on, she’s been calling you.  She’s ready.”

Mitchell clenched his teeth, watching the ex-hunter turned witch walk over to Amelia.  He met Amelia’s eyes for the briefest of moments, seeing the confusion blazing there.  He hadn’t heard her calling to him, too wrapped up in convincing himself not to be scared of what she planned to do.  He let out a long breath, steeling his fear deep within him, and he padded over to the group, his gaze fixed on the ground.

Amelia made an odd sound somewhere in between a choking gasp and a moan, drawing his attention as he neared.  She turned to him, her gray-blue eyes shimmered under the moonlight, and she took a hesitant step in his direction. 
You’re scared,
she sent. 
If it makes you feel any better, I am, too.  Um, you do want to be a vampire again, right?  I assumed that you did, but ...
Her silent words fell short, her head dropping like a wilting flower.

Her sudden doubt twisted at his heart. 
I’ll be whatever you need me to be, love,
he sent, and he knew he meant every word.
  It’s what I should have done from the start.

She glanced up at him, a small smile playing at her lips. 
You know, I think you always have.  If you weren’t such a jerk, I’d probably still be hiding in the shadows.  You’ve tested me, pushed me to my limits.  Even if I fail, even if we fail, at least I wasn’t too scared to try.

I trust you,
he sent, not waiting for her to ask the question that he could see flitting across her mind.
  I’ll do whatever it is you need. 
It was a gut feeling, one he couldn’t really explain, but he was sure that he needed to trust her for any of this to work.

She reached out to him, her hand open, waiting for his to grasp it, to take the last step to her, and as he did, all the fear that had been
trying to drown him was gone.

****

Mother Nature wrung her hands as she stared at the doors of the sanctuary.  The spirits had found out about her interference, she was sure of it, she could feel it in her essence.  She placed a hand on the thick stone doors, and again, she was greeted with cold silence.  They would not open for her touch; they didn’t even tremble in consideration.

What has she done?
  The question played through Mother Nature’s mind relentlessly.  She was sure Amelia had done something; something to out her.  It was really the only explanation.  She’d agreed to Water’s terms—more than agreed.  There was not a chance that he’d betray her; Mother Nature knew it with every fiber of her body.  He had never wanted to be mixed up in all of this, and she would gladly—willingly—take his place.  It was a chance to stay with Amelia after all and a chance at staying alive.  She knew that once she was replaced, her soul would be
retired. 
No past Mother Nature had ever been placed back into the life cycle.  It just didn’t happen; it was unheard of.

She shuddered and gulped for air as a fresh wave of tears crept up her throat and bit at her eyelids.  It couldn’t be over.  It just couldn’t.  Amelia and Mitchell had each chosen the correct path.  After all this time, they finally chose one another.  It should have been enough to end all of this.  This last step should have been more of a formality than anything else.  Change the bond, claim the power.  It should have been ceremonious, not a life or death test.  She didn’t know exactly what the spirits were up to, but with each second that passed, a little more dread pooled in her stomach, and a sinking, gut twisting feeling that Mitchell had never been meant to walk out of this alive crept through her.

A flare of fire caught her eye and she swiveled in place.  Fire hovered in mid-air, flickering as wind gust around it.  Scattered leaves lifted from the ground, mixing in, and floated in the wind.  She waited, searching the elements for the one she wanted to see.  She watched the dew drops on the grass, waiting for them to tremble and rise, but they didn’t.  The spirits danced around each other for a moment, giggling with musical pitches, and then they said in unison, “Your time is up.”

“Where’s Water?” she demanded, backing up a hasty step, as panic gripped her like an icy claw gouging her chest.

But they did not answer her question; they only laughed.

****

Luke and Lola’s grip on Mitchell’s biceps hurt.  His discomfort showed on his face, and clashed through the bond like a lightning storm of tormented discomfort.  Amelia knew it was supposed to hurt.  They needed to hold him tightly in case anything went wrong with the magic, but still, if they squeezed any harder, she was sure they’d break his arms.

Cole stood off to her side, his power pouring from him in luminescent streams, weaving an intricate net over Mitchell, protecting him and attempting to sooth
e him.

Amelia stretched her hearing to its limit, tracking Megan’s movement in the house.  She could only just pick up the
far-off and muffled sounds of her and Eric banging around, cupboards opening and closing, the squawk of plastic slipping against plastic as they most likely stacked bags of blood.  There was a small pang of guilt that bobbed up and down her throat with each swallow she took.  Megan would probably never forgive her for this, but Amelia knew she couldn’t risk them—not for this.  Not when Mitchell’s life was at risk.

“Is everyone ready?” she asked, scanning each one of them over.  Luke and Lola shot her encouraging smiles and Cole grunted something that Amelia thought meant yes.  Mitchell didn’t respond, although she felt a slight tug on her magic as he began pulling it to him, ready.

With a deep, soothing breath, she focused all her energy on Mitchell.  She pooled her magic, gathering it together, and sent out a small ounce of gleaming scarlet light, letting it weave throughout Cole’s protective barrier, and saturate Mitchell.  As soon as the familiar energy touched him, he shuddered, and an elated thrill rushed through the bond to her.  He tugged on it, letting the magic flow through her to him, faster and faster, pulling it within him, all the way to his bones.

As the magic swirled within him, Amelia turned her focus to the bond.  She envisioned the glowing chain links piecing together between them, binding them together.  The way they shimmered as if they were coated in rays of sunlight, glinting like metal and strips of gold.  She felt Mitchell in her brain; the soft hum of the invasion filled her ears, as he pulled on her thoughts and mimicked them with his own.  And as their thoughts merged as one, the golden chain sprang from their chests, showing the link that tied them together as one.

“It’s the bond,” Cole said in wonder, his eyes glued to the gleaming golden chain, watching it suspended in mid-air, floating between Mitchell and her.  “Holy crap!  It’s the bond.  It’s working.”

“Of course it’s working,” Amelia said, trying to sound like she always knew it would, although she didn’t think she pulled it off.  Even to her own ears, her voice sounded stunned.  She reached out, touching the magical chain with the tip of her finger, feeling the warmth and strength of the power that had created it.  She wove her magic through the chain links, learning the spell that had formed the bond all those years ago.  It wasn’t as complex as she had thought it would be.  It was only simple links: soul to mark, mark to vampire, vampire to soulmate, soulmate to soul.  That was it.  And as she examined it, she could see how it was intended to work and she could also see
where it fell short.

“No!” Megan’s scream echoed through the night.  “Stop!  Amelia, stop!”

Amelia pivoted at the sound.  Megan stood frozen on the terrace, her eyes wide with horror, and arms stacked with blood bags.  Eric was behind her and Amelia thought that the grin he was flashing her was one of approval.  And then the blood bags toppled out of Megan’s arms, falling to the ground, as she leapt down the steps, sprinting towards them.

“Do it, love,” Mitchell said, snapping Amelia’s focus back to him.  His eyes were desperate.  “Don’t stop.”

Amelia could hear the pounding footsteps as Megan ran across the lawn towards them.  Her pulse picked up, thrumming in her throat.  She closed her eyes, keeping her focus and began to chant, “Dissolve the control.  Fracture the hold.  Transpose the pain.  Dissolve the control.  Fracture the hold.  Transpose the pain.  Dissolve the control.  Fracture the hold.  Transpose the pain.”

The sound of Mitchell’s breathless groan invaded her ears just as something splintered and snapped within her, and slivers of pain like ice fracturing under pressure shot through her veins.  Amelia opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.  She rocked on her feet and then her knees gave out.  She could hear Mitchell calling out to her, his voice was pained, agonized, but she couldn’t respond.  Her body, her lips, even her brain suddenly felt numb and cold and disoriented.

She couldn’t breathe.  Her chest felt as if there was a gaping hole that went right through her lungs.  But it didn’t hurt.  There was no pain.  She felt nothing but numbness.  And she realized then, that she couldn’t feel Mitchell.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, yanking Amelia from the ground.  A thunderous clash ripped through the air.  Amelia flailed and kicked out, sending out electrified surges of power.  “Put me down,” she shrieked.  Swift clarity washed over her, taking away the numbness.
She couldn’t stop the spell.  Not now.  Not in the middle.  The panic that filled her was suffocating, crushing her as if she was being pulled under a tidal wave.

“Amelia, stop,” Eric growled in her ear, his arms tightening as he struggled to hold her.  “Stop.  Look up.”