As it neared, she couldn’t hold back; she grabbed her dress, pulling it above her ankles, and she ran as fast as she could.
It was exhilarating. Her heart sang, and her legs carried her as if she was floating on a cloud. And she couldn’t have stopped her legs even if she had wanted to. It was as if there was a force, a powerful and blissfully wonderful force, which kept her moving.
Amelia took the last step, leaping into the outstretched arms, mesmerized by the warm, sky-blue eyes that smiled at her.
And then the arms disappeared, and she was standing in the meadow alone.
A bright white light flourished the size of a firefly in front of her, and a soft voice filled her ears, “Look into your heart, child, and you will know what to do.”
And then everything dimmed, and the voice was lost as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 23
Mitchell stood in the shadows, peering through the French doors. He knew he shouldn’t be there, watching her sleep, but he couldn’t get himself to do what he had come to do. She looked so … peaceful. At one time, he swore he had felt that peacefulness, too, but no matter how long he watched, he couldn’t summon it, and he desperately longed to feel it again. And watching her sleep, curled up on the enormous bed surrounded by a rainbow of cushions … he just couldn’t bring himself to disturb her.
She was beyond perfect.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a movement, and reluctantly, he pulled his gaze from Amelia, shifting it to the other side of the bed. Tyler, a voice in his head growled. He was sprawled out beside her, and rolling closer.
Mitchell ground his teeth and fury enveloped him, blazing like a fire, licking up his throat. What was she doing? Earlier she had been practically drooling over a hunter and now … She’s mine!
The burn in his throat was becoming painful. A blistering pain that he knew only blood would fix. And yet, he stayed to watch, mesmerized by the soft rise and fall of her chest, and the slight smile on her lips, even if the sight of another man in his bed with his woman was torture.
Mitchell hadn’t expected this to be so easy. He had figured that Amelia would have spelled the block by now, and they wouldn’t have been able to even get to the house. But she hadn’t. She had found his note. That had been the first thing he had checked. Knowing that she had found it, and still had done nothing, made him a bit uneasy. He was pretty sure that the thirty or so hunters that they had found weren’t Amelia’s only line of defense. She was smarter than that. He couldn’t imagine that she would just go to sleep with only a thin window between herself and the world, but that’s exactly what it looked like.
“Mitch, if those hybrids see you here, you’re as good as dead,” Lola whispered. She moved with graceful caution to his side, her eyes darting back and forth, watching for any sign of trouble. “We saved one for you. You need to eat.”
“I know,” Mitchell sighed. His reluctance to go and eat was disturbing. He still couldn’t understand why he had let the witch go. Why had he told her to run? She was his. It was a thought, no; it was knowledge, something he had known since the beginning of time. She was his to have. But he had let her go, and now he was withholding food.
He looked back at Amelia, searching for an answer. I should be happy to be free of the bond, he scolded himself. But in all honestly, he wasn’t. He missed her voice, her thoughts, and the swarm of commotion within her brain. He missed the bond. He missed her touch. And it was infuriating. He didn’t understand why he missed her. It made no sense. He was a vampire, a soulless demon. He shouldn’t care, but the emptiness he felt as he watched her was consuming. It grew within him like a gaping hole, the loose dirt around its edges crumbling and falling away.
“Aren’t you going to get her?” she asked, following his gaze. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Mitchell said, looking back at Amelia, hypnotized for a moment by the slight rise and fall of her chest. “But this is too easy. We’re missing something.” He scanned the French doors again with a critical eye, but still, he saw nothing. And for about the millionth time that day, he missed the bond. He missed seeing the glow of her magic that winked and shimmered like crystals in the sunlight, and he craved the feeling of the pulsing warmth it emitted.
He heard Lola’s soft, but sharp, intake of breath, and he knew what she was noticing before she even asked the question. “Why’s Angelle’s pet in bed with her?”
Mitchell took a deep breath, forging his voice to sound calm and uncaring. He ignored the question and said in an icy tone, “The other Caldwell witch is in their as well,” and he pointed to the chair where Megan was curled up.
“What are you waiting for, old man?” Tristan asked, pulling Mitchell away from the scene in front of him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Tristan climbing the steps with McLean in tow. “I thought the plan was to grab the witch and dump this little surprise for the hunters?” Tristan gave McLean a shove, and he fell to his knees on the terrace with a muffled grunt through the duct tape that held his lips closed.
An idea hit Mitchell, and he chuckled. He looked Tristan up and down, weighing out the risks, and then he said, “I thought I’d let you do the honors.” He stepped back with an elaborate after you bow. Lola giggled, and Mitchell shot her a quick shut up look.
“Really?” Tristan asked, furrowing his brow, as if he was looking for a catch.
“Of course,” Mitchell said encouragingly. He needed to know if the house was protected, and Tristan had outlived his usefulness, especially now that he was fresh out of information about the hunters. And besides, what was the worst that could happen? A shock, maybe? Or he could walk into an invisible wall?
That encouragement was all Tristan needed. He peered into the room and smirked. “She doesn’t waste any time,” he said, and winked suggestively at Mitchell. It took every ounce of will power Mitchell had not to lash out at Tristan. It was hard enough seeing it; he didn’t need any help imagining why they were sleeping together. Tristan must not have noticed Mitchell tense up. He walked up to the door with a cocky grin, reached for the knob, and turned. “She didn’t even …”
He didn’t have time to scream. Muted sparks swirled around Tristan like dying embers in a fire that were sucked up in a windstorm, spinning around him in a whirlwind, and then he was just … gone. Flakes of charred flesh and ash sizzled on the terrace where he had stood, and the rancid smell of burning hair and skin hovered in the air.
Lola sucked in a breath, and her eyes widened and bulged like a bullfrog’s as she looked down at what was left of Tristan. McLean made a sound that Mitchell figured was meant to be a scream, but it sounded more like a gurgled sob.
“Well that sucks,” Mitchell said, and then he shrugged and turned to McLean. “Looks like this is your lucky day; you get to live a bit longer.”
CHAPTER 24
Morning dawned, and Amelia woke up to strips of sunlight streaming through the windows like ribbons. The soft strands lit up the room with a warm glow, and it made Amelia groan. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept until after the sun rose—not in the last few months at least. With Eric around, it had rarely happened. But now, pre-dawn runs seemed like a lifetime away. A distant memory. And it was one that she missed terribly.
Who would have thought that she would actually miss the early morning wake ups? She certainly hadn’t. But right now, she did. She missed Eric’s ridiculously maddening comments and annoying teasing, and she yearned for Mitchell’s laughing glare when Eric woke them up.
Her dream from the night before still lingered on the cusp of her brain. Look into your heart, child, and you will know what to do, the lilting voice taunted. But that was the thing; she just didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Fix the bond? Leave it broken? Which would be better? And why hadn’t she done either yet? People are counting on you, she reminded herself.
Amelia pulled herself out of bed with a heavy heart. She spotted Tyler and Megan whispering b
etween each other by the French doors, and she walked over to them. “Have you guys been out there yet?” Amelia asked, making her way over to them.
They both stopped talking abruptly, and spun towards her. Tyler cleared his throat, and when he looked at her, Amelia noticed right away that he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Um, yeah, I talked to Josh this morning for about half a second.” He was still in the same jeans and mustard yellow polo shirt from the day before, except today it was full of wrinkles, and his shaggy brown hair clearly hadn’t been brushed.
Amelia waited for more, wondering what had happened now to make them so uneasy, but it didn’t come. “And how is everyone coping?” she asked Megan carefully. She was still drowning in Eric’s clothes, and the bags under her eyes seemed darker than yesterday. She had her fiery red hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she was fiddling restlessly with the ends.
“Millie, um, last night …” Megan started, but was cut off. The bedroom door flung open, cracking against the wall.
“I’m done playing your games,” Cole growled. “It’s time to kill those monsters.” He stormed into the room, his silver eyes flickering from green to yellow, then back to silver. His movements were coiled, tight as a corkscrew, and his face held the telltale signs of exhaustion. Amelia took in his filthy jeans and t-shirt, which had a few more rips on the chest than it had had yesterday, as he stomped towards her.
“Not now, Cole,” Amelia said with a long drawn out sigh, and waved him off. Seriously, how many times did she have to spell it out for them? She put her hands on her hips and tried for the I’m not impressed look.
“Yes, now!” he yelled, either missing her attempts at annoyance or choosing to ignore them; she wasn’t really sure. He closed the distance between them with a breathtaking quickness, and she yelped, jumping back. “We lost thirty people last night.”
His words hit Amelia hard and fast. Her legs gave out from under her, and she dropped to the floor like a sack of rocks, landing on her butt. “What do you mean we lost thirty people?” she asked, looking up into his glowing eyes and steaming face.
“The night watch,” he spat. “They’re all gone, vanished. Those monsters didn’t even leave the bodies.”
“Night watch?” Amelia asked. Her brain just wouldn’t, or couldn’t, process what he was saying.
“Are you stupid? You sent thirty people out last night to be slaughtered,” Cole yelled, and his jawline twitched in spasms along with the rest of his skin.
“Cole, give her a break. It’s not like she meant for this to happen,” Megan said, stepping in front of him and nudging him back.
Thirty people. Amelia’s stomach twisted into angry knots, and sweat broke out along her back. She glanced between Tyler, Megan, and Cole, bouncing back and forth between the three of them. They were all giving her the same look of disgust, although Tyler and Megan’s were a touch more subtle, but still, it was there. How could they think I would send anyone out? That’s what she wanted to ask. She wanted to yell and tell them to think about what they were accusing her of, but she didn’t. Instead, Amelia took a deep cleansing breath, and focused on Megan, forging her face into a mask of strength. “I did not send …”
“Yes, you did,” Cole seethed, cutting her off. “You sent them out with orders not to kill. They can’t go against you, Amelia.” He glared at her; his childish features were marred with contempt. “That might be okay for Josh and me, but the rest of them, they’re humans with fancy weapons. They don’t have superhero senses. So, yes,” he nodded in confirmation, and his back tensed and straightened, “you did send them out to be slaughtered.”
Amelia opened her mouth to spit out a nasty, and most likely, childish retort when the reality of her actions hit her, and she promptly closed it. A sick feeling crept in and dread filled her veins. Humans with fancy weapons. A flock of thoughts began to pile up, soaring up and down like birds diving for food. When had she started taking humans for granted? She was their advocate; she was supposed to protect them. That’s what she had been fighting for since she found out vampires were real, and now, she was forcing them not to protect themselves.
Suddenly, her chest constricted and she couldn’t breathe, and frustrated tears bit at her eyelids. I didn’t do this! And in a way, she hadn’t. She hadn’t been the one to break the bond. She hadn’t unleashed blood hungry vampires on the world. And she hadn’t sent the hunters out last night. All of this mess was Josh and Cole’s doing. But you are the one that started this, and it’s you that hasn’t fixed it, her stupid conscious whispered.
“Cole, stop it,” Josh said, walking into the room. “I sent them. Not her. And we don’t know for sure that they are dead.”
Amelia sucked in a breath and looked up at Josh. His hair was damp, his eyes were bright, and he looked … good. He had clearly slept, and he was the only one of them that had changed and showered. He strolled over to them with his thumbs stuck in his jean pockets. He was also wearing one of Mitchell’s faded blue t-shirts, one that Amelia had bought him, and that sent a rush of white-hot anger coursing through her. And the way he walked, as if this was his room, his house … it made her sick.
Before Amelia had pulled herself off the floor, Cole turned on Josh and red rushed up the back of his neck. “Of course they’re dead! You know damn well they didn’t just up and run away. Dad wouldn’t have left.”
“How could you?” Amelia hissed. “I said that everyone needed to stay inside.”
Josh shrugged his shoulders. “You suggested it, and I decided to ignore it. We needed to know where they were and what they’re doing.”
“You monster!” Amelia screamed. She balled her fists, ready to strike, and ran at him. Josh sidestepped and grabbed her white-knuckled fists easily, stopping her before she could even get one punch in. All this time, Josh had been trying to convince her that Mitchell was the demon, but Mitchell would never sacrifice his people. Soul or not, he wouldn’t send people out to be slaughtered. He had proven that at the fair by telling the vamps to stand down. But Josh … All at once, she knew what she needed—and more importantly, what she wanted—to do. Josh opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Amelia blurted, “I have the spell that Mother Nature used.”
Josh dropped her hands and cringed away as if they had burned him. A flush of green rushed over his face, and for a second, Amelia thought he was going to be sick. But then his eyes grew cold and his body stiffened, and Amelia couldn’t stop herself from shuddering as his skin began to melt, and the white of his cheekbones started to poke through.
“What?” Megan gasped, and then coughed and wheezed, choking on the question. She grabbed Amelia’s shoulders and spun her around so quickly that Amelia had to grab onto the chair to stop from falling over. Megan was beaming at her with excitement and hope and, well, she shone like the sun on a cloudless morning.
“Ty, go find Sally,” Amelia said, as Megan wrapped her into a bone-crushing hug, burying her face in Aemlia’s shoulder.
“No need, my dear. I saw the whole thing. You want to recreate the bond.” Reluctantly, Amelia let go of Megan and slowly turned to see Sally strutting into the room, juggling an armload of white votive candles. Tyler jogged over to her, snagging a few before they fell, and then set them on the coffee table.
Amelia avoided looking at Josh, straightened her shoulders, and said, “That’s right.” She groped around in her jean pocket and pulled out the piece of paper with the spell. “I’ve been replaying the memory, and I wrote down the spell Mother Nature used.”
“You need to break the original curse,” Josh said. “The one where you stole all their souls to start with.” He grabbed Amelia’s hand and spun her around to face him. “Why do you need to tie yourself to him again?” he asked with a pleading note in his voice.
Sally giggled. “She almost picked you.” She tapped the side of her head with her pointer finger, and an oddball kind of smile stretched upon her lips. “And to answer your question, she cannot do what
you are asking. She would need to use black magic again, and besides, Mitchell is her soulmate.”
Josh’s face crumpled and contorted, and his grip on Amelia’s hand tightened. “He’s not your soulmate,” he hissed, searching her face for a reaction. But the reaction that he must have seen in her did not help, and like a switch, he shut down. It was as if Amelia could see the doors slamming as he closed himself off from them. He dropped Amelia’s hand and padded across the room, sliding into one of the chairs.
“Why does it matter what kind of magic she used?” Cole asked, watching Josh with confusion and a hint of curiosity.
Sally cleared her throat, and gave Cole a dirty look. “That’s why this whole thing blew up in your face,” she said, ignoring his question. She fixed her steamy glare on Josh. “When you took her magic, you didn’t dig deep enough. You pulled on the pure strands and not the darkness that lies beneath them.” She narrowed her eyes. “But you already knew that.”
Josh ignored the implication. “So, use black magic now,” Josh said, lounging back in the chair as if this whole conversation was pointless.
Sally arched a brow. “If it was that easy, don’t you think Mother Nature would have done it in the first place? Power like that changes a person. It shapes them into something dark. It was that darkness that forced Mother Nature to create the bond. She covered the darkness with light. But it’s also the same darkness that made Amelia create you.”
The tension was suffocating. It was as if a layer of plastic wrap was coating the room, sagging around her, and cutting off the air. Tyler was lighting the candles, or trying to; he couldn’t get the matches to stay lit within his shaking hands. Megan was pressed to Amelia’s side, and Cole and Josh seemed to be having an intense and silent conversation filled with eyes, hand gestures, and nods.