But not only had Amelia created them, she had ensured that they would obey her every command. She had weaved that piece into the spell as a failsafe to make sure that when the time came to kill Mitchell, they wouldn’t hesitate, even if she couldn’t do it herself. The hunters would march into battle on command with no regard for their own safety.
Amelia remembered asking Mitchell last week why he had tracked and killed every hunter he could find. Because, they were hunting me, he had told her simply. When she had questioned it, he had said, You don’t understand. They were hunting only me.
And then she had made sure the hybrids were made. There was only supposed to be one. Josh. And he had been meant for her. Amelia could see it all. She knew it was true, but it was hard to accept. She wasn’t about to say that she didn’t have problems with Mitchell because she did. What couple didn’t? It was just that she couldn’t believe that she had ever really hated him. Even now, even with his retarded temper, and everything that he had put her through, she didn’t hate him, and she certainly did not want him dead. But the thing was, she remembered it. She remembered the hatred. It was hot, and suffocating. It had taken her over—consumed her.
Maybe it was guilt, because really, Amelia felt as if she had in a sense cheated on Mitchell by creating a new mate for herself, or maybe it was regret for trying to have him killed, but whatever it was, the only thing she could think about was that if Mitchell was still alive, he was alone with Tristan. And if Tristan had lost his soul just like Luke and Eric had… A chill rushed over her, prickling her skin as if a bunch of spiders had been dropped down her back. “I need to find Mitchell,” she said.
Amelia regretted saying it out loud instantly. Josh tensed beside her; Cole yelled at her, telling her she was crazy. Tyler shook his head and rolled his eyes at her in the rearview mirror. Even Megan objected to running out to find him. Amelia could see their point, although she wasn’t about to admit it. Mitchell was old, he was strong, and he had no humanity. But the idea of a demented Tristan holding Mitchell, torturing him…Amelia knew she had to do something.
As Tyler pulled up to a stop sign, Amelia caught a movement, something slinking along the shadows. Up ahead, there was a group of teens standing underneath a streetlight outside a coffee shop.
Amelia strained her eyes through the tinted windows, looking into the night. It was dark, really dark. The moon was covered by thick clouds; the only light came from the few streetlights and the headlights of the car. She pressed her face against the window, and another shadowy figure passed by them.
“Guys,” she said, just as Tyler started forwards. Her heart was racing, jumping into her throat. “I think the hunting has started.” And as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she unlocked the door, and before anyone could stop her, she jumped out of the moving car. She didn’t think, or maybe it was that she couldn’t think. All she knew was that she needed to stop whatever was about to happen.
Amelia hit the ground running. Tires squealed as Tyler slammed on the brakes. Josh yelled her name, but she didn’t stop. The shadows were closing in around the teens quickly.
“Get inside,” Amelia hollered, as she ran towards them.
The kids didn’t even look up. A figure emerged from the shadows; the blazing red eyes seemed brighter than Amelia was used to, and for a moment that was all she could see. She stopped running, not even ten feet from the group, mesmerized. The eyes sparkled like gems under a light at a jewelry store, and they were breathtakingly beautiful.
“Hey, Erin,” one of the kids said, pulling Amelia out of the trance. Erin smiled meekly at him, keeping her lips closed, concealing her fangs which Amelia was certain were fully extended.
“Don’t be afraid,” Erin lilted. “Don’t run.” When they didn’t move, her smile widened, showing off her fangs. She looked over her shoulder and called, “Lucy, dinner is served.”
The words confused Amelia until Lucy stepped out into the light. No! No, no, no! Amelia’s subconscious screamed. Not Lucy! She was just a child. When she had shown up in town a few months ago with a fresh mark, and asking far too many questions, Erin had taken the girl under her wing. She had run away from home, running from the dreams, scared and confused at only fifteen.
“Thanks, Erin,” Lucy purred, and Amelia’s heart raced as she caught a glint of fangs. Lucy slowly turned, her nostrils flared, and she locked onto Amelia. “But I want that one,” she said, raising her hand and pointing lazily at Amelia.
Erin spun and glanced at Amelia. For a second, her eyes began to fade, and Amelia was certain she saw recognition pass across Erin’s face. But then she blanched. She reached out, grabbed Lucy, and shoved the girl behind her and began backing away, her eyes focused somewhere behind Amelia. From the corner of her eye, Amelia caught sight of shimmery energy. Erin snarled, her eyes widened, and then she screamed, “Run!” And in a blink, they were gone.
Amelia pivoted on her heels, scanning the street for any sign of them. Nothing. Megan rushed past her, shooting her a flustered, and more than a little panicked, look before she ushered the shaken kids into the coffee shop. “Was Erin going to eat us?” one of them asked in disbelief, as if it was crazy to think a vampire could do such a thing.
Amelia’s chest constricted. “Josh, give me your phone,” she demanded, as she turned to find him just behind her, his bow in his grip. He lowered it, dug in his pocket, and pulled out her shiny pink iPhone.
****
The dungeon was cold and dark, and the air tasted stale. This had been the longest night of her life, and ending it locked away in the creepiest place she could imagine only seemed to make it worse. The stone walls still had dirty brown stains, but at least all of the torture devices had been destroyed and were no longer crudely displayed.
As soon as Erin had taken off, Amelia had called Officer McLean. With his help, they had been able to broadcast a lock-down over the emergency radio and television station. After that, Amelia split up the town with McLean, each taking half, and they had spent the rest of the night, going door to door, stressing that all residents were not to leave their houses. McLean had concocted an elaborate story about a massive chemical spill, explaining that until it was cleaned up, everyone needed to stay off the streets.
Amelia had sent Megan, Cole, Madame Crystal, and Tyler back to the house with Eric and Luke. For reasons she couldn’t explain, and really didn’t want to explore, she asked Josh to stay with her. He readily agreed, telling her he wasn’t planning to leave her side anyway, and it made her sick when she realized that she was just a tiny, little bit glad that he was there.
Maybe it was because the townspeople were so used to farfetched explanations, especially when a vampire was involved, but no one questioned the lock-down. In fact, no one even seemed surprised. At the first few houses, Amelia had assured the people that she would personally bring supplies to them to last them through the crisis. She was actually blown over when she found that they all had emergency stashes, until McLean had bluntly told her that this was not the first, and probably wouldn’t be the last, lock-down for Willowberg.
The sun was high in the sky when Amelia and Josh left the officers and headed to her house. McLean had arranged to have his officers patrol the streets, switching shifts every twelve hours, and Josh—against Amelia’s better judgment—had loaded them up with charmed bullets that would ignite on contact with a vampire’s flesh. She hated it, but she also knew she couldn’t let them run around with no means to protect themselves.
Now, Amelia was sitting on a hard, and extremely uncomfortable, wooden bench in the cold dungeon, listening to Tyler and Megan argue about how to fix the spell, but all Amelia could think about was Erin. Something just wasn’t right. If Erin had no soul, no humanity, then why had she changed Lucy? It would have made more sense if Erin had killed her or just bitten her. That thought led Amelia to her next question, why was she helping Lucy hunt? And why had Erin looked at her with recognition? It was as if she remembered, or at least w
anted to remember, their friendship.
Madame Crystal, although full of information, hadn’t been able to shed any light on Erin’s strange actions, and she also had no idea how to fix the bond. “It’s not that easy, Megan,” she said. “It takes a lot of power to link souls, and I do not wield that kind of magic.” She sighed, and a yawn escaped. “We need the help of Mother Nature and the spirits. We have to ask for their help.”
“Well, ask them then,” Tyler snapped. He looked exhausted. They all were, and Amelia knew that they were running on fumes now.
“Amelia,” Josh said, his eyes searching hers and filled with concern. “You need to sleep.”
Amelia opened her mouth to object, but a loud yawn fell out instead. Josh reached for one of the sleeping bags and pillows they had grabbed before locking the doors and spread it out on the cold, hard floor for her. The gesture caused Megan and Madame Crystal to do the same, and moments later, they were curled up and sound asleep. Tyler took a sleeping bag and lay it down in front of the entrance to the hallway that led to Eric and Luke. He gave Cole a hard glare, clearly still holding onto a lot of pent up anger, before he slid into the sleeping bag.
“I’m going to get more blankets,” Amelia said, annoyed at herself and at everyone else. Before anyone could stop her, she headed off down one of the passageways trying to remember which room Mabel had said she stored the extra supplies.
Amelia hadn’t noticed the footfalls behind her, and she shrieked when Josh grabbed her arm. “Millie,” he said. She stopped but didn’t turn around, and he sighed in frustration. “You’re not tied to him anymore.” He let go, and his warm finger ran along her neck. “The mark’s gone. He’s not your problem.”
Amelia bit back a sob, and her shoulders sagged. She hadn’t wanted to look and see if the mark was still there. She wanted to pretend that this wasn’t happening, but his words stirred emptiness in her, and a cavernous hole grew within her chest. “I love him,” she said in a small voice.
She felt the puff of his breath against her neck, and his chest pressed firmly against her back. “And I love you,” he whispered. “It’s our time now. Forget about him.”
Something stirred in her chest. It was not butterflies. Not like the ones that she felt when Mitchell said I love you; it was more like a caterpillar trying to break free from its cocoon. But that little flutter of something scared the crap out of her.
Amelia bristled, not wanting to explore the tepid warmth that stirred in her stomach. She spun around to face him, shoving him away. “You tried to kill me!” she yelled.
Red streaked up his neck and blazed in his cheeks. His eyes glowed yellow-green, and his skin rippled like disturbed water. And to Amelia’s surprise, this version of Josh was easier to deal with. It felt real, more real than the love struck boy he had tried to portray just moments ago. “I was following your orders!” he shouted in her face.
“My orders?” Amelia shouted back, and laughed bitterly. She narrowed her eyes at the absurd statement and put her hands on her hips, drumming her fingers with annoyance.
“Yeah, your orders.” He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. He took a few deep breaths, his eyes faded back to gray, and his skin settled in place. “If you ever fell for that vamp, we were supposed to execute you. That’s what you wanted.”
Amelia felt hot, cold, and sick. She wanted to deny it. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t. So far, there had been a hidden memory to confirm all of his allegations, and she was sure she didn’t want to see that one.
Josh raked a hand through his hair, and he let a deep sigh escape. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I’m sorry for the way I treated you.” He paused a moment, searching her face for a reaction, Amelia assumed, but she kept her eyes narrowed, and her hands on her hips. “It was wrong but…You made me for you. We were supposed to be together. I just thought …” He clipped his words short, his eyes pleading with her to understand.
“You thought feeling me up and trying to control me would make me want you?” she spat furiously. Her jaw was starting to hurt from her clenched teeth, but she couldn’t relax it. What was it about these supernatural jerks that made them think they could just do whatever they wanted? It was as if they didn’t see her as a person, just a piece of meat, and it made her burn with fury.
“It worked for that bloodsucker,” Josh said, contempt contorting his features. He threw up his arms in exasperation. “I’ve been watching you for months now. Watching him walk all over you and you let him.” His jaw flexed, and he glared at her for a moment before he shrugged it off. “I figured that was what you were into.”
The idea that he had been watching her sent a chill racing over her skin, snuffing out her anger. How had they not noticed? She tried to hide her unease, and said with a huff, “If this is you trying to sweet talk me, it’s so not working,” and then she started down the hallway. He followed; she heard the patter of his footsteps smacking against the stone floor, and she focused on trying to ignore him. She veered left at a fork in the hallway and ventured into the first open room she came to. She flicked on the light switch and thankfully found the blankets.
“That might have come out wrong,” he said shyly from the doorway.
“You think?” Amelia grabbed an armload of blankets from the shelf. She could feel his eyes on her, wandering up and down her backside. Her arms began to shake; her legs trembled.
“I just don’t understand why you’re fighting me,” he said.
Amelia sucked in a deep, shaky breath and slowly turned to face him. She met him square on, and for a moment, time stood still. There was something so perfect about the way he looked at her. He didn’t try to hide the remorse or the affection or the lust from his eyes like Mitchell always had, and she let the emotions envelope her.
Josh closed the distance between them in three large steps. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a fleeting moment, she thought about backing away, but she didn’t. He took the blankets, placing them back on the shelf, and then inched a bit closer until she was pressed against the metal frame of the shelving.
And then he kissed her.
It was sweet and tentative. Her skin grew warm, and before she knew it, she was kissing him back. His hands rested on her hips, his thumbs rubbing lightly against her sides, and he pressed closer still.
And it all felt … nice.
Her heart, although beating quicker, was not pounding. Her skin, although warm, did not tingle. His lips moved from hers and trailed along her jaw to her ear, and it felt … okay. Not earth shatteringly wonderful, but nice, and it freaked her out, but damn, she was pretty sure she could get used to that kiss.
“Josh,” she whispered, placing a hand on his chest and pushing slightly. “I need to get some sleep.”
He straightened and blushed. “Yeah, um, you should.” When he didn’t move, Amelia went to duck under his arm, but he stopped her, cupping her cheeks gently. “Promise me you’ll think about giving me another chance, please?”
Amelia tried for a smile and was surprised when she felt her cheeks stretch upwards. She drew in a deep breath, searching for the now familiar cotton candy smell. It was the only reason she could think of that could explain her quickened heart rate and her easy smile, but it wasn’t there. She didn’t know what to say, so she nodded, just a small bob of her head, and then slipped out of his arms.
Amelia walked back to the main room of the dungeon in a daze, completely forgetting the blankets. What was happening to her? She fought against her mind to bring forward an image of Mitchell, but the only ones she could find were not happy memories. Cole glanced at her and gave her an approving nod, and she couldn’t even begin to figure out what that was supposed to mean as she slid into the sleeping bag. She needed to rest. To think. Figure out a plan. And …
CHAPTER 12
Mitchell woke up to blindingly bright spotlights shining in his eyes. His neck snapped and popped, and when he tried to move to block the glare, searing p
ain shot through his arms. His skin felt as if it was ripping from his bones. He blinked against the glare, trying to get his bearings, but the light burned his eyes long enough that he didn’t see the railroad spike coming until it was already lodged in his shoulder. His fangs snapped down. An automatic response to the tearing pain, which he could not stop, and he held in the snarled growl that was building in his throat. He glanced down; the rusty metal was already covered in blood. It welled around the spike, soaking into his light blue button down shirt, and he paled. Amelia was going to kill him when she saw the hole in his shirt.
Amelia. His throat burned. He remembered the taste of her syrupy blood; it tingled at his tongue, and his fangs grew, pinching at his bottom lip. He could almost smell it. The sweet floral scent drove him wild with hunger.
Blood. He needed it. Wanted it. He craved the warm, thick liquid that would cool the blistering heat that seared his throat. But not just any blood. Hers. Only hers.
Another railroad spike came at him. Mitchell saw it coming as if it was in slow motion. He went to block it when suddenly he couldn’t move. White-hot pain raced up his right arm, and he heard the meaty rip of his skin. And then the spike pierced through his belly. He hollowed out, the sound ripping from his throat.
Someone chuckled. “I’ve been waiting so long for this.”
“Tristan,” Mitchell snarled. He didn’t need to look; he knew that voice. It was demented, cruel, and exactly what a vampire should sound like. A smile pulled at his lips, and pride washed over him. He had created the perfect monster.
That’s not right, Mitchell thought for half a second, but then the thought was gone, and the burning hunger came back with a vengeance.
“You hungry yet, Pops?” Tristan asked with a laugh. He grabbed Mitchell’s hair and smashed his head against the hard brick wall behind him. The bricks crumbled, and warm blood trickled down his neck.