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

The Soul's Mark: BROKEN (The Soul's Mark #3) Page 33

Amelia’s hands trembled, and sweat beaded up on her upper lip as she followed their gaze, and when her eyes found what she was searching for, a dizzy rush came over her hard and fast, and she stumbled back against the wall.

“Mom?” Her voice was strained, and her heart was beating wildly in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and then opened them again.

Her mom stood there with a sweet half smile curling her lips. Her cheeks were blushed with a soft rose, and a halo of white light surrounded her, pulsing like a heartbeat. But even with the magical glow, she looked so real. So solid. On her right, she had Mitchell, and on her left, Josh, and the way she was holding onto them by the ears was as if they were two rotten children that she had just caught stealing cookies from the jar.

“Yes, sweetie,” she lilted. “Now if you wouldn’t mind coming over here so we can fix this mess.” She gave a slight tug on Mitchell and Josh’s ears as if to make it clear they were the mess, and they both let out little girl yelps from the pressure.

Amelia backed up, pressing herself firmly against the wall. “But … but …” She squeezed her eyes shut again and then blinked them open. She’s not real. She’s gone. She’s not real, she told herself, but her eyes … Her eyes saw something entirely different. “How?”

“Amelia,” she said with a tone only a mother could use. It was soft and commanding, the kind of tone that made you want to run for hugs and kisses but also made you want to bolt because you knew you were in trouble.

Amelia couldn’t move. She studied her mother, taking in her loving blue-gray eyes and chocolaty brown hair, curling around her shoulders. She looked so tiny and frail standing in between Mitchell and Josh, both of them towering a good foot over her. But she also emitted an air of power and authority, something that Amelia had never seen in her mother. She wore a sunshine yellow summer dress with dainty little flip-flop heels. Her whole ensemble was sweet, demure even, but yet, she commanded the attention of everyone, just by standing in the room. Just moments ago, everyone had been trying to kill each other, but now, with her there, no one moved.

Amelia blinked again, and Mitchell’s eyes caught hers, and the way he was looking at her, as if he could see right into her soul, took her breath away. It was so full of…everything. Pain, loss, hope, frustration, confusion, fear; it was perfect and devastating all at once.

“Amelia, take his hand,” her mother commanded, but when Amelia didn’t move, she began pulling Mitchell and Josh across the narrow space by their ears.

Josh struggled, snapping out of his stupor with a winded breath. He grunted and shouted a bunch of nasty things, but her mother didn’t let go. She gave him a terrifying look that made Amelia quiver, but he still fought, pulling at her hand, and trying to get out of her hold. Her mother sighed, a deep airy sound, and a brilliant blue light washed over Josh and he just … stopped. He stopped moving. He stopped grunting and fighting, and for a moment, Amelia thought he even stopped breathing. Mrs. Caldwell gave his ear a little tug, and she kept gliding towards Amelia, and he followed easily.

When her mother stopped just inches from her, Amelia reached out with her index finger and poked her in the shoulder. “Holy crap,” she breathed, when she felt the flesh beneath her finger. It’s a dream, the idea popped into her head, and suddenly she was certain that she was still passed out. Without thinking, Amelia pinched herself hard. It hurt—really hurt, and she yelped.

Mrs. Caldwell laughed, a bird-like sound, high pitched and musical, as Amelia rubbed at her tender arm. “Honey, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen me since I died.”

“I was dead the last time, too,” Amelia whispered, and then she threw her arms around her mother’s neck, and squealed, hugging her closely.

Mrs. Caldwell kissed her cheek, and her lips were warm, gentle, and so real that it made Amelia’s heart soar. “Take Mitchell’s hand,” she encouraged, her warm breath puffed against Amelia’s cheek as she spoke. “It’s time to end this.”

Amelia let her arms fall, and when she looked up, she couldn’t stop herself from giggling. Both Mitchell and Josh wore identical expressions that were a cross between guilty schoolboy and fury induced madness, and it was definitely the oddest combination Amelia had ever seen. Their ears were red as beets where her mother pinched, and they were both cocked, leaning into her as if they were attempting to relieve some of the pain, which Amelia was certain had to be radiating in their ears.

The giggles died quickly when Amelia let her hand slide down Mitchell’s arm. As she entwined her fingers with his, pinpricks of red colored the center of his baby-blue eyes.

“Behave,” Mrs. Caldwell lilted, letting go of Mitchell’s ear. She leaned into Mitchell, whispering softly in his ear. He took a deep intake of breath and relaxed instantly. She turned her serene smile on Josh, and murmured, “You will not move.” He nodded blankly, and then she let him go as well. Then she wrapped both of her hands around Amelia and Mitchell’s clasped ones, and the soft glow that surrounded her intensified, blinding and shimmering.

Power. Steaming, luminescent power flowed through Amelia’s veins, filling her with a building, delirious heat. It started at her toes, climbing through her body, warming her bones and muscles. Mitchell squeezed her hand, and Amelia was pretty sure he whimpered softly as a moan escaped her lips. A chorus of gasps rang, like wind chimes on a gusty day, one after another, and scuffling sounds of shoes against the hardwood floor echoed in her ears.

“Are you ready?” Mrs. Caldwell asked.

Amelia locked eyes with Mitchell, and in the moment, all the memories they had shared flitted through her mind. Her first dream. How he comforted her the night her parents had died. The first time she physically met him. How he looked like an angel, his aura shining brightly. The first time they kissed. The skin-tingling passion. His mindboggling jealousy and his sweet and encouraging guidance. She wanted it all back. Everything. The good and the bad. She wanted him. Forever. She felt the smile twitch at her lips, and in unison, they breathlessly said, “Yes.”

The air swirled around them, and the fresh scent of just washed laundry filled Amelia’s lungs. “Lost souls hear me,” Mrs. Caldwell cooed, as if she was coaxing a frightened animal out of hiding. “Find your other half and bind together. Through the mark of the soul, let the vampire find a link to humanity, and let them find love through their mate.”

Power crackled in the air like lightning, and delicate, wispy beams of whites and golds shot from every inch of Amelia’s skin. She gasped. The beams hit Mitchell, and a golden chain began to piece together from his chest, stretching towards her. His thoughts hit her in an incredible mess of confusion, and her skin tingled and heated where he touched.

The zapping crackle of energy increased, and Amelia felt as if she was floating. She was weightless, swimming in a sea of emotion. Love, blissful and complete, brushed around her like hundreds of soft feathers. It was perfect, radiant, and absolutely awe-inspiring. Oh God, I love you, Amelia, Mitchell’s voice—velvety and warm—filled her mind, and her heart flip flopped in her chest like a fish caught on land.

And then someone screamed.

“No!” Mitchell yelled. His face crumpled, broken and twisted.

An explosion resonated, ringing in Amelia’s ears, and then something pinched at her skin. It started soft, annoying, and then the pinching sensation increased to ripping and tearing, and she couldn’t breathe.

Amelia glanced down. A circle of deep red was growing, seeping into her shirt. Mitchell cupped her face, lifting her head back up. His eyes were frantic, and he was speaking, but Amelia couldn’t understand what he was saying. Thoughts. His thoughts she realized were exploding within her brain, and it was loud. So loud. And then … there was nothing.

Amelia picked a daisy and brought it to her nose, inhaling the sweet scent. She plucked the petals lazily, as she basked in the warm sunshine. Sally Crystal sat beside her, running her fingers along all the wild flowers.

The meadow was breathtaking, filled with yellows and purples, and the spring air was sweet and fresh, like tea and honey. The sun beat down, glittering off the dew dampened flowers, making them sparkle and shimmer as if they were encrusted with precious stones.

“When the dust settles with the rising sun, you will need to choose a path,” Sally murmured. “Your past holds the answers. But you must break a branch and set one of them free.” She fixed an unseeing stare on Amelia, and her voice held a frothy and far away tone. “When this is over, Mitchell will hunt Josh, and Josh will hunt Mitchell if you do not break the branch and let one of them go.”

Sally rose, rolling up to her feet in jerky motions as if someone was forcing her limbs to move. She looked down at Amelia with an odd grin, and whispered, “Break a branch.” And then with the same jerky, forced movements, she turned and walked away as she chanted, “Break a branch. Break a branch. Break a branch. Break a branch.”

“How?” Amelia screamed, jumping up. “Tell me how!”

And then suddenly, she was gone, and Amelia was alone.

“Mitchell,” Amelia breathed, blinking herself awake. She tried to sit up, and a sharp pain in her side ceased her breath. She clenched at it, her hand feeling gauze and padding. She tried to sit up again, but only managed to prop herself up with her elbows.

“Stay still, kiddo,” Luke said, his voice booming and firm. He put a soft hand on her shoulder, nudging her back down onto the bed. “You were shot. You need to rest.”

Shot! Amelia looked down, examining the blood stained padding that was affixed to her side. Shot? How? Who? She looked up through narrowed eyes, meeting Luke’s concerned ones, and she was about to blurt out a slew of questions when she noticed the sun just starting to peek over the tree line through the window. Sally’s words bombarded her brain, When the dust settles with the rising sun, you will need to choose a path.

“Where is he?” Her stomach twisted in knots as she frantically searched around the room for him. She could feel him. The pull of the bond and the soft hum of his scattered thoughts made her skin tingle. It took her a second to realize she was in Luke’s room instead of her own, and she was about to ask why, but then her eyes found Lola. She hovered nearby, fiddling with the cushions on the bed and, Amelia thought, Lola was trying hard, too hard, not to look at her. Her skin was paler than normal, more gray, and less porcelain.