“I think it’s more like the witch-vampire-Millie-Mitch combo that’s not working.” Was that encouraging? Angelle didn’t know, but she hoped it might relieve some of Megan’s anxiety. ‘Cause, really, one stressed-out Caldwell witch was more than enough, and she really didn’t think any of them could handle it if Megan freaked out, too.
“Maybe, but I’m not ready to see if you’re right.” Megan pushed off of the doorframe and took a hesitant step into the room, as if she really wasn’t sure if she was welcome or not. “What’s going on with you?” she asked. Her tone was saturated with concern.
Angelle heaved a big, gusty sigh and took a hard seat on the edge of her bed. She thought about lying or making up some stupid excuse, but the words just slipped out before she could think of something better to say. “Something’s wrong with me.”
That was all the encouragement Megan needed. She closed the distance between them, sitting down and wrapping Angelle in a hug. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Angelle. Being upset that your boyfriend left is normal.”
“No, you don’t get it. There’s something wrong. I feel …” She pushed out of Megan’s arms, and rubbed at her chest. “Empty.”
With a helpless shrug of her shoulders, Megan said, “Like I said, it’s alright to be upset.”
“No. No. No.” Angelle shook her head from side to side. “This is different. It’s like, God, I don’t know. Like something is missing. I’m on edge. It’s like I’ve lost something.”
That caught her attention, although Angelle didn’t understand why. Megan fixed her questioning eyes on the hand that Angelle had gripped to her chest. “Why are you holding your chest? Does it hurt?”
“No, it just feels … empty.” She didn’t know how else to explain it. It was as if when Tyler left, he’d hollowed her out, leaving behind an empty shell.
“You’ve been quite testy lately,” Megan pointed out with an odd grin. She secured one of her long curls in her hand and began twisting it around a finger.
“I know, right?” Angelle threw up her hands. Testy was definitely an understatement. “It’s retarded. I don’t get what’s happening to me. I’ve been with humans before. It’s not like this is the first boyfriend that’s left me.”
And Tyler really wasn’t the first. She’d even dated one boy for about four years before they’d called it quits, and that break-up had barely fazed her. Angelle had never really expected a relationship with a human to last. It couldn’t last. Either they’d age and die, or if she turned them then they’d find their own soulmate. Really, it was bound to fail one way or the other. So why did Tyler leaving affect her so much? She didn’t know, and not knowing was turning her into a crazy person.
Megan giggled a little, and arched an eyebrow. “And Tyler? How’s he been? I haven’t seen him in a few days.”
Angelle groaned and gave a great show of her signature dramatic eye roll. “He’s hell bent on killing his soulmate, Meg. It’s suicide. If my soulmate showed up wanting to kill me, I’d do it first. You would, too, if you were one of us. He’s human. He’ll come back at some point.”
Megan blanched, looking a bit sick. She wiggled a little on the bed, fidgeting with the corner of the blazing orange comforter. Maybe she’d been too blunt, Angelle wasn’t really sure. “Meg, I’m …”
“Give me your hand,” Megan said, abruptly. She reached out, grabbing it and sandwiching it between her own. She muttered a few unintelligible words as her blindingly bright white magic sputtered to life. It blanketed their clasped hands, heating Angelle’s skin.
Megan grunted and shook her head as if she was trying to clear it. Her brow creased, and she scrunched her nose. “I don’t believe this,” she said, shaking her head again.
“What? What is it? What’s wrong with me?” Angelle tugged her hand away from the magic, and her stomach twisted in a painfully tight ball of knots.
Megan searched her face for an eternally long moment, giving nothing away in her seriously confused gaze. She opened her mouth, closed it, swallowed hard, and then blurted, “Angelle, you’ve been linked to your soulmate. Your soul is gone. I can see the link.”
CHAPTER 18
Amelia clasped onto the porcelain handle of her mug, watching a thick film spread across the surface of the cooling blood within it. Her other hand rested on Mitchell’s chest, feeling the strong, rhythmic thump-thump-thump of his heart, and the rise and fall with each breath he took. He had been breathing all along. She realized that now, but he still looked dead. Mitchell hadn’t moved a muscle, not even a flutter of his eyelashes for close to twelve hours now, and Amelia hadn’t moved from her perch beside him either.
After his first examination, it had taken almost an hour before Amelia had let Luke get close enough again to move Mitchell to the bed, and it took another hour for her to believe that Mitchell was in fact breathing. Now that she was sure of it, though, she hadn’t been able to move her hand from his chest, terrified that if she did, his heart would stop beating.
Amelia knew that it was an irrational thought. Her hand had nothing to do with whether he was alive or not, but having it there made her feel better nonetheless. His fever had cooled and the bitter smell of the infection was gone, replaced by his normal tangy scent.
Amelia shivered as claws of fear raked along her spine. She glanced around watching as her family fell apart right in front of her. Eric and Luke were standing by the terrace doors, their heads close together arguing in hushed tones. Eric’s face and neck were flushed. Luke stood with his legs shoulder distance apart and knees slightly bent, and the cold look on his face gave Amelia the impression that he was just biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to tear out Eric’s throat. Erin dosed, curled around Mitchell’s feet. Even in sleep, her expression was a mix of irreparable brokenness and terror, and Lucy sat beside her rocking softly on the bed, her hands clasped to her ears, most likely attempting to block out Eric and Luke’s snarled threats. Angelle had left. Amelia saw her tiptoe from the room hugging the walls as if she was trying to melt into them, and she also saw Megan follow. But then with the way Eric had freaked out when he spotted Megan leaving, everyone had noticed her departure. The only person that seemed remotely in control was Lola, and even then, it was clear by her paling complexion that she was just barely holding on.
“I hate this,” Amelia said so quietly that she wasn’t even sure if she had said it out loud. She swallowed the tears that burned at her throat, and looked at Lola. “I hate all of this. I hate being so scared, always wondering if one of us will die, or what stupid evil will fall upon us. We’re supposed to be the evil ones. We’re vampires! And yet, I’m terrified.”
And she really was. She was scared that Mitchell would die. She was scared for the soulmates, not just in town, but also for those all over the world. She was really freaked out about the spirit’s visit. Three days. What kind of reasonable deadline was that anyways? Maybe if he’d bothered to clue her in on what the deadline was for it would be reasonable, but as it was, the only thing she had to go on was what she’d found in Mitchell’s mind while he slept, and it was so ridiculous that Amelia was having a hard time even considering entertaining the idea.
Lola opened her mouth and then closed it. Her eyes flittered over Mitchell and then fell to the ground. She slumped against the wall, sliding down it, and taking an ungraceful seat onto the hardwood floor, pulling her knees to her chest. She tugged her fingers through her short blond hair, and buried her face in her jean-clad knees, without saying a word.
Amelia didn’t know what to think about that. Was Lola mad at her? Did she blame her for this? Probably. All of them probably did. They always seemed to blame her when things went wrong, although she figured they were probably right to do it. It was her magic that had put Mitchell in this dead-like state, and it was also her magic that led the way to the bond that was being used as a torture tool.
“Millie,” Eric said, his voice softening for the first time in what felt like days, “we’v
e been through worse than this. It’s going to work out.” He climbed the steps of the landing with a watchful caution, inching towards her. His skin was ashen, and his hair, askew. He’d changed at some point in the night, Amelia noticed, into his comfy-looking gray track pants and hoodie. His eyes met hers. There was a solemnity to them that Amelia didn’t really understand.
“Seriously?” she asked incredulously, swinging the mug in a slapdash fashion. The congealing blood sloshed over the edge and slopped onto the plush carpet. She stared at it for a long moment, watching it seep in, wondering if it would come out without leaving a stain, before she muttered, “Was that supposed to be encouraging? ‘Cause it really wasn’t.”
“Um, yeah, it kind of was.” Eric took hold of the mug, gently prying her stiff, white fingers from the handle. Her knuckles cracked, and her palms stung. Amelia turned her hand over, and screwed up her face as she watched the nail-shaped gashes in her palm begin to stitch back together.
Amelia pumped her hand a few times, getting the blood flowing again, and washing away the pins and needles from her fingertips. She thought about the conversation she’d seen in Mitchell’s memories, the one he’d had with Luke last night. The spirit had told her that Mitchell knew what must be done, but … She shook her head, tossing away the ludicrous theory, and said to Luke, “He’s wrong, you know. And you all are stupider than I thought if you believe his ridiculous idea.” As soon as she said it, she felt sick. Luke’s eyes widened, in what she could only believe was bewildered trepidation. She hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, or really, to say it at all. She glanced down at Mitchell, swallowed hard, and rubbed a circle onto his chest. Please wake up, she sent through the bond, praying he’d hear her. I can’t do this without you.
“Maybe,” Luke agreed after a long moment, drawing Amelia’s attention. When she looked up, she found his expression etched back to its normal calm. “But you have to admit, he’s usually right.” He gestured towards the French doors. The rising sun painted the sky with streaks of blended sapphire and fuchsia, tinted with strands of ginger. “With only two days left, his idea is the only one we have. I don’t think we have much of a choice but to act on it, unless you’ve figured out exactly what the spirit meant. There’s only two days left.” His tone was controlled, hinted with the big brother concern that usually was there when he spoke to her.
“I don’t know about that,” Amelia said. An unexpected calm settled around her heart as she took in the inevitable start of a new day. “My mother changing twelve-hundred years ago doesn’t explain why he thinks I’m supposed to become the next Mother Nature. I highly doubt that the spirits would ever give me access to all that power. I can’t even heal my soulmate without putting him in a coma.”
Amelia had spent hours going through Mitchell’s mind while he slept. At first, it had solely been to try and figure out what was keeping him asleep. But as the hours passed by, and she found nothing to explain his peacefully sleeping brain, she dug a little deeper.
The memory of the first time she had almost died was the most prominent thought he’d had recently. Mitchell had worked through it, pulling it apart, twisting it around, until he thought he understood what the conversation meant. She understood the whole bond fixing part. Her mother had bluntly told her she was meant to do that, but really, she couldn’t wrap her head around how Mitchell had come to the conclusion that she was to become Mother Nature. There was not a single part of her that believed that that was what the spirit had been hinting to.
“Not sure if you noticed, but your magic hasn’t flared up once since you bit him,” Eric said, snapping her back to the room.
Amelia laughed dryly and said, “I’d prefer the magic.”
“He’ll wake up.” Eric sat down beside Amelia, bumping his shoulder on hers. “You used to pass out all the time when you used too much at once. He’s just not used to it. He’ll wake up when he’s ready.”
Eric was right. Although Amelia couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that was making her stomach drop, as if she were riding a rollercoaster over and over. She remembered the passing out when she used too much magic, but Mitchell had never had an issue with it. Not until now. The logical explanation was that he was human now and his body wasn’t handling the power as it once had. The part that made her feel sick, though, was that she hadn’t stopped to consider that before she’d infused him with more magic than she had ever used before. “When did you become so optimistic?” she asked, instead of voicing all her fears.
Eric grinned. It was a little forced, and his lips trembled slightly, but it was still a grin. “Angelle took off.” He shrugged and the last of his grin dropped with his shoulders. “Figured someone had to do it.”
“What are you going to do about the bond?” Luke inquired, pulling them back to the issue. “I really think we need to come up with a plan, Amelia.”
“I could go ahead and act on Mitchell’s temporary fix,” Amelia suggested. Even if she didn’t believe what he thought she was meant to become, Amelia had to admit that his ideas on stopping the brewing rebellion were pretty solid.
Lola’s head snapped up from her knees and she said adamantly, “No! Not happening.”
“Lola.” Luke started towards her, slivers of pain spread across his face.
“Don’t you dare Lola me!” Her eyes shimmered like pools of blood. “I did what you asked. I stayed away. I stayed out of it. I did it your damn way!” She vaulted up from the floor, and suddenly, she was standing in front of him, jabbing a pointed finger into his chest. “You promised me nothing would happen to him. You promised, Luke!”
Erin groaned groggily. “What’s going on?” She propped herself up on her elbows, and blinked furiously, as her eyes adjusted. One of her pigtails had fallen out, leaving her hair plastered to her cheek on one side, and still tied up on the other. Lucy scurried over to her, pressing against her side.
“Nothing’s going on,” Eric said with clear annoyance. “Lola, you need to chill out.”
“You’re one to talk,” Lola snapped, keeping her narrowed eyes glued on Luke. “Don’t think we didn’t notice the way you’ve been with Meg.”
“That’s enough.” Amelia’s tone was controlled, laced with authority that she had never heard in her voice before. She glanced at each one of them, making sure to meet their eyes before moving onto the next. “You all need to stop this. I’m not going to let this town fall apart. He wouldn’t want that. And whether you like it or not, none of you are strong enough to stop me.”
CHAPTER 19
The stone doors to the sanctuary opened under her gentle touch and she breathed a sigh of relief. The sanctuary was a fickle building, changing its alliance as the threads of destiny wove through the choices made, and with what Amelia had done, Mother Nature had been certain that her time had ended and Amelia’s chance was gone.
Mother Nature stepped into the room, the door grinding shut behind her, and she glided across the marble floor, the heels of her shoes hardly making a sound. The cathedral ceiling with its many oblong skylights cast dark shadows that moved along with her, thick as paint.
Her brain worked over the tangled threads of Amelia’s decisions, trying to follow the one that would lead to Amelia’s success. An unclaimed soulmate was the key to altering the bond. That had been Mitchell’s purpose, and in reality, the only reason that Mother Nature had ever agreed to make him human.
She’d known that Amelia would be changed. By choosing the vampires instead of the hunters, becoming a vampire was inevitable, although Mother Nature had never expected her to do it so quickly. Changing was a rash alternative to ending the hunter line when a simple spell would have sufficed, but then Mother Nature figured she should have known Amelia would have made an impulsive decision.
Coldness filled her blood and touched her bones. The air in the sanctuary was frigid, as cold as a gusty night in the middle of winter. She picked up her pace, making her way through the great room and veering left down a dimly lit hallway. T
he walls of the narrow hall were lined with flickering torches, spaced a few feet apart. Shadows danced in her path, as if they meant to trip her.
By the time she reached the end of the hallway, she was moving at a brisk pace, almost sprinting. She paused at the closed stone door that held the pool of sight, holding her breath, as she listened for the spirits. The walls were as silent as a grave, not even the whisper of the wind was audible. She placed her palm on the smooth stone and pushed the door open, and she slid into the room.
The air smelled of heavy dampness and dusty rock as she neared the edge of the pool. She needed to find a new marked soulmate and vampire that could be sent to Willowberg.
Mother Nature let her magic flow in wisp-like strands, infusing the black water with veins of light. For a moment, she saw nothing, as if the pool no longer recognized her power; no longer willing to show her the images she sought. Her heart raced, thrumming against her ribs, and her breath caught in her throat. She needed to find the pair. She needed the soulmate that could be used for the spell.
And then she saw it. The start of a shadowy figure. The outline of a man. The image thickened, filling out, and she gasped in surprise.
Tyler.
“Of course,” she murmured to herself, feeling slightly dim for not seeing it beforehand.
She wiped the image away with a flick of her wrist, and pulled upon Mitchell. He slept lifelessly, still in the large bed, as his body recovered from the magic Amelia had used. He probably needed a few more hours, if not another day of rest, but that was precious time that none of them had. She closed her eyes, focusing her mind on his brain’s signature that rippled in and out of consciousness. She laced her thoughts with magic and shouted them into his mind. WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!
“What did we tell you?” a voice asked. “No more interfering.”
Mother Nature stiffened. “I’m not interfering any more than you already have, Water. I saw your little visit with my daughter. Was materializing while she was having a shower truly necessary?”