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 soothe 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.”
At the sound of his voice, Amelia stopped struggling, and she did what he said; she looked up. Eric’s grip loosened, and he set her back on the ground, although he didn’t let go. A starburst of dancing lights littered the air like fireflies blinking in the night, except as she watched the particles wink and shimmer, she saw what they were—shattered links of the chain from the bond.
“It’s not reforming,” Megan whispered, her voice trembling. She spun on Amelia, her green eyes flashing with murder, and she shouted, “Why is it not reforming?”
“It needs to be anchored,” Amelia said, holding her cousin’s furious glare. In a deathly calm voice she said, “Eric, let go before I force you to.”
Eric dropped his grip instantly, and Megan growled something that sounded lethal at him for doing it. She darted in front of Amelia, her magic flaring in bursts of white and blue light, and she looked as if she meant to use it.
“Megan,” Amelia said, her voice cool, in control. “Think before you do this. You’re no match for me. I know what I’m doing.”
“I’m not letting you near him,” Megan snarled. Her magic pulsed brighter, crackling through the air. “I won’t let you hurt him.”
“I’m still in control,” Amelia said. “He still has my soul. He still has his mark. I’m still me.” Amelia took a step forward, expecting Megan to stand down, but she didn’t. “Don’t make me force you, Meg,” she whispered, hating herself for even saying it. “I will if I have to.”
“Megan!” Eric’s tone was harsh and belting. He moved t
owards her, his skin covered with the crimson glow of Megan’s magic. “Back down,” he said. He left no room for argument. As he said it, he began pulling on her magic, siphoning it away from her. The bright white light that pulsed from her lessened and dimmed. They held each other’s gazes, Amelia was certain that they were talking through the bond, and finally Megan nodded, just once and her shoulders dropped a little as she stepped aside.
“Cole,” Amelia called, “you can stop now.” She closed the gap between her and Mitchell as Cole let his net of magic drop. Luke and Lola stood firmly in place, keeping a tight grip on his arms. “You can let go,” she said to them. They hesitated for only a second, but they did as she asked, stepping away.
“It’s beautiful,” Mitchell said, watching the particles of winking light float around them. “Like fireflies.” His smile was wistful as he looked down at her, and offered his hand. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
Amelia pulled in a deep breath and stepped into his arms. She thought she’d be nervous, but oddly, all she felt was the calm hum of her magic. He wove his arm around her waist, pulling her against him and leaned forward, offering his neck to her.
Disband and reform. She thought the last piece of the spell, lacing her silent words with every ounce of power she possessed. She let her magic envelope them, as her fangs pierced his skin and the first drops of his blood trickled down her throat.
Amelia didn’t have to wonder if it was working. As soon as her fangs pierced his skin, a chorus of strangled gasped filled her ears. She knew what was happening; what they were feeling. She could feel it within her core, too. The shift of the bond felt like a loss of energy as if a dam had been closed, blocking her current of control, shifting it and changing it.
She went to detach herself from Mitchell, sliding her fangs out from the throbbing vein, but before she could, his hands were buried in the thick of her hair holding her close. Not yet, he sent. You’re weak. I can feel the burn rushing up your throat. Drink. Finish the last spell.
Amelia didn’t protest. She swallowed another mouthful of his mouthwatering blood and as she did, she pictured the spell that had turned him human. She saw it as a second layer of skin, as if he was a piece of fruit and all she had to do was peel away the peal. And she imagined herself doing just that, peeling away the magic which had made him human as if she was peeling a banana, pulling it away piece by piece. And when every speck of peal was gone, she pulled her fangs from his pulsing vein, and stepped out of his arms.
Amelia kept her gaze fixed on Mitchell, although she really didn’t think she would have been able to look away even if she’d wanted to. He was smiling. It was a complex smile, one that encompassed a mix of emotions, but the most prominent was his unwavering trust. It shone in his eyes, and pushed through the bond with untiring force.
With her eyes locked on his, she said, “Restore him to his former self.” Her tone was firm and calm, full of the power that filled her veins. Magic shot from her in swirls of scarlet, saturating him in its glow. “Restore him. Restore him. Restore him.”
Mitchell made a sound. It wasn’t a groan, but it wasn’t quite a sigh either. He shuddered, weaving on his feet. In a heartbeat, Luke and Lola were back at his side, gripping his arms and holding him upright. His eyes blazed like wild fire, and his lips curled back in a razor sharp toothed snarl.
Suddenly Eric was between them, pushing Amelia back. He shoved a blood bag at Mitchell, holding it in front of him, and Mitchell bit into it, draining its contents greedily.
Amelia didn’t say a word. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, she did. The problem was that she was too stunned that it had worked to find anything to say. She opened her mouth, and then closed it, and opened it again, but still nothing came out.
Mitchell had just finished his second bag, and the savage tenseness of his muscles relaxed when a voice said, “Impressive. I truly didn’t think you’d grasp it.”
CHAPTER 32
Amelia turned slowly, deliberately, in place. The water spirit stood at ease, smirking at her. In the moonlight, he seemed to glow with a soft, silvery outline of polished light. But Amelia knew the light wasn’t actually from the bright moon that hung overhead. She could feel the power surrounding him. It was like the moment before a thunderstorm when the air turned still and thick and heavy.
Like a flash of lightening, Amelia moved, placing herself fully in front of Mitchell, and as she did, she let her fangs unfold from her gums. There was something wrong. Amelia could feel it in her bones. There was something in the spirit’s gaze; she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but it looked like wrongness.
A hand slipped within hers and squeezed, and a shoulder pressed firmly against her other side. Cole and Megan. Amelia could feel their distinct magic signatures pulsing against her own. Mitchell’s hand clasped her shoulder, flaring as he shared her power, and from the corner of her eye, she caught a scarlet stream of light as Eric did the same with Megan. Even Luke and Lola pressed themselves into the line, baring their fangs, ready and willing to do whatever they had to. They felt it, too—the wrongness—she was sure of it.
The strength of the individual is in the family. Her father’s words filled her mind, ones that Amelia had never fully understood until that very moment. And she also understood exactly what the spirit had meant when he’d told her she didn’t need strength. She had an abundance of that right here at her side.
“You’ve added to your coven, I see.” The spirit’s eyes flitted over Cole, and as the intrusive gaze inspected him, Cole took Amelia’s hand. His palm was clammy and his fingers trembled.
“I have,” Amelia said, grinning, as she squeezed Cole’s hand, reassuringly. She didn’t mean to grin, but she couldn’t stop herself. There was something thrilling about beating the spirits at their little game, and conquering her demons at the same time. “And it looks like you can’t take Mitchell anymore.”
Water chuckled and his smirk grew. “No, I guess we cannot.” He cocked his head to the side and as he did, Amelia caught the sounds of fabric rustling and the soft pat of footsteps. “Too bad. The alternative will be so much harder on you.”
Amelia didn’t have time to figure out what he meant by that. From the shadows behind him, four other figures emerged; one of them was her mother. Amelia thought she’d feel anger at seeing the woman who claimed to love her, but yet, willingly betrayed her, but she didn’t. She didn’t really feel anything but sadness.
She met her mother’s eyes, saw the anguish and the self-hatred that filled them, and all Amelia could do was stand there, staring at her. And it was while she stared that she saw the way her mother’s gaze flicked over Mitchell, and Amelia saw her lips move, forming a silent word, Run.
If Mitchell saw the warning, he ignored it. His grip tightened on her shoulder. She could feel his resolve to stay by her side coursing through the reformed bond. She glanced over the figures that surrounded her mother, but only saw inky shadows, with no substance, only outlines against the darkness of the night. Oddly enough, she liked seeing them as shadowy ghosts. It seemed more real somehow as if this was the true forms of the spirits.
“Why?” Amelia blurted. “Why would you do this?”
“We needed to be sure, Amelia,” one of the shadows said in a voice that was like wind chimes, soothing and musical. “We needed to be sure that you could handle what is to come. The best way to test it was to put you under pressure.”
Amelia felt as if she’d swallowed a nest of worms and they wriggled in her belly. “That’s what you call under pressure? You threatened my family. You threatened my soulmate. He’s a part of me.”
“Exactly. You share a soul with a vampire, child,” Water said, his smirk fading. “We could not very well make you Mother Nature until he was out of the way. A vampire with the unlimited power of the spirits,” he scoffed, shaking his head as if it was an utterly ludicrous idea. “You were never meant to keep him, Amelia. He was only a way to change the world you hastily created be
cause of him. This is your destiny. Leave him behind and claim what is yours.” He waved a hand, an elaborate gesture towards the other spirits, calling her forwards to join them, but all Amelia could do was stand and stare blankly at him.
Destiny, she thought. What was destiny, if not a lacework of choices that overlapped one another, a pathway leading only to another choice, another branch, another path? Life was full of choices, some easy, some tough. Amelia couldn’t say she’d always made the best decisions, but even so, she had learned from her mistakes, and she knew she was better for them. And as she looked at the spirits, the ones who had manipulated and threatened her and her family, she saw the gleaming fork in her pathway. One led to Mitchell—to her family, and the other, to a life that had been, and probably always would be, full of deception and death and mayhem.
“But I’m a vampire,” Amelia said, as she tried to sort through her tangled thoughts.
“You carry witches blood in your veins,” the spirits countered, their voices molding together as if they were one. “He does not.”
Silence swept over them. Amelia could feel the many eyes of her family settling on her, waiting for her to speak, but she couldn’t find the words—any words. Her mouth was dry, her tongue thick. What am I supposed to do? She didn’t know, and as she tried to think, her stomach heaved, and she felt as if she was going to throw-up.
“But he’s my family … and … and the love of my life,” she whispered, not understanding how they could even think of asking her to walk away from him—from any of them. “They’re my family,” she continued, waving her hand and motioning to her friends.