The Soul's Mark: FOUND
Page 44

A distant look settled on Mitchell’s brow and small creases marred the soft skin around his eyes. “I came back to tell you I was sorry about our fight but you were gone. I thought…” he paused, and Amelia watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a bunch of quick swallows. “I thought you left me. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.” He reached out and caressed her cheek, letting his fingers slide down to her neck, lingering on her mark. “But when you weren’t there, I lost it. I don’t know if our family will ever forgive me.” A frantic string of images passed through his mind and his jaw twitched as he fought them away. “Tyler was the one who found Erin. Tristan had left her to die.”
Amelia waited for him to tell her more but when he didn’t, she said gently, “So you changed her. You saved her life.”
“I almost didn’t. I wanted to kill her.” His eyes flared, streaked red and then he blinked, casting it away. He let his arms drop, dangling to his sides and the creases on his brow turned to crevices, deep and sharp.
Amelia waited, afraid to say anything that might shut him down, because, whether she liked it or not, at times Mitchell could be worse than a teenage girl in the mood swing department. Was that a vampire thing or just him? she wondered.
After a few moments, he met her eyes, and his face lit up with excitement. “Amelia, can you help her? Is there a spell or something? You could break it like you did with me.”
“I didn’t…” Amelia started, and then quickly stopped. Didn’t what? She was about to tell him that she hadn’t broken their link but she had. She knew it was time that she stopped lying to him and took the responsibility for her actions.
He must have read it on her face because he said, “It’s okay. I guess I didn’t give you much choice.”
It was at that moment that she knew, no matter what, she had to figure out how to fix what she had done to them. But first, she needed to help Erin. “Help me up, Mitch. I need to see her.”
****
Amelia was absolutely appalled to find out that her castle dream home actually had a dungeon and that dungeon was where Mitchell had locked up Erin.
“You left her in here,” Amelia seethed, glancing around and taking in the barbaric room. She felt as if she had stepped through a time portal and was teleported back to the Middle Ages. The rough and jagged stone walls were caked with what looked like centuries of grime and were splattered with dark spots that she knew, disturbingly, was blood. Thankfully, when she glanced at Mitchell, he looked just as unsettled. “I tried locking her in one of the upstairs rooms, love. She broke out.”
“What was this used for?” Amelia asked, looking over a contraption that hung from the ceiling. She had a frightening thought of someone hanging upside-down, the leather and chains tightening and pulling until limbs ripped off, and she cringed and trembled. Before Mitchell could help add any nightmarish ideas, she tossed up her hands and said, “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”
At that moment, she heard Erin’s voice traveling down a dark and dingy corridor. “Millie, finally, you need to get me out of here.” Erin’s call surrounded Amelia, slithering around her like a tangled nest of hissing snakes. The words echoed, bouncing off the walls and it felt as if they were trying to slither into her mind and pull her in. Her goose-pimpled skin prickled as the pimples turned into full-grown bumps. “I know you’re there, Millie,” Erin hissed when Amelia didn’t respond. “I can smell your sweet, sweet blood pumping through your veins.”
Amelia took a step back and jumped a foot off the ground when she bumped into Mitchell. He held her, rubbing small circles onto her back and she fought to catch her breath. “Amelia, it’s not really Erin talking. She’s letting the demon take control. You should know that we had to restrain her as well so she wouldn’t hurt us or herself.”
Amelia opened her mouth, but the only sound that came from her lips was a scared little whimper. She swallowed hard and shook her head even harder hoping the fears would fly out from the force, and then she gave herself a stern mental pep talk. You’re a witch. You have nothing to be scared of. Erin’s your friend and she needs your help. Keep it together, Amelia. You can do this. When she was sure her voice would work, she locked eyes with Mitchell and asked, “What do you mean restrain her?”
“You’ll see. Just promise me you won’t do anything rash. She’s not thinking clearly and you can’t trust her. She’s not the Erin you knew.”
As if he could feel how cold and scared she was, Mitchell sent a warm, bubbly sensation of strength through the link, letting her feed from his power, and then he turned from her and padded his way towards Erin.
Amelia reluctantly followed, weaving through the hallways. It seemed as if every few steps they took they ended up at a fork, small corridors leading off every which way. A few times, Amelia could have sworn they had already passed by a cell or a doorway, and she was glad she was not alone. It was like walking through an otherworldly web of torture, and with every turn, she fought the urge to run back the way she had come. She fought her imagination, attempting to reassure herself the whole way that this place was never used. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the idea of feeble humans running in the maze of hallways as their ruthless predators stalked them, playing with them like helpless little mice.
“Millie, hurry up,” Erin howled, breaking through Amelia’s overactive imagination. “Don’t listen to that dumbass boy toy of yours. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m fine. Just get me out of here.”
Mitchell veered to the right, down another dark and moldy smelling passageway before stopping abruptly. Amelia collided into his back and she stumbled. Before she could hit the ground, he steadied her with an unearthly speed and grace.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim, flickering light but when they did, a feeling of sickness overcame her. “My God, Erin,” she cried and rushed forwards. Erin was tied up helplessly in a tiny cell with barely enough room for her small body to fit into. Two chains hung from the ceiling cuffed to her wrists and her ankles were chained to the stone floor. Amelia shook the metal bars but they didn’t budge. She spun around, hands on her hips, and glared at Mitchell. “Mitch, open this cell.”
“I’m not opening it until she can control herself,” Mitchell said, the all too recognizable cold expression on his face. The very expression he used with her any time he was about to fight her on something.
Amelia bristled, ready for the battle. She was just about to throw a tantrum when Erin piped up, “He’s a lunatic, Millie. Please get me out. I’m so hungry,” she said, the last word with a drawn out hiss that sent a chill racing down Amelia’s spine.
“Can you help her, love?” Mitchell asked softly. “Can you do the spell you did with us?”
Amelia glanced back at Erin and deflated. “I don’t know if that will help. What I did… I mean…” she stuttered. “Well, it only blocked your connection. I can still feel everything. For me, it’s almost like nothing has changed. I don’t know how to severe the bond completely.”
“What about just reversing it? Can you block her from seeing him?”
Amelia thought about that for a minute, but the cold, hard reality hit her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she whispered, reluctant to say it at all. “If I do that then we have no way of knowing where Tristan is or if he’s planning to come back. Right now, we have an advantage. If the link stays then we’ll know every move he makes.”
Amelia stared at Erin, who was now growling and yanking on the chains. “If I can just take away the pull we can let her go. I guess I need to mask her thoughts, too. I wonder,” she paused, scratching at her head. “What if I can make it look like she’s searching for him. Maybe that will be enough to trick him into thinking she’s coming.”
Her mind was swirling as the ideas tumbled forth faster than she could process them. She took a few calming breaths and tried to find a center. Suddenly, as if the knowledge had always been a part of her, what she had to do became clear.
Amelia took Mitchell’s hand, closed her eyes and focused on the memory of the power—hot tea and honey. The sweet, steamy power sputtered, shining unsteadily. It smoldered, then flashed up again, and blazed. It swirled around her and she let it pull on Mitchell’s strength to feed the firestorm burning deep within.
Mitchell tried to pull his hands away but Amelia held tight using her magic to keep him still. “What are you doing?” he asked unsteadily.
“I need your power, Mitch,” Amelia gasped and fixed her pleading gaze on him. “I need your help.”
For a quick second, Amelia thought he was going to keep fighting her, but then he nodded. “I’m going to pull on your persuasion. I need you to focus and push it to me,” she said.
Amelia drew from Mitchell, feeling his persuasion join with her, strengthening the blazing power that coursed through them both. She drew in a breath and chanted, “Mold a twin and link the bond,” over and over. Erin’s snarls grew more savage and the chains rattled as she tried to break free.
Mitchell grunted and staggered. “You’re taking too much.” His voice was barely audible and his complexion was graying fast.
“Help me,” Amelia wheezed and panted. “Don’t fight it.”
Amelia could feel the life draining from him and his struggles to break free became less and less. She heaved on his powers, merging them with hers and continued the chant.
Mitchell struggled for breath and staggered again. Erin’s sickening laughed filled her ears. “It’s no use, Millie. You aren’t strong enough,” she hissed.
Amelia continued to chant, “Mold a twin and link the bond.” Her knees began to shake and she struggled to stay upright. She kept her eyes fixed on Mitchell and suddenly, as if he had a second wind, Mitchell straightened up and began to chant with her.