The Soul's Mark: HUNTED (The Soul's Mark #2)

The Soul's Mark: HUNTED (The Soul's Mark #2) Page 31

“You said the others never used magic?” Mitchell questioned.

Megan shook her head in response. “They never came to the training either.”

“Did they ever talk about vampires or hunters?” Luke asked.

“Nope. I didn’t even know about the mark until I got here. I just thought it was a funky birthmark or something.”

The questions went on and on, and Megan answered them quickly and efficiently. She described each one of Cole’s gang, who they were, what they were like, and really any little detail she could think of, right down to their favorite colors. They found out that there had been three others that usually hung around Cole that hadn’t been at the fire.

The early morning sky was brightening to a muddy yellow as the sun inched its way over the horizon, fighting to pierce through the storm clouds that were moving in. Amelia rose from her perch. Her butt and legs were asleep. When she stood, pins and needles shot up her legs, and she rocked a little, feeling as if her feet were missing and had been replaced with small post-like stumps. She stumbled over to the glass terrace doors, trying to walk it off.

“And now I’m here,” Megan said.

“Did you tell them about me?” Mitchell asked. He scrubbed at his face.

“Hell no,” Megan answered. “They would have thought I was crazy. I just said I wanted to travel before going off to college.”

It was the small fire that flared at the back of Amelia’s throat that made her stomach rumble. She looked over at Mitchell, his eyes had taken on a pinkish hue and she quickly noticed that the others were looking drained. They were licking their lips frequently, as if to try and quench their thirst by working up the saliva. She fixed her focus on Mitchell. “Go eat,” she said abruptly, before any more questions could fly.

His irritation at her snippy order was short lived, thankfully, and he nodded, giving a meaningful look to the others. Angelle’s smile was forced when she got up. Amelia hadn’t noticed but she had moved further and further away from Tyler and Megan, and had been sitting at the far end of the couch from them, pressed firmly against the arm. The tips of her fangs were grassing over her bottom lip.

Mitchell, Luke, Lola, Eric, and Erin filed out of the room with a few apologetic glances, leaving Tyler, Megan, and Amelia behind.

“I’m starving,” Megan said as a growl rumbled around in her belly, loud enough for Amelia to hear from across the room.

“Me, too,” Tyler said, and then his eyes widened. “Holy crap! It’s morning? I was wondering why Angelle kept inching away. Damn, she must have been…”

Amelia nodded. “I felt the burning in Mitch’s throat. I’ll make us something to eat in a few minutes after they…” she nodded her head towards the door, signaling that they should give the others some space and wait until after they eat.

They sat silently for a few minutes, looking down the empty hallway, and Amelia made a note to herself to pay more attention. She also decided that she’d have a little chat with Mitchell about letting himself get that hungry.

“Do you know where Cole’s hiding?” Tyler asked Megan, the lines around his eyes showed that he was thinking about having the same chat with Angelle.

“No, but I bet they aren’t actually staying in Willowberg.”

Amelia padded over to the couch and curled up against the arm, folding her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “We need to start searching the surrounding areas,” she said.

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed. He stretched his legs out in front of him on the floor and dropped his head back, resting it on the cushion between Amelia and Megan. “They could have hurt or even killed a lot of innocent people last night. We need to find them before more people die.”

“We aren’t going to do anything,” Mitchell said. Both Megan and Tyler jumped at his voice and his unexpected presence. “They’ll be expecting it if we retaliate now.”

CHAPTER 23

Amelia yanked another cupboard door open and frantically started to rip the pots and pans out, tossing them with a clatter to the floor. She searched the mess, tossing things aside, and she dug through the pots. Where was it? She gritted her teeth and fought back the urge to scream out in frustration, before moving on to the next cupboard.

It had been a week since the fire. A full week of nothing. No word from the hunters. No new attacks. Nothing. Amelia was beginning to wonder if they had given up and maybe, just maybe, moved on. She knew it was just wishful thinking. The hunters probably were just waiting them out, but she honestly did not know how much more she could take of the lock down or the training.

Over the last few days, she had spent every waking moment working with Mitchell, Eric, and Megan, trying to channel each other. For Amelia, it hadn’t been the first time, although in the past, it had never been a conscious effort to pull on Mitchell’s strengths; it had just sort of happened, usually in the heat of the moment. But of course, when she actually wanted to use his power, she had quickly realized that it was a lot harder to channel it and actually use it.

But with determination and, in Amelia’s opinion, a lot of luck, the four of them figured it out. Not only had Mitchell and Eric learned how to use the girls’ magic, taking it and manipulating it, but the girls had also figured out how to use their senses. They practiced and trained every day, learning how to stretch their hearing, zoom in their sights, and even run at incredible speeds.

“Love,” Mitchell murmured, gently pulling her from the floor and taking her away from her thoughts. He folded her into his arms, pressing her tightly against his lithe body. “What are you looking for?”

“I can’t find your thermos,” she said, burying her face against his chest and breathing in his tangy scent.

“I don’t need it, love,” Mitchell said softly, his breath ruffling her hair.

“But what if you get hungry?” Amelia countered, and then she sighed when she heard how absurd it sounded. They would only be gone for a couple of hours, nowhere near long enough to need to pack a snack. She pushed back, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

Grief.

It filled his eyes, and the ache in his heart wormed its way into her, filling her with misery, and suddenly, the tear gates threatened to open. Her eyes began to burn; her throat closed up, and her gut twisted as the sobs of sorrow tried to push their way out. She blinked a few times, trying to will the tears away. She knew she needed to stay strong through this, and she was determined to do just that—for him.

“Are you ready, love?” He stepped back and tucked a few stray and frizzy curls behind her ear.

“Yes,” she said, but she shook her head from side to side. It seemed like a stupid question to her. Who could possibly be ready to bury six people? Six friends.

Mitchell kissed her forehead at the hairline and then, letting his hand drop to the small of her back, he nudged her towards the hallway. “Then you better go and get dressed.”

Amelia looked down at her teddy bear pajama shorts and tank top and sighed, a hushed and sad sound. The glint of his polished black shoes caught her eye, and she let her eyes trail upwards to his pressed dress pants, his coal black suit jacket, and charcoal gray tie. She flipped her head to the side, glanced at the clock, and cursed under her breath. A new wave of tears threatened to spill when she realized they needed to leave in fifteen minutes.

Sucking back the tears, she pushed up on her toes to give him a quick kiss, and then she rushed off to get ready.

Amelia noticed, with a glance at her bed, that Angelle had been in her room. She padded up the steps, and she ran her hand over the long, silky coal black dress that had been laid out for her. A pair of new black ballerina flats sat beside it. She stared at the items for a long and mindless moment before rushing into the bathroom and jumping in the shower.

Amelia got ready in record time. As she headed through the house to the carport, she noticed the long line of cars parked in the driveway. After much consideration, Mitchell had decided that the entire street would be attending the service, figuring there was more strength in numbers and that the hunters would think twice before attacking with so many of them together. Amelia, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure.

She found her family waiting outside, all dressed in black, with bleak expressions on their faces. She had expected to see Officer McLean waiting with them, but with another searching glance down the driveway, she noticed that there was not a single cruiser waiting in the lineup of cars.

“Where’s Officer McLean?” Amelia asked as she descended the steps of the terrace. The sun was high in the sky, hitting the line of cars and casting blinding glares. She shielded her eyes against the winking brilliance. “I thought he was escorting us to the service.”

“He’s waiting at the gates,” Luke said as he climbed into the Hummer after Lola.

“Oh.” Amelia shifted back and forth, not really sure of what else to say, and in all honesty, she knew she was stalling. Mitchell noticed her hesitation and walked over to her. He draped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a little squeeze before ushering her into the Hummer.

Amelia sighed deeply as she got into the vehicle. She really hated the idea of a joint funeral. She had wanted to have separate services for each of them. It just seemed wrong to join them all together. Her biggest worry was that a group funeral wouldn’t allow them to fully celebrate each one of their friend’s lives. She was scared that one of the dead might not be recognized as completely as they would have been at their own individual service. But separate services just weren’t an option. At least not now.

But Amelia soon realized that her concern had not been needed. Mitchell’s speech was beautiful. He shared stories, gave praise, and recognized each of the deceased separately and together for their long and full lives. As Amelia looked out over the crowd of humans and vampires, she noticed how every single onlooker was entirely captivated, hanging onto his every word, and even nodding their agreements at times.

When the service ended, Mitchell directed everyone over to the large chapel-style building which held a reception area. Amelia lined up with the rest of her family, shaking hands with the town’s people, and all the while hating the fake smile she was forced to keep on her face. She never really understood this part of funerals. The part where you had to smile and try to make everyone feel better. Why did everyone expect the grieving family to console them when it was the family who was actually suffered the loss?