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

Lola laughed. “Actually, yes, I would and I will.”

“No need,” Fiona said, waltzing into the room, letting the door slam behind her. “I was being chased by a vampire hunter, so I came here. I just knew Mitchell would help me.”

Angelle giggled. “Chased by a vampire hunter?” And then she fixed her laughing eyes on Mitchell. “And you believed her.”

“Of course he believes me,” Fiona purred, gliding over to Mitchell and running her fingers over his chest. “We’ve been together for over a hundred years.”

His skin crawled from her touch. How had he spent so many years with this awful creature? She may be beautiful, but she was a far cry from Amelia. Fiona was vicious, conniving, and a self-absorbed bitch. Even when she had stood at his side, she had never cared about the people; she only cared about herself. He saw that now, and it made him feel sick that it had taken him so long to figure it out. He cleared his throat. “We were together,” Mitchell corrected and firmly removed her hand from his chest. “And it will never happen again so you can stop this little act.” He took a few steps away from her, shutting out her whiny protests and leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. “I didn’t believe her, but she was scared. I couldn’t just turn her away,” he said to Angelle and then shrugged. “And as it turns out, she wasn’t lying.”

“What do you mean she wasn’t lying?” Luke asked. “There haven’t been hunters in four hundred years. You saw to that yourself.”

How could he explain? Luke had been with him, tracking the hunters and disposing of them. They searched everywhere. Every corner of the earth. So how could this be? Could they have missed some? He had really thought they had gotten rid of them all, but…

He must have been thinking about it longer than he had thought, because Angelle suddenly broke the silence. “Dammit, Mitchell!” she yelled, smacking her fists against the mattress. “You can’t hide this from us.”

“Keep your voice down,” he growled, and glanced at the door, waiting for Eric or Erin to crash through at any second. When no one barreled in, he shot each one of them a meaningful look and whispered, “I don’t want the others involved. Eric and Erin are too young; Tyler is just a human and Amelia…” He shook his head, trying to get rid of the idea of anything happening to her, and said, “We can’t talk about this here.”

After giving them all a firm glare, he opened the door and gestured for everyone to follow him. Thankfully, none of them made a scene. On his way through the kitchen, Mitchell grabbed Angelle’s keys and went straight for the black Hummer, the whole time debating on what and how much to tell them. If they knew they were targets…but then again, he knew that they were targets. He had seen the proof with his own eyes.

“Where are we going?” Angelle asked, as Mitchell started up the car and put it into gear.

He didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know where to start or even how much he wanted to tell them. He made a left out of the driveway, heading towards the gates. “I got a phone call from Officer McLean tonight. Some college kids thought the old warehouse on Chestnut Drive was a great place to party, and he ended up getting a noise disturbance call.” He pulled up to the gates, lowered his window and nodded to Joe, who flicked the switch to open the gate.

Once they were through, Lola asked, “Is there a point to this little story?”

“You’ll see when we get there,” Mitchell said, knowing it was better for them to see it rather than him trying to explain it.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up to the old warehouse. It sat on the outskirts of town, abandoned and falling apart. The roof sunk in places, windows were missing, and graffiti marred the crumbling red-brick walls. Mitchell turned off the car and got out, everyone following close behind. The steel door protested with a grinding sound as Mitchell pulled it open. He ushered everyone inside and steered them across the main floor to the rickety metal steps that led to the upstairs office, where many years ago the factory manager could overlook and survey the workers on the factory floor.

The fifteen steps felt like hundreds, and with every single one, his nerve faltered a little more. Mitchell knew he couldn’t handle this crisis alone. He desperately needed some help, and this desperation forced him to continue up the stairs with the others following on his heels. When they reached the top, Mitchell opened the door without a word, and stood aside.

Even though he had just seen it, it all still seemed so unreal. Every inch of the walls was plastered with pictures of every vampire and soulmate in town, blueprints of their houses, and maps of the gated street. Someone, most likely more than one someone, had been watching them for some time now.

“Oh my God,” Angelle gasped, looking around the room. “That’s our house,” she said, standing in front of one of the blueprints. Next to the blueprint, each of their pictures was taped up with statistics: age, status, height, weight, and a short biography. She proceeded to read the information listed beside her photo. “Angelle O’Connor. Height – Six-foot. Eyes – Brown. Hair – Auburn. Age – Four-hundred and eighty-two. Soulmate – Dead. Relation to Mitchell – Trusted Advisor. Notes – She may look innocent, but do not let her stunning looks fool you. When challenged she is ruthless, and she is one of the oldest in the coven.”

“What the hell is all this?” Lola asked, spinning around. “Every house on our street is here. How does anyone know all this about us?”

“The human soulmates have been marked, too,” Mitchell said, running his fingers across the photo of Amelia.

“It says ‘recruit,’" Fiona said, looking over his shoulder. “Why would the hunters want to recruit her?” She said the last word with a dripping disgust.

Mitchell spun on her, ready to tell her exactly what he thought, but stopped himself when he saw the fear that clouded her face. Fiona was scared. Terrified. And as he looked around at his friends, the telltale signs of panic were evident on every single one of them.

“It’s probably just some hate group,” Angelle said, but the tremor in her voice screamed that she didn’t believe what she was saying. “You know there have been some issues since Ty set up the donation bank. I bet this was done by some pissed-off humans in town.”

She slid over to stand in front of Mitchell, hope filling her eyes. He wished he could agree with her and erase the fear, but the idea seemed too unlikely. It was a well-known fact that not all the humans loved them, but they accepted them and depended on them, and to orchestrate something like this? To actually plan… he shoved the thought away and pulled Angelle into a tight hug. And the way she clung to him, as if her life depended on it, broke his heart. All of them expected him to fix this. Wipe it away as if it wasn’t happening, and it was killing him that he couldn’t.

“Silver arrows,” Luke said thoughtfully, bending down to examine a pile in the far corner of the room. He reached out and the second his fingers touched an arrow, they erupted into flames. He howled, yanking his hand back. The flames were spreading fast.

“Luke!” Lola cried, rushing towards him. In a flash, Mitchell let go of Angelle and blocked Lola’s path as he pulled off his shirt and quickly smacked out the fire. A thick, rancid smell of burning flesh filled the air. Even though it only took seconds for Luke’s blisters to heal and fade, the smoke’s odor still lingered in the room.

As soon as Mitchell was sure that the fire was completely out, he stood back, and Lola jumped into Luke’s arms, frightened tears streaking her face.

“They’re charmed,” Fiona said with a self-satisfied grin. “Even I know that.”

Mitchell gave her a fierce look to shut her up and then said, “We need to collect everything. Get it out of here before the hunters come back for it.” He marched over to the photo of Amelia and pulled it down.

The clean-up went on for hours. They sorted through the maps and plans, keeping everything in order so they could examine them closely later at home. The weapons were carefully wrapped and loaded into the car. It was nearly sunrise when Mitchell pulled down the last of the pictures. He looked at Luke and said, “I need to get home before Amelia wakes up,” and got a disapproving scowl in return. “I don’t want her to know. She’ll try to fix this, and she'll…Just not yet, okay?”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You think you can hide it from her?”

Mitchell shook his head from side to side and said, “Yes.”

CHAPTER 5

Ripped out of her dreamless slumber, Amelia shrieked. Her bed drooped and sagged, and her eyes flew open. “Get up,” Eric said, jumping up and down, the mattress springs creaking under his weight. “Let’s go for a run.”

Amelia groaned, long and loud. “Seriously, can’t a girl sleep in peace?” she asked, squeezing her eyes shut and snuggling under the blankets. “You suck. Get out.”

“You are so adorable when you first wake up,” Eric laughed.

Amelia opened her eyes and glared at him, catching a glimpse of the faintly lit sky. The sun was just beginning to rise. Eric was grinning like a fool, and she bristled. “What? Is there something in the vampire handbook that says you have to be a smart ass?” She absolutely hated mornings and was not in the mood for laughter just yet.

Eric laughed again, and a glint of wickedness settled over his eyes. He grabbed the covers in a swift motion and flung them across the room. Before Amelia could process what was happening, she was being set down in her closet. “Get dressed,” he said with a wide grin, clearly proud of himself. He flicked on the light and pulled the large double doors shut, giving her privacy to get dressed.

After a few groans and her typical mumbles about how much mornings suck, she pulled on some clothes and dragged her way back out to her room. It was at that moment that it hit her; Mitchell hadn’t stopped Eric from waking her up, and she couldn’t feel the normal tug at her heart pulling her towards him when he was near. Her eyes immediately landed on his cot, which was made, neat and tidy, and obviously had not been slept in. “Where’s Mitch?” she asked, a knot of panic forming in her stomach. What could he possibly be doing to keep him out all night again?