“You aren’t going alone,” he said for the thousandth time, but even as the words came out, he knew the firmness he had hoped for was lacking, and he saw the slight blush creep along her neck, a clear indication that she had been listening to his thoughts, and she knew his resolve was starting to falter.
“Yes, I am,” Amelia said evenly. She turned from the window with a stately grace and moved to his side where she belonged.
“Can’t you guys just eat animal blood?” Megan asked. “What’s so special about human blood anyway? Blood is blood.”
“Technically, we could survive on animal blood but…” Mitchell began.
“Survive?” Eric gaffed, cutting him off. “It’s not surviving. It’s more like sentencing yourself to an eternity as a mindless zombie.”
Mitchell couldn’t stop himself from laughing at Eric’s interpretation. He remembered when Eric had just turned and swore he would never drink human blood. It hadn’t lasted long.
Amelia’s raised eyebrow made him stifle the laugh and explain. “The reason our hearts beat, or why we can go in the sun, or how our bodies stay young and strong, is because of the human blood. Your cells and blood vessels and essentially the human essence provides us with the nourishment we need to sustain our abilities. If we switch to a lower form of blood, like animal blood, the first thing that goes is our hearts. Without the heartbeat pumping the blood we drink through our systems, our bodies start to dry up from the inside out until our frames are nothing more than chalky skin and brittle bones. As our bodies weaken, we can no longer bear the sun, we lose our heightened senses and start to decay, becoming, as Eric put it,” he paused for a second, fighting the laughter that threatened to bubble out, and he cracked a grin, “mindless zombies.”
“But you said you could survive,” Megan countered.
Mitchell let his grin fade, and he took a seat, pulling Amelia onto his lap and hugging her closely, before he said, “We wouldn’t die, but we also wouldn’t be really alive either. Our bodies would live through it, but unless we have human blood, our minds wouldn’t. The change is quick, too. Within a week you guys wouldn’t know us to see us.” Then he dropped his voice to a whisper, not really wanting anyone to hear his next words. “That is, if you guys even lasted a week with us changing our diet. We’d be shriveled up, our skin hanging from our bones.”
He wasn’t surprised when Amelia blurted, “What do you mean if we even last a week, Mitch?” She had been so quiet, sitting on his lap, leaning against his chest; he had known it was only a matter of time before she found her voice. She always did, and it was one of the many things he loved about her.
“Love,” he said and kissed the top of her head, inhaling her pear-scented hair. “We are predators whether you want to believe it or not, we are. Not just me,” Mitchell said when Megan gave him a look that blatantly said she didn’t believe him. “Eric has killed as well. When the hunger kicks in, we can only resist the urges for so long, and then the animal inside us will take over. Even if one of us didn’t hurt you guys, someone else would, and weakened, we wouldn’t be able to stop them.”
A thick silence fell over them, and Mitchell almost wished he hadn’t sent everyone else to the library. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, maybe they would find something useful, but now he really wanted one of Angelle’s annoyingly chipper reassurances. He held his breath until the inevitable decision was brought back to the forefront.
“Meg could go with you, Millie,” Eric offered, breaking the silence. “She could watch your back at least.” Megan nodded violently in agreement to the idea.
“I don’t think that’s smart,” Mitchell disagreed. “As of last week, the hunters didn’t know about her. She may be our only secret, and with her magic…we need to keep her hidden for now. Besides, you two could be a very valuable weapon, and right now it’s important for you to learn how to connect with each other and use each other’s strengths.” He sucked in a deep breath and tried to relax as he readied himself for his last plea, the only thing he could think of to change Amelia’s mind, and he looked down at her. “This is why I don’t want you to go. We need to teach them how to…”
“Sorry, dude,” Eric said with a goofy half smile on his lips. “But Meg and I have that covered. It’s a lot easier when you aren’t fighting it.”
Mitchell opened his mouth, about to spit out another lame reason for her not to go, but Amelia stopped him. “You need to stop this.” Instead of the normal annoyance that usually streaked her voice when she disagreed with him, she was calm and cool, which managed to unnerve him. It confirmed that he was in fact losing his timid and dependent girl to a strong and independent woman, and he wasn’t entirely sure that that was a good thing. “I’m not as fragile as you seem to think.” Her lips curved into a grin. “Hell, I’ve made it through eight months of living here with you guys, haven’t I?” And then she looked up at him with big, pleading eyes. “Let me do this. Let me help for once.”
Out of options, Mitchell bent down, and kissed the top of her forehead. He didn’t have to tell her that he would step back and let her go; she already knew.
“Good, it’s settled,” Amelia said, hopping off his lap and stepping back from him. “I’ll go first thing tomorrow morning.” With that decided, she turned on her heels and headed out the door.
“Where’s she going?” Eric asked, as the three of them watched her disappear down the hallway.
Mitchell did a quick check and then chuckled when he heard her silent mutters about her so-called stupid witch powers. “She’s going to see if there’s a spell she can use to fix your room and clean up Angelle’s.” He watched her disappear around the corner, and he knew this was his chance. He needed to talk to her. He had to make things right.
“Wow, do I feel like a moron,” Megan said. She popped up from her perch beside Eric. “I didn’t even think of using magic to fix it. I’ll go help her.”
Using his full speed, Mitchell blocked the doorway. “Actually, could you guys hang back?” he asked. “I need to talk to her.” And then before they could reply, he went after her.
Mitchell caught up to Amelia just outside of Angelle’s bedroom. He silently followed her in to survey the damage, still unaware of what had transpired to destroy two rooms of his house. He thought about asking, but something told him to leave it alone—at least for now. So instead, he asked, “Amelia, can we talk for a minute?”
He was astounded when Amelia huffed, unmistakably annoyed. “Please don’t tell me there are more things you’ve kept from me. ‘Cause seriously, I can’t take anything else.” She moved across the room over to the large slab of ceiling which was crushing Angelle’s bed. Her brow rutted in concentration as she scrutinized the hole above. “Can you lift this and hold it in place?” she asked, before he could deny that he was not hiding anything else.
Utterly confused at her question, he followed her outstretched finger to find that she was pointing to the chunk of ceiling.
Mitchell easily picked up the layers of hardwood flooring, insulation, concrete, and ceiling, holding it above his head as high as his arms would reach. “I’ve been thinking a lot since last night,” he said.
“When I say so, do you think you could jump up and put it in place?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard him speak. “You’re about two feet too short right now.”
Mitchell’s temperature dropped as he mulled over the idea that she was outright ignoring him. He knew she could hear everything he was trying to say. He forced himself to keep hold of the ceiling, which now was threatening to crush him under its weight, and tried to send out a probe to get a handle on her feelings, but he couldn’t seem to lock on. His own mind was so tangled—fear, loss, grief, pain, pushing their way to the forefront—that his brain seemed to be refusing to take any more in.
Amelia was staring at him, waiting, and it took him a second to figure out that he hadn’t actually answered her question, so he said, “Whenever you’re ready.”
She didn’t waste any time. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, her aura blazed like the burning sun, and then ribbons of white light weaved down her arms, balling at her fingertips. “Now,” she grunted, and the second his feet left the ground, bolts of pure power rushed into the air, swirling around him in a blast of light.
The whole process of mending the ceiling lasted no more than a few seconds, but when Mitchell landed on the floor, he staggered as if he was drunk. His knees wobbled, and before he could regain his balance, he had fallen over. He had forgotten what it felt like to be in direct line of her magic, letting it penetrate into him without fighting it and soaking it up. It was like a drug, fast acting and mind-blowing. He could feel the energy lingering in his blood, warm and alluring.
“Mitch!” Amelia shrieked. “Oh my God, are you okay?” She was suddenly beside him, her expression a mask of concern.
“I forgot how awesome that feels,” he breathed. Unable to explain, he opened his mind, letting her see what he was feeling.
“Oh,” she breathed, rolling off her feet and plopping onto her bottom beside him. “Wow, you can feel it, the magic. It’s like…it’s part of you.”
He closed his eyes, losing himself in the heavenly feeling. “It is, love. That’s what I tried to tell you. When you use it and I’m not fighting it, it becomes part of me. The same way you can pull on my persuasion, I can pull on your magic.” He forced his eyelids open and held out his hand, palm up, as he pulled together a ball of white light, the same way he had seen her do many times. He smiled at her widened eyes and then let the ball disperse into the air. “I bet if you tried, you could use all of my heightened senses.”
