The next thing Amelia knew, she was opening her eyes. A thick, moldy garbage smell, like rotten meat, drifted up her nose, and she gagged. She tried to cover her mouth but her hands wouldn’t move. Rope rubbed tightly against her wrists. She lifted her head up. She wasn’t alone.
Amelia blinked a few times. Her eyes couldn’t seem to focus. One second she saw ten people, the next fifteen, and then five. No, three. There were three people. Adam, she recognized him instantly, and a flash of the party came back to her. That rancid smell, she should have known that was him.
“If you’re thinking of using magic it won’t work. The drugs will keep you too disoriented for you to gather enough power,” a man said. He was tall and lanky, wearing black on black. Black jeans, black shirt, black leather jacket. Even his eyes and hair were midnight black.
“Who are you?” Amelia screamed, fighting against the rope that tied her legs and arms to a wooden chair. She lost her balance and the chair flipped backwards, and she smacked her already bleeding head onto the hard concrete floor. I’m going to have major brain damage if I don’t stop hitting my head, she thought and then fought against a building giggle. She silently scolded herself for the stupid thought and blamed it on the drugs.
Kandi stood over her, cackling, eyes blazing and fangs down. She grabbed Amelia by the hair lifting her and the chair back up. “Don’t you remember him, Amelia?” she asked. “It hasn’t been that long since you saw him last.”
“What are you talking about?” Amelia cried. Kandi yanked at her hair again and then crouched in front of her, licking the blood off her fingers. Amelia’s blood. All of a sudden, Amelia thought she was going to be sick and she sucked in a few breaths, trying to keep the raising bile down.
“Kandi,” the man snapped, pulling Amelia’s eyes away from the girl sucking and licking her fingers. “Step away. You’ll have plenty of time to enjoy her later.” Then he grabbed a chair, placing it in front of Amelia. “I’m a bit hurt that you don’t remember me. Especially after all the trouble I went through to make this a spitting image of the night we met.” He smiled a toothy smile and Adam and Kandi laughed. “I really thought Erin had ruined my plans when she took you to that psychic.” He shrugged. “I guess she turned out to be useful after all.” His eyes flashed red and his smile widened. “All your bodyguards thought you were so safe.”
Amelia forced herself to look around the room. What was he talking about? Who was he? What did he want with her?
The concrete floor, cold against her feet, and the concrete walls with no windows felt suffocating. She was in an unfinished basement. To her right were scattered paintings leaning haphazardly against the walls. Bright, water-colored landscapes and oil portraits. Amelia blinked, trying to clear her blurry eyes. She felt as if she was looking through a dirty, finger-smudged glass.
Slowly the paintings came into focus. “Where did you get those?” she gasped. They were her paintings, all of them. She snapped her head around to the left and a bolt of dizziness threatened to pull her into the dark. Her easel was set up and an unfinished painting of Mitchell rested against it. It was the painting she had been working on the night her parents had died. Across his face was a deep brownish dirt line. Blood. Her father’s blood. This basement was set up exactly as her basement had been the night they died, right up to the way she was tied to the chair. The painful memories came rushing in and Amelia looked at him, really looked at him, and she recognized him. The man who had killed her parents.
“I think she’s starting to remember,” Kandi giggled, clearly enjoying Amelia’s confusion and panic.
“Where’s Erin?” Amelia asked. “What did you do to her? If you hurt her I’ll kill you.” She felt completely discombobulated, dizzy, weak, and heavy. The man laughed and it sounded loud and drawn out. What had he given her? She felt as if she was drifting in and out. A moment of focus and then it was gone.
“Now this brings me back,” he said and leaned in towards her. Close enough that Amelia could smell his sour breath. “You were more worried about your parents than yourself five years ago and now here you’re tied up again and worrying about Erin.”
“Leave her alone,” Amelia said, trying to wiggle out of the ropes again. A pair of firm hands squeezed her shoulders, holding her in place. “Why are you doing this to me? Why now? Why didn’t you just kill me then?” Amelia screamed. She felt hot and cold all at once. Nothing made sense and the damn drugs were playing with her mind. She felt a burst of power, some focus, and then dizzy. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get it together. She tried to reach out to Mitchell, but even the link was foggy and she couldn’t see what he was doing. Did he even know she was gone? She yelled out to him, trying to let him back in, but nothing. It was like listening to a static-filled radio station. She was really starting to hate herself for ever listening to that stupid psychic. Madame Crystal, Amelia was certain, had caused more harm than good.
“Did you really think I did this all just for you?” He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his back, and grinned at her. “You are just a means to an end.” He sat there staring at her, black eyes burning a hole in her and then, out of the blue, he shot up cursing, at least she thought it was cursing, in a language Amelia did not understand. His white complexion turned ghostly, and then, he crumpled back onto the chair, leaning over and gasping for breath.
“You okay, Tristan?” Adam asked, patting him on the back.
Tristan? Where had she heard that name before? Come on, Amelia, her inner voice urged. Put it together. You know this. Tristan. Tristan. Oh my God. “Erin belongs to you,” she said in a small, shaky voice, not really to him, more to herself. If Erin was his, then that meant Erin had set this up. She had helped him. Erin had known all along about her parents, about Mitchell, about everything. She hadn’t really been hurt and she had lured Amelia out to her death.
He laughed, not a nice laugh. “Yes, Erin’s mine. Or was.” Tristan stood up slowly and ran his hands through his greasy black hair, and then he shrugged and glanced at Adam and Kandi who were standing by him, waiting anxiously. “Erin’s no longer with us. At least I won’t have to lie to her anymore. Mitchell just killed her.”
“Oh well,” Kandi said with a malicious smile. “I wasn’t a fan of Erin 2.0. But third time’s a charm, right? Maybe you’ll get lucky next time.”
Dead. Did he really just say Erin was dead? And Mitchell… Mitchell killed her? No. He wouldn’t, Amelia tried to convince herself. But she knew, deep down, that if Mitchell thought Erin had hurt her he wouldn’t think twice about killing her. “Why are you doing this?” Amelia asked and realized she was crying when she heard the tears in her voice.
“Don’t cry, Amelia,” Tristan said. He reached out to brush her tears away and before she thought about it, she bit him. She bit hard, almost hard enough to draw blood—but not quite. His eyes flashed and the florescent lighting glistened off his fangs. In a quick, fluid motion, he slapped her. Amelia screamed out in pain. She was sure her cheekbone had cracked from the impact.
Adam and Kandi lunged for him, tackling him down to the ground. Amelia tried to follow them but it was a useless effort. She couldn’t keep up with their speed. They were on the ground, and then they weren’t. They were behind her. The three of them were moving so quickly that when she looked to the sounds of the scuffle they were already across the room. “Tristan, stop,” Adam grunted. Somehow, he had managed to get Tristan into a headlock. “You’ve waited too long for revenge. What’s the point if you kill her before Mitchell gets here?”
Amelia wasn’t entirely sure why, but the thought that this was all for Mitchell enraged her. “Mitchell has nothing to do with this!” she shouted.
“Mitchell has everything to do with this,” Tristan snarled. “Everything that has happened to you, to your parents, it’s all because of Mitchell.” Adam let him go and Tristan slithered across the floor like a snake. “Your loyalty to them is disgusting, Amelia. They’ve all hurt you. Mitchell, Erin, Angelle. They knew all about you. But you’re still trying to protect them. It’s pathetic. Get a backbone.”
How could he talk about Erin as if she was just some piece of junk? Amelia couldn’t wrap her head around it. They were bonded, or had been. “What did you mean when you said you wouldn’t have to lie to Erin anymore?” Amelia played the story Erin had told her over and over in her mind, and the pieces just seemed to click together, like a jigsaw puzzle. Erin had said she had been killed by a vampire and Tristan, Amelia was certain, was that vampire.
“Finally.” Tristan clapped his hands in excitement. “I thought you were never going to ask the right question.” He seemed to have calmed down, but he was still pacing the room restlessly. His fangs were still flashing and his eyes still blazing. “Erin and you might have been good friends in another life time. You guys are so much alike. So inquisitive and so loyal. Her loyalty is what killed her twice and yours will be the reason for your death.” His tone became softer, almost caring as he spoke of Erin. Amelia knew she had to keep him talking about her. Maybe it would stall him, give her some time to get out of this mess. The flickers of raw power were coming to her in bursts now and Amelia was pretty sure the drugs were starting to wear off. She just needed more time. Tristan sat back down in front of her and his lips started to curve upwards.
“You killed her,” Amelia said, and Kandi and Adam laughed. They were standing behind Tristan watching her like a hawk. “Erin thought it was a friend but it was you.”
Tristan’s smile grew wilder and his eyes blazed brighter. “I knew you were a smart one. It was an accident,” he shrugged. “Mitchell’s fault.”
Another burst of warmth sparked in the pit of Amelia’s stomach. She focused on it, pulled it together in a ball of fire and just as she gathered it, it smoldered away, as if a bucket of water had been dumped on it. A flash of white-hot rage hit her, for a moment, Amelia thought it was her own anger, but it faded in and out, hot then warm. She closed her eyes tightly, focusing on the feeling and she saw Mitchell’s contorted, grief-stricken face and then it was gone.