In a motion so quick that Amelia’s eyes couldn’t follow it, Josh grabbed Tyler’s arm, twisted it off of her, and shoved him against the wall, all the while keeping Tyler’s arm pulled tight against his back. “He’s telling you to run away, Amelia, not chase him,” Josh growled. The jealously she saw on his face was seriously creepy, verging on psycho-stalker creepy.
Amelia didn’t have time to react before Tyler hissed, “Dude, she’s not into you.” He spun away from the pressure, pulled his arm free, and then kicked out, knocking Josh back a step. “Accept it. Deal with it. Get over it.”
“Tyler,” Amelia started, but Josh cut her off as if she wasn’t even there.
“The kiss the other night said different.”
“You kissed him?” Megan asked, looking at Amelia as if she was a stranger, and Amelia dropped her head, not able to look at the betrayal that shone in Megan’s eyes.
Tyler shrugged. “She may think about it, might even consider it, but you’re not him, man. You’ll never fill that spot, and even if she tries you out, she’ll get sick of you.”
“She made me for her,” Josh countered, taking a poke at Tyler’s chest.
“Maybe, but even then, she was thinking about him.” Josh’s face fell and his jaw dropped as if he had never really thought about it that way before, but then again, why would he? Tyler closed the short distance to Amelia and wrapped her in a fast hug. “I know you can fix this.”
When Tyler let her go, the tears welled up in Amelia’s eyes. “I will,” she said, and then before the tears could fall, she scurried from the room.
CHAPTER 21
Finding McLean didn’t take long. He had to be the most predictable person Mitchell knew. He’s angry, he goes to the station. Happy, he’s at home. Freaked out, he goes to his sister’s house.
Jillian McLean lived at the hub of Willowberg in an apartment above a twenty-four hour convenience store, and Mitchell wasn’t surprised to find the police cruiser parked in front of the store. As he approached, Mitchell picked up the panicked notes in McLean’s voice, and he chuckled. Predictable. Just like Amelia.
Mitchell had rather hoped that he had been wrong about Amelia. But, of course, he wasn’t. Before looking for McLean, he had passed by his house. He tried to tell himself that he had gone strictly to make sure he knew where the enemy was, but that wasn’t entirely true.
Just as he had predicted, Amelia had gone back to the house. Mitchell had been a bit surprised that he had been able to get so close, but he figured they probably were still working on securing the block.
He knew he should have been excited that the hunters were all together. It would make it easier when he was ready to attack. Except, he wasn’t, and that’s when it really hit him; part of him had wanted Amelia to take them and run. And with that realization, before he could even think about what he was doing, he climbed into her Jeep, dug around in the glove box, and found some paper and a pen and wrote her a note. He stuck it to the windshield, not wanting to get too close to the house, and then he fled before anyone could see him.
As he stood outside of the store, he pushed Amelia from his mind. All he could do now was hope that she would find his note and run. If not, he would have to figure out what to do about her later.
Mitchell went around back, and easily snapped the feeble deadbolt that held the door to the stairs closed, and he started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he reached the top, he threw open the apartment door. A strong scent of bleach washed out, which seemed out of place, as he surveyed the grungy looking apartment. The linoleum tiles were cracking and peeling, and the walls needed a fresh coat of paint.
McLean jumped and spun around, and when his eyes fell on Mitchell, he gasped. His heart raced; Mitchell could hear the thumping and pounding within his chest, and McLean reached for Jillian, pulling her behind him.
Mitchell leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “A little birdie told me that you’ve been working with the hunters,” he said.
“You can’t come in here,” McLean said. His eyes darted to the side, and Mitchell followed them, spotting his gun lying carelessly on the kitchen counter.
The motion stumped Mitchell for a moment. McLean knew bullets were useless against him, unless … Mitchell smirked, putting it together. The Hunters. “And why’s that?” he asked, keeping his tone even and clueless.
“Because … you … you aren’t invited,” McLean stuttered, and backed up a few steps, pushing his sister along with him.
Mitchell laughed. He couldn’t help it. Humans, he thought. They believe the stupidest things, anything to help them sleep at night, he guessed. “You’ve been watching too many movies, McLean.” He pushed off of the doorframe and strolled in, picking up the gun before taking a seat on a dingy looking leather loveseat.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jillian said with a huff, pushing at her brother. “It’s just Mitchell.”
“Jill,” he hissed, cutting her a clear warning look. He pushed her back behind him, and when he looked back at Mitchell, he visibly shuddered.
“You know, I might have overlooked this little show of rebellion if it was only against me. But my pet,” Mitchell shook his head and made a tsk sound, “now that’s an entirely different game.”
“Mitch,” Jillian chirped, poking her head out from behind her brother’s back. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“You have too much faith in your brother,” Mitchell said. “Didn’t he tell you, that he’s the reason for Mabel’s death? What makes you think he wouldn’t hurt Amelia?” Mitchell wasn’t entirely sure if McLean had had anything to do with Mabel’s death. No one had actually told him, but the theory made sense. McLean was working with the hunters; Mabel had known the killer, or at least one of them. Logically, McLean fitted into the puzzle nicely, and his stuttered response confirmed it.
“I … I … I …” McLean started, and shot Jillian a quick sideways glance.
“He didn’t actually kill her,” Mitchell continued lazily. “But he did lead the hunters right to her, and he was there when she died.” He stretched his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles.
“I didn’t know!” McLean cried. “They were only supposed to talk to her.”
“Wait a minute,” Jillian said. She stepped out from behind McLean, and for a split second, she looked fragile, lost, and shocked. It didn’t last. She flushed and yelled, “You knew? You were there?”
“He was,” Mitchell confirmed with a nod, sensing McLean’s quickened heart and noticing the beads of sweat forming on his upper lip.
“Why are you here?” McLean whispered, the question catching in his throat.
“Come on, McLean, you know why I’m here,” Mitchell said, rolling his eyes. “You lost your pet status when you went against me.”
“Pet status?” He looked confused for a moment, but then his eyes flashed with understanding. His eyes darted to the door and then back to Mitchell, as if he was trying to calculate the chances of him making it out. Mitchell guessed that he figured he could make it, because he started to run. But then, his foot caught on the edge of the rug, and he went down, smacking his head against the coffee table as he went.
Mitchell sighed, disappointed. He had kind of been hoping for a bit of a chase, but looking at McLean’s limp body, it clearly wasn’t going to happen. He pushed up from the loveseat and walked the few steps to McLean.
“Please don’t hurt him,” Jillian said, but her tone sounded like she was saying the words out of duty, and the way she was looking at her brother, with hatred and disgust, Mitchell was pretty sure that right now she didn’t really care what happened to him, although she probably would later. She reached out, placing a hand on Mitchell’s forearm. He dropped his gaze to her hand, and when he looked back up, she shuddered away.
“Don’t make me rethink your pet status, Jillian,” he warned, as he gave her a hard look, and she cringed back another step. He bent down, grabbed McLean, and tossed him over his shoulder.
“Are you going to kill him?” she asked. Her voice quivered, and her fear rushed from her skin in tantalizing waves.
“Not yet,” Mitchell replied, and without a backwards glance, he walked out the door.
CHAPTER 22
Sitting amongst the cushions on her bed in a lotus pose, Amelia peered out the window. Darkness was falling quickly and with it, a darkness that this town had long ago forgotten. She could feel it, seeping into her bones, pulling at her core. Vampires killing humans. It had happened before, but not like this. They were quiet about it—careful. But Amelia couldn’t deny what she had seen. The way Erin had openly approached her victims, as if it was okay, normal even. And if Erin was doing it, then what would the rest of them be doing? It was a question that had been playing on Amelia’s mind since last night, and it was one that she really, really, didn’t want the answer to.
Amelia attempted to find a centered and serene state of mind. Turns out, it was a task that was easier said than done. First off, there was just too much noise. Even with the door shut and her music blaring, she could still hear muffled conversations throughout the house. Second, she had never really been a centered, peaceful type of person. And last, she didn’t have the faintest idea as to what she was actually doing.
Well, okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely right. She knew what she wanted to do—contact her mother and figure out what she was supposed to do—but actually doing it…that’s where the big black hole in her brain resided, and it was growing with every passing second. And her increasing, mind-numbing exhaustion and rumbling stomach were certainly not helping.
Josh had stayed clear of her since she had read the note. Not that she minded; she was glad to get rid of his pesky shadow looming over her all the time. The only thing he had managed to do since breaking the bond was add more doubts to her mind. Part of her wanted to send him and the hunters away, but another part was terrified of what they might do if she did. She didn’t know if she should try to fix the bond, or try to give the vampires their souls back, or maybe try and do both. She knew it was selfish, but she couldn’t help but consider this as a way out. Except, even with all her complaints, she wasn’t sure if she wanted a way out. She tried to imagine a life without Mitchell, and she just couldn’t. And each time she tried, a consuming feeling of wrongness settled into her belly.