A ticking sound somewhere in between a grandfather clock and the ting of water on a tin roof caught Amelia’s attention. It was loud and quiet all at once, as if the sound was an echo, bouncing back and forth. “What is that?” Amelia asked, stopping dead, and then turning in circles, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. That’s when she noticed how quiet the house was. There was no chatter, no scuffling footsteps. Nothing, except the ticking.

“I don’t hear …” Megan started, but stopped as a ringing metallic thud sounded and then another and another and another.

Amelia’s heart jumped to her throat. What now? she wanted to scream. She started forwards again, and as she moved, a feeling of wrongness washed over her. It was hot and cold and spine tingling and just plain wrong. She strained her ears and glanced up at the ceiling. Even with thirty hunters missing—that’s what her brain wanted to believe, they were just missing—there were still twenty-nine roaming the house, and the humans upstairs, even charmed, had still giggled and chatted. Amelia cut left into the hallway that led to the dungeon, and her eyes fell on Officer McLean resting against the iron door.

“What are you doing here?” Josh growled, mirroring Amelia’s thoughts and pushing past her. Her heart was racing, and her nerves were fried. Josh started down the hallway towards McLean and then, after only a step, he abruptly turned back to Amelia. “Go back to your room, sweetheart,” he said with a soft tone, and he smiled a little. “I’ll handle this.”

Amelia was stunned speechless. Sweetheart! Room! What the hell was wrong with him? The only place that she was going was to Eric. Her eyes widened, and she felt them throbbing as if they were going to pop out of her head. Josh caressed her cheek, and gave her a nudge back the way they had come, before turning back to Officer McLean.

McLean looked from Josh to Amelia and then back up at Josh, meeting him square on. “I’ve been trying to contain the situation,” McLean said. “You were supposed to kill them. Not set a bunch of blood crazed demons loose on my town.”

“Shut up, McLean,” Josh snarled, shooting a quick sideways look over his shoulder at Amelia. A quick look of shock passed across his face when he realized she hadn’t left. “Get her out of here, Cole,” he snapped. Amelia looked behind her and noticed Cole standing there smirking, but he didn’t move towards her.

“I helped you,” McLean spat. “I led you right to them and to her.” He cut Amelia a quick look that resembled disgust. “I gave you the info you needed.” That’s when Amelia noticed that he had his hand clasped to his neck, and darkness was spreading between his fingers.

Josh paced forwards and Amelia went to follow, but Cole grabbed her around the waist holding her still. “Don’t you want to hear this?” Cole whispered in her ear. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed both Tyler and Megan watching Josh and Officer McLean with identical looks of what the hell?

“Cole, get her out of here!” Josh snarled again, eyeing the officer closely as he continued to advance. Cole held still, holding Amelia tightly, not that he needed to; she didn’t think she could move even if she wanted to.

You knew this! a voice in the back of her head hollered. You knew something wasn’t right about him! Amelia felt hot and cold and sick and was suddenly thankful for Cole’s secure arm around her waist.

“Mitchell knows,” McLean said. “He put it all together. My car stalling in the middle of the gates after the spell was set. All the times I was MIA over the last few weeks. He knows I was helping you.” He let out a deep huff. “Dammit! All I wanted was to make this town safe! You promised to make this town safer, but all you’ve done is brought more death.”

McLean pushed himself off of the door and started forwards, and as he approached, Amelia noticed his paper white complexion. “Shit,” Josh cursed. There was blood all over his uniform, on his face, and dripping from his neck, and he looked pretty shaky.

“You were supposed to free us!” McLean shouted.

Suddenly, Sally’s hand jumped out, crushing onto Amelia’s hand with a death grip, and she began to shake. “They got in,” she whispered. Her palm began to sweat and turn clammy in Amelia’s hand. Her breath was coming fast, puffing out, short and breathless.

“That’s impossible,” Amelia countered, looking the psychic up and down and wiggling her hand, which was now full of pins and needles, from Sally’s tight hold. Cole still kept an arm around her waist loosely, and McLean and Josh turned, staring at her.

“Amelia, you must run,” Sally said, her voice losing some of its passion and her eyes glazing over, like ice on a lake.

Amelia twisted her wrist and flung it side-to-side, trying to break the psychic’s hold on her. “Let go,” she growled. Cole promptly dropped his arm from her waist, and stepped away, but Sally held tight.

“Listen child, if he corners you, you will die,” Sally said, her voice far away. “I see it!” Amelia’s head was swimming. She looked around, gawking at Cole and Josh and Megan, and then back at Sally. “You need to hide,” she continued with a nod, as if she was confirming her own statement. “You cannot face him in here.”

Amelia’s heart was pounding painfully loud. He’s here! her brain screamed, even though she knew it wasn’t impossible. Her breath caught in her throat, and the urge to run to him was consuming. The only thing that stopped her from hauling back and punching Sally to get her to let go was the unrelenting feeling of wrongness. It seized hold of her and squeezed at her chest, taking her breath away. “Mitchell won’t hurt me,” Amelia said with a certainty that she did not feel. “If he wanted to, he would have already.”

Sally seemed to consider this, and as she stared at Amelia, some of the film that had settled over her eyes peeled away. A grin twitched at her lips, spreading at the corners and widening into an odd, and verging on frightening, kind of smile. “When the dust settles with the rising sun, you will need to choose a path. Your past holds the answers. But you must break a branch and set one of them free. When this is over, Mitchell will hunt Josh, and Josh will hunt Mitchell if you do not break the branch and let one of them go.”

“Sally, you’re not making any sense,” Amelia cried. “Let me go!”

“Too late,” Lola’s snarky voice ruptured through Amelia, and she froze, petrified. Lola yanked Sally away, tossing her to the side as if she weighed no more than a feather, and then she slinked around Amelia, running her cold fingers over Amelia’s shaking shoulders, along the base of her neck, and through her curly hair. Her nostrils flared as she sucked in a deep breath, and her fangs sharpened. “Mmmmm.”

Crap! This can’t be happening! Amelia drew in a sharp breath. How? As soon as the question entered her brain, the answer clicked. McLean, the ticking, the thuds; they got in through the dungeon, and McLean had opened the door. Lola hissed something in her ear that Amelia couldn’t understand, and Amelia snapped, “Back off, Lola,” and shoved her, determined not to let Lola see how freaked out she was.

Lola didn’t budge, didn’t even rock, but she did laugh. It was a silky, musical, and wonderfully beautiful kind of laugh. She gazed at Amelia through hooded eyes and smiled lazily. “You are so lucky you’re Mitchell’s pet.” She licked her lips. “When did you become such a frightened little thing, Millie? It’s absolutely mouthwatering.”

“I’m not his pet,” Amelia seethed before she could stop herself. Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia spotted Josh and Cole slowly moving in and trying not to draw attention to themselves.

Lola wagged her index finger and tsked. “You don’t want to say that too loudly. It just might be considered an invitation.”

Suddenly, hunters began running into the hallway with frenzied hollers and terrified cries. Each one carried a bow, but none of them aimed to protect themselves. They pushed and shoved as they raced for safety. Josh and Cole shouted, trying to gain control, and they fought to reach Amelia’s side, but with each step forward, they were shoved back by the horde of freaked out people. Behind them, half a dozen vamps followed with blazing eyes and sharp fangs. The dungeon door flew open, and more vamps swarmed out.

CHAPTER 27

Mitchell stood back and scanned the crowd of frightened people huddling together as if the closeness would actually help them. The majority of them had weapons, crossbows, and arrows, but not a single one of them took aim. What are they waiting for? he wondered. On the floor lay two injured, groaning in pain, but not a single one dead.

His people were moving in slowly, teasingly, prowling around the edges of the hallway with the stealth and control of a tiger hunting its prey. A round of snarls penetrated the air followed by a few shrieks and whimpered cries. Hearts beat loudly, sounding like drums in his ears. Fear and sweat tinged the air. It was euphoric and sickening all at once.

And it was wrong.

Completely … wrong. Why weren’t they protecting themselves? Surely, the witch would not let these people be slaughtered without a fight.

Mitchell swallowed hard, fighting back the overwhelming urge to vomit. Stop this, a voice ruptured through his mind. This is wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. You are not a murderer! A wave of nausea rushed over him hard and fast.

But if he wasn’t a killer, then what was he? Vampires kill. They drink blood. They feed on the living. It was the food chain, plain and simple.

What was happening to him? He wanted to scream it out. Demand answers to the turmoil that spun within him like a spider’s web trapping conflicting thoughts and ideas, weaving them together in a sinful mess of puzzlement.

Flashes of smiles and kisses and laughter continued to bombard his brain like bombs of poison. They stirred something within, something foreign and unreal, an emotion, or maybe it was the memory of one, that he could not name. But with every smile that entered his brain, a powerful sense of hatred followed. Contorted features full of blame and loathing. The cold gray-blue eyes of a witch that wanted him dead.