The image of Amelia unleashing her magic on him for the first time leaped into his mind, and suddenly the name clicked. He caught his breath on a growl.

Again, the woman was unfazed. She looked him straight on and said, “Let’s go inside, I need to speak to you about Amelia.”

He stared at her with what he was sure were utterly blank eyes, and when he didn’t move, she shoved him towards the house. Hard. Surprisingly hard, and Mitchell stumbled back a step.

Mitchell caught his balance, and his skin heated in a mix of rage and stupefying confusion, and for a moment, he just stared at her. He gritted his teeth and tried to process how this little thing could have knocked him off balance.

The dumb moment passed. He was about to grab the woman by her collar, when Erin yelped, “Mitchell,” and skidded onto the porch. “Mitchell, wait! I need to tell you something.”

The woman took one look at Erin and then moved on, up the steps, and through the door, as if she owned the place.

Mitchell sent Erin a quick, commanding look. “Get the others. Now!”

Erin hesitated, looking between him and Madame Crystal’s back. “It was my fault she met Millie,” she said in a rush, and then she turned and ran back into the house.

Mitchell took a few breaths, rolled his shoulders, and tried unsuccessfully to calm down. He looked back down at the blood, his only clue that Amelia hadn’t just up and left him, and his stomach lurched with anxiety. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to move, find her and Megan before …

He searched the bond again, but still, all he could feel was the peaceful hum of a sleeping brain. He tried again to pinpoint her location, taking deep calming breaths and focusing with every ounce of concentration he had, but with every second, it shifted, bounced, changed. One second it felt as if she was standing beside him; the next, she seemed miles away.

Torn, confused, and outright desperate, he marched up the steps and went to find the witch that had almost gotten Amelia killed with her spells.

He found her in the kitchen, filling a kettle with water. He watched speechless as she plugged it in, and then went about pulling out mugs, milk, sugar, and tea bags. Without even looking through the cupboards, she seemed to know exactly where everything was.

“What do you know about Amelia?” he asked, when he finally found his voice.

“She’s alive and well,” the witch said, and gestured towards the island for him to take a seat.

Mitchell didn’t move. “Where is she?” he demanded, although his voice was weak, and the confusion he felt was evident. “What have you done to her?”

The witch smiled, and the air in the room suddenly became thick, stale, and crushingly heavy. “I’m not scared of you.” Her voice held a laughter that was almost musical.

The air became thicker, pressing against him from all sides, and the crackle of magic was deafening, ringing through his ears. She locked dark eyes with him challengingly, as if she was daring him to make a move, and in that moment, he couldn’t. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even blink. Her smile widened then, and just like that, the air around him regulated, and he sucked in a burning breath.

“You probably should be,” Mitchell said in a matter-of-fact kind of tone, except, right now he wasn’t so sure if that was true. Clearly, this … this … whatever she was, could protect herself. Her magic was lethal. Even now, he could still feel it in the air coiled like a snake ready to strike.

“I can see through your act, Mitchell.” She unplugged the boiling kettle and began pouring the water into the mugs, adding tea bags with it. “You won’t hurt me. You’re just a big old teddy bear.” She poured a dollop of milk and a teaspoon of sugar in each mug, stirred, and removed the tea bags. Then she carried them to the island, set the mugs down, and took a seat.

Astonished. That was exactly how Mitchell felt as he watched Sally sip her tea. Did she realize he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown here? If she did, she obviously didn’t care. He could hear the sound of breathing behind him, and he knew that the others were there. Most likely, they were just as confused as he was.

“Who is that?” Eric asked, his voice wound as tight as a clock spring.

Mitchell didn’t answer. Instead, he sat down across from Sally. He had a hunch that this (whatever this was) was bigger than he was, than all of them. It was the only thing he could think of to explain this woman’s sudden appearance and Amelia’s disappearance. And he knew without a doubt that he would need the psychic’s help. He took a deep breath, attempting to control his raging emotions, and said, “Tell me where they are.”

“Mitchell, you can’t go after them yet,” Sally said. “Amelia has to find her way through this.” Sally took another long sip of her tea, taking her time in swallowing, before she continued, her expression changing to ominous and stormy. “And I’m afraid if you follow her now, you’ll end up dead. The paths of destiny have been crossed.”

There was a chorus of gasps and a low growl, presumably from Eric. Mitchell’s heart shattered again, and he was sure he looked every bit as broken as he felt. “No,” he whispered, clutching the cup of tea that had sat in front of him untouched. He was hoping the warmth would help, but it didn’t. “They can’t cross. Not now. I just found her.”

Sally sighed and cast her eyes down to her mug. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“How is fate my fault?” he asked, but it was a pointless question. Who else could there be to blame? Everything had changed after the lifetime Amelia had been burned as a witch, and that was also his fault. He should have saved her then, but he hadn’t.

As if Sally could read his mind, she sighed and then said, “There are some things you need to know about Amelia. About her past lives after she was burned.” Sally looked past him, and smiled a sad kind of smile to his family. “You all might as well sit. This affects all of you.”

CHAPTER 4

As Josh dragged Amelia up the steps of the deck, to what she was sure was her imminent death, she put out every stop she could think of. She struggled, pleaded, cried, and begged. She tried using magic. She even promised Josh that she’d stop fighting him and do what he wanted. But nothing worked. He ignored her and kept pulling her along as if she was merely a small misbehaving child crying for a new toy.

The last time Amelia had been here, she’d almost ended up as a little snack for two seriously scary vampires, and the house had been packed full of college students partying it up and having a good time. Now it was very quiet. He stood on the deck with a smug look on his face, but other than him, there was no one else to be seen.

“With the way you’re carrying on, you’d think I tried to kill you before or something,” he said, and laughed at his own joke.

“You won’t get away with this, Tristan,” Amelia snarled, and she was floored at how vicious her voice sounded. Maybe living with vampires was starting to rub off on her.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to scare the psychotic, evil vampire who stood before her. It only made him laugh harder.

“Amelia,” Josh groaned. She kept struggling and managed to land a punch into his stomach. Her hand throbbed instantly, and with the way he was looking at her, she was certain the punch hurt her more than him. “No one is going to hurt you. Will you stop already?”

“What’s wrong with you?” she shrieked. Her power shot out from every inch of her skin as she desperately thrashed about trying to get out of his grasp, but it just bounced off him as if he was shielded. “He’s a vampire. You’re a vampire hunter. In case you forgot, that means you’re supposed to kill him.”

Josh wasn’t listening. He continued to drag her along as if he didn’t have a mind of his own. His face was slack, void of emotion; his eyes, vacant. It was as if he was… Brainwashed, the thought hit Amelia hard and fast. Heady power coursed through her, sparks ignited along her skin, and she focused the new stream of energy on Tristan.

“Cole,” Tristan said, before she could let loose any of her power. He was eyeing Amelia closely, his lips pressed into a tight white line, and the flares of her magic reflected in his beady black eyes. “Kill that one,” he growled, and pointed to Megan who was still thrown over Cole’s shoulder. “We don’t need her.”

Amelia’s magic sputtered and then went out like a match dipped in water. “No,” she screamed. She stopped flailing instantly, and her skin turned icy. She didn’t doubt for a second that Tristan was serious. He was cold and callous. She had witnessed it firsthand the night he had brutally killed her parents. Stabbing them over and over and forcing her to watch them bleed out. She remembered his smirk as if he enjoyed watching them die. It was the same smirk that was twitching at his lips now.

Everything happened quickly after that, except to Amelia, it felt like she was watching it in ultra slow motion. Josh’s eyes widened, and he shook his head violently from side to side. He glanced between Tristan, Cole, and Megan, and then he let go of Amelia and rushed at Cole. Cole dropped Megan to the ground and notched his arrow, pulling the bowstring taut. Tristan shot at Amelia, knocking her over. He then grabbed Josh by the collar and flung him to the ground. His razor sharp fangs snapped down, and a menacing snarl ripped from somewhere deep within his belly.

“Wait,” Josh yelled, pulling his hands up over his face, as if his hands could stop the vampire’s wrath. “Their magic is tied together. We need them both to break the curse.”

Break the curse? Amelia was sure she hadn’t heard him right, and she almost asked him to repeat it, before she caught herself.

Cole looked at Tristan with the same vacant expression that Josh had worn seconds ago. He tilted his head from side to side slowly as if he was examining all angles, and his skin rippled and began to melt away.

“Cole!” Amelia shrieked. “It’s Meg. You are pointing that arrow at Meg!” Cole let his eyes graze over Amelia in a slow and long look, and a shiver rushed over her. His eyes looked empty, completely void of emotion. Another ripple rushed over him, and the last bit of skin that remained vanished.