Chapter 6
Luke wasn’t mingling. Well, he was—kind of. He was milling about, talking to people, but when Eric saw his eyes, he knew Luke was doing more than engaging in small talk with the locals. His eyes were milky and cloudy, and he was walking from person to person, reciting the same speech over and over. “You will not be frightened, and you will welcome us.” That’s it. Just two simple commands, and then he would slip on to the next person.
Luke was a tall man, and bulky like Mitchell and himself. But he was the least intimidating of the three of them. He had this fatherly look to him, even if he had only been twenty-three when he had turned. There was something about him, the way he looked at people with his inquisitive hazel eyes that made people think he was wise beyond his years, and it also made people … comfortable. Yes, Eric figured that was the best word to use. Comfortable. He had his shoulder length light brown hair tied at the nape of his neck, and he was dressed like the rest of them in black slacks and a white cotton shirt. Eric bet that Angelle had handpicked each of their attire for the meeting.
“That’s your plan?” Eric hissed, as Mitchell ushered him to the platform. “You’re just going to manipulate everyone.”
“If it means living without hiding, then yes,” Mitchell replied, casting him a hard look.
Eric narrowed his eyes, but bit his tongue on a bunch of nasty things he wanted to say. Mitchell wasn’t a bad guy, and he wasn’t usually this testy. Not that Eric would admit it, but he actually kind of liked Mitchell. Aside from the know-it-all, always-right attitude, Mitchell was a little awe-inspiring, and this little plan was sort of awe-inspiring, too. And it all bothered Eric. It would have been a lot easier to hate the man that had ended his life if he wasn’t so … so … perfect.
According to Mitchell, the awe-inspiring, perfect thoughts thing was normal. A part of the change. It was common for new vampires to become a bit obsessed with their makers. It had something to do with them being made from the same blood, or was it that Mitchell was now his vampire father and family was important? Eric couldn’t remember, and as he thought about it, he was pretty sure that Angelle had walked in during that lesson, and he had spent most of it admiring her silky auburn hair. But, whatever it was that made him feel like Mitchell was the most perfect person ever, it was definitely annoying.
Angelle and Lola glided into the crowd, helping Luke with the last few stragglers who had yet to be persuaded. Eric watched, amazed, as the two gorgeous creatures made mind control look like a dance. They spun gracefully from person to person, batting their eyes, giving men delicate, flirty touches. It was mesmerizing to watch. Before long, the girls and Luke took their places beside Eric, standing just behind Mitchell at the podium.
The meeting went off without a hitch. Eric stood behind Mitchell with his mouth hanging open the entire time. Mitchell explained to the townspeople how the new “tax” system would work. Basically, the humans were to willingly give their blood, and in return, Mitchell would allow them to stay in their homes and protect them as if they were his family. And each one of them thanked him. Actually thanked him for the opportunity he was providing. To Eric, it didn’t seem like much of an opportunity. They were being forced to become walking meals. Eric didn’t know whether to be sick or amazed at the whole thing.
After Mitchell finished his speech, his family left the platform and joined the humans for a reception. But Eric wasn’t in the mood to chat. All he could think about was his bed, sleep, and Megan. So when no one was looking, he slipped out of the great room and went straight for his bed.
Sleep eluded him that night. Eric lay in bed, his eyes tightly shut, but yet, his brain would not rest. Megan’s green eyes danced through his head, smiling at him and calling to him, but no matter how hard he tried, her eyes were the only thing that his brain would conjure.
He sifted through his memories, trying to recall what story Mitchell could have been referring to earlier as he spoke to Lola and Angelle. In the last two weeks since Eric had become a vampire, he had heard countless “stories.” Mitchell called them lessons, except to Eric, they were more like boring and pointless rules. And since Eric had never really been a rules kind of person, he had promptly ignored them.
Now though, he wished he had listened.
Eric couldn’t say how long he had lain there, when he heard the knock at his door. “Eric?” Mitchell called from behind his bedroom door. Eric groaned, and the door slid open. “I heard that,” his father said with a chuckle.
Eric sat up in bed and scrubbed at his face. “I was sleeping,” he said, trying to sound groggy and hoping Mitchell would just go away.
He didn’t. Mitchell closed the door with a soft click and crossed the room, sitting down in the armchair beside the window. He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands. “Was it her?” he asked elusively, his voice a confusing mix of pain and happiness.
“What are you talking about?” Eric was sure he was looking at Mitchell as if he was a mad man. He was really starting to think that he would never get used to Mitchell’s direct and slightly elusive attitude. The way he spoke, even when asking a question, was as if everything was a secret. Except this time, Eric knew exactly what Mitchell was asking, but his gut was telling him to keep his mouth shut and play dumb.
“Did she have the mark?” Mitchell asked, his eyes boring into Eric so intently that he felt as if Mitchell was actually seeing into his brain.
“You know I was just sleeping, right?” Eric asked. He didn’t understand why, but he didn’t want to share Megan. He just didn’t. Not with anyone. At this point, he was certain that they were all just speculating, at what, he really wasn’t sure, but they didn’t really know anything—yet.
“Oh, give it up, Eric,” Mitchell said. “You weren’t sleeping. Did she have the mark on her neck?”
Eric threw up his hands, exasperated, this time really having no idea what Mitchell was asking. “What mark?”
Mitchell eyed him again, and Eric figured that Mitchell had finally realized that Eric had no idea what he was talking about, because he let out a deep sigh and leaned back in the chair, letting his arms dangle over the armrests. “Eric, I’m asking if she had the soul’s mark.” His tone was crisp and clipped. “But clearly, you must not have been listening when I told you about it.”
A frustrated growl rumbled through Eric. “Well, tell me now,” he said through clenched teeth. “What is the soul’s mark and what does it have to do with Megan?” Darn it! Why did I say her name!
Mitchell arched an eyebrow and smirked. “Megan?” he questioned.
Eric growled in frustration, and all he could see was red. “Just get on with it,” he spat venomously. Mitchell’s smirk was irksome. Maddening.
Mitchell sighed, and shook his head in disappointment at Eric’s lack of control, Eric assumed, because the look he was getting was definitely the one Mitchell gave when he lost control over his emotions.
After what felt like ages, Mitchell cleared his throat and said, “It’s a witch’s curse. As I told you before, about fourteen-hundred years ago, a vampire killed a witch’s lover. Out of revenge, she stripped all vampires of their souls, leaving them as soulless monsters with no humanity. Mother Nature corrected it. She linked our missing souls to our soulmates through the soul’s mark, the alchemy symbol for soul, which would have appeared on our soulmates necks when we became vampires. The mark gives us a connection to our humanity and ultimately to them.” He said the whole thing in one breath with a methodical air, as if he was reading a well-rehearsed speech.
Eric’s throat was tight and his mouth, dry. There was something in Mitchell’s little speech that sounded vaguely familiar, and Eric was pretty sure he should be drawing some kind of connection, but he wasn’t. His mind was a blank slate. “What does this have to do with my dream?” he asked.
Mitchell smiled—a little. “Everything … and possibly nothing at all.”