Torn Ivy (Thornfield Supernatural Academy #2)

2. Tate

2

TATE

I wake with a start, my head pounding and my mouth dry as sandpaper. Blinking against the dim light, I try to get my bearings. I’m lying on a cold stone floor in what looks like some kind of underground chamber. The walls are rough-hewn rock, slick with moisture. The only light comes from a few flickering torches mounted on the walls.

“Fuck,” I groan, pushing myself up to sit. My body aches all over, like I’ve been hit by a truck. As my vision clears, I see Torin and Bram sprawled nearby, still unconscious.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr Blackwell,” a raspy voice says.

I whip my head around, wincing at the sudden movement, to see the creepy pale-faced creature from before standing in the shadows. Up close, he’s even more unsettling, with skin like parchment stretched over bone, eyes sunken and ringed with darkness, mouth stretched in an unnaturally wide grin.

“Who the fuck are you?” I snarl, trying to summon my magick. Nothing happens. Panic flares in my chest.

The creature’s grin widens impossibly further. “I am Death, Mr Blackwell, and you three have become quite the thorn in my side.”

I stare at him, my mind reeling. Death? As in, the actual personification of death? What the fuck have we got ourselves into?

My mind races, trying to process this impossible situation. Death himself is standing before me, and he’s pissed at us. What the hell have we done to attract the attention of a primordial force?

“Where’s Ivy?” I demand, pushing myself to my feet despite the wave of dizziness that hits me. “What have you done with her?”

Death’s skeletal face twists into something that might be amusement. “Miss Hammond is no longer your concern. She belongs to me.”

White-hot rage surges through me. “Like hell she does,” I snarl, taking a step forward. “Ivy doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“Oh, but she does,” Death says calmly. “She made a deal with The Syndicate long ago. Her soul is mine to claim.”

The Syndicate—the name chills my soul. I never imagined the Syndicate was connected to Death himself.

Behind me, I hear Torin and Bram starting to stir.

“What do you want from us?” I ask, trying to buy time for the others to regain consciousness. We’re going to need all our strength to get out of this.

Death’s grin widens impossibly further. “You are a distraction to my greatest asset. I need you out of the way until she decides to see things my way. Running was a mistake. There are very few places where I can’t find her.”

She ran from Death? My soul fills with relief at that comment. She didn’t leave us. She was scared.

“Where is she now?”

Death’s grin fades slightly. “That is none of your concern. Miss Hammond will fulfil her contract, one way or another.”

Behind me, I hear Torin growl as he pushes himself to his feet. “The hell she will,” he snarls. “We won’t let you force her into anything.”

Death turns his eerie gaze to Torin. “You have no say in the matter. The contract is binding.”

“Fuck your contract,” Bram spits, stumbling to stand beside us. “We’ll find a way to break it.”

Death’s laughter echoes off the stone walls. “You foolish creatures. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

I clench my fists, desperately trying to summon even a spark of magick. Nothing. Whatever this place is, it’s blocking our powers completely.

“Let us go,” I demand. “Let us find Ivy.”

“I think not,” Death says calmly. “You’ll remain here until Miss Hammond returns to complete her task.”

“And what is that, then?” I ask, having a sinking feeling about it.

“To kill you three, of course.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. That’s why she ran, to protect us from herself.

“She won’t do it,” I growl.

Death’s skeletal grin widens. “Oh, but she will. One way or another. Either she’ll complete the contract willingly, or I’ll claim her soul, and you will die anyway.”

Rage and terror war inside me. The thought of Ivy being forced to kill us, of her soul being twisted and corrupted by this creature, is unbearable.

“We won’t let that happen,” Torin snarls, his fangs bared despite our lack of powers. “We’ll find a way to stop you.”

Death laughs, the sound like bones rattling. “You’re welcome to try. But for now, you’ll remain here. Perhaps Miss Hammond will come to her senses and return on her own.”

With that, he vanishes, leaving us alone in the dank chamber.

“Fuck!” I roar, slamming my fist into the stone wall. Pain lances up my arm, but I barely feel it.

“We need to get out of here,” Bram says, his eyes scanning the room for any weakness, any escape route. “We have to find Ivy before he does.”

“How do we know he can’t find her?” Torin growls.

“That bastard smile fell off his face when I asked where she was. He doesn’t know.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Bram mutters. “Our powers are useless here. We’re trapped like fucking rats.”

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to think.

“We need to think,” I say, pacing the small chamber. “There has to be a way out of here.”

Torin runs his hands along the walls, searching for any hidden mechanisms or weak spots. “These walls are solid. No doors or windows that I can see.”

Bram crouches down, examining the floor. “The stone is seamless. I don’t think we’re getting out that way either.”

I rake my hands through my hair in frustration. “He wants to keep us trapped while he hunts down Ivy.”

The thought sends a chill through me. “We can’t let that happen. We have to find a way out of here.”

“Our powers are useless,” Bram reminds us. “We’re going to have to rely on our wits.”

I nod, forcing myself to think rationally despite the fear for Ivy clawing at my chest. “Okay, let’s break this down. What do we know about Death?”

“He’s powerful as fuck,” Torin mutters.

“He’s head of The Syndicate, which kind of makes sense now that I think about it. He wants Ivy to complete her contract by killing us,” Bram adds.

“Right,” I say. “So he needs her alive, at least for now. That gives us some time.”

“But how much?” Torin asks. “We don’t know how long he’ll wait before deciding to claim her soul and end us.”

“We need to focus on getting out of here first. Once we’re free, we can worry about finding Ivy and stopping Death.”

Torin nods, his eyes scanning the chamber again. “There has to be a way out. No prison is perfect.”

“Even one created by Death himself?” Bram mutters darkly.

I shoot him a glare. “Not helping, Bram. We need solutions, not doom and gloom.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine. What if we try to overload whatever’s blocking our powers? Hit it with everything we’ve got at once?”

It’s not a bad idea, but I shake my head. “Too risky. We don’t know what kind of backlash that might cause. We could end up killing ourselves. Besides, I’m half dead already from breaking Vex’s fucking wards. When I get my hands on him, I’m going to rip his fucking head off and shove it up his arse.”

“As much as I love that image, we need to focus,” Torin growls. “Doing something is better than waiting here to die.”

“No,” I say firmly. “We need to be alive to help Ivy. Let’s think this through logically.”

Bram nods, his eyes scanning the chamber again. “There has to be some weakness, some flaw in this prison. Nothing is perfect, not even Death’s creations.”

“Maybe we’re thinking about this wrong,” Torin says slowly. “We can’t use our magickal powers, but what about our other abilities? Our strength, our senses? Fuck knows I can smell that damp at an enhanced level.” He scrunches his nose up.

I look at him sharply. “What are you thinking?”

Torin moves to the centre of the room, closing his eyes. “Let me try something. Everyone shut it.”

We watch as he stands perfectly still, head cocked slightly, as if listening for something. After a long moment, where I don’t think neither Bram nor I even breathed, his eyes snap open.

“There,” he says, pointing to a spot on the wall that looks no different from any other. “I can hear something. It’s like a faint humming.”

Moving quickly across the room, I press my ear to the wall, but I can’t hear fuck all.

“Do you hear it?” Torin asks.

“No, not a vampire,” I say, stepping back. “But I trust you.”

Bram joins us, his brow furrowed in concentration. “It could be the source of whatever’s blocking our powers. Or maybe...”

“Maybe what?” Torin presses.

“Maybe it’s not meant to keep us in,” Bram says slowly. “Maybe it’s meant to keep something else out.”

The implications of that sends a chill down my spine. What could be so terrible that even Death wants to keep it at bay?

“So you think we aren’t in the supernatural realm, but somewhere more sinister?”

“Yeah. My Fae senses are tingling.”

“Hmm. Either way, this is our best lead. Let’s focus on this spot. There has to be a way to use it to our advantage.”

Torin nods, running his hands over the stones. “If we can disrupt whatever’s causing that hum, maybe we can weaken the prison.”

“Or unleash something worse,” Bram mutters, but he joins us in examining the wall.

We search every inch of the humming section, looking for any crack or seam we can exploit. Just as I’m about to give up in frustration, my fingers catch on something.

“Wait,” I breathe. “I think I’ve found something.”