Torn Ivy (Thornfield Supernatural Academy #2)

12. Torin

12

TORIN

The cemetery’s sacred ground still crackles with residual magick. Pink energy dances through the mist like the aurora borealis. Watching Ivy wield such power, I’m beginning to understand why I’m instinctively drawn to her. I grew up with law and order. It flew in the face of my vampire nature, which just wanted to rebel every chance it could. But for that, there were severe punishments from dear old Mum. Dad was more ‘don’t give a fuck’ than she was. Now that I’m out from under their thumbs, almost, and free to do whatever the fuck I want, that side of me which wants to kick up chaos and see where the cards fall, has sought out this creature that can bring on the destruction. It’s not that I haven’t fallen for Ivy. I have. In a big way. But before I knew who she was, what she was, when I knew her only as Poison, it was instinct.

“Yeah, anticlimactic,” I murmur, but I’m not convinced. Something went down here; we just aren’t privy to it. Yet. We will be once we can figure out what the fuck is actually going on here. I feel like I’m missing something I should know, but trying to put my finger on it is like trying to pin down a single beam in a laser light show.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. With a frown, I pull it out and glare at it. The screen displays my mother’s name. Of course she’d call now. The timing is too perfect to be coincidental.

“I need to handle something,” I tell the others, moving away from them. Ivy watches me go, still in the guise of Poison. I can’t deny the pull. I want to slam her to the ground, rip her clothes off and impale her on my cock until there is nothing left inside me to dump in her pussy.

I answer once I’m out of earshot. “What?”

“Well, that’s rude.”

“Who cares? What do you want?”

I get a sick satisfaction in talking to her this way and hearing her huff and flounder. She isn’t used to it, but there is nothing she can do to me anymore. I’m done.

“I trust the entertainment at the cemetery has concluded?” Her voice is arctic, carrying that edge of superiority that always sets my teeth on edge.

“You knew about this.”

“I know everything about where you are and what you do,” she says.

Narrowing my eyes, I pull the phone away from my ear. That bitch.

Her tone sharpens. “But forget about that. It’s time you remembered where you came from. The Coven is meeting in a few days. I expect you to be there, ready to take your place as your father’s heir.”

I grip the phone tighter. “No.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said no.” The words feel like breaking chains. “I’m done being your pawn, Mother. Find someone else to manipulate.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You are my son. Everything I’ve done has been to secure your future.”

“No,” I correct her, “everything you’ve done has been to secure your power. But I’m done with you, the Coven, and this family name.”

“You ungrateful little—” Her voice cuts off abruptly. When she speaks again, her tone is dangerously calm, which I’ve come to learn is never a good sign. “You will regret this, Torin. The Coven doesn’t take kindly to deserters.”

“Threaten me all you want,” I say, feeling strangely liberated. “I’m not coming back.”

“This is about that chaos witch, isn’t it?” she hisses. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? She’ll destroy you, Torin. She’ll destroy everything.”

I glance back at Ivy, still glowing with pink energy. “Maybe. But at least it’ll be my choice.”

I hang up before she can respond, knowing full well this isn’t the end of it. But I don’t care. Things have shifted, and it’s about time my mother realised that.

Chaos witch.

The words echo in my mind. Witch. Not bitch. Witch. My mother doesn’t usually mince words, so did she mean witch in the sense of species and not as a slur? I look over at Ivy again. It makes sense. Witches are naturals at magick. It’s who they are; it’s their raison d’être. The rest of us learn. It’s something we have, but it doesn’t define us. Witches and warlocks, though? That’s different. My gaze shifts between Ivy and Tate, and the Death Tetris starts to slot pieces together with my hand. I knew I wasn’t seeing anything, but this isn’t everything.

It’s something, though.

And that bitch mother of mine is the cause. Of course she is. She made sure she would be. She knows how my brain works. “Fucking cunt,” I mutter and return to the others.

They are deep in discussion about Death’s motives. Ivy looks up as I approach, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

I nod, not quite ready to share the details of this yet. I need more facts. “The usual of my mother being a total and utter bitch. What did I miss?” I throw the phone on the floor and stamp on it, smashing it with my vampire strength.

Ivy stares at it and licks her lips. “Sure you’re okay?” she asks, taking my hand and lacing our fingers together.

The simple act makes me feel like a god. I can’t explain it, and I’m not even sure I want to. I nod once, and she accepts that I don’t want to talk about it.

“We were just discussing our next move,” Tate says. “Death clearly has a plan, but we’re still in the dark about what it is.”

“We need more information,” Bram says, running a hand through his dark hair. “About Death, about chaos magick, about everything.”

“Vex might have found something useful at MistHallow,” Tate grudgingly admits. “He should be back soon.”

Ivy nods. “Let’s head off and regroup. To be honest, I think flying blind into situations right now is a bad idea. We need to hold fire and wait for Vex to see if he has anything useful. If not, then we?—”

“Are screwed?” I ask with a smirk.

She giggles. “Yeah, but I was going to say, then we go in all guns blazing and figure shit out later.”

“A woman after my own heart,” I murmur, pulling her closer.

She brushes her lips over mine with a slow smile before she turns and stalks off, leaving us to follow.