Torn Ivy (Thornfield Supernatural Academy #2)

40. Ivy

40

IVY

Bram’s expression tightens when he sees my disbelief. “Ivy, I know this is all confusing and overwhelming. But we can figure this out.”

I laugh bitterly. “I don’t even know who you are. Any of you. I have these fragments of memories, but nothing solid. How am I supposed to trust you?”

The snake around my neck hisses softly, reacting to my emotions as I run my fingers along its scales. Torin’s eyes blaze with intensity. “Then trust your instincts, Ivy. Deep down, you know us. You know we’d do anything for you.”

I shake my head, overwhelmed. “That’s the problem. You’ve already done too much. We’ve already done too much. If we start messing again, are we going to make things worse?”

“Well, they can only fucking get better,” Bram snaps, losing his patience.

“Not helping,” Torin grits out.

“We did it because we love you,” Bram states.

The words hit me hard. Love. It seems like such a small thing in the face of everything that’s happened. And yet.

I close my eyes, trying to sort through the havoc in my mind. Flashes of memory dance behind my eyelids, but they are gone before I can remember.

When I open my eyes again, I see the desperation and love in their faces. It tugs at something deep inside me, a flicker of recognition.

“Okay,” I say softly. “Let’s say I believe you. That you did all this because you love me. How do we fix it?”

Bram’s expression lightens slightly. “You call for Death. He’s the only one who can navigate the boundaries between realities.”

“How exactly do I do that?” I ask suspiciously. “Put out a Wanted ad? ‘Seeking skeletal figure, must have own scythe’?”

Torin snorts. “Oh, you’re in there, Ivy Hammond, whether you want to admit it or not. But as much as I love your sarcasm, not quite. We have to remember that you don’t, so we will do it for you. You know Death. We all do, unfortunately. He is your ancestor. You are supposed to be his heir, but Life?—”

“Has other plans. I remember,” I murmur. Now that he says it, I know. “But if Life wants us back in that reality so badly, should we even be contemplating this?”

“Yes,” Bram says. “Going back to our proper timeline is the right move. We just need to do it on our terms, not hers.”

“And how do we do that?”

Torin’s eyes gleam with determination. “By making a deal with Death himself.”

I snort. “Right. Because making deals with cosmic entities has worked out so well for us so far.”

“Death is different. We can trust him.”

I turn to see Tate walking up the garden path, covered in snow and soaking wet. He doesn’t even seem cold, just oblivious to everything around him. “How so?”

“He visited me earlier. We need to go back. To fix this.”

“You know?” I venture.

His face darkens. “I know.”

“And you still want to do this?”

“We have to. I’m not fucking done with you yet, Ivy,” he says, desperation making his voice catch in his throat. “Nowhere fucking near done with you. I can’t live like this. I would rather be dead than not love you.”

My breath speeds up at his words, but I don’t know what to say.

“You remember?” Torin breathes.

Tate nods grimly.

Bram slaps him on the shoulder. “Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t fucking come to that.”

I stare at Tate, trying to reconcile the intensity in his eyes with the hollow shell of a man I woke up to. “You remember everything now?”

He nods grimly. “Death showed me what we lost. What I lost. And I can’t... I won’t accept living like this.”

“Do you think he could help me remember?”

“Are you dead in the other reality?”

I stare at him. “I don’t think so.”

“Then probably not. I’m connected to him now on a level I wish I weren’t. But here we are.”

“Rolling with the punches.”

He smiles at my words. “You remember more than you think.”

“I hope so because this sucks a pile of crap.”

We share a smile, and the snake wrapped around my neck slithers down my body, leaving my neck freezing cold as the snow falls on it. It slithers over to Bram, who freezes. The snake curls around his leg and slowly moves up his body.

“Erm,” he stammers.

“He’s harmless,” I say.

“To you, maybe.” He recoils as the snake reaches his chest. “This thing came out of my mouth. I really fucking hope it’s not trying to go back in.”

I can’t stop the giggle as Bram’s panic reaches amusing levels. “It came out of your mouth?” I choke out through my laughter.

Bram scowls at me, but there’s a hint of relief in his eyes at my laughter. “Yeah, laugh it up. You weren’t the one vomiting snakes.”

The snake continues its journey up Bram’s body, finally coming to rest around his neck. He stands perfectly still, eyes wide with apprehension.

“I think it likes you,” Torin says with a smirk.

“Fuck off,” Bram mutters.

I watch the snake, fascinated. It seems drawn to Bram in a way it wasn’t to the others. “I think... I think it’s trying to tell us something.”

Tate steps closer, studying the serpent. “It came from Ancient Fae magick, right? Maybe it’s connected to Bram somehow.”

The snake hisses. Bram’s eyes widen. “I can feel something. Like it’s trying to communicate.”

“What’s it saying?” I ask, moving closer.

Bram closes his eyes, concentrating. “It’s not words exactly. It’s more like impressions. Images.” His brow furrows. “I see a door. No, not a door. A gateway.”

“A gateway to where?” Torin asks.

“To the other side,” a new voice answers.

We all spin around to see Death standing there, his black robes stark against the snowy landscape.

“Death,” I say, recognising his stupid face now that I see it. It’s like pushing a button. Squeeze Ivy, and instead of squeaking, she remembers shit. This should be fun.

Death inclines his head slightly. “Ivy. This is a bit of a pickle you’re in.”

“You don’t say,” I drawl.

The snake around Bram’s neck hisses, slithering down his body and moving towards Death. To my surprise, Death reaches out a bony hand, allowing the serpent to coil around his arm.

“What is that thing?” Torin asks warily.

“A fragment of Ancient Fae magick,” Death replies. “The parts of you, you gave up.”

“What?” Tate rasps.

Bram stares at the snake, his expression tense. “The snake is representative of the ritual? It holds the things we sacrificed?”

Death is silent for a long moment, his empty gaze sweeping over each of us. Finally, he speaks. “Indeed.”

“So how do we use it to fix this shitshow?” Torin asks, eyeing up the snake with renewed interest.

“You have to undo what you did.”

“How?” I demand.

“That’s for you to figure out. Just do it fast, hmm. There is a whole world of trouble waiting for you, Ivy.”

He vanishes, leaving the snake on the snowy pathway. It slithers off quickly, under a bush.

“No!” I shriek. “We can’t lose it!”

“Need these?” Cathy asks, coming into view with a drawstring bag and some hooks.

“Not again,” Bram groans but snatches one of the hooks out of her hand. “We’re going on a snake hunt.”

“Let’s just hope we find the fucker, or we are stuck here forever,” I grit out, feeling a sense of purpose, even if it is just finding the snake. It’s something to focus on. For now.