Torn Ivy (Thornfield Supernatural Academy #2)

45. Ivy

45

IVY

I’m falling, tumbling through an endless void. Fragments of memories and realities whirl past me in a dizzying kaleidoscope. I catch glimpses of myself - as Poison, as a child, as someone I don’t even recognise.

Bits and pieces of me are swirling all around, disappearing from view as I scream, panic rearing its head as it seem this backwards ritual hasn’t worked. I’m lost. Torn again, and I don’t think I will be able to survive another eternity like this.

Then suddenly, all the fragments are drawn back together at a supersonic speed, and I’m slammed back into my body with such force that it knocks the air from my lungs. I gasp and splutter, my eyes flying open as I take in my surroundings.

I’m standing in Cathy’s garden, facing down a group of monstrous creatures. Their twisted forms blur and shift, defying description.

Tate’s hand is clasped tightly in mine. Torin’s cool palm rests on the back of my neck. Bram stands slightly in front of us, magick swirling around his fingertips.

“Wha—” I start to say, but then it all comes rushing back. The guys. My love for them. The ritual. The fractured reality. Only this time, we seem to have gone past the time when I split off into different parts, and Tate died and somehow rewound back to the moments before I blasted myself to Jupiter and back.

“Ivy,” Tate says urgently. “Do you remember?”

I nod, squeezing his hand. “I remember everything now. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

He grins and says, “I fucking love you.”

Grinning back, I reply, “I fucking love you too.”

“This is all very nice and whatnot, but can you please focus,” Torin snaps as the perfect Life creatures descend on us.

I look around for Cathy and for a moment I don’t see her, but then I breathe out in relief to see her about to shove a rocket up these monsters’ arses in the form of her laser gun.

“Wait!” I call out. “Stand down.”

“What?” Tate murmurs.

“Trust me,” I mutter, hoping to everything that I’m not wrong about these idiots. They are programmed to kill in an orderly fashion; as bizarre as that is, it’s a fact. Instead of blasting them with chaos, we just need to make the world around them too chaotic for their brains to comprehend. They will—hopefully—go on the fritz and implode themselves as they go into meltdown. “When I say three, we move. Everywhere. As fast as you can around them. Don’t touch them. Don’t fire. Make them come after us.”

“Got it,” Bram calls. “Hurry the fuck up, though!”

I shrug and smile. “Three!” and I move.

I rip my hand from Tate’s and sprint to the left, zigzagging wildly across the garden. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the others scatter in different directions. The creatures pause, their heads swivelling as they try to track our chaotic movements.

“Keep going!” I shout, ducking and weaving around trees and bushes. “Don’t let them focus on any one of us!”

Torin uses his vampire speed to dart back and forth, creating blurred afterimages. Bram teleports in rapid succession, popping in and out of existence faster than the eye can follow. Tate conjures illusory doubles of himself, all running in different directions.

The creatures start to twitch and jerk, their programming struggling to keep up with the overwhelming sensory input. One of them lets out a high-pitched whine, smoke curling from its ears.

“It’s working!” Cathy calls out gleefully. She’s using some kind of magickal artefact to bounce between spots instantaneously, confusing the creatures even further.

I push myself harder, shifting rapidly between forms - Poison, Aspen, Ivy, and some randoms that vary in size, shape and colour. The creatures’ eyes roll wildly in their sockets, unable to track the constant changes.

With a series of ear-splitting shrieks, the creatures start to malfunction. Their bodies contort and spasm as their programming overloads. One by one, they collapse to the ground, twitching and sparking.

Cathy lets out a whoop, and I laugh.

“Holy shit,” Bram pants, materialising next to me, covered in black veins and looking like death warmed over. “It actually worked.”

I grin, feeling a rush of exhilaration. “Never underestimate the power of chaos.”

Tate jogs over, dispersing his illusions. “That was brilliant thinking, Ivy. How did you know it would work?”

“I didn’t,” I admit. “But I figured beings created by Life to be perfect and orderly wouldn’t be able to handle true chaos. Looks like I was right.”

Torin appears beside us in a blur of movement. “Remind me never to piss you off,” he says with a smirk. “Your mind is a terrifying place.”

I laugh, but it’s cut short as a slow clap echoes through the garden. We all spin around to see Life standing there, her ethereal form shimmering with barely contained rage.

“Well played,” she says, her voice dripping with venom. “I underestimated you, Ivy Hammond. It won’t happen again.”

Life approaches, and I stand my ground, flanked by my three men. “You underestimated all of us,” I say firmly. “We’re stronger together.”

Life’s eyes narrow. “Such sentiment. It will be your downfall.”

“I think you’re just pissed that your perfect little assassins got fried,” Bram sneers.

Life’s form flickers dangerously. “You have no idea what you’ve done. The balance?—”

“Oh, spare us the lecture,” Torin interrupts. “We’ve heard it all before. Balance this, order that. Newsflash—the universe thrives on chaos, on birth, death, rebirth. It’s what the world is. No matter where or when. “

I feel a surge of pride and love for these men standing beside me. We’ve been through hell and back, literally torn apart and put back together, and here we are, united against a cosmic force.

“You can’t stop what’s coming,” Life hisses. “The reset will happen!”

“Not on our watch,” I inform her. Although, I sound more confident than I feel all of a sudden. What did we really accomplish here? We killed her robots. Not exactly world altering.

Life’s form starts to grow, looming over us menacingly. “You think you can stand against me? I am Life itself!”

I feel my own power rising to meet her challenge. Chaos swirls around me, ready to be unleashed. “And I am Chaos. The force that drives evolution, that sparks creation. Without me, you’re just stagnation.”

“Ivy,” Tate warns. “Don’t do this. It’s what she wants.”

Fuck .

“He’s right,” Bram shouts out. “Ivy! Life never wanted you to come back here because you’re useful. She wanted you stuck in an endless loop of being scattered, us doing the ritual, the reverse of such, just for it to all happen again, over and over. But what she didn’t bank on was how far we’d fucking go to get you back.”

“And how far is that?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly.

“You don’t want to know,” he mutters. “But let’s just say that time was on our side.”

I stare at Bram and stand down before I glare at Life. She hisses and vanishes in a fountain of flowers, which causes me to step back. “Uhm…”

“She is Life,” Cathy says. “She doesn’t have the capacity to kill you.”

“Ah, okay, that makes sense,” I say with a nod and then slump to the ground. “Anyone else exhausted?”

“Like you won’t believe,” Tate says, sitting next to me. “I could sleep for a week.”

I heave a sigh that could move mountains. “I wish we could. But this isn’t over. Whatever Life’s got planned, we are only really scratching the surface of what’s to come.”

“I think we can take five,” Bram says, sitting with Torin as Cathy pats my head and disappears inside, leaving us to it. “We earned it. We deserve it.”

“What are the implications of your rewinding time?” I ask seriously.

“No idea, but it will be fun to find out,” he replies.

“Will it?” Torin snaps. “Your idea of fun is… not fun.”

We laugh lightly, and I stand up. “Let’s get back to my house. See how long we can rest before that shit stuck to the fan starts to fly off in all directions.”

“Pleasant image,” Tate says, rising and wrapping his arms around me.

In a split second, we are in my bedroom, with the others hastily following. “Sorry, guys. But I need to sleep. Playtime later.” I yawn, and Tate picks me up and carries me to the bed. He lays me down and tucks me in, fully clothed, but I don’t give a shit. My eyes close, and I’m out.