Page 77 of Poison Ivy
“Even her?” I turn to face him again, not that he gives anything away. It’s like talking to a stone.
He breathes in deeply, eyes like voids fixed on mine. “Perhaps not.”
“So she is special rather than noteworthy.”
He says nothing, which tells me everything. This little shifter assassin has secrets she probably doesn’t even know herself. That’s usually the way this shit works, isn’t it? The big reveal comes, blowing everything else away, but what is that? What makes her so fucking special to these people?
I flick my gaze back to the house and feel the creature disappear, leaving me to ponder my next move. Clearly, Torin and Tate are aware of Poison’s true identity, but why hide it from me when they know how much I want her? Do they think I will hurt her? Have they fallen in deep with her as Ivy, as opposed to just Poison?
I weigh my options carefully as I watch Ivy’s house. Part of me wants to confront her directly, to demand answers about her true identity and her role in all of this. But the creature’s warning echoes in my mind. Making an enemy of Ivy - of Poison - could be a dangerous mistake.
Still, I can’t just sit back and do nothing. I need more information before I decide how to play this.
With a frustrated growl, I melt into the shadows, using my fae abilities to move unseen through the night. I make my way back to the townhouse, slipping inside silently and finding the two losers in the living room.
“Well, that was interesting,” I say, fixing them both with a vicious glare. “Any chance you could enlighten me on what the hell is going on around here?”
Torin sighs and slumps further into his chair, sipping a glass of blood. “Ivy is Poison.”
“You say that like I know who Ivy is,” I snap.
“The blonde Tate has been shagging.”
Turning to Tate, I ask, “Did you know it was Poison when you started screwing her?”
“Yep,” he says. “But it’s not just screwing. She is my fate.”
“What?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Torin says. “But now that you are up to speed, we are meeting Ivy at the clock tower at noon tomorrow.”
“What for?” I ask suspiciously. Not just about the meeting but also about why they don’t seem bothered about me going after this girl. Maybe because I have no intention of doing that and not just because of the creature’s warning. Something is happening in my head right now that I can’t really work out, but going after Ivy, or Poison, for that matter, isn’t on my agenda all of a sudden.
Torin shrugs, swirling the blood in his glass. “To figure out where we go from here. She’s Poison, which means she’s valuable. But she’s also Tate’s whatever. It complicates things.”
I snort. “That’s putting it mildly.” I turn to Tate, who’s been unusually quiet. “And you? What’s your take on all this?”
Tate meets my gaze steadily. “She’s my fate. That doesn’t change, no matter what name she goes by or what she does.”
“Your fate,” I repeat, tasting the words. They feel strange in my mouth, foreign. Against all the natures of the Fae, I don’t believe in fate or destiny. I make my own path. But there’s something in Tate’s eyes, a certainty that gives me pause.
Shifting my gaze back to Torin, I say, “Well, seeing as we now know who and where Poison is, hadn’t you better call off the hit on yourself?”
His eyes widen, and Tate jumps up. “Fuck, yeah. We don’t want to put Poison in a position to fail, nor do we really want you dead,” he says to Torin.
“Nor do we really?” he spits out. “Thanks, fucker.”
Tate snorts. “Go do the rune thing. We need to call off this hit.”
I watch with growing unease as we follow Torin to his room, and he performs the rune ritual to access the dark web again. Something about this whole situation feels off, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.
“Okay, I’m in as BlackWarlock 69,” Torin mutters. “Cancelling the hit now.”
A tense silence falls over the room as we wait for confirmation. After only a few seconds, a message pops up on the screen:
REQUEST DENIED. CONTRACT ACTIVE.
“What the fuck?” Tate exclaims, leaning in to read the message. “Why won’t they cancel it?”
