Page 40 of Torn Ivy
After I crash and sleep until I can’t sleep anymore.
18
IVY
The morningafter Death’s revelation brings more than just a hangover from information overload. I wake to find my entire body crackling with uncomfortable energy, like I’ve got lightning trapped under my skin.
“Fuck,” I mutter, rolling out of bed. The guys had gone home late last night after we’d discussed Death’s bombshell until we were talked out. Now, standing in front of my mirror, I can see something’s definitely wrong.
Pink energy pulses through my veins, visible beneath my skin like a roadmap of chaos. It’s beautiful in a terrifying sort of way, but the burning sensation that accompanies it is less than pleasant.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I press my hands against my stomach as a wave of nausea hits me. The magick surges, and suddenly, my reflection shows both Ivy and Poison overlaid, like a double exposure photograph.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Grimacing, I grab it, seeing Tate’s name flash up.
“Hey,” I rasp.
“You need to come over,” he says without preamble. “Something’s happening.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” I watch as my hair shifts between blonde and pink without me actively trying to shift. “I’ll be there in ten.”
I throw on clothes, not bothering with anything fancy since my body seems to be having an identity crisis all on its own. The walk across campus to the guys’ house is interesting, to say the least. My power keeps fluctuating, making reality ripple around me. Trees briefly turn crystalline before shifting back, and I swear I can hear colours.
By the time I reach their door, I’m sweating despite the cold morning air. Tate opens it before I can knock, looking as rough as I feel.
“Inside,” he says quickly, pulling me in. “Before someone sees you.”
“What’s wrong with me?” I demand as soon as we’re in the kitchen. Torin and Bram are already there, eyebrows raised at the state of me.
“Fuck,” Bram breathes, his Fae sight obviously picking up something we can’t see. “Your aura is fragmenting.”
“My, what is doing what now?”
“He’s right,” Torin says, moving closer. “It’s like your power is trying to split apart. It’s visible to the naked eye,” he says, shooting Bram with a sidelong glare.
Another wave of nausea hits me, and I grab the kitchen counter for support. The pink energy crackles more intensely, and suddenly, every metal object in the kitchen starts floating.
“Ivy,” Tate says carefully, “I think your—shall we call them identities?—are fighting each other.”
“But Death said they were the same thing,” I protest, watching as the floating cutlery starts spinning in complex patterns. “Just evolved.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Bram suggests. “Evolution isn’t always smooth. Sometimes there’s a conflict between the old and the new.”
A sharp pain shoots through my chest, and I gasp. Looking down, I see that a fork has flown across the room and buried itself deep in my chest.
“Ah,” I gag as I pull it out and see it coated with pink, not red, blood.
The rest of the floating objects crash back down as my knees buckle. Tate catches me before I hit the floor.
“This is bad,” Torin mutters, helping Tate get me to a chair. “Her temperature’s all over the place.”
He’s right. One minute, I’m burning up; the next, I’m freezing. My skin keeps shifting between Ivy and Poison without my control, and the pink energy is becoming more erratic.
“What do we do?” I ask through gritted teeth as another wave of pain hits. “Because this fucking hurts.”
“We need to stabilise her,” Bram says, his Dark Fae magick reaching out tentatively toward mine. Where they touch, there’s a brief moment of relief before the pain returns worse than before.
“Stop,” I gasp. “That makes it worse. It wants to devour it. I can’t?—”
