Page 44 of Torn Ivy
“Don’t.” She moves closer, her power reaching out toward mine. I try to pull back, but it’s too late. The moment our magick touches, she gasps. “What the fuck?”
The connection between us flares, stronger than ever now that her power has settled and mine has started to change. Pink and purple energy swirls with black, creating patterns that twist reality around us.
“Tate,” she breathes, staring at where our power mingles, “what’s happening to you?”
“It’s fine,” I insist, even as another wave of transformation rolls through me. “Just some side effects from anchoring.”
“Side effects?” Her voice rises. “Your magick is literally changing colour!”
“It’s not just the colour,” Bram says, ignoring my glare. “The chaos magick is altering him fundamentally. Every time he anchors your power, it changes him a little more.”
Ivy takes a step back, horror dawning on her face. “I’m hurting you?”
“No,” I say firmly, reaching for her despite the way it makes my magick surge. “You’re not hurting me. I’m adapting. Evolution, remember?”
“Evolution that could kill you,” Torin mutters.
“Not helping,” I snarl at him.
Ivy’s power pulls back sharply, leaving me feeling strangely bereft. “We have to stop this.”
“No.” I grab her hands, ignoring the way our combined power makes reality ripple. “We knew there would be consequences. The grimoire warned us. But this is necessary.”
“Nothing is worth risking you,” she says fiercely.
“You are,” I tell her, meaning it completely. “Besides, it’s too late now. The change has already started, and honestly?” I look down at our joined hands, where pink, purple and black energy dance together in perfect harmony. “I don’t think I want to go back.”
20
IVY
It’s beenthree hours since my power settled into its new configuration, three hours of learning to control this evolved form of witch-fae-chaos magick. Three hours of watching this energy dance beneath my skin like lightning trapped in crystal. The afternoon light streams through our kitchen window as I nurse my third coffee, trying to ignore how reality occasionally ripples when my concentration slips.
The evolution of my power might be stabilising, but ‘stable’ is a relative term when you’re basically chaos incarnate.
“Stop moping,” Ramsey says, dropping into the seat across from me. “Your power is fine, and the world hasn’t ended yet.”
I glare at him over my coffee. “Yet being the operative word, and when isfineever good?”
“Well, you have me there,” he grins, but the expression freezes as his phone buzzes with that familiar Syndicate tone.
The sound makes my stomach clench. But Ramsey’s face goes pale as he reads the message, and something cold settles in my gut.
“What?” I demand. “Who’s the target?”
He swallows hard, looking up at me with genuine fear in his eyes. “Cathy Hammond.”
The mug in my hand shatters as my power destabilises and fires through my body at a rate of knots. Coffee transforms into shimmering butterflies that dissolve into deep pink mist. “My aunt? The Syndicate wants me to kill my aunt?”
“It’s worse,” Ramsey says quietly. “You have twelve hours to complete the assignment, or they’ll despatch other agents to do it, and they won’t be quick about it.”
Magick crackles around me as rage builds. The sunlight flickers outside, and storm clouds gather unnaturally fast. “They know?”
“Or they’re testing your loyalty. The Resistance isn’t exactly flaunting their activities. I doubt The Syndicate knows about them, and I also doubt they know what you are now.”
“Well, forgive me if I doubt your doubt.” Reality warps slightly around me as I stand up. The tiles beneath my feet transform into a living crystal that spreads up the walls. “That’s not loyalty, that’s torture.”
“It’s a message,” Ramsey says grimly. “This is their way of showing they control you.”
