Page 59 of Torn Ivy
“It’s not just the Syndicate anymore,” Tate explains quickly. “There are larger forces at play. Cosmic-level entities that make the Syndicate look like schoolyard bullies.”
“Life,” Cathy states. “I know.”
“Okay, so what are we even doing here?” I ask in exasperation, “If you are all in the know.”
“Beats the shit out of me,” she says with a shrug. “Why are you here?”
“Josh,” I mutter and then shake my head. “No. He isn’t a traitor.”
“I did not like that Katie,” Bram states emphatically. “She gave me the heebies.”
“Same,” Torin says. “My vampire senses went haywire around her.”
“What are you saying? Josh is in danger?” I ask, panicked. Ramsey would never forgive me if I left his boyfriend to die.
“Look,” Tate snaps, all of this getting the better of him. “We are about to be surrounded by these perfect being shitheads, and we are standing around here chatting. More moving, less talk.”
Too late.
Reality warps as two of those perfect beings phase through Cathy’s kitchen wall. Their movements are unnaturally smooth, and their features are too symmetrical. Where they step, the tile sprouts tiny, identical flowers. Life’s signature written in their every action.
“Down!” Bram shouts, his shadows surging forward to create a barrier between us and them. But where his darkness touches their perfection, it begins to transform, sprouting the same mathematical flowers in precise patterns.
My power reacts instinctively, recognising the fundamental wrongness of their existence. They’re living weapons of pure order, created to eliminate chaos.
“The shadows won’t hold them,” Tate warns, his anchor power struggling to stabilise the wild burst of my magick. “We need another way out.”
“Ivy Hammond,” they speak in unison, their voices carrying harmonics that make reality shiver. “The natural order must be preserved. All chaos must be contained.”
“Oh, piss off,” Cathy snaps. “Natural order, my arse. You’re about as natural as plastic roses.”
I hold back my snort as she levels her weapon at them and fires. Bram’s shadows explode, causing a backlash that knocksus all off our feet. My ears ring as I struggle to my feet, blinking away spots from my vision.
“Fuck,” Torin groans, already moving to put himself between me and the intruders. “That packed a punch.”
But when the dust settles, I see that Cathy’s prototype did more than just disrupt. Where the beings once stood, reality wavers, like looking through the heat haze. Their perfect forms flicker and distort, struggling to maintain cohesion.
“Ha!” Cathy crows triumphantly. “Take that, you symmetrical bastards!”
Her victory is short-lived. Even as we watch, the distortion begins to stabilise. Impossibly perfect flowers bloom from the cracks in reality, knitting it back together with sickening precision.
“Okay, new plan,” I say, grabbing Cathy’s arm. “We’re leaving. Now.”
She starts to protest, but Bram’s already moving. His shadows, still reeling from the weapon’s blast, manage to merge just enough to form a swirling portal.
“Go!” he shouts, strain evident in his voice. “I can’t hold it long!”
We don’t need to be told twice. Tate grabs my other hand, and we plunge into the darkness. Torin and Cathy are right behind us. Bram follows last, sealing the portal just as the beings lunge forward.
The shadow realm swirls around us, a dizzying vortex of darkness and half-formed shapes. Tate’s grip on my hand is an anchor in the chaos. Cathy’s presence is a bright spark of defiance, her energy pulsing with adrenaline and anger.
We emerge in a forest clearing, and the sudden shift from darkness to moonlight momentarily blinds us. As my eyes adjust, I take stock of our surroundings. Ancient trees loomoverhead, their branches creating intricate patterns against the night sky. The air is thick with magick, old and wild.
“Where are we?” I ask, recognising nothing about our location.
Bram steadies himself against a tree, looking drained from the portal creation after Cathy blew up his magick. “One of the in-between places. A marginal space where the barriers between realms are thin. We should be safe here, at least for now.”
Cathy whistles, low and appreciative. “Impressive. I’ve heard rumours about places like this, but I’ve never actually seen one.”
