Page 69 of Torn Ivy
He nods grimly. “It’s our only shot. You ready?”
No. I’m not ready. I’m terrified. But I nod anyway. “What do we do first?”
Bram consults the squirming volume. “Blood sacrifice first. It’ll anchor her scattered essence.”
“I’ll do it,” Torin says immediately.
I start to protest, but Bram cuts me off. “Makes sense. As a vampire, you have the strongest connection to all things blood.”
“What comes after? We need to get our proverbial ducks in a row before we start this,” Cathy states.
“Power and the spirit,” Bram replies. “I think I need to be power. Tate, you have marked her and bear her mark; I think your spirit will be the strongest, even more so with the anchor line running through you.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. As much as I hate to admit it on an ordinary day, Bram is the most powerful one here. Most of the time, he doesn’t tap into his full power source, it’s not necessary on this plane of existence. But today is no ordinary day. “Use every fucking ounce of power you’ve been hiding. Do you hear me?”
He scowls and I know he wants to bite back about his own feelings for Ivy, but after a few seconds, he nods grimly and leaves it. “I will.”
“So how do we do this?” Torin asks. “What is required from us?”
“Each sacrifice requires a specific ritual,” Bram explains, consulting the ancient book. “For the blood sacrifice, Torin, you’ll need to offer a significant portion of your life force. It will weaken you considerably.”
Torin nods grimly. “Whatever it takes.”
“I’ll channel my power next,” Bram continues. “I’ll have to push my magick to its limits and beyond. It may burn out a large portion of my abilities, possibly permanently.”
I feel a chill at his words but stay silent.
“And for the spirit sacrifice?” I ask, dreading the answer.
Bram searches my eyes for a moment. “You’ll have to give up a fundamental aspect of yourself, Tate. Something core to your identity. I think it’s up to you because the book is vague on the specifics, but it will be painful and permanent.”
I swallow hard but nod. My mind has suddenly gone blank, and I don’t even know what I’m supposed to offer up.Think, you bastard, think!
Bram takes a deep breath. “We need to form a triangle around her. Torin, you start. Cut your wrist and keep it open,I guess by holding the cut apart? Let your blood flow into the circle while focusing on Ivy. Picture her essence, scattered across dimensions, and will it to coalesce around your offering. Cathy, we need you here with that no-holds-barred attitude of yours. Keep us on track.”
She nods brusquely, her feet planted and her hands behind her back.
“Torin Ashford of the Ainsley Coven, are you ready?” Bram asks formally.
Torin nods, his face set in an expression that could only be described as grim and slightly sick at the prospect of forcing his own body from healing. But his hands don’t shake, not even a little bit, as he slices his wrist with the athame deeper than necessary. Dark blood wells up immediately.
“Now,” Bram instructs.
Torin kneels at the edge of the blood circle, holding his sliced wrist over it. His face contorts in pain as he forces the wound to stay open, fighting against his vampire healing. His blood drips steadily into the circle.
“Focus on Ivy,” Bram instructs. “Imagine her spirit spread out among different dimensions. Focus on it coming together around your offering.”
Torin closes his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. The air grows heavy, charged with a magickal energy. Torin’s skin begins to pale, taking on an ashen hue. He’s literally pouring his life force into the ritual.
I look down at Ivy’s prone form and see flickers, parts of her seem to solidify for brief moments before fading again.
“Hold steady,” Bram says, his voice tense. “You need to keep going until we have all finished.”
Torin lets out a pained rasp, swaying slightly. His eyes fly open, unfocused and glassy.
“Prince Bramwell, son of Mabius, King of the Dark Fae, are you ready?” Bram drops to his knees, placing his hands on the edge of the circle and chants in, what I assume is the ancient Fae language.
The air grows thicker, like soup, making it difficult to breathe. Bram’s eyes glow silver as he channels more magick than I’ve ever felt from him before. It’s dark, almost as black as the book he is kneeling in front of. The blood circle shimmers and throbs with energy as Bram’s power floods into it. Flashes of silver and purple blind me, but I can’t look away.
