Page 74 of Torn Ivy
He shrugs. “It’s fine, I suppose. She’s important.”
Important? Just important? This is the man who would burn down the world for Ivy without hesitation. Something is very wrong.
Cathy purses her lips as she gives me a look that screams this is all wrong. “Tate,” Cathy says gently, “what exactly did you sacrifice for the ritual?”
He furrows his brow, thinking. “I... I’m not sure. Something important, I think. But it’s fine. We got Ivy back.”
The hollow feeling in my chest deepens. Whatever it was has taken something from him that is making him act this way now. But what?
“Do you still have your magick?”
He holds out his hand, and a spark flickers to life. It’s not as bright as usual, but it’s more than Bram has. “Good stuff,” I murmur, but if he didn’t give up his magick, what did he do?
“We should check on her,” Bram murmurs, struggling to his feet.
I nod and we follow Cathy into the house, Tate following almost robotically behind us. My instincts are screaming that something is very wrong with him, but I push that worry aside for now. Ivy is the priority.
Ignoring the part of the roof that has been smashed off, probably during the ritual, we enter the living room to find Ivy curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. She stirs as we approach, blinking up at us with confusion in her eyes.
“How are you feeling?” I ask gently, crouching down beside her.
She studies my face intently, brow furrowed. “I’m not sure. Everything feels strange. Who are you?”
The words hit me like a smack around the face with a wet fish. It hurts more than I expected.
“I’m Torin Ashford, a vampire,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “We’re... friends.”
Her eyes flick to Bram and Tate. “And them?”
“Also friends,” Bram says. “I’m Bram, and that’s Tate.”
Ivy nods slowly, but there’s no recognition in her eyes. Just confusion and a hint of fear.
“Do you remember anything?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
She shakes her head. “It’s all jumbled. I get flashes, but nothing makes sense. Cathy says I’m Ivy Hammond, but...” She trails off, looking lost.
“But what?” I prompt gently, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.
Ivy looks down, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “But it doesn’t feel right. Like it’s someone else’s name. Someone else’s life.”
My heart clenches painfully. I want to gather her in my arms, to tell her everything will be okay. But I can’t. Not when she doesn’t even know who I am.
“It’ll take time,” Cathy says softly. “Your mind and body have been through a tremendous ordeal.”
Ivy nods, but she still looks lost and confused. Her gaze drifts to Tate, who’s standing back from the group, his expression oddly blank. “I think I need to rest now.”
“Good idea,” I say and tug up the blanket, tucking her in. I don’t want to risk moving her to a bed just yet. She looks like she would shatter into a million pieces if we even breathed too hard on her.
She closes her eyes, and I see her breathing regulate and deepen, and I feel relieved that I don’t have to interact with her anymore. I feel terrible for thinking that, but this is a situation which is disturbing, and I don’t really know what to say or how to act. I’m exhausted and hungry for blood, and my mind isn’t as sharp as it usually is.
We retreat to the kitchen, leaving Ivy to rest. The silence is heavy, filled with unspoken fears and questions. Cathy busies herself making coffee, though I doubt any of us really want it. She retrieves another blood bag from the mini fridge and chucks it at me. I don’t ask why she has a stash… I don’t want to know, truth be told.
Snatching it out of the air, I shoot her a grateful smile. She grimaces at me and goes back to making coffee.
“What the fuck do we do now?” Bram asks quietly, slumping into a chair. He looks utterly drained, the black veins still visible beneath his pale skin.
I shake my head, at a loss. “I don’t know. We brought her back, but...” I trail off, unable to finish the thought.
