Page 76 of Torn Ivy
“Let me go get some tools,” she says and marches off with brutal efficiency I’m grateful for because I can’t think for shit right now.
Torin glances over at me as I stand up, his expression grim. “Still nothing?”
I shake my head. “It’s like it’s been ripped out by the roots. I can feel where it should be, but there’s just... nothing.”
He nods sympathetically and sucks on his blood bag. “Give it time. We’ve all paid a heavy price for this ritual.”
I glare at him in annoyance. He seems just dandy now he’s got a mouthful of blood. Even the wound on his wrist is gone. My gaze shifts to Tate and it’s like being hit in the gut by a dragon claw. “Some more than others.”
Cathy returns with a heavy-duty drawstring bag, a couple of hooks and some thick gloves. “Right, let’s go demon snake hunting. Though I’m not sure what we’ll do with it if we catch the damn thing.”
“Ancient Fae,” I mutter.
“Hmm?” she murmurs.
“Not demon. Ancient Fae,” I say louder.
“Well, that makes it all better now, doesn’t it?” Her sarcastic smile makes me snicker.
“Sorry, I’m spicy today.”
“Aren’t we all, young prince? Aren’t we all?”
We head outside, scanning the overgrown garden for any sign of the serpent. The ritual circle is still scorched into the grass, a sharp reminder of what we’ve done.
“There!” Torin points to a flash of scales disappearing under a bush.
We converge on the spot, Cathy wielding the hook like a weapon. As we push aside the branches, we see it. A sleek black snake with eerily intelligent eyes. It rears up, hissing at us.
“Careful,” I warn. “We don’t know what kind of magick it might possess.”
“Or what thing from the bowels of hell possessesit,” Torin mutters.
Cathy lunges forward with the hook, a braver creature than me, but the snake is faster. It slithers between her legs and makes a beeline for the house.
“Shit!” Torin curses. “It’s heading for Ivy!”
We race after it, bursting through the back door. The snake slithers across the kitchen floor with unnatural speed, heading straight for the living room where Ivy is resting.
“Stop it!” I yell, though I know it’s futile. Without my magick, I’m powerless to do anything.
Torin vaults over the kitchen counter, using his vampire speed to try to cut off the snake’s path. But it’s too late. The serpent slides under the couch where Ivy is sleeping.
“Fuck!” Cathy swears, brandishing her hook. “We need to get her out of there.”
We approach cautiously, unsure of what the serpent might do. Ivy stirs at the commotion, blinking up at us in confusion.
“What’s going on?” she asks groggily.
“Don’t move,” Torin says cautiously. “There’s a snake under the couch.”
Ivy’s eyes widen in alarm, but she remains still. “A snake?”
“Not just any snake,” I explain grimly. “It’s magickal.”
Cathy moves forward with the hook, ready to try and fish the creature out. But before she can, the snake emerges on its own.
It slithers up onto Ivy’s lap, coiling itself around her arm. I tense, ready to lunge forward and rip it off her if necessary. But Ivy doesn’t look afraid. If anything, she seems fascinated by the creature.
