Page 28 of Wild Ivy
I shoot him a wry smile. “Guess we’ll find out.”
Closing my eyes, I reach into the void where the souls are contained. It’s like dipping my hand into a churning ocean of darkness. Countless entities brush against my consciousness -some ancient and terrible, others more recently claimed. I try to be selective, grabbing for souls that feel more... manageable.
“Um, Ivy?” Torin’s voice holds a note of alarm.
My eyes snap open to find not ten, but dozens of spectral forms materialising around us. Fuck.
“That’s more than ten,” Tate observes dryly.
“Really?” I mutter, sarcasm dripping from the word as I struggle to maintain control. The souls press in around us, their ethereal forms flickering with barely contained violence. I can feel their hunger for freedom, their desire to break free of Death’s control.
A massive warrior spirit lunges forward, spectral sword raised. Before I can react, Torin steps between us, his vampire speed letting him intercept the attack. His hand passes through the spirit’s form, but his mage magick crackles, forcing it back.
“Stop right there!” I command, channelling every ounce of Death’s authority I can muster. “Stand down, all of you!”
To my surprise, they actually listen. The warrior backs off, lowering his weapon. The other spirits settle into loose formation around us, waiting.
“Well,” I say, trying to hide my relief, “at least they can follow basic commands.”
“Great,” Torin mutters. “Now what?”
I straighten my spine, surveying my supernatural army. “Now we see what they can do, and more importantly, if they’ll actually fight for us when the time comes.”
But as I look at their hungry, violent faces, I wonder if I’m making a huge mistake. These aren’t soldiers - they’re monsters.
And I just might be unleashing hell.
There is only one way to find out, though.
The spirits shift restlessly, their forms rippling like heat waves in the air. Each one radiates different levels ofmalevolence, and I realise with growing unease that I can feel their crimes, their darkness, seeping into my consciousness.
“Right,” I say, trying to project confidence I don’t entirely feel. “Let’s start with something simple. I need to know your capabilities.”
A harsh laugh echoes through the clearing. One of the spirits, a woman with long dark hair and eyes like burning coals, steps forward. “You want to know what we can do, little Death? Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
I meet her gaze steadily. “I wouldn’t have called you if I wasn’t.”
“Liar,” she hisses, but there’s amusement in her tone. “You have no idea what you’ve got yourself into.”
“Then enlighten me,” I challenge. “Who are you?”
“I am Lilith.” She pauses, clearly expecting a reaction. When I roll my eyes, she sneers. “Not that Lilith, you ignorant child. Though I was named for her. I was a witch in life, burned at the stake for crimes that would make your blood run cold.”
“Fascinating,” I drawl. “It’s good to know the witch hunters gotsomethingright. But don’t hand me your CV. I need to know if you’ll fight when I command it.”
Another spirit pushes forward. This one is a large man with battle scars crisscrossing his spectral form. “Fight? Of course we’ll fight. It’s what we were born for, what we died for. The question is, what’s in it for us?”
And there it is. The question I’ve been dreading.
“You get to exist outside the void temporarily,” I say. “Isn’t that enough?”
The warrior laughs, the sound like grinding metal. “You think that’s a reward? To be yanked from our eternal rest to fight your battles?”
“Rest?” I scoff. “Is that what you call it? Floating in darkness, reliving your worst moments?”
That gets their attention. The spirits stir uneasily.
“What are you offering?” Lilith Junior asks, her eyes narrowing.
