Page 71 of Wild Ivy
“The Syndicate needs leadership,” he says, getting straight to the point. “With Death’s passing on the mantle and subsequent events, there’s been uncertainty about its future amongst the ranks.”
“Well, get right down to it, why don’t you,” I mutter.
He gives me a sharp glare.
I straighten in my chair and fix him with a level stare, eager to share my thoughts on this now that the opportunity has struck. “The Syndicate serves a purpose. It removes the worst of the supernatural world.”
“And now?” Swann prompts. “You are now Death, as it were. You are the head of this organisation.”
“I’m aware, although I hadn’t had too much time to think about it, my initial thoughts are that now it’s even more important. We’re not just eliminating those who slip through the cracks of justice, we’re giving them a chance at redemption through rebirth.”
Swann nods approvingly, his black eyes lighting up in that creepy, creepy way that makes me shudder down to my soul. “That’s what we hoped you’d say. There are many employees relying on this organisation.”
“Including you,” I say dryly.
He inclines his head, but doesn’t grace me with an answer. He doesn’t have to. I know the score.
Swann straightens from his position by the window. “I agree with your vision for The Syndicate, Ivy. It’s time for evolution, not revolution. The organisation will support your leadership.”
“I should fucking hope so. We leave The Resistance alone. They have their thing to do, and it’s nothing to do with us. That is a hill I will die on…” I give them both a sickly sweet smile, “… and in case you haven’t noticed, I can’t die.”
Swann looks like he wants to argue but finally, he nods. “Agreed.”
“Now,” Blackthorn says, opening a drawer in his desk, “there’s the matter of your education to discuss.” He pulls out several papers. “As much as Thornfield wants to keep hold of you, I believe you will be better suited to the protection and education MistHallow can provide.”
I glance at Swann. He grimaces but says nothing. He can’t. He has no rule over my life.
I pick up the formal acceptance letter and prospectus and stare at them for a moment. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Blackthorn confirms with a slight smile. “MistHallow would be honoured to have you.Allof you.”
I nod, knowing I’m exactly where I need to be. Hopefully, the guys will agree.
37
BRAM
Recovery comes slowly,even for immortals. Each of us processes change differently. Some with quiet contemplation, others with restless energy that threatens to spill over. The three of us are gathered in my assigned room at MistHallow, trying to make sense of what we’ve become.
I watch Torin staring out of the window, his normally controlled vampire cool, fractured by flashes of power he can barely contain. Frost creeps along the windowsill where his fingers brush, and occasional sparks of pink magick dance around him like fireflies. The vampire mage—always so careful with his power before—now practically vibrates with it.
Tate lounges in an armchair, the picture of casual grace, but I can see the changes in him too. Ancient magick ripples beneath his skin, making his eyes shift colours like aurora borealis.
I sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of ages in my bones. Knowledge and power pulse through my veins, whispering secrets of the universe that I’m not sure I’m ready to understand.
“So,” Tate finally breaks our contemplative silence, “This is new.”
Torin snorts, another layer of frost spreading beneath his fingers. “No shit, Sherlock. Fuck, I don’t even know what to call us now.”
“Vessels,” I state, the word rising from somewhere deep inside, where ancient truth now resides. “We’re vessels for powers that needed anchors in this world. After what Life tried to do...”
“The universe needed a counterbalance,” Tate finishes, sitting forward. “And it chose us. Though I have to say, being chosen feels a lot like being hit by a metaphysical truck.”
“The universe needed Ivy,” I say. The truth resonates through me, down to my soul. “We were already bound to her. And she was already marked by Death.”
“More than marked,” Tate muses. “She was chosen too, long before any of us. We just got caught in her gravity.”
“Like she’s the centre, and we’re the points of a compass,” Torin adds. “Balance.”
