Page 87 of Wild Ivy
“I’m okay,” I say, and mean it. “Ready for the next chapter.”
The guys look around and then at each other. “This is not how I thought this year would go,” Torin says. “To think how we started out at Thornfield, all the things we plotted and executed… it seems like a lifetime ago.”
“It was,” I say with a small smile. “But here’s to the Kings of Thornfield. How you’ve mellowed with your growing powers.” We all laugh, but I sober up and continue, “But that takes courage and strength. You should be proud you are wielding these powers responsibly.”
“Eww,” Torin says, pulling a face. “Don’t use the r-word.”
Our connection flares up under my skin, burning hotly but pleasantly. I smile and step into the middle of their circle. “Here’s another r-word. Ready?”
Torin nods, returning my smile.
“Ready for forever,” Tate says and kisses the top of my head.
“Ready for everything,” Bram adds.
Ready for everything.
Whatever the future holds, we are ready for it. Together.
EPILOGUE
Ivy
Four Years Later
The soul spaceshimmers with its familiar cosmic beauty as I guide another cluster of spirits toward their new beginnings. I’ve got this down to a fine art now. Thousands of souls in one sweep. It’s a real time saver.
“Still working?” Bram’s voice pulls me back to my physical surroundings.
I open my eyes to find myself in my favourite spot in our garden, the grounds of this cottage nestled in a forest about ten miles south of MistHallow Academy. It’s not the ancient, enchanted, hauntingly sentient forest that surrounds the academy, but it’s close. It absorbs the magick by osmosis, and one day, it will be a forest to be reckoned with.
The herb beds I planted have flourished, filling the air with healing scents. Aunt Cathy visits regularly to supervise my gardening, though mostly she comes to spoil us all with her cooking and tales of what The Resistance is up to. I’m not thathands-on with The Syndicate. They know what to do. Ramsey and Swann run that operation like two Brigadier Generals, and I’m happy to let them.
“Just checking in,” I tell him, accepting his help to stand as Emmie rushes towards me and wraps her arms around my legs. I giggle and scoop her up, planting a kiss on her little button nose.
“Mama finished?”
“Yes, my little goddess,” I say, handing our daughter back to Bram so I can brush the moss and damp leaves off my jean-covered backside. “I’m finished for today.”
Bram pulls me close with his free arm, and I lean into his solid warmth. These quiet moments are precious, balanced against our busy lives. “Torin said the forest is growing in power. It is drawing magick from you, from all of us. We will have it up to MistHallow’s level in no time.”
I giggle. “Like two thousand years from now?”
“Pretty much,” he snorts.
“And what’s Tate been up to? I haven’t heard any explosions or creative cursing from the training area today.”
“He’s teaching his little protégés energy shields,” Bram chuckles. “He’s actually getting good at the teaching thing, when he’s not trying to prove he can bounce spells off three surfaces at once, of course. Blackthorn was right, once again.”
“Always is.”
Our laughter carries across the garden as we head back to the cottage we call home. Smoke drifts out of the chimney, letting me know Torin has started a roaring fire on this crisp autumn evening.
Bram catches my hand as we walk back. “Listen, we had an idea. We want you to be open-minded about it and not dismiss it right off the bat.”
“That sounds ominous,” I say, taking Emmie from Bram as she struggles to reach me, her demi-goddess magick, curlingaround me, pulling me closer to her. Even at three, she is a force to be reckoned with. She smiles and pats my cheek, her big blue eyes lighting up, and she tucks her head under my chin.
When we reach the cottage, Bram opens the door, and Torin greets us, gripping a bottle of blood like it’s a lifeline. Whatever they have to say makes me suddenly nervous.
