6. Ivy

6

IVY

Three Years Ago

The dingy pub reeks of stale beer and desperation. I nurse my lukewarm pint, feeling every bit of my eighteen years. The fake ID that got me through the door is unnecessary now it's my birthday, but old habits die hard.

"Another round." A burly guy at the bar slurs, slamming his empty glass down.

I roll my eyes. It's barely past noon, and these idiots are already three sheets to the wind. But who am I to judge? I'm here day-drinking, too, albeit for different reasons.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it, knowing it's Aunt Cathy. The fight we had was rabid, and while I get that she only took me in because her brother and his wife died, a little compassion wouldn't fucking hurt on days like today. "Moping around," I mutter her words to me. "Well, excuuuuse me for having feelings, fucking cunt. "

"This seat taken?"

I look up to see a woman sliding onto the barstool next to me. She's gorgeous in that untouchable way—all sleek lines and sharp edges. Her dark hair is pulled back in a severe bun, and her piercing green eyes seem to look right through me. She adjusts her black suit jacket and brushes off her matching pants.

"It's a free country," I mutter, taking another swig of my beer.

She smirks, signalling the bartender. "Whisky. Neat."

I raise an eyebrow. She's going straight for the hard stuff. Respect.

"Rough day?" I drawl, unable to contain my curiosity.

She turns those laser-focus eyes on me. "You could say that. But I think you're having a rougher one, Ivy Hammond."

I freeze, my pint halfway to my lips. "How do you know my name?"

Her smirk grows wider. "I know a lot of things about you, Ivy. I know you're days away from attending Thornfield Academy, and I know you're looking for answers about what happened to your parents."

My heart rate kicks up a notch, but I keep my face carefully blank. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She leans in close. "Cut the crap, Ivy. We both know you've been digging into their deaths."

I jerk away from her, nearly toppling off my stool. "Who the fuck are you? And who is ‘we'?"

"Someone who can give you the answers you're looking for," she says calmly, taking a sip of her whisky. "And maybe a chance at justice, if you're interested."

I narrow my eyes. "And why should I trust you?"

She shrugs. "You shouldn't. But what have you got to lose?"

She's right—I have fuck all to lose at this point. My parents are dead, my aunt barely tolerates me and is shipping me off to a prestigious supernatural academy, and I'm drinking away my meagre savings in a shitty pub on a Tuesday afternoon. Rock bottom is starting to look like my new address.

"Fine," I say, draining the last of my pint. "I'm listening."

She smiles, all teeth and no warmth. "Not here. Follow me."

Without waiting for a response, she slides off her stool and heads for the door. I hesitate for a moment, every instinct screaming that this is a bad idea. But curiosity—and the promise of answers—wins out, so I follow her out into the grey afternoon.

She leads me down a series of winding alleys, each one darker and narrower than the last. I keep my guard up, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Finally, we emerge into a small courtyard tucked away behind a row of abandoned shopfronts.

"Well, this isn't sketchy at all," I mutter.

The woman ignores my sarcasm, pulling out her phone and tapping out a quick message. A moment later, a section of the brick wall in front of us slides open, revealing a hidden doorway .

"After you," she says, gesturing towards the opening.

I hesitate. "Yeah, I don't fucking think so. You first."

She smirks and steps through. Against my better judgement, I follow.

The door slides shut behind us with an ominous thud, plunging us into darkness. I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden lack of light.

"Watch your step," the woman's voice comes from in front of me.

We descend a flight of stairs, the air growing cooler and damper with each step. Finally, we emerge into a cavernous room that looks like a cross between a high-tech command centre and a medieval torture chamber. Sleek computer banks line one wall, while the other holds an impressive array of weapons and runic objects.

"Welcome to the place where you will get answers," the woman says.

"Nice setup. But I still don't know what the fuck is going on."

She chuckles. "Always straight to the point. I like that about you, Ivy."

"You seem to like a lot of things about me," I say dryly. "Care to share how you know so much?"

"We've been watching you for a while now," she admits. "Ever since you started poking around in places you shouldn't."

I cross my arms as a warlock with a very dark aura stares at me from over the top of his computer screen. I shift uncomfortably, trying to ignore his penetrating gaze. "And what places would those be? "

"The supernatural underbelly of England," she says matter-of-factly. "You've been asking questions and causing quite a stir."

I keep my face carefully neutral, but inside, my mind is racing. How does she know about that? I've been so careful, covering my tracks and using every ounce of cunning I possess to dig up information on the creatures I suspect are responsible for my parents' deaths.

"You're not denying it," she notes.

I shrug. "Seems pointless to lie when you clearly know more than you're letting on."

She nods approvingly. "Smart girl. Yes, we know about your... extracurricular activities. And we're impressed. Not many creatures could uncover as much as you have on their own, and with the methods you employ, you have caught our attention."

The warlock chuckles, but there is no humour in it. It's a vicious sound that grates on my nerves.

"Thanks for the compliment, I guess. But you still haven't told me who you are or what you want with me."

She smiles, and this time, it almost reaches her eyes. "You can call me Vera. We are… well, let's call it an unofficial regulatory body for the supernatural world."

I snort. "Unofficial. Nice. So you think the Supernatural Investigations Agency is a load of crap, too?"

"Creatures fall through the cracks. It's what happens. We clean up the mess."

"And what does that have to do with me?"

"We have a proposition for you, Ivy. We want you to join us. "

I bark out a laugh. "Join you? To do what, exactly? Hunt monsters who escape the jaws of justice?"

"Precisely."

The warlock's gaze becomes more invasive. It feels like he is probing through my brain. Hell, for all I know, he could be.

Ignoring him, I stare at her, waiting for the punchline. When it doesn't come, I shake my head. "You're insane. I don't know the first thing about hunting anything."

"But you do," Vera insists. "You've already shown a remarkable aptitude for investigation and tracking. With proper training, you could be one of our best."

I narrow my eyes. "And what's in it for me?"

"Besides the chance to avenge those who have been screwed over by the failed justice system? You will get answers about your parents."

"What happened to them?" I jump on that, my heart pounding in my ears.

She gives me a sinister smile. "Not yet. You have to prove you are worthy of this information."

"Of course," I mutter. "Look, I'm not a hunter. I can't do what you are asking."

"We aren't asking you to hunt, exactly. You will be handed assignments, and then you will find the target and despatch justice."

"In what form?"

"Death."

"Wow, okay. That is final."

"Only the worst scum is of interest to us. If death isn't deserved, we don't touch it. "

"So you want me to track down the most evil creatures the world has to offer and kill them? Who is to say they won't kill me first?"

"That is a risk, yes. But is the incentive for you to be the very best you can be."

"Do I get paid?"

"Handsomely."

Now, she's piqued my interest beyond being able to walk away. I don't believe she knows what happened to my parents, but with cash on my side, I can fucking find out myself.

"Say I agree," I say slowly. "What happens next?"

Vera's smile widens, revealing unnaturally sharp teeth. "If you agree, you will get an assignment. A low level training exercise."

I suppress a shudder. "This is still a kill?"

"Very much so. Just a not-so dangerous target."

We lock gazes, and I pause.

"Still a bad creature, Ivy, just not the worst offender you'll come across. You need to start small. Low-risk assignments to build your confidence and abilities."

The warlock finally speaks up, his voice like gravel. "If you survive."

Vera shoots him a look. "Ignore Vex. He can be a bit of a dick."

"Come over here and say that with it shoved in your mouth."

I blink at him. He is attractive in that bad boy kind of way. Clearly a little unhinged. But I like that in a guy. What that says about me, who the fuck knows or gives a shit?

I glance between them, weighing my options. On the one hand, this is insane. They're asking me to become an assassin, to kill supernatural creatures. It's dangerous, probably illegal, and definitely morally dubious.

On the other hand... answers. Justice. Purpose. Money.

"What about the university?" I ask. "I'm supposed to start at Thornfield in a few days."

"It's the perfect cover," Vera says. "You'll attend classes, blend in, be normal. No one will suspect a thing."

I take a deep breath. "And you swear you'll tell me what happened to my parents?"

"Once you've proven yourself, yes."

I close my eyes for a moment, steeling myself. When I open them, my decision is made.

"Okay," I say. "I'm in."

Vera's grin is predatory. "Excellent. Welcome to the Syndicate, Ivy Hammond."

"Say goodbye to your soul," Vex adds before going back to his computer screen.