41. Torin

41

TORIN

I trudge through the deepening snow, eyes scanning for any sign of the serpent. The cold doesn’t bother me much, being a vampire and all, but the others are starting to shiver.

“This is fucking pointless,” Bram grumbles, kicking at a snow-covered bush. “That snake could be anywhere by now.”

“We have to keep looking,” Ivy insists, her teeth chattering slightly. “It’s our only lead on how to fix this mess.”

I glance over at her, worry clawing at me. She looks pale, fragile. Nothing like the fierce, vibrant woman I remember. How much of her is truly back? Did we leave some of her scattered across dimensions?

Tate moves closer to her, hesitating for a moment before wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “We should get you inside soon. You’re freezing.”

She leans into him instinctively, then stiffens and pulls away. “I’m fine. We need to find that snake.”

Tate doesn’t even look bothered that she brushed him off, which is fucking weird.

“We need to find the snake. If Death is right, that thing has parts of us inside it, or representative, whatever. Tate’s love for Ivy is that fucking thing. Bram’s magick, probably and my…” I trail off with a frown. I still don’t know.

“Your what, Torin?” Bram snaps, sounding pissed off. “What exactly did you lose in all this?”

I’m about to tell him to fuck off when a white-hot pain lances across my arm, and I grunt. Looking down, I see the pristine white snow covered with crimson, and I frown harder as I realise it’s coming from me. The wound I made during the ritual is back and flowing freely.

“Shit,” I hiss, clasping my hand over the wound to stem the bleeding. The others turn to look at me, alarmed.

“What the hell?” Bram says, moving closer to inspect my arm.

“The ritual wound,” I explain through gritted teeth. “It’s reopened.”

“But that healed as soon as you fed. How is this possible?”

I shake my head, at a loss. “I’m guessing this is my lot.”

Tate frowns, his gaze intense as he studies my bleeding arm. “What do you mean?”

“You lost your love, Bram lost his magick, and I will continue to bleed out until we fix this,” I state, somehow not as upset by this revelation as I should be.

“Here,” Cathy says, pulling a blood bag out of the small backpack she’s carrying.

“What? Are you like some blood dealer or something?”

She purses her lips. “Do you want it or not?”

I snatch it from her and rip it open with my fangs. As soon as I drink, the wound starts to heal again.

“This is not fun,” I grouse.

“Better make sure we keep you topped up,” Bram states and turns to search the ground again.

Looking over at Cathy, I ask, “You got more?”

She pats the backpack. “Got you covered.”

Ivy’s face is pale as she stares at me, and I smile, reassuring her I’m okay. For now. But then tears flood her eyes. “I’m so sorry. All of this has happened because of me. You are all suffering because of me.”

Ivy’s words hang heavy in the frigid air. I want to support her, to tell her it’s not her fault, but the words stick in my throat. Because, in a way, she’s right. We did this for her. We tore reality apart to bring her back.

But I’d do it again in a heartbeat. We all would.

“Don’t,” Tate says firmly, reaching for her hand. “Don’t blame yourself for our choices.”

She pulls away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. “But you’re all suffering because of me. Tate, you died. Bram lost his magick. Torin is bleeding out. How is this not my fault?”

“Because we chose this,” I say, finding my voice at last. “We knew the risks. We did it anyway.”

Bram nods grimly. “And we’d do it again.”

Ivy shakes her head, tears freezing on her cheeks in the biting wind. “It doesn’t change the fact that this is all my fault. I—” She cuts off and scowls hard. “I remember. I did this trying to kill those beings that The Syndicate sent after Cathy.”

“Correction. That Life sent after Cathy,” I point out. “We can’t trust her.”

“No, we can’t, but she is right in that we need to go back. We can’t stay here,” Tate says.

“Agreed. What else do you remember?” I ask cautiously after a beat.

Her eyes meet mine, and she shakes her head sadly. “It’s like you have all been wiped from my mind. I’m sorry.”

“It’s a test,” Cathy states, resuming her search, bag and hook at the ready.

“A test?” I ask curiously. “By whom and what is the purpose of it.”

“To see if you make your way back to each other. This whole thing is one giant test, and I’m pretty sure this Life creature is behind it.”

“Whoa,” I say, holding my hands up. “Hang on a damn minute. You can’t just say that casually and carry on looking for that snake like this isn’t the biggest thing we’ve heard all day.”

She looks up and gives me a look that pretty much confirms she thinks I’m thick as pig shit and a total dickhead. “You mean to say, this has never crossed your mind?”

Glowering at her, I’m forced to admit that it didn’t, even for one second, cross my mind. “This whole fucked up situation is some kind of cosmic relationship test?”

“Seems that way,” Cathy says with a shrug, returning to her search for the snake. “But not just relationship. Bonds, people. Ever heard of those?”

Fuming, I take a step forward but then remember she is Ivy’s aunt and provider of the blood that’s stopping me from bleeding all over the show. Perhaps a modicum of restraint is in order.

Ivy wraps her arms tighter around herself, looking small and lost. “But why? What’s the point?”

“To see if your bond is strong enough,” Tate says quietly. “To see if you’d find your way back to us even without memories.”

I feel a chill that has nothing to do with the snow. “And if she fails?”

No one answers. We don’t need to say it out loud. If Ivy fails this test, we could lose everything. Each other, our proper reality, maybe even our very existence.

“ We won’t fail,” Bram says firmly. “We just need to find that damn snake and figure out how to use it to get back.”

“Show her your chest,” I snap at Tate, who is staring at Ivy like a lost puppy in the snow.

“Huh?” he mutters.

“Your marking. Show it to her.”

He blinks and looks down. He opens his shirt and stares at it like it’s the first time he’s seen it. Ivy’s gaze goes straight to it.

“You did that to him. He marked you, too. On your lower back. You two are fated, destined, whatever the fuck you want to call it.”

“And us?” she asks, gaze shifting to mine and searching my soul for the answers.

“I believe we are meant to be together,” I state boldly. “We may not have the same soul-deep connection that you and Tate have, but that is inconsequential when I feel the way I do about you. I’m obsessed with you. I have been since I first laid eyes on you as Poison.”

Ivy’s eyes widen at my words, a flicker of recognition passing across her face. “Poison,” she murmurs. “I remember. Pink hair. Powerful, dangerous.”

“That’s right,” I say, encouraged. “That is your alter ego. The badass assassin version of yourself.”

She frowns, concentrating. “I killed people.”

“Only bad ones,” Bram interjects quickly. “You’re like a supernatural vigilante.”

Ivy shakes her head, looking overwhelmed. “This is all so confusing. I feel like I’m trying to put together a thousand-piece puzzle with only a handful of pieces.”

“Then let us help you find the rest,” Tate says softly. He reaches for her hand again, and this time, she doesn’t pull away. She hesitantly places her hand over his marking, and it flares up, recognising her touch. He hisses, and she parts her lips. It’s like a fucking fairytale, twisted and dark.

“There you go,” I grit out.

“And there’s why,” Cathy says slowly and quietly. “Nobody move.”

I grit my teeth and clamp my hand over the opening wound that has decided I need more blood right this pretty second.

“Easy now,” Bram says, wielding his hook as Cathy opens the bag.

I look where they are and see the snake wrapping itself around Tate’s left leg. “Oh, look. It’s Tate’s trouser snake,” I snort, unable to help myself of the joke just sitting there waiting.

Bram stifles his guffaw as Tate grimaces at me with a look that could stake a vampire… if we weren’t already in this hell dimension and not exactly alive to begin with.

Ivy stands frozen, her hand still on Tate’s chest over his marking. The snake pauses, its head swaying as if considering its next move.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move,” Bram grits out, sober now as his eyes lock on the serpent.

Tate’s jaw is clenched tight, his whole body rigid. “Not planning on it,” he mutters.

The snake continues its upward journey, winding around Tate’s torso. As it reaches his chest, it pauses again, its forked tongue flicking out to taste the air.

“What’s it doing?” Bram whispers.

“I think...” Ivy whispers. “I think it’s drawn to the marking.”

The snake slithers forward, its tongue tasting Tate’s skin, hissing wildly at the marking.

“Now!” Bram yells and hooks the snake swiftly, practically throwing it at Cathy, who catches it in the bag and ties the drawstring tightly.

We all just stand there for a moment, taking in the events. “What now?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“Now, we figure out how this fucker can help us get home.”

“Back to the old, creepy book?”

“Seems so.”

“We need to undo it all and start over,” Tate says. “We need to do it properly this time. Make sure none of us dies.”

“Do you trust us, Ivy? Do you trust us to undo this and still bring you back?”

Her gaze fixes on mine and I see the lifetimes she has lived while we were pratting about with mourning her and killing ourselves over a death ritual which backfired.

The silence is deafening.