In the Leyline of Fire (4 of 7?)
Title: In the Leyline of Fire (4 of 7?)
Author: Wye (w.y.back)
Fandom: The Hollows
Pairing: Ivy/Rachel
Rating: R to be safe
Spoilers: Up to White Witch, Black Curse
Disclaimer: Rachel, Ivy, Jenks and the rest of the Hollows belong to KH and her publishers. Only the story is mine.
A/N: This update is at least a month late, but some changes in RL (not necessarily bad) and comp problems (always bad) pretty much made sure that nothing was going to get written for awhile. Oh Dragon Age had something to do with that too. =P Also gotta say that my beta xxmadlaxx rlz! Her suggestions on this chapter and the next (in progress) made them heaps better, imo.
4.
True to her word, Ivy returned some time during the night. The space next to me was faintly warm, and I had a vague memory of being enfolded in a comforting circle of arms. But by the time I woke she was gone again.
I carefully got to my feet. Huh. No dizzy spell so far, even when I started walking.
"You look like crap," Jenks greeted cheerfully as I entered the kitchen.
"Thanks," I returned acidly. Then I looked at Ivy.
She was reading the paper and studiously ignoring me. The noon-time sun was streaming through the window and it hit the new, subtle chestnut highlights in her otherwise midnight-black hair, turning it into a copper-and-ebony halo. Even now, at home and at rest, the contrast of her Asian features - oval face and almond eyes - with her creamy-pale skin and lean six feet made her nothing less than striking.
Ivy could be deadly, her living vampire speed augmented by a strict martial arts regimen, but this morning she looked almost demure as she sat at the table with her long robe belted tightly around her. Only at its vee could I catch a glimpse of the silk and lace underneath.
I wanted to kiss her again.
The intensity of my reaction shocked me. To be honest, I hadn’t been sure that what had happened last night would carry over into the harsher light of day. Now I realized that things had changed between us, at least from where I was standing.
The way Ivy had been last night…I knew that she loved me, and I had witnessed firsthand the ferocity of it and her passion. But last night her protectiveness had been tender, and when she started kissing me… The way Ivy kissed was the opposite of her customary stoicity; each kiss was as good as a declaration of feeling stamped in bold.
I murmured a “hi” and quickly fled past the cause of all these confusing feelings, stopping at the counter where the coffeemaker simmered. I am such a chickenshit.
But even as I reached for my Vampiric Charms mug, my mind couldn’t help playing out an alternative scene: What if I dropped the pretense, walked up to her and plucked the paper from her grasp? She would protest, but by then my hands would be on the lapels of her robe, parting it, and pulling her to her feet and to me. What would that soft, heart-shaped mouth taste like with the faint tang of coffee?
Ivy’s head whipped up as her senses caught the quickening of my heartbeat. She watched in fascination as a slow flush suffused my cheeks. A part of me wanted to hide and duck away. Instead, I turned around slowly. With my back resting against the counter and hands braced on either side of me, I gradually lifted my head and returned her gaze with a heavy-lidded stare.
The pheromones she released in response made my head spin. In a second she was next to me, one hand on my arm, guiding me, while another pulled out a chair.
“For pity’s sake, Rachel, sit down before you topple over,” she said gruffly.
She didn’t stay by my side for long. A cup of coffee and a muffin materialized in front of me. I stirred the coffee slowly as I watched Ivy rummage through the cabinet where I kept my charms. “What’re you looking for?”
“Something - ah!” She tossed me a pain amulet, which I caught reflectively. It didn’t help with the dizziness, but at least it banished the onset of a migraine.
“Jenks, her aura?” she prompted.
The pixie fluttered around me. “Definitely looks better than it should,” he replied approvingly.
“So it worked?”
“I’d say so.”
“Good,” she pronounced. “I have another run. I don’t know if I’ll be back any time before tomorrow.”
Not back before…? Now wait one second!
“You’ll be okay on your own, right, Rachel?”
Oh give the vampire a prize. She knew me so well, knew that my pride would balk at giving anything other than an affirmative answer.
I opened my mouth to deny any suggestion of weakness. “Actually I don’t feel a hundred percent yet.”
Crap, maybe I was possessed.
Judging from the astounded looks on their faces, Jenks and Ivy were considering that possibility too.
“What? Didn’t you guys just see me stumble around a second ago?” I muttered in dark embarrassment.
Jenks stared at me. Then he flew towards Ivy. “Maybe the banshee hit her harder than we thought,” he whispered sotto voce.
“I can hear you, you know,” I said peevishly. “Oh fine, go do your run,” I told Ivy crossly. I cradled my head in my hands; I’d inadvertently let go of the pain amulet and it was starting to hurt again. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll survive.”
For a moment Ivy simply stood there, and it was almost funny, seeing one of Piscary’s most efficient lieutenants shifting from foot to foot, a living, breathing picture of indecision. In the end she muttered, “I’ll try to finish earlier” before stalking out.
I grinned; I couldn’t help it. “Have a good run!” I called after her quickly retreating figure.
There was a sharp buzz as Jenks zipped near my head. My smile faltered as he landed next to my coffee, and assumed a familiar pose, hands on waist and sharp blue eyes peering up at me.
“What in the name of Tinks’ pastel pink bloomers do you think you’re doing?” the pixy demanded.
"What do you mean - okay, okay!" I gave up the pretense as his glare threatened to turn nuclear. I held out my hands placatingly. “Jenks, it’s not what you think.”
“Oh really. You’re not jerking Ivy's chain? You should know better than most that having a vampire wrapped around your little finger and on edge is not all fun and games. Someone could get hurt. Or bled,” he said bluntly.
“That’s not what I’m doing,” I denied, feeling my face flame.
“No? So you’re not playing with Ivy’s instincts?” he persisted. “You didn’t kiss her last night?”
My shoulders slumped. “She told you?” How could she? What was happening between us was so new. Shouldn't it be private for awhile?
“Ivy came in here two hours ago, looking worse than when she was doing runs for Piscary. I’m betting she didn’t sleep a wink last night.” Jenks frowned up at me. “When Kisten died…” he paused when I froze.
“I know you loved him,” he continued gently, “but Ivy and Kisten knew each other for a long time. They went through everything that blood-bastard Piscary threw at them together. Kisten was one of the few people who knew Ivy inside and out. She’s had a hard time without him, but somehow she was able to pick herself up after the two of you found his killer. I like how Ivy's been recently, Rache. Frankly, I think the way she’s getting over you is a good thing.”
He might as well have hit me. It felt like that, like I’d been sucker-punched in the gut by a six foot linebacker who’d come out of nowhere.
“She’s...getting over me?” I repeated numbly. Suddenly it all became clear - Ivy’s control, the way she’d been holding back, the non-touching.
“You can’t be surprised?” Jenks cocked his head to one side. “You don’t feel the same way she does. Isn’t this what you wanted?”
'I’m addicted to your little white lies…I don’t want pain to feel like love.' Oh God, of course. Ivy thought that her love for me had become an addiction, and she’d overcome addictions before. Why, as Jenks asked, was I surprised?
“I’m not surprised, I’m -” I ducked my head. The tears came so suddenly, so blindingly, it was impossible to blink them back.
“Tink’s titties, you’re crying?!” The panic in Jenks’ voice would’ve been funny under other circumstances. He flew off, snatched a couple of tissues and brought it back. “What the hell did that banshee do to you?”
I couldn’t answer because I knew my voice would break in the attempt. I was mortified enough by the inexplicable tears. She’ll do it. As sure as I was of the sun rising in the morning, I knew Ivy had already made the decision to let me go. More, she’d already taken the first steps.
Jenks flew around in consternation. He mumbled something as he watched me wipe the tears away.
“What?” I managed hoarsely, as I gradually got control of myself.
Looking increasingly uncomfortable, Jenks repeated, “She thinks it’s because of your aura.”
I didn’t get it. “What about my aura?”
“Ivy thinks that the reason you’re acting this way is because being near her replenishes your aura.”
“Replenishes my…? No!” My voice rose in shock and indignation. “No, Jenks, that has nothing to do with it!”
“Doesn’t it?” the pixy probed gently, and it took me awhile to figure out why his tone sounded so familiar. My dad had spoken to me in that way too - my real dad who’d raised me and bandaged my skinned knees, not Takata. I guessed that this was a side to Jenks he rarely displayed outside family. “You’ve said you couldn’t love Ivy that way a hundred times. So why this? Why now?”
“I thought I was going to die.” The answer flew out of me, swift and ringing with truth.
He looked at me doubtfully. “You’ve been in plenty of dangerous situations before.”
“Not like this.” I ran a nervous hand through my hair at the memory. “Usually something kicks in, a plan, a backup. But that banshee had me, Jenks, and she said things. I know she did it to get a rise out of me, but they made sense.” Even now I hated to admit it. “All I could think of was how I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to the two of you. And then I thought of Ivy. My last thought was of Ivy.”
I cleared my throat as embarrassment crept in. “That means something, doesn’t it? When I saw her the next day, and the way she was last night …”
Then it hit me. It wasn’t Ivy that had been different last night; it was me. For the first time, I’d let Ivy express her love for me in all the ways she wanted to, instead of just the parts I’d been comfortable with. I had always thought that it would feel wrong or forced somehow, but as things turned out, it had felt incredibly right. Not so much, I think, because Ivy was a woman, but because the woman who’d been kissing me was Ivy. And I loved her.
I sat there, stunned. I loved her at last, in every way it was possible to love someone. But she wanted out.
“Jenks, she isn’t over me yet, is she?” I asked urgently. “I need to talk to her. Do you think she’ll…?”
To my horror Jenks started shaking his head, but when he saw the rising panic on my face, he quickly clarified, “I can’t answer that, Rachel. You have to talk to her. Ivy has plans.”
“Oh.” That hurt for some reason, and I didn’t bother to hide it. “And she told you?” But not me?
“It’s recent." He sensed where I was coming from and sounded defensive. "She sort of mentioned it when we were out on our run. She’s been meaning to discuss it with you, but the banshee and all of this happened, and now -”
“Now she’s too busy running away from me,” I cut in bitterly, “because she thinks I’m some kind of aura-junkie. Dammit, Jenks!” I pounded the table in frustration. “This isn’t the first time a banshee got to me. I didn’t jump her back then and I didn’t need to kiss her last night for us to connect! This isn’t about that at all.”
This time he was the one who held up his hands. “Alright,” he said, and from his tone I knew he believed me. Then he grinned at me with a devilish air. “I’m not the one you're going to have to convince, though. Ooooh, when you do manage to corner her, can I watch?”
I tried to swat him, but the damn pixy moved too fast.
***
Ivy got off her bike and hesitated. The church was a big smudge of dark against the post-midnight sky.
I shouldn’t have come home right away, she berated herself. The run had been hard and violent, and it had taken all of her mad vamp skills not to get seriously maimed tonight. No vampire came down from a high like that easily. Even now, almost an hour later, she still felt the faint tendrils of adrenaline and bloodlust.
I should’ve passed by Piscary’s - they called it something else now, but it was hard to think of it as anything other than Piscary’s - or a club, or Rynn’s. Anything to take the edge off.
Too late now. Between the run and the lack of sleep, Ivy was too weary to do anything other than trudge up the steps of the church. Maybe Rachel’s asleep.
The vampire opened the thick, wooden door with ease and slipped inside. There were no lights - she didn’t need them and it was a couple of hours to dawn anyway. Her steps slowed as she reached the hallway where the bedrooms were. With a mixed sense of relief and disappointment, she saw that Rachel’s door was closed.
The relief lasted for exactly the two seconds it took for her to register that her bedroom door was wide open…and her room wasn’t empty.
She’s on my bed.
For a moment Ivy could only stand there, heart in mouth, frozen in her own doorway. She had dreamed about this a hundred times and now it was real. Rachel was indeed asleep, her body curved peacefully under silken sheets, her glorious hair stark red against Ivy’s pillows.
Rachel's scent was everywhere in the room, mixing heavily with hers, and Ivy knew that it would take days to disperse. Forget tonight, she thought despairingly, I’m not going get a good night’s sleep for a week!
Her bloodlust, and the other kind, sprang to life. Ivy wondered if Rachel had any idea how much danger she was in. Ten years ago, any girl or boy who chanced Ivy’s bed while she was in this state ran the risk of being halfway drained in the moment it took to blink.
That was how Piscary had shaped her. You will be a magnificent creature, Ivy girl. Vampires themselves will fear you one day. He had wanted an equal, a modern vampire who could play the intricate games of blood and favors, but who was as savage in appetite and instincts as any who was centuries-old.
Ivy knew that Rachel didn’t understand why she hated herself. But Rachel hadn’t known that Ivy, the one who’d broken her partners before Skimmer had taught her to shackle bloodlust with love. Ivy’s parents, including her undead mother, had sighed in relief when Skimmer survived a long-term relationship with their daughter. And if it had continued, they would’ve been more than satisfied. After all, Skimmer was of an impeccable bloodline.
But Ivy had to leave Skimmer and return to Piscary’s camarilla, and in the intervening years the young vampire discovered that she wanted more. She wanted to be in control of her instincts, and to call her own shots. She had even sworn off blood. That Ivy had been non-practicing for three years when they’d left the I.S. had helped convince Rachel to move in with her.
And time, and living with a witch who was so ignorant about vampires she always tripped something, had given Ivy the tools. Living vampires didn’t need blood physiologically, but the hunger was there. The secret, Ivy learned, was to delay. She couldn’t help the bloodlust, but she could tell herself to wait. To not kill. To not feed. To hold herself still even as everything in her screamed for release, and to warn her prey.
With waiting came the chance that the instinct would weaken, or abate entirely if she could hold off long enough. Ivy put those skills to good use now. Instead of leaping at the supine redhead in her bed and slaking her hunger, the vampire began to shrug out of her working leathers. She threw her coat in the corner. She kicked off her boots and socks.
She was standing there, barefoot in her biker pants and haltertop, when Rachel woke at the noise. “Ivy?” Her voice was supple with sleep.
The lamp came on and filled the room with a soft, diffused illumination just as Ivy propped up the sword she’d carried tonight against the wall. Green eyes flicked to the weapon for the space of a second before they rested on the living vampire again.
Ivy didn’t answer. She wondered if Rachel could see the tension that was still in her from the run. Did it frighten her to see how taut Ivy’s movements were, how they were only a shade short of vampire-smooth?
Finally their eyes met, and as usual green searched brown, trying to gauge their color in the dim light. Rachel was blushing. Ivy bet that it was because her roommate had just realized what this must look like. Even among witches, waiting for someone in their bed could only be interpreted in so many ways.
Ivy kept her face closed. If Rachel knew how much this latest stunt of hers was affecting her, the witch would run out of here screaming and that would trigger all of her vampire instincts. Ivy reminded herself that it wasn’t really her that Rachel was after. If Ivy took advantage of her in this state, it wouldn’t be the act of a friend.
To her credit, Ivy was doing a pretty decent job. Until Rachel ruined it by speaking.
“Jenks told me,” she said simply, watching for a reaction. “It’s not your aura I want, Ivy.”
Then she held out her hand to Ivy - to Ivy! To a half-vamped bloodsucker who was looking at her with hungry, half-black eyes! The pain amulet Ivy had given her earlier dangled from her wrist.
Rachel’s complete and utter trust was like heady sweet wine, fanning the flames of Ivy’s struggle. She has no idea how fucking beautiful she is, or how much her blood sings to me. And she was offering. All requisites were satisfied. How could Ivy resist?
And just like that, because everything she wanted was within easy reach, Ivy lost it.