In the Leyline of Fire (Epilogue) - part 3 of 3
“Our line,” the vampire corrected her firmly.
“You think I’d subject a child of mine to what I went through?” Ivy asked bitterly.
Blacker eyes flashed her way. “You think Piscary would have dared take liberties with you if I had already been in full possession of myself back then? I heard what he did to Kisten. Even as I was, he never dared to do the same to you.”
She watched as the mention of Kisten seemed to take that air of spoiling for a fight from Ivy. Just like with the witch, there was a real and abject sorrow there for a youth who’d been taken from life too young, and so carelessly. She had known Kisten too, had once had high hopes for him and her daughter. Even as she was, she could not understand why Piscary had traded his life for so little. A cold, powerful hand cupped her daughter’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Ivy. If I had known, I would’ve died sooner.”
Ivy’s throat closed. “Don’t say that,” she said hoarsely, gripping the hand strongly in hers. “Don’t you ever say that. You were my mom. I loved you. I never wanted…”
Dark gazes held, on one side almost dispassionately. “Loved,” the undead repeated. “You see, that is the difference between us. You loved the woman who died. But vampire virus or not, I am still your mother. I love you, such as I am. And I tell you that I will not let anyone harm your child. After all, he or she will be my grandchild.” She smiled, a terrible, wrathful grin full of razor-sharp teeth.
Ivy knew that her mother could very well wear that same smile while she tore apart anyone who dared touch the sole heir of her living bloodline. And I will probably be the same one day. Did Rachel know that? Ivy no longer doubted that Rachel loved her, but did she truly realize that she had pledged herself to a monster? How could Ivy subject a child of hers to this one day? “Mother, I’m sorry but I can’t -”
“Think about it first,” the older woman urged softly. “What you went through - it won’t be the same for your child, Ivy, not if your plans push through.”
The blood drained from Ivy’s face. “My…plans,” she repeated carefully.
“I know about Rynn’s offer.” Her mother’s voice was very gentle. “And I have a good idea what you will do with it.”
“How can you know that, when even I’m not sure of what my answer will be?” Ivy asked sharply.
Again a smile, but this one held more affection. “Because I know you.” Then her expression turned serious and cunning. She too, had once been an ancient master’s scion, privy to the ins and outs of their world. “You will need allies among the undead. Rynn’s support isn’t enough. Eventually, you will need undead on your side. It will never work otherwise.”
Ivy looked at her mother in astonishment. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to live,” was the brutally frank reply. “And I want my grandchild to have Erica’s chances. Or perhaps even better.”
“Erica’s chances,” Ivy repeated, in a way that said something had just occurred to her.
“I told you, if I had died earlier…” The woman sighed. “You and your father are not the only ones who’ve been watching out for her.”
Ivy’s hand dropped away from her mother’s. The undead let her step away, knowing that her daughter wasn’t quite convinced. This part needed patience, and she could wait. She had eternity now.
“If I...consider having a child, and I’m not saying I will, but if I do, it won’t be my decision alone.” Once more Ivy’s tones were guarded.
“I understand. I do remember what it’s like.” Inwardly, the vampire was amused at the prospect of that conversation. The witch hadn’t struck her as being particularly receptive to certain ideas. Still, she had displayed a surprising protectiveness towards Ivy that the mother in her liked. “I’ll support you, Ivy, if you see fit to include me in your plans. But know that my support would be much stronger if I had some assurance that my bloodline would continue.”
Now that was an outright lie, but a necessary one. Although her words intimated that her backing was somehow conditioned on Ivy providing her with an heir, the truth was she would support her regardless.
She watched impassively as Ivy turned to leave. She wondered how her usually perceptive daughter could swallow the falsehood so easily. Maybe it was because it was what Ivy expected to hear.
Not that an heir to her living line wasn’t important. It would better secure their chances. After all, the Tamwoods had been scions for centuries.
Only, it was time to change that, and to start preparing for the day her daughter would rule Cincinnati.
***
For the second time that night, Ivy drove like a bat out of hell. She bent over the powerful machine until she and the bike were one, weaving in and out of traffic at speeds that would’ve killed anyone not born with the vampire virus.
She didn’t trust her mother. She felt a pang in her heart for the parent who had watched over her when Ivy was a rebellious teenager torn between pride at having caught their master’s eye, and disquiet at the things he was leading her to do. Ivy had never doubted that warm, loving, protective woman who, with her father, had found the means to send her away for her own good. But ever since the vampire virus had taken over, it had made her mother more than nearly indestructible. It had taken her soul, her compassion.
Ivy could see that her mother didn’t like this situation with Rachel. No, if Rachel were bound or Ivy’s scion, she would be under control, safer, her loyalty to Ivy unquestioned. It was how the undead thought, even Rynn, though he had shrugged and allowed for Rachel’s adamant refusal and Ivy’s equally steadfast insistence on Rachel’s full consent.
After all, consent could be a nebulous concept among a species as seductive as their kind. Technically, Ivy had given her consent the night Piscary had forced her to break her blood fast and agree to be his scion. A dozen vampires would attest to the fact that their combined pheromones had set the club alight that night.
Only Rachel had called it what it was - a blood-rape. Only Rachel had stayed to see how it had nearly broken Ivy, and how she had hated herself for a long time after. Only Rachel had gone to confront Piscary, to avenge her.
After that night, there was no way in hell Ivy would finesse Rachel’s consent, especially not on a matter as important to the witch as her will. That night had shattered all of Ivy’s illusions, including the niggling half-belief that Piscary had somehow truly cared for her. Piscary had been so many things to her since she was young, a master, a mentor, a father figure, one of her earliest lovers - all twisted into one. But then, she had been trained all her life to seek his approval, as Kisten was. Which is why as close as she and Kisten were, he still envied the regard Piscary clearly bestowed on Ivy. In their world, it was a privilege to be favored so by the master, never mind that it had nearly destroyed Ivy in the process and turned her into something she hated. If Rachel had seen her then…
Ivy shivered, feeling as if the rushing wind had somehow found a way through her leather jacket to her skin. By the time she arrived home, she felt frozen.
But that lasted only until Rachel met her as she was shutting the church’s heavy door behind them. Without a word, she took Ivy into her arms.
“You’re cold!” Rachel exclaimed. Ivy heard the zipper of her jacket being pulled down. Rachel opened her jacket and stepped into its folds, until there was nothing between them but skin and thin shirts.
“Whatever it is,” Rachel whispered in that way she had of being both scared and defiant, “we’re okay.”
Ivy closed her eyes as Rachel’s warmth chased the last of the cold from her. She melted into her lover, and wrapped her arms tightly around her. She buried her face in Rachel’s shoulder and that glorious red hair, and let the tension go. The past was the past. This was their now, and Rachel was her lodestone.
“Yes,” Ivy answered, “we are.”
- The End -
A/N no. 2: It's always weird getting to the end of a story. I honestly thought I’d have this posted quickly for once, but then I was thinking of just a look-see into how Rachel and Ivy were doing a little down the road, and how others were reacting to their relationship. Nowhere in the plan were the 6000+ words I ended up writing. At one point I even thought I was through, only to have my beta complain - rightly - that a Ravy story should end with Ravy, and not with the two of them dealing with things apart. So if you liked that last scene, thank xxmadlaxx because it wouldn’t be there without her.
Lastly, if you liked this, please let me know. Getting to hear from so many wonderful people is one of the best things about writing Leyline. Thanks for reading!
“You think I’d subject a child of mine to what I went through?” Ivy asked bitterly.
Blacker eyes flashed her way. “You think Piscary would have dared take liberties with you if I had already been in full possession of myself back then? I heard what he did to Kisten. Even as I was, he never dared to do the same to you.”
She watched as the mention of Kisten seemed to take that air of spoiling for a fight from Ivy. Just like with the witch, there was a real and abject sorrow there for a youth who’d been taken from life too young, and so carelessly. She had known Kisten too, had once had high hopes for him and her daughter. Even as she was, she could not understand why Piscary had traded his life for so little. A cold, powerful hand cupped her daughter’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Ivy. If I had known, I would’ve died sooner.”
Ivy’s throat closed. “Don’t say that,” she said hoarsely, gripping the hand strongly in hers. “Don’t you ever say that. You were my mom. I loved you. I never wanted…”
Dark gazes held, on one side almost dispassionately. “Loved,” the undead repeated. “You see, that is the difference between us. You loved the woman who died. But vampire virus or not, I am still your mother. I love you, such as I am. And I tell you that I will not let anyone harm your child. After all, he or she will be my grandchild.” She smiled, a terrible, wrathful grin full of razor-sharp teeth.
Ivy knew that her mother could very well wear that same smile while she tore apart anyone who dared touch the sole heir of her living bloodline. And I will probably be the same one day. Did Rachel know that? Ivy no longer doubted that Rachel loved her, but did she truly realize that she had pledged herself to a monster? How could Ivy subject a child of hers to this one day? “Mother, I’m sorry but I can’t -”
“Think about it first,” the older woman urged softly. “What you went through - it won’t be the same for your child, Ivy, not if your plans push through.”
The blood drained from Ivy’s face. “My…plans,” she repeated carefully.
“I know about Rynn’s offer.” Her mother’s voice was very gentle. “And I have a good idea what you will do with it.”
“How can you know that, when even I’m not sure of what my answer will be?” Ivy asked sharply.
Again a smile, but this one held more affection. “Because I know you.” Then her expression turned serious and cunning. She too, had once been an ancient master’s scion, privy to the ins and outs of their world. “You will need allies among the undead. Rynn’s support isn’t enough. Eventually, you will need undead on your side. It will never work otherwise.”
Ivy looked at her mother in astonishment. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to live,” was the brutally frank reply. “And I want my grandchild to have Erica’s chances. Or perhaps even better.”
“Erica’s chances,” Ivy repeated, in a way that said something had just occurred to her.
“I told you, if I had died earlier…” The woman sighed. “You and your father are not the only ones who’ve been watching out for her.”
Ivy’s hand dropped away from her mother’s. The undead let her step away, knowing that her daughter wasn’t quite convinced. This part needed patience, and she could wait. She had eternity now.
“If I...consider having a child, and I’m not saying I will, but if I do, it won’t be my decision alone.” Once more Ivy’s tones were guarded.
“I understand. I do remember what it’s like.” Inwardly, the vampire was amused at the prospect of that conversation. The witch hadn’t struck her as being particularly receptive to certain ideas. Still, she had displayed a surprising protectiveness towards Ivy that the mother in her liked. “I’ll support you, Ivy, if you see fit to include me in your plans. But know that my support would be much stronger if I had some assurance that my bloodline would continue.”
Now that was an outright lie, but a necessary one. Although her words intimated that her backing was somehow conditioned on Ivy providing her with an heir, the truth was she would support her regardless.
She watched impassively as Ivy turned to leave. She wondered how her usually perceptive daughter could swallow the falsehood so easily. Maybe it was because it was what Ivy expected to hear.
Not that an heir to her living line wasn’t important. It would better secure their chances. After all, the Tamwoods had been scions for centuries.
Only, it was time to change that, and to start preparing for the day her daughter would rule Cincinnati.
***
For the second time that night, Ivy drove like a bat out of hell. She bent over the powerful machine until she and the bike were one, weaving in and out of traffic at speeds that would’ve killed anyone not born with the vampire virus.
She didn’t trust her mother. She felt a pang in her heart for the parent who had watched over her when Ivy was a rebellious teenager torn between pride at having caught their master’s eye, and disquiet at the things he was leading her to do. Ivy had never doubted that warm, loving, protective woman who, with her father, had found the means to send her away for her own good. But ever since the vampire virus had taken over, it had made her mother more than nearly indestructible. It had taken her soul, her compassion.
Ivy could see that her mother didn’t like this situation with Rachel. No, if Rachel were bound or Ivy’s scion, she would be under control, safer, her loyalty to Ivy unquestioned. It was how the undead thought, even Rynn, though he had shrugged and allowed for Rachel’s adamant refusal and Ivy’s equally steadfast insistence on Rachel’s full consent.
After all, consent could be a nebulous concept among a species as seductive as their kind. Technically, Ivy had given her consent the night Piscary had forced her to break her blood fast and agree to be his scion. A dozen vampires would attest to the fact that their combined pheromones had set the club alight that night.
Only Rachel had called it what it was - a blood-rape. Only Rachel had stayed to see how it had nearly broken Ivy, and how she had hated herself for a long time after. Only Rachel had gone to confront Piscary, to avenge her.
After that night, there was no way in hell Ivy would finesse Rachel’s consent, especially not on a matter as important to the witch as her will. That night had shattered all of Ivy’s illusions, including the niggling half-belief that Piscary had somehow truly cared for her. Piscary had been so many things to her since she was young, a master, a mentor, a father figure, one of her earliest lovers - all twisted into one. But then, she had been trained all her life to seek his approval, as Kisten was. Which is why as close as she and Kisten were, he still envied the regard Piscary clearly bestowed on Ivy. In their world, it was a privilege to be favored so by the master, never mind that it had nearly destroyed Ivy in the process and turned her into something she hated. If Rachel had seen her then…
Ivy shivered, feeling as if the rushing wind had somehow found a way through her leather jacket to her skin. By the time she arrived home, she felt frozen.
But that lasted only until Rachel met her as she was shutting the church’s heavy door behind them. Without a word, she took Ivy into her arms.
“You’re cold!” Rachel exclaimed. Ivy heard the zipper of her jacket being pulled down. Rachel opened her jacket and stepped into its folds, until there was nothing between them but skin and thin shirts.
“Whatever it is,” Rachel whispered in that way she had of being both scared and defiant, “we’re okay.”
Ivy closed her eyes as Rachel’s warmth chased the last of the cold from her. She melted into her lover, and wrapped her arms tightly around her. She buried her face in Rachel’s shoulder and that glorious red hair, and let the tension go. The past was the past. This was their now, and Rachel was her lodestone.
“Yes,” Ivy answered, “we are.”
- The End -
A/N no. 2: It's always weird getting to the end of a story. I honestly thought I’d have this posted quickly for once, but then I was thinking of just a look-see into how Rachel and Ivy were doing a little down the road, and how others were reacting to their relationship. Nowhere in the plan were the 6000+ words I ended up writing. At one point I even thought I was through, only to have my beta complain - rightly - that a Ravy story should end with Ravy, and not with the two of them dealing with things apart. So if you liked that last scene, thank xxmadlaxx because it wouldn’t be there without her.
Lastly, if you liked this, please let me know. Getting to hear from so many wonderful people is one of the best things about writing Leyline. Thanks for reading!