39. Torin
39
TORIN
The teleportation back to Thornfield feels like descending into a tomb. It’s fitting, given what awaits us there. My mother’s presence lingers at the edges of my awareness—a cold, ancient malevolence that’s haunted me since birth. She’s waiting, I can feel it.
But we need to be back here for all our stuff and to say our goodbyes, and she needs to deal with it. The last thing I need or want is for her to arrive at MistHallow’s doorstep for this confrontation.
“You okay?” Ivy asks as we walk across campus, slowly, not eager to confront this for various reasons.
“Peachy,” I grunt.
Bram and Tate follow behind us. We’re stronger together now, our roles as Ivy’s anchors have evolved into something deeper, more fundamental. But even that knowledge doesn’t completely quiet the unease churning in my gut.
“We don’t have to do this,” Ivy says softly. “We could ignore her.”
I shake my head. “She’ll just keep coming. Better to end it now.”
The truth hangs between us, unspoken but understood. My mother won’t stop. She’s had centuries to perfect her cruelty, to hone her obsession with power. Even Life’s defeat won’t change that, but I’m interested to see what’s changed.
As we approach the townhouse, I see the Rolls Royce parked up and inhale deeply.
“Well, well,” her voice carries across the night sky as she climbs out of the back seat. “The prodigal son returns.”
“Mum,” I say flatly. “Still alive, I see. Pity.”
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. It never has. “Such disrespect. After everything I’ve done for you.”
“You mean after everything you’ve done to me?” I counter as Ivy, Bram, and Tate hang back to let me do this… whatever this is. “The years of manipulation? The attempts to turn me into your perfect little soldier?”
“I tried to make you strong to lead the coven. Instead, you chose weakness. Chose them.”
I laugh, the sound harsh and bitter. “Weakness? Oh, you have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. But that’s always been your problem. You never understood the difference between cruelty and strength.”
Her facade cracks slightly, ancient vampire power leaking through like poison. “I understood enough to survive this long. To build our family’s legacy?—”
“Legacy?” I cut her off. “You mean the trail of bodies? The enemies you’ve made? The allies you’ve betrayed?” I step forward, letting my own power rise. “What you did to Dad, not that he didn’t deserve it, but still.”
“Your father was weak,” she hisses, her perfect composure slipping further. “Just like you’ve become.”
“No,” Ivy says quietly, moving forward. “He’s become something you can’t comprehend. Something beyond your petty games and power plays.”
My mother’s laugh is like breaking glass. “You think because you’ve become Death that you understand power? Life showed me things beyond your comprehension.”
“Life showed you what you wanted to see,” Bram says. “She used your ambition, your fear of irrelevance, against you.”
“She promised me true immortality!”
“She lied,” I say simply. “And now she is gone. In her place is Ivy. If you really want to throw down with her, be my guest, although I wouldn’t recommend it. She will kick your arse all the way to the grave. You’ve been lying to yourself for centuries. Pretending your cruelty makes you strong. Your manipulation makes you clever. Your betrayals make you powerful.”
Her power lashes out, fast as a striking snake. But I’m faster now, my enhanced abilities letting me sidestep easily. Her attack leaves scorch marks on the pavement where I stood.
“I am your mother,” she snarls, her perfect mask finally cracking completely. Beneath it, I see what she truly is—an ancient, desperate thing, clinging to power and control like a drowning person clutches driftwood. “Everything I did was to prepare you!”
“To be just like you?” I cut her off again. “A bitter, lonely creature who betrays everyone foolish enough to trust her? Who aligned herself with a cosmic force she didn’t understand because she’s so terrified of losing control?”
“You know nothing of control!” She launches herself at me, vampire speed making her almost blur. Almost.
I catch her wrist before her claws can reach my throat. The contact sends ice through to her veins.
“I know enough,” I say quietly, holding her in place as she struggles. “I know that real strength comes from bonds freely given, not forced through fear or manipulation. I know that true power grows stronger when it’s shared, not hoarded.”
“Foolish boy,” she spits, her face contorting with rage. “This girl will do nothing but cock up the universe. She has no idea the forces that are out there.”
“And you do? Who cares? It is what it is. Nothing can or will change it.”
Her other hand comes up, dark power gathering in her palm. But before she can strike, Ivy steps forward. The air itself seems to hold its breath.
“You’ve lost,” Ivy says. “Life is gone. Your bid for power failed. The only question now is whether you’ll accept that gracefully or force us to handle your assault?”
My mother’s laugh holds an edge of hysteria. “You think you can kill me? I’m ancient, girl. I’ve survived attempts on my life from beings far older and more powerful than you.”
“You haven’t survived me,” I say quietly. “Not yet.”
She stills in my grip, finally seeing what I’ve become. What we’ve all become. Her power is impressive by normal standards—centuries of accumulated strength and knowledge. But compared to what flows through us now? She might as well be a spark next to a forest fire.
“You wouldn’t,” she whispers, but there’s uncertainty in her voice now. “I’m your mother.”
“No. You never were,” I correct her.
“We’re giving you a choice,” Ivy says. “One last chance to walk away. To accept that your time of power is over.”
“And if I refuse?”
I squeeze her wrist tighter, feeling ancient bones creak under my grip. “Then you will find out that maybe some things are worse than death.”
For a moment, I think she’ll fight. Her power coils, ancient and deadly, ready to strike. But then something in her breaks. She knows she can’t win. Not against what we’ve become.
“Fine,” she spits, yanking her wrist free. “Keep your pathetic notions of family and loyalty. When it all falls apart, don’t come crawling back.”
“Trust me,” I say as she backs away, straightening her designer suit with trembling hands. “That won’t be a problem.”
She turns to leave, her dignity in tatters, but her spine still rigid. She pauses. “You could have been great, you know. Could have ruled beside me.”
“Ruled what? A measly little vampire coven that doesn’t even bear your name? No, thanks. Huge pass.”
She doesn’t respond, she just climbs back into the car, and it shoots off into the night.
“Well,” Tate says after a moment. “That was interesting. Do we trust her to stay out of it?”
“Yeah. I saw the dawning of understanding in her eyes. She knows she can’t come up against us. Doesn’t mean she won’t be a thorn to everyone else, though.”
“She will get what’s coming to her one day,” Ivy says. “Everyone always does. Even more so, now.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly. “I think that helps.”
“Always,” Ivy says simply.
“Now,” Tate claps his hands together, breaking the heavy moment. “Who’s ready to pack up and get the hell out of here?”
We head inside to gather our belongings, while Ivy heads back to the house she shared with Ramsey.
Something feels different now—lighter. It’s like confronting my mother finally broke some ancient chain I didn’t know was still binding me.