The Deaths of Me (NEW ADULT REWORK)

8. Ivy's Unexpected Visitor

The advantage of emotions is that they lead us astray.

--Oscar Wilde

Ivy grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. Her eggplant and slate grey bathroom went unused on most days. But as the only mirror in her downtown loft hung there, she'd had to dust off the cobwebs to see her bright green eyes. They glistened merrily now that she'd fed properly, even if the rest of her expression sagged in comparison.

With the Covenant's rules of feeding, she was required to make an appointment at the nearest blood bank and receive a three hour long blood transfusion. They called the process blood-cycling, and it was presently the only way for a vampire to legally feed. It was prohibited for vampires to feed from an actual human, living or dead.

It had been ruled as barbaric in the seventies, and vampires weren't even allowed to use it as a fighting tactic anymore. With the modern world becoming increasingly open-minded and hopeful of a supernatural world, vampires and all other Underdwellers had had to adapt to the twenty-first century. Leaving tracks like bite marks or dead humans was apparently 'anti-Surfacing' material. Which only served to take the fun out of blood, really.

Her lips pursed in aggravation. "Bullshit," she huffed.

Whatever regulations the Covenant had on feeding, Ivy hardly ever adhered to them. Her downtown loft was settled conveniently atop a quaint little farmer's market grocery shop, and the owner just happened to be a truly giving individual. No matter what the Covenant tried to do, vampires would always be blood suckers, werewolves would always be dogs, and humans would always be beneath them both.

She shoved herself away from the sink, avoiding her own eyes once and for all. The taste of nearly fresh blood stung at her tongue, and she failed to keep the smug smile from her face. As she marched into her living room, she surveyed her home.

The hard-wood floor gleamed in the harsh fluorescent lights. At least it did whenever the light could find it. Clothes were strung about in miniature mountains, making the floor itself difficult to see. There was one couch and no other appliances than what had come with the space. Technically, there was also a bed in the designated bedroom, but Ivy had never slept there.

Ivy preferred to not be in her loft at all, but when the sun forced her back inside, she was always in her closet. The tight space was the only clean thing about the loft; it remained dark, tidy and safe when the rest of the world was draining and pitiful.

How was the phoenix going to live with her for half a week every week? Ivy kicked an abandoned jacket with an uncharacteristically bootless foot and let out a groan. Why did Ivy have to be so impulsive? She wouldn't even be indebted to the Covenant if she had been level-headed in 1587. A nagging voice in her head sent disturbing flashes of that night back to her, ripping across her mind like lightning. A knock sounded at the door.

Ivy nearly jumped out of her skin.

She glanced down at her bare legs. They seemed to sprout from the pair of light gray shorts she wore with alarming paleness. The extensive burn scars there didn't make her flinch in shame anymore. In fact, she hoped that whoever was at the door would see them, feel uncomfortable about it, and promptly leave. The only visitors she ever received were messengers for the Covenant. Usually an elf or a pixie; both species were good with glamouring themselves into obscurity.

She strode over to the door and examined her white tank top to make sure she hadn't spilled any blood on it. Her clan's specific window of time for blood-cycling at the all-Underdweller's blood bank had been yesterday, but she'd gotten her more illicit boost that morning, and she wouldn't have been surprised if the Covenant had sent someone over to reprimand her.

A stern lecture wasn't actually necessary. She'd forced her feeding schedule off by a couple of days by feeding illegally; in fact, she might have overfed. But, she had to keep her strength up to remain as alert and as fast as possible in order to protect the phoenix. So if this messenger was at her home to slap her on the wrist, then Ivy was decidedly unimpressed.

She opened the door, steeling herself to be berated. Well, she hadn't been wrong. An elf stood in her doorway with the mark of the Covenant in the center of her throat. She couldn't have been any taller than four feet, but her shoulders were back, lending her an air of someone at least twice that height. Her narrow, slanted eyes gleamed up at Ivy. The upward tilt of her chin subconsciously made Ivy mirror the movement. The two were suddenly sizing each other up.

It didn't look like the elf wanted to be at Ivy's door any more than Ivy wanted her there. The elf began reciting the required introduction when delivering a message. Ivy found herself caught up in the elf's silken voice. It was said that dark elves were the only remaining elves left, after the light elves had gone into hiding in some forest in Germany, anyway. Ivy had never really cared for elves in general, but she could listen to their voices for hours. While the dingy little thing droned on, Ivy gave her a good once-over. Black slacks, black tweed tunic, and long black hair that looked wiry to the touch. Her nose was bulbous and slightly crooked. Ivy didn't dare a sniff, but the elf didn't look particularly minty fresh.

"What do you want?" Ivy asked, crossing her arms and leaning against her doorframe.

"The Council requests your assis—"

"You have the wrong vampire," Ivy interrupted, already annoyed. "Because this is the vampire who just saved the precious phoenix and agreed to keep her alive until the Surfacing. So you see, my tiny, putrid little friend, there is no way the Council could want anything more of me. I'm booked solid."

The elf bared her blockish teeth at Ivy before allowing herself a long breath in. "Nikolai urges you to accept, as it will alleviate you of any further duties to the Covenant."

Ivy struggled to keep her composure as the gravity of the messenger's words dissolved into her thoughts. As in no more missions? As in complete, undead freedom? The elf must have realized that she had Ivy's attention, because she grinned but said nothing.

"Well, you came here to deliver a message didn't you?" Ivy dropped to one knee and glared at the elf. Her fingers drummed rhythmically on her bare thigh. "Deliver."

The elf took her time with unfolding the piece of paper with the Covenant's seal on it, reveling in the obvious impatience of the vampire. She daintily cleared her throat and her eyes settled on the start of the letter.

"Dearest Ivy, I hope you are finding yourself in good spirits. As unfair as this may seem, I must ask you to perform one last task for me, my girl." So it was Nikolai writing the letter. That wasn't fair. Of course she was going to accept another mission from her only surviving mentor. "As it stands, we know next to nothing about the phoenix and her capabilities. Keep a journal of her growth, experiences, and tendencies. Log an entry for every death and rebirth." Simple enough. An extra chore, sure, but Nikolai wouldn't have sent an elf for such light news. Because of their naturally calming voices, the dark elves were sent to deliver messages that would require persuading. "As it stands, we only know of one rumor that could put Ada O'Rourke in danger from outside forces.

"It is written in various scribes that a phoenix's tear can cure any illness, reverse any curse, even grant immortality. As you may know, many Underdwellers wish they were human, or some variation thereof. Of course, this has always remained an unreachable dream. Until the phoenix was discovered. Even if this part of her legend is false, you can imagine the score of Underdwellers who would be willing to rip you and the young lycanthrope to shreds to get to her."

Ivy blinked. Not only did she have to protect Rory from the scumbag human cult who had effectively been put on her agenda as creepy and annoying, but also the entire Underdwelling?

The elf smiled and folded up the paper. She handed it to Ivy, who was stiff as a board on her one knee. "He says he's sorry for not telling you earlier."

With that, the little menace was gone, vanished into the dusty air of her hallway. Ivy slammed her front door closed and shut her eyes when the satisfying clap sounded out.

She needed to shut out the doubts in her mind. Her head felt like it had been stung by the world's largest bee. It throbbed, burned, and swelled until she could barely recognize her own thoughts. Groaning, she slunk into her closet and collapsed against the back wall. With a trembling hand, she pulled at the door until the last bit of fluorescent light stopped streaming into her safe, quiet space.