Chapter Nine – Ivy

Eighteen years ago

The first thing that struck Vincent Vichter when he opened the front door was silence. It was quiet. Eerily quiet. He knew something was wrong the moment he closed the door behind him. “Ivy?” he called as he looked around the cluttered living room. The mess only two young boys could conjure in a matter of minutes, screamed in silence as he stepped over toy trucks and building blocks in various stages of construction. Ivy always made sure the house was tidy before he came home from work, and the welcome normally included a fragrant kitchen as dinner was in progress. But this evening it held nothing but the remnants of breakfast. He didn’t mind a messy home now and again, in fact, it didn’t bother him at all. He knew that two boys could drain the life right out of a person. It bothered him because this was unlike Ivy, no matter what, she would have at least cleaned the cereal bowls by now. It probably won’t send alarm bells to other husbands when they got home to an empty house, but his wife was getting worse.

Even before the boys were born, Ivy had a hard time dealing with her gift. He had spent countless hours placing his wife under hypnoses, trying and failing to adjust her mentality to block the emotions of those around her. They finally stopped all attempts after a few years as the disappointment devastated her more and more each time they failed.

Ivy became a recluse, avoiding nearly all contact with the outside. It killed him to see her so miserable, his hands tied until The Arcane Council noticed Bane through his exploits of mayhem and murder. The council wanted to find and punish him. Vincent, having heard rumors that Bane could bind abilities permanently, wanted to offer him a deal instead. It was the only way to help Ivy.

But the man bested their attempts to find him without fail. According to some enforcers tasked to bring Bane down, he slipped through their fingers mere moments before they could nail him down. There must have been a mole in the council because the cycle would repeat and it would take at least another six months to get the faintest whiff of the man who had a penchant for blood and waste. Currently, the hounds were without a scent.

The Arcane Council, zero. Bane was leading with seven.

He left home, joined the enforcers to search for the only hope he had. Each time he checked in, he saw the stark changes in his wife. She didn’t fuss with hair and makeup anymore. Her clothes, once bright and fitted, were now dull and hung like old rags from her ever-decreasing body. Vincent had to abandon his search and trust the enforcers to track Bane down without him. He could no longer leave his wife while she wasted away.

When Ivy became pregnant with Jaxon, he hoped and prayed that the news would rouse her out of isolation. He got his wish. The pregnancy spurred new life into her. He was rapturous to see her bloom into the woman she once was, but his joy clouded his perception. He didn’t realize that the very thing he wanted for her would be the worst thing to ever happen to her. The fall was greater from that height. When Devyn came along two years later, the pressure increased, and with it, her depression. It tore at him to see his wife fight so hard to be the best mother she could be. No matter what she was going through, her boys meant the world to her. No matter how overwhelming their emotions were for her, she didn’t blame them for her despair.

Lately, she blamed everything, their kind, the world, him. But never Jax and Dev.

He checked the garage and when he saw her car inside; he tried to rationalize his fear into logic. Perhaps they took a taxi to the new place just off Main Road where they had all those arcade games. What was it called? Arc Fun? Fun Arc? He couldn’t recall. “They just got caught up playing,” he tried to assure himself. But he didn’t get any calls or messages saying they’d be late. Ivy disliked riding in a Taxi. She always complained about the faint essences of emotions left behind from other commuters. No, he thought as he closed the door to the garage, she would not have taken a taxi. If they were not upstairs, he was going to call her cell and find out just how paranoid he is being.

“Ivy,” Vincent called again as he climbed the steps, his briefcase still in hand. “Jax? Dev?” No one answered as continued his ascent while fighting the queasy feeling in his stomach. He peeked into the room the boys shared and his unease grew even thicker–their beds unmade. A bitter line of sweat run down his back as he made his way towards the room he shared with his wife. The room was in a similar condition. Unmade bed, his night shorts still lay on the bed where he had flung them eight hours before. There was no sign of his family and only a faint copper smell.

His eyes flicked towards the bathroom, the door slightly ajar. “Sweetheart?” With dread welling inside, he carefully placed his briefcase on the rumpled bedsheets and slowly made his way to the bathroom. Easing the door open, the full magnitude of the once faint copper smell hit him like a ton of bricks.

It was too late to save his wife. She was pale as snow and just as cold. The red pools of blood a ghastly contrast on the white-tiled floor. She was laying down, with her hands folded on her flat tummy, still dressed in her black satin nightdress. Her face, relaxed. Legs sprawled, as if in a deep slumber. Deep inside, he knew her beautiful blue eyes were closed forever.

She’s been gone for hours. But it didn’t stop him from rushing to his wife, from clasping his hands around slit wrists. The blood had stopped flowing hours ago. Even so, he had hoped to save her.

“God, Ivy!” A broken sob escaped as looked at her beautiful face.

Vincent couldn’t remember how long he sat there on the bathroom floor, cradling her lifeless body to his chest, willing life back into her. Pushing back at reality, riding in denial until the sun had gone and drenched the room and his life into darkness. The note she left later was destroyed but imprinted into memory. Every last word she had written, no matter how each one ripped him to pieces, would stay with him until his last breath.

My dearest Vincent,

If it weren’t for you and the boys, I’d have left a long time ago. I am, above all, sorry to leave you like this. The boys. But you will be fine. Better without me.

It has been too much for years. I have no peace, no quiet, it is all I long for.

Please forgive me, I love you.

Ivy.