Earlier that chilly winter day, after the gang had left, Ivory had peeked at Lyra, disapproving of what Blue had said.
Blue had insisted on holding the baby himself. "I need quality time with my daughter," he had said, voice calm, measured, deliberate. He had smiled faintly, lifting her tiny body against his chest. "You'll understand. Let her be with me. Give yourself a break."
Ivory wanted to say no, though Lyra's strong hold on her fingers said otherwise, that she was okay and would not be in danger. Ivory nodded silently and let Blue take their child.
"You should take care of yourself: do your hair, give yourself a facial, exercise. You need a break, Blue suggested. It'll help you be strong for yourself and Lyra.
She had followed Blue's instructions after that, performing her self-care routine. Hair styled and oiled, skin moisturized and glowing, muscles stretched and relaxed. She enjoyed her quality time to herself though felt Lyra's presence missing; Lyra had entered Ivory's personal space, and Ivory grew accustomed to her that she felt a piece of her was missing.
She felt that more and more now; since Lyra was born, she felt empty inside. The doctor told Blue that Ivory was just Postpartum, and that made Blue be vigilant and more controlling than ever. He constantly monitored Ivory and even forced her to take care of herself. Some days were better than others ..... some she could barely get out of bed unless Lyra was there, her other half, the missing piece of her puzzle. Now that Blue took her, she felt disconnected from the present moment.
Ivory looked into the mirror and applied a pimple patch: her skin broke out a bit after pregnancy; she lost the pregnancy glow and had some white heads on her face, though all except one pimple quickly dissolved.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed and she quickly grabbed and held onto it for dear life, hoping that it was Blue. She frowned to see that it was a message from an encrypted number.
She was confused though her gut told her to open it. Her gut was more reactive since her pregnancy.
Ivory clicked the message: Meet me in the basement at nine - Rover
She could feel her pulse in her throat become tight and sharp; she knew what Rover had meant.
Now, as night quickly fell without a sign from Blue about him and Lyra, Ivory knew something was happening. Blue wouldn't hurt Lyra, never, that didn't mean that Ivory trusted him. She felt the sheer opposite.
Ivory wrapped herself in black layers, choosing clothes that would move with her: boots soft yet steady, a black silk top and pants: flowy yet flattering, edgy yet elegant.
The halls were long, silent, and polished — shadows stretching across them as if the walls themselves were watching. Every corner reminded her: Blue sees all. His games are subtle, his control pervasive, and yet she carried in her chest the one thing he could not take from her: decision, even if just in fleeting moments.
She was also aware that Blue would see this coming, which is what she wanted. She wanted him to see her unmasking his secrets, because she had secrets of her own that he'd never uncover.
Ivory moved through the quiet of the mansion. The message from Rover sat heavy in her hand — encrypted, untraceable, impossible for Blue to intercept. The shadows got darker, more intense, and bigger: Ivory refused to let her nerves get in the way: for the second time in her life, she didn't let fear overpower her and ignored the shadows.
The first time was when she had Swindle H sneak her back to the strip club to speak with the Red Wolves member, before knowing who he really was; she thought he was just a stranger, a random customer.
"I know you see me," she whispered to them, including her own, "you can't scare me anymore," she said loud enough for the shadows to hear yet quiet enough for no one else to know her deep and profound insecurity: fear controlled her life, and she was slowly taking direction of her life.
The message buzzed again. Nine o'clock. Basement. Now. Hurry.
Ivory inhaled. The pull of the unknown made her walk faster, the secrets whispered in the dark called her forward. She tightened her grip on the device, heart hammering, and moved through the hallways like a shadow herself while her heart pulsed in nervousness.
Tonight, she would descend. Tonight, she would see what he had hidden. Tonight, she would know what his next steps were, because him just handing her The Seraphyne Codex was intentional; he was moving, and she wanted proof for herself.