Series: The Book of Ivy #1
Published by Entangled: Teen on November 4th 2014
Genres: Adventure, Dystopian, Fiction, Romance, Science Fiction, Young Adult
After a brutal nuclear war, the United States was left decimated. A small group of survivors eventually banded together, but only after more conflict over which family would govern the new nation. The Westfalls lost. Fifty years later, peace and control are maintained by marrying the daughters of the losing side to the sons of the winning group in a yearly ritual.
This year, it is my turn.
My name is Ivy Westfall, and my mission is simple: to kill the president’s son—my soon-to-be husband—and restore the Westfall family to power.
But Bishop Lattimer is either a very skilled actor or he’s not the cruel, heartless boy my family warned me to expect. He might even be the one person in this world who truly understands me. But there is no escape from my fate. I am the only one who can restore the Westfall legacy.
Because Bishop must die. And I must be the one to kill him…
The book breaths out a sigh as the girl drops it onto the wooden table. The light of the annoying headlamp sears its surface, yet the book cackles.
“Yet again,” it whispers. “One more innocent reader succumbs to the pain of fictional characters. I could do this for a living, you know?”
The girl has curled up on the sofa, sobbing into her heathen pillow. She can’t hear the book, of course. Its morbidly sitting there smiling at her, and she doesn’t even know it. She continues to yell and bite into her pillow; it is, after all, the middle of the night, and her guardians might wake. She doesn’t know whether to pick her phone and call her friends, yell to them at the top of her lungs about how the book effected her, or start tweeting away at the unfair way of life where beautiful, smart characters like Ivy and Bishop will never know her existence.
Meanwhile, the Book of Ivy sits on the side, content in having divulged its fair share of torture on the poor reader. Few could resist getting sucked into its thoughtful and developed setting, and fewer still could bear to not fall for the two protagonists in this heart-wrenching tale of agony and love. The book especially revels being read by those who shipped Ivy and Bishop, as this poor reader had done. It loves sucking the reader into its crisp pages, smelling of love and slow burn romances, catching them unaware as they take a few hundred shards of shrapnel and pierce them through their skull.
“Phew,” the book mutters to itself as the reader’s crying slowly subsides. “Finally. And here I thought I had done my job a little too well. Come on now, go recommend me to someone else so I may tear their heart out.”
Of course, the reader in the chair means well. She loves her friends and family, and wishes them no harm. But The Book of Ivy spoke to her, teased her innocent thoughts and molded them to suit itself. It wanted others to share the reader’s heartbreak – it wanted to watch their faces as they realized how truly wonderful Ivy was, wanted to hear their gasps as they realized how strong Bishop could be, wanted to see their wonder at the beautifully fabricated world, and then, the book’s favorite part. The climax. Sobbing, retching, hurling….oh, it would revel, yes it would.
“No,” the reader managed to whisper at the book. “I will not. You cannot harm them.”
Of course, she couldn’t really hear the book, but it had a way of entering people’s minds, bending their wills to suit its needs. This borrowed book had been passed from one friend to another, yet it was in pristine condition. The mystery behind its origins would never be known by anyone but Amy Engel, a goddess beyond the reach of mere mortals.
“Recommend me,” the book snarled. “Recommend me to everyone so I may rule this world!”
The reader gasped, trying to fight it. She grabbed it and hurled it across the room, then promptly ran after it, doubt and fear washing over her – its pristine condition could not be damaged, not when there was such a beautiful story hidden inside those pages.
“I’m sorry,” she cried as she picked it up. “I’m so sorry. God, I’m going crazy.”
She went back to her chair, cradling the copy carefully and placing it on her thighs. “I’ll send you to my neighbor first thing in the morning,” she promised it, for she was only so strong. The book had claimed her free will.
“Good,” The Book of Ivy said. “Very good. Engel would be proud.” And it continued to whisper dark thoughts of torture and decay, until dawn, when the reader morosely let go, passing it on, as the generations went by. Little did she know, that a sequel was to arrive. And if The Book of Ivy was Armageddon, the sequel, well…lets leave it that, shall we?
So yes, I loved this one like crazy. What about you guys? Does the cycle of torture continue with the sequel? Let me know!