Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  My heart skips a beat. I’m a hypocrite. As bad as the people who spied on me. “Can the Eye—”

  “No,” she interrupts.

  “You don’t even know—”

  “Don’t I?” She arches a brow. “You aren’t the first newbie I’ve shown around, and you all ask the same things.”

  Okay, yeah. She probably knows what I plan to ask. Disappointed, I change the subject. “I haven’t seen any animals. Are pets allowed in the realm?” I’ve always wanted a dog or a cat, but my parents flat-out refused.

  “Oh, baby, the animals!” Clay slings an arm around my shoulders. “There’s a sanctuary in the Capital of New. Animals are allowed anywhere, anytime, but they usually prefer to stay in the sanctuary or visit the Sanatorium where Healers work. You’re welcome to visit either place.”

  My brow furrows. “Why do animals prefer the sanctuary? Why don’t they live with families?”

  Meredith snorts. “Why don’t you ask the animals? They’d love a chance to fill you in.”

  Is she implying the animals…talk? No, surely not. But…maybe? How cool would a talking dog or cat be?

  I see you has manna, hooman. I has no manna. Give me your manna.

  We stroll down the sidewalk and enter another Gate, this one posed between two buildings. I hardly notice a change in my surroundings before we exit. Or rather, try to exit. A mammoth crowd blocks our path.

  “This,” Meredith says, ramping up the volume in order to be heard over the crest of murmurs, “is the Temple of Temples, where the Secondking lives. There are three separate parts. The courtyard is located on the east side and opens to the Waft of Incense. The Waft of Incense—or WoI—leads to the Great Throne, where Eron presides.”

  “And when the Firstking visits Troika, he stays here,” Clay adds, his tone wishful.

  He wants to meet the Firstking, doesn’t he?

  I’ve seen both kings only once before, when Archer allowed me to view Troika through his eyes.

  A twinge of grief causes me to hiss. “How often does the Firstking visit?”

  “Once a month.” Light flashes on the brands in the center of her palms. Frowning, she taps one, and a text message appears, hovering just over her hand. She sighs.

  When she cants her head toward the Gate, I understand it’s time to go. We enter, returning to the House of Secrets. Next stop—my apartment. The tour is over.

  “Something wrong?” I ask her.

  “Nope.” She offers no more, and I decide not to press. I’m a newbie with, like, zero clearance.

  However, I decide to ask questions about the realm while I have the chance. “Where does the Secondking’s fiancée live?” I got a glimpse of Princess Mariée, and she is more exquisite than the realm itself, her hair as pale as a lily of the valley, her cheeks as pink as a rose, her eyes as blue as the clearest ocean. “How long have they been engaged? And why is she called princess when she’s not yet married into the royal family? Are there other princesses here?”

  Clay becomes waxen, disconcerting me.

  Meredith wilts like a flower in summer heat. “Mariée is missing. I mean, we know she’s here—and alive—because she’s the other Conduit and her Light continues to shine through the Grid, but no one has seen or heard from her since your Firstdeath. Otherwise she would be overseeing your tour and training herself.”

  I rub the galloping pulse at the base of my neck. If she’s out of commission, I’m needed now, not later.

  But no pressure, right?

  Am I wheezing? I think I’m wheezing.

  “And no, there are no other princesses,” my grandmother adds, probably to distract me from a possible panic attack. “The title denotes her engagement. After marriage, she’ll become known as Secondqueen. Oh! They’ve been engaged for almost two thousand years.”

  I nearly choke on my tongue. “Um, that doesn’t seem like an excessive wait time to you?” Like, put a ring on it already and lock that baby down.

  “When you live forever, two thousand years is nothing. They say they’ll seal the deal after we’ve won the war.” A lock of my hair twirls in a sudden burst of wind, and she reaches out to shift the strands between her fingers. “What about you and your…boyfriend?”

  “We are a classic example of it’s complicated.”

  And yet, if he appeared in Troika right now, I’d pull him into a hidden corner and kiss the air from his lungs. I miss him as I’d miss a limb. He’s one of my favorite things.

  Two people rush past us, their conversation snagging my attention. I cling to the distraction with all my might. They are speaking… Russian, I’m pretty sure, reminding me of the special Troikan language. “Where can I go to learn Troikan?”

  “Nowhere,” Meredith says. “You’ll learn it when you use your Key and not a second sooner.”

  Another light flashes on her brands. She checks the new message and stiffens. “Apparently I’m taking too long. We need to go.” Steps quick, she ushers us to the first Gate we exited.

  As soon as we reach the Capital of New, she kisses my cheek and says, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at seven. I’m your date to the welcome party.” She rushes off, disappearing inside another Gate.

  “You ready to go home, Number Girl? No? Good, didn’t think so. We’re going to have some fun.” Clay returns me to the woodland wonderland.

  Reed and Kayla are seated at a table in back, looking at ease and without a care. The other tables are occupied by people I’ve never met…people who notice me and terminate their conversations. Silence descends.

  I shift from one booted foot to the other. War is daunting, but this is worse.

  Reed frowns. I gulp. Will he pretend not to know me?

  “I should go,” I whisper.

  A second later, Reed waves us over.

  In a show of solidarity, Clay takes my hand and leads me to our friends.

  “—Archer,” I hear someone say.

  “I know. She’s the reason he’s dead,” another replies.

  The heat drains from my face.

  My choice, my consequences.

  Before my stay at Prynne, my parents decided everything for me. At Prynne, Dr. Vans did all the deciding. What I ate, what I wore, who I spoke with. When I finally claimed the reins of control, I crashed and burned. Archer paid the price.

  He had a life here. A family. People who counted on him. Because of me, they lost him.

  I want to shout, “We can bring him back in the Resurrection! Spread the word. Vote for Archer.” But I don’t know anything about the others in the running. Maybe these people hope to bring back a beloved family member.

  “I should go,” I repeat. I’m linked to these people through the Grid, so, I don’t just feel the white-hot ping of their stares; I feel the sickening burn of their dislike.

  How can I end the war between realms when I can’t convince people predisposed to like me to actually like me?

  Buck up. Find a way. The end result matters. Failure isn’t an option. My mom lives in Myriad, along with family I never had the chance to meet. And then there’s Killian, of course.

  “We stay.” Clay squeezes my hand. “What has six wheels and flies?”

  I’m in no mood for a joke—so what better time to make one? “What else? A garbage truck.”

  He shakes a fist at the ceiling. “One day I’m going to stump her.”

  As we take our places at the table, Reed offers us a piece of manna from his plate. Clay accepts, but I shake my head. If I swallow a single bite, it will come right back up, guaranteed.

  “So what is today’s special?” Clay asks.

  “Strawberry and honey,” Kayla replies. “The best yet.”

  Okay. We’re clearly in a manna restaurant. Curiosity gets the better of me. “Who farms the man
na? And how, exactly, do we pay for it?”

  “There’s an agricultural section here in the Capital of New.” Reed taps his palm, types into the Light glowing over his hand, and a map appears in the center of the table. He points to a long sweep of pastureland. “Agronomists, a subdivision of Laborer, plant and harvest the crops.”

  His ease with Troikan technology gives me hope. He hasn’t been here long, but look at everything he’s mastered.

  “As for money,” Kayla says, “trainees are given a weekly allowance for necessities.”

  Reed snorts. “An allowance you hoard, afraid the money will stop coming. When are you gonna realize this place isn’t like the Land of the Harvest.”

  Kayla hmphs and flattens her hand on the side of the table. A Light flashes through her brand, and three beeps ring out. “There. I just paid for a fresh round of manna. You’re welcome.”

  Sure enough, a waitress—another subdivision of Laborer—soon arrives with a smile and a plate of strawberry and honey manna.

  “May you be ever enlightened,” she says before moving off.

  Kayla offers me a bite before polishing off two pieces. “If you’d arrived five minutes earlier, you could have met Victor Prince. He’s—”

  “Archer’s brother. Yeah.” I shift, uncomfortable again. “I met him when I first arrived.”

  “Oh.” She traces a fingertip along the rim of her plate. “He’s tutoring me. He—”

  The restaurant is silent, her voice booming. Her cheeks darken. I glance to the entrance and do a double take. My stomach sinks.

  Elizabeth is here, and there’s a tall dark-haired guy at her side.

  She glares at me, and I lift my chin. If she wants to use me as a punching bag, fine. Go for it. Pain for pain. I’m willing, and I won’t fight back. I deserve it. But I also won’t be cowed.

  Kayla trembles, as if she’s the one on the receiving end of Elizabeth’s vitriol. Confrontation of any kind is difficult for her. In Many Ends, she had recoiled from almost every fight.

  “Either the Myriad supporter goes,” Elizabeth announces, “or I go. Take your pick. But I suggest you choose wisely. One of us will help you. The other will stab you in the back.”

  Murmurs erupt. All eyes focus on me and narrow. Heat sears my cheeks, and I’m sure my color matches Kayla’s. Lobster red.

  “I choose you,” Reed tells me. “I’ll always choose you. You saved my life.”

  I’m overcome with gratitude. Problem is, I know Elizabeth will make life miserable for him. “No,” I say. “Choose her.” Nausea churns in my gut as I stand. “She’s—”

  “No way.” Clay stands beside me, and Reed quickly follows suit. Kayla, too.

  My sense of gratitude grows. “Sit down, you guys,” I mutter, but they remain in place.

  Killian would have laughed in Elizabeth’s face, maybe flipped over a table after flipping her off and then he would have told her to go, because he would be staying.

  Archer would have apologized with heartfelt regret and left without inciting an incident.

  I miss my boys.

  “I’ll go. This time,” I say with as much dignity as I can muster. “My actions led to Archer’s death, and I take full responsibility. I accept punishment.”

  “Liar.” Elizabeth hisses, “You expect forgiveness.”

  Her companion watches us with enigmatic eyes. I can’t read his thoughts.

  “One day, yes. I hope for forgiveness.” Can I ever forgive myself? “Archer taught me the value Troika places on the act…and it is an act, a decision rather than a feeling.” I hold up my hand and shout, “A round of second chances, everyone. On me.”

  Elizabeth glowers at me.

  Having made my point, I stride past her. She balls her fists, clearly debating the merits of hitting me. In the end, she opts to stand down. Smart.

  I don’t start my fights, but I always finish them.

  I make it out of the building without incident, my friends on my heels.

  “I wish you’d stayed,” I tell them.

  “All for one, and one for all,” Clay replies.

  Kayla snorts. “So we’re the Four Musketeers now?”

  “Nah. I vote we call ourselves the Reed Raiders.” Reed wiggles his brows.

  “No way.” Clay flexes his biceps. “We’re the Clayminators.”

  “I’m on board for the Kayniacs,” Kayla says.

  “If we’re called anything but a nerd herd, I’ll be surprised,” I say with a laugh. “Besides, when someone threatens us, we just have to say, Do not make us count to Ten. Bad guys will run away, crying for their mommies.”

  Chuckles abound.

  My amusement doesn’t last long, however. As we head to my apartment, I throw a furtive glance over my shoulder. Nothing and no one is there, but I feel as if my troubles are following me.

  And why wouldn’t they? They’re chained to my ankles, bricks I’ve been dragging behind me for years.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  * * *

  “There is power in consistency.”

  —Troika

  At seven sharp the next evening, Meredith arrives at my doorstep. I’ve almost forgotten my encounter with Elizabeth.

  Almost.

  I spent the rest of the day holed up in my apartment, watching video feed of Jeremy and even Meredith, who visited him and Levi. Clay, Reed and Kayla spent an hour with me before they had to rush off to their classes. I’d asked questions about HART and their methods of operation, secretly brainstorming ways to stop the war with Myriad.

  We gathered people from both realms and encouraged everyone to list their grievances so that changes could be made, preventing future clashes, Reed had said. But the powers that be always stepped in and stopped the proceedings.

  He’d given me an idea, and I’d come up with steps one, two and three of what I’m sure will be a Ten-part plan.

  Set a meeting with Elizabeth, allowing her to list her grievances with me. Win her over—and everyone else in the process. Convince Troikans that war with Myriad isn’t in our best interest.

  You know, easy stuff.

  Maybe I’ll host a Myriad Lovers Anonymous party.

  T + M = TuisM

  Tuism: the practice of putting the interests of another before one’s own.

  When the letters T and M are replaced by their numerical equivalents—20 and 13—they equal 33

  Thirty-three is the atomic number of arsenic, a poison, but it is also the age often associated with the Age of Perfection.

  Thirty-three is the numerical equivalent of AMEN: 1 + 13 + 5 + 14 = 33.

  I’m going to need help with my Tuism. What if I can convince Killian to form an alliance with me? We could—

  What? Convince others to join our cause? Prove Troikans and Myriadians can lo—like each other?

  I tug at my collar. No need to throw words like love around, right? Killian would probably freak.

  Zero! I need to contact him, but I have no way to do so.

  Meredith clears her throat, and I realize I’m standing in the doorway, staring into the distance. My cheeks heat as I motion her inside. She sweeps past me, the scent of orchids fluttering in her wake.

  She’s wearing a formal white robe with black seams. The material conforms to her curves one moment but flows freely the next.

  She holds up a bundle of metal links. “I brought you a dress.”

  That is supposed to be a dress? “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Usually, but never about fashion.” She manhandles me, removing my catsuit and fitting me into the links. A wide smile blossoms. “You are ravishing.”

  “Thank you.” I excuse myself and go into my bedroom, where I strap a kitchen knife to my thigh.

  While I crave peace
, I can’t deny I have enemies. I have to be prepared for anything. A lesson I learned inside Prynne.

  Curious about my “ravishing” appeal, I study my reflection. The top of the dress is made of small ovals, one laid over another to give the illusion of feathers. Those faux feathers form a deep V between my breasts before branching into multiple chains braided together and wrapped around my waist, the ends cascading to create an ankle-length skirt.

  The entire ensemble should weigh a hundred pounds or more, but it’s as light as a cotton T-shirt. Even more astounding, I have full range of motion.

  I wish Killian were here. He would look me over slowly and say, “Nice dress. Now take it off.” And I would laugh a throaty laugh to mask my shivers of need. I would ache to be in his arms.

  I do ache.

  Where is he at this precise moment? What’s he doing? Who is he with?

  I dreamed about him again last night, and I’m still raw. I felt the soft brush of his lips a split second before he vanished like morning mist.

  I can’t shake the feeling he needs me. That we need each other.

  What if he’s in some kind of trouble? What if he’s trying to reach me, desperate for my help?

  What if he’s trapped in the Kennels?

  I shudder. The Kennels are Myriad’s number one choice for punishment. Cage is stacked upon cage, a different spirit locked inside each one. Men and women, boys and girls. Age doesn’t matter. Everyone is degraded, cramped and starved.

  I cover my eyes, as if I can somehow block the horrific image.

  I have to find a way to contact Killian.

  Head high, I rejoin Meredith. “Will everyone be dressed like this?” Good. I sounded normal, breezy.

  In lieu of an answer, she says, “Oh, honey bunny. You have to dress for the job you want, not the job you have.”

  “Then I should wear a calculator.” If I’d had a longer Firstlife, I’d planned to get an accounting degree.

  “Tsk-tsk. Your nerd is showing.”

  “And your old lady is showing.”

  We share a smile, but I notice the merriment doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Upon closer inspection, I notice the lines of tension bracketing her mouth.