Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife
Page 45
He winks at me. “You want to dance, New Girl?”
Overjoyed by his ease with me, I nod. Only as he draws me away do I notice no one else is dancing. “Wait,” I begin.
“Nope. No take-backs.” He swings me around and tugs me against him, catching me and laughing. “This is happening.”
He looks so much like his brother I can’t help but soften against him.
“How do you like Troika so far?” he asks.
I scan the sea of faces for Elizabeth, but she’s nowhere to be found. Kayla is frowning at me. When she notices my gaze, she spins away.
Odd. “The land or the people?” I ask Victor.
“I’ll take that to mean you love the land but want to throat-punch some of the people.” He flattens a hand on my shoulder and the other at my lower back, careful not to delve anywhere he shouldn’t. “Here’s what you don’t know. One of the soldiers Killian killed—Elizabeth was dating him.”
Oh…zero. My shoulders roll in. “How do I earn her forgiveness?”
“If forgiveness has to be earned, it isn’t forgiveness.”
A high-pitched scream assaults my ears, and panic sweeps through the crowd.
“Help,” a girl shouts. Young Fatima? “Help them! Please!”
Another newbie rushes past me, a look of terror on her face.
“It’s all right.” A guy chases after her. “It’s not what it seems.”
I wrench from Victor’s arms and dart in the opposite direction, closing in on the still-screaming Fatima. She’s on the floor, curled into a ball, staring ahead as if she’s just come face-to-face with her worst fear. Multiple people attempt to comfort her.
“What—” I spot the reason for her upset and cry out.
Killian. Killian is here. He’s chained to a column, his feet engulfed in flames, his features contorted in agony. He screams. Clay is chained to the column next to him, his feet also engulfed by flames. He jerks at his bonds to no avail.
As I sprint over, three facts occur to me. 1) Not a single General, Leader or Laborer is concerned for the boys. 2) The flames emit zero heat. 3) The air is fresh, no hint of burning leather or flesh.
However, there’s no time to ponder the reasons. No time to waste with a debate about whom to save first. Clay is Troikan. Any soldier here will happily rush to his aid. No one but me will free Killian.
I unsheathe the knife discreetly hidden under my skirt and slide the rest of the way across the marble pathway to stop behind Killian. I reach for the lock on his chains and—
Go still. My hand ghosted through him.
Confused, I pat at him. He is 100 percent intangible to me.
I don’t understand. I lean over and reach for Clay. My hand ghosts through him, too.
A hologram, I realize. Only a hologram.
Relief blends with a potent mix of anger and dread. Who would create such a sickening scenario? And why?
No need to ponder the answers for long. A smug Elizabeth stands nearby. Her friend is with her—and so is the real Clay. Hurt shimmers in his eyes. Even though he wasn’t in any kind of danger, he knows what I know: once again, I opted to save someone else first.
“I told you,” Elizabeth announces. “We aren’t safe with our new Conduit around. She will always choose a Myriadian over a Troikan.”
MYRIAD
* * *
From: Z_C_4/23.43.2
To: K_F_5/23.53.6
Subject: An introduction, a request and a question
Our first assignment together! I hope you’re as excited as I am, Mr. Flynn. I’ve heard good things about you, and I’m looking forward to seeing you in action. I know it will take time for you to fully trust me, and I understand. I’m currently an unknown to you.
Going forward, there are two things you should know about me: I love my realm, and I will cross any line to protect those placed in my care. I encourage you to reach our goal—freedom for all—any way you see fit. I will never oppress you with ridiculous rules; I ask only that you show me the respect my position is due and keep me informed.
Now, about our assignment. I hope you comprehend victory isn’t our only end goal. We are fighting for our very way of life. The right to feel our emotions rather than ignore them. The right to play after a hard day of work and enjoy the time we’ve been given. The right to shuck conformity, to no longer be mindless drones but individuals with singular needs and wants.
We must prove to Miss Tenley Lockwood just how much better Myriad is for her. For everyone!
I’d love to hear your plans to accomplish this, and I’d appreciate confirmation that your seeming affection for Miss Lockwood is exaggerated for the sake of the mission. What you tell me, I’ll believe. I’ll trust you until you give me reason to doubt you, and you’ll trust me. I believe in give-and-take.
Oh! One final note. I received an incident report early this morning. Apparently you tossed Sloan Aubuchon across the training room. Was such violence against your charge necessary?
Might Equals Right!
Sir Zhi Chen
MYRIAD
* * *
From: K_F_5/23.53.6
To: Z_C_4/23.43.2
Subject: A statement, a truth and a pat on the back
Rest assured, I understand the importance of my mission. If Troika loses Miss Lockwood, they will fall and Myriad will rise.
If you’ve read my file, you know I’ve lied, cheated and seduced for our realm. I’m good at it. Very good. But I will always be honest with you.
Question: Do you truly believe my affection for a Troikan could be genuine? Rest assured I’m more determined than ever, and I’ll do whatever I must to reach my goal.
As for Sloan Aubuchon, I didn’t toss her across the training room once—I tossed her across the training room three times. She will never again attack an instructor from behind, no matter how much she hates him. You’re welcome, Myriad.
Might Equals Right!
ML, Killian Flynn
MYRIAD
* * *
From: Z_C_4/23.43.2
To: K_F_5/23.53.6
Subject: I’m impressed
We could all take a lesson from you, Mr. Flynn. You live with passion and fight for what you want. The true Myriadian way. Carry on!
You’ll be pleased to know our efforts to draw Miss Lockwood out of Troika are progressing nicely. I predict you’ll see her in a matter of days.
Might Equals Right!
Sir Zhi Chen
CHAPTER SIX
* * *
“Change is the bedrock of success.”
—Myriad
I spend the next day at home, trying to forget yesterday’s walk of shame. After Elizabeth’s announcement, I left the party and, after taking a few wrong Gates, managed to find my way back to the cathedral. No one came after me.
Last night my dreams turned into nightmares. Killian never appeared on the mountaintop, and the birds attacked me en masse. Within minutes, they tore me to shreds and feasted on my organs. Organs that quickly regenerated, ready to be eaten again. The pain… I still feel a twinge in my side.
After I managed to fight my way free, I dragged my broken, bloody body into the cornfield, the throng of people absent. I was alone. No one had needed or wanted my help, and I’d fallen to my knees, sobbing.
I’m considering forgoing sleep for the rest of my Everlife.
Today, no visitors come knocking on my door, and I’m glad. So far, all I’ve done is anger and upset the people I’m supposed to protect. I haven’t done anything right.
I’m Ten, the rarity. Ten, the necessary ingredient for victory. Ten, the special one. But…what if Levi and Archer and everyone else got it wrong? What if I’m not special? What if I’m the necessary ingredient for failure?
Dejected, I plop onto the couch. The Book of the Law appears, glowing just in front of me, all, ta-da, here I am, the answer to your problems. As if.
I’m not in the mood to read, but I decide to do it, anyway. Knowledge is power. Maybe I’ll do a better job here.
If you forget all else, remember this: love is always the answer. Love your realm. Love your people. Love yourself. This is right. This is good. Only when you choose love are you living in Light.
My number brands throb as I turn to the next page. Someone needs to remind the rest of the realm about choosing love!
Other people are not the source of your problem. Your own thoughts are your—
I flip the page.
Let this word take root inside the rich soil of your heart so that, when a storm comes—and it will—you have something firmly planted to hold on to.
Enough! This isn’t helping.
Frustrated, I press a series of buttons on the miracle remote and the book vanishes. Another series of buttons and a detailed map of Troika materializes on the ceiling.
I discovered the map last night and memorized the locations of the Gates. Besides the seven main Gates leading to different cities within the realm, there are multiple smaller Gates—Stairwells—for travel within each specific city. Every city is hundreds of thousands of square miles.
I decided to spend quality time with a favorite pastime: counting. On the map, only sixty-six trees are marked—thirty-nine on one side and twenty-seven on the other. Why?
Sixty-six is the atomic number of dysprosium, a lanthanide. A lanthanide is any series of fifteen metallic elements, often collectively known as the rare earth elements.
Fifteen is a triangular number: 1+2+3+4+5=15
Thirty-nine is the atomic number of yttrium. Equal to three trimesters, the length of a human pregnancy.
Twenty-seven, the atomic number of cobalt. The number of bones in the human hand. The number of “cubies” in a Rubik’s cube.
Boom!
My front door bursts open, wood splinters flying. Three masked assailants march inside my apartment, and I jackknife into a sitting position, my mind and heart racing.
Fight-or-flight?
The intruders can’t be Myriadians; Myriadians can’t pass through the Veil of Wings.
Is the trio planning to throw me out of the realm?
Fight!
As the intruders approach, I kick the vase perched on the coffee table. It nails Middle Man in the face. He’s tall and muscled and the porcelain explodes into fragments; he grunts, stumbling backward.
I roll to the floor, flowing under the table, and jump to my feet on the other side. Leftie—who was diving for me—smacks into the couch and plops onto the table.
I rush into the kitchen, but Rightie catches me before I can grab a knife, wrapping strong arms around my waist and holding me prisoner. No matter how hard I struggle, I’m unable to break free.
No. No! The other two grab my ankles to help cart me out of the apartment. I buck and flail and shout for help. This is no time for pride. Whatever they have planned for me, I won’t make it easy.
Apartments doors open. Three trainees peek out to see what’s going on. The only male pales and retreats. One of the girls—Winifred—steps into the hall.
Leftie shoots her with a Dazer, and she freezes. Jerk! I know the spirit stun gun causes no pain or lasting harm, but he’s left a young girl vulnerable.
And why the heck wasn’t the Dazer used on me?
Maybe I’m going to be tortured before I’m thrown out?
Fear claws at me, but still I fight. The last girl in the hall—Elizabeth, who needs to move her butt out of the trainees’ section—watches my abduction with an air of amused satisfaction. The fear morphs into fury.
“Have fun, Numbers,” she calls. “I know I am.”
There’s no sign of Clay, my next-door neighbor. It’s early. He’s here, and he has ears; no way he’s missed the commotion. Has he washed his hands of me?
I deserve this.
Go ahead, guys. Take me away.
I’m carried into the elevator. Soft music drifts from overhead speakers.
I should have nutted up and gone to see Clay last night. Instead I took the coward’s way out and avoided him. I should have apologized on my knees. He’s my best friend. I should have explained the reason for my choice.
He should have…given me the benefit of the doubt?
Is it wrong of me to think so? Maybe. The problem is, someone else’s response—supposed or otherwise—should never dictate my actions. Isn’t that what I claim to believe?
Dang it! I’m going to escape, and I’m going to tell him how much he means to me.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. As I’m hauled into the lobby, I spring into action, bucking and kicking with every ounce of my strength.
“Can you just be still for a second?” a familiar voice grumbles.
Hold up. Clay?
“I think you broke my ribs.” Definitely Clay.
I waffle between relief and confusion. Clay would never hurt me, even while supremely disappointed in me. This must be some sort of…test?
“You aren’t supposed to speak,” another guy snaps.
Deacon? He’s successfully avoided me since the day of my arrival and now he’s part of this…whatever this is?
“Sorry, man,” Clay mutters.
We make it outside. Light spills over me, greeting me as if we’re old friends, warming me from the inside out.
As we continue on, I bring the map of Troika to the forefront of my mind to track our progress. A Stairwell is used to take us deeper into the Capital of New, where the higher-ups must live. Mansions, mansions, everywhere. We enter a Gate and exit in the Museum of Wisdom. This is my first time here, and I’m… Wow. An Egyptian pyramid, a Russian palace, a Romanian fortress. A tepee.
The absolute majesty of every edifice dumbfounds me.
We travel through another Stairwell, then another Gate, and finally end up in the Tower of Might, a city given its name because of the numerous skyscrapers with…loading docks rather than balconies? Flying cars come and go. I shake my head, awed.
I’m carted to one of many coliseum-type arenas surrounding the skyscrapers and dropped on a sandy ground. I jump up, ignoring the black spots flashing in my eyes and the empty state of my lungs. The masked men remain in place as Levi, Meredith, Kayla and Reed join us; the entire group forms a circle around me.
Tremors shoot through me, but I raise my chin. Want a piece? Come and get it.
“Gentlemen,” Levi says with a nod.
The “gentlemen” in question remove their masks, revealing Deacon, Clay and Victor.
There are seven people in total.
Seven days in a week. A heptagon. Lucky number seven.
I scowl at Levi, the General who obviously issued the order to abscond with me. “There are better ways to invite me to…whatever this is.”
“Yes, but there was no better way to show you just how weak you are.”
“Well, consider me shown.” I spread my arms wide, all, Bring it. “Anyone else want a go at me?”
“Oh, don’t worry. Everyone will get a go at you.” He crosses his arms. “Please tell me you spent the morning using your Key, unlocking doors in the Grid.”
“I’d tell you, but I’d be lying.”
He frowns at me. “You should spend less time pitying yourself and more time on what matters. We need you, and people in the Land of the Harvest need us. See how that works?”
So irritating, but so right.
He walks around me, drawing a circle in the sand. “A gift given can do nothing unless it’s received.”
My hands ball into fists. “If you’re hoping t
o confuse me, A-plus. You nailed it.”
He smiles at me, but there’s no amusement in the deed. “You have to forgive yourself for Archer’s death. Otherwise you’ll be in breach of contract. Did you know that? Hold a grudge, earn a punishment. Even when the grudge is self-directed.”
I bristle, retorting, “Has anyone informed Elizabeth of this?”
“How about you focus on you, eh?” He winks at me. “Since you’re new, I’ll throw you a bone and explain a few things. Elizabeth has entered a grace period. A time without punishment to reflect and forgive. While you might curse her grace period, I have a feeling you’ll rejoice when you are shown the same mercy.”
Ugh! He’s more irritating by the second. “What constitutes a punishment here?” I know about the Exchange, when we see our crime through the eyes of our victim. But there must be others.
“Loss of home or job. Solitary confinement. Yes, we have a prison here, and resentment is a serious crime. Antipathy of any kind casts a shadow over the Grid and affects us all.”
Well. Time to do my part to keep the Grid bright and shiny, then. I face Clay. “I’m sorry. I knew someone else would rush to your rescue but feared no one else would—”
He holds up a hand to stop me. “I’m sorry. Meredith explained the situation to me. I should have trusted you.”
Meredith knows me and sees the best in me. The realization is bright and shiny.
My gaze finds hers. Thank you, I mouth.
She blows me a kiss.
“You are a Conduit,” Levi says, taking the reins of control.
“Am I?” I ask softly. “I’ve shown no signs of extraordinary power.”
“A few setbacks, and you doubt my word and your own abilities. Perhaps you are ordinary.”
I scowl at him. “A few setbacks?”
“Anyone can start a marathon. Only the strongest will finish it, even after they fall.”
Ann-nn-nnd he’s right again. Zero! “Please stop doing your impersonation of a motivational poster.”