Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  Either way, my brands throb as I read, so I figure some part of me gets the gist. Kind of like when I eat manna. I don’t know what vitamins and minerals I’m putting into my spirit, but my cells absorb the nutrients all the same.

  Every part of me understands the importance of forgiveness. My bitterness is poison—but only to me.

  I force myself to let go of my anger with Elizabeth. When the feeling resurfaces, and it does, I focus on her good qualities. Her loyalty and passion. She hasn’t returned the favor; she’s holding on to her anger like it’s a new boyfriend, putting me down at every opportunity.

  She’ll say, “If you’re our savior, I weep for the fate of our realm.” Or, “I wonder if the Firstking looks at you and regrets the creation of all humans.” Oh, and I loved this one, “I bet your name stands for all the ways you make those around you miserable. Numbers one through ten, existing.”

  Thankfully, the rest of the realm has pardoned me. I’m greeted with smiles.

  I wonder what everyone would think if they knew I’d received a message from Killian. I wonder what they’d think if they witnessed my reaction to the message.

  Every time I think about it, I laugh, spread my arms and twirl. The untouchable, indomitable Killian Flynn might maybe possibly be in love with me!

  In the middle of my apartment, I do my thing. Laugh. Spread arms. Twirl. I have come to believe 143 is the numerical equivalent of I love you. 1—a one-letter word. 4—a four-letter word. 3—a three-letter word.

  Until I received Killian’s note, I constantly shied away from the word love. But why? My aversion seems so silly now. I mean, what’s so frightening about four little letters? L-O-V-E.

  Love gives. Loves protects. Loves lifts up and never tears down. Love empowers.

  I think I might 143 Killian right back. My heart softens at the mere mention of his name. He is strong, smart and witty. He is courageous. He is learning how to be kind. When he looks at me, I don’t see the pain of the past, but the brightness of the future.

  I will tear the world apart to be with him.

  But how can we be together?

  We will have to brave the hostility of two worlds. I’ll have to be stronger physically and mentally. A soldier capable of defending those under my protection and ignoring insults.

  Yesterday Elizabeth said, “What if you’re wrong about your Myriadian boy toy, huh? What if, when you compete with him, he uses your feelings for him against you? Who am I kidding? He will.”

  She hopes to ignite doubt. I have to be careful. Doubt is an insidious creature. It can creep in, set up a tent and ruin everything.

  Killian has more than proved his loyalty to me. He deserves my trust. He’s hiding my mother, even guarding her so that she can defect.

  One day, she might walk the streets of Troika at my side, her hand in mine. Because of Killian’s efforts and love.

  Maybe he’ll go a step further and work with me to end the war. Together, we can do anything! After all, not every Myriadian is a representative of darkness, and not every Troikan is a representative of Light. There are good and bad people in both realms.

  The brands in my hands vibrate, and I jolt, preparing to—oh. Right. My internal clock. Ever since I learned to move in and out of a Shell, I’ve been able to produce a glowing keyboard above the center of my wrist. I can type whether I’m in or out of a Shell. I’ve learned to set an alarm.

  Time to head to the Tower of Might for my next training session with Levi.

  I stuff the arsenal I’ve collected into a backpack and blow my brother’s hologram a kiss. He’s reclined in a beautiful walnut crib. Four posts stretch toward the ceiling, each carved to resemble a tree trunk with curving branches up top. He kicks his legs as he giggles at me.

  A feed of me plays on his walls, and he likes to watch me. I’m a source of entertainment.

  My heart swells with love for him, strengthening my determination to end the war between realms. One day, he’ll be old enough to join the army. If peace reigns, he’ll never have to fight. He can enjoy the fruits of my labors.

  “I’ll come see you when my session ends,” I tell him.

  He farts.

  Meredith visited with him a little while ago. Now his nanny sits in a rocking chair beside the crib, reading a passage from the Book of the Law. Nose wrinkling, she waves a hand in front of her face. “That was more than gas, wasn’t it, my lovely,” she says and stands. She’s a beautiful girl, with red hair and a wealth of freckles. “I bet you filled your little diaper with toxic waste.”

  Ann-nn-nnd that’s my cue to go. “Bye, guys,” I say.

  “Bye, Ten,” she replies. I like her. She’s been nice to me from the start. “Have an enlightened practice.”

  “I will, thank you.” I’m smiling as I exit my apartment…the cathedral. Light spills from the exquisite watery sky, stroking and warming me. My insides hum with energy.

  I might not be ready for my first mission, but I’m eager to help the girl infected with Penumbra. While rotting inside Prynne Asylum, I often fantasized about someone swooping in to save me. Then came Archer and Killian.

  A familiar pang of guilt—I miss you so much, Archer. A electrifying thrill of anticipation—I crave you like air, Killian.

  Levi hasn’t mentioned my email exchange with “the Myriadian,” and I haven’t brought it up. If I’m going to be penalized for consorting with the enemy, I’d rather wait until after my first assignment…because I have every intention of consorting again.

  I take my usual route through two different Stairwells and three Gates. The first Stairwell leads me to the manna fields. I count one hundred thirty-seven people hard at work this bright and sunny morning.

  My name—well my preferred name, Ten Lockwood—equals one hundred thirty-seven when the letters are changed to their numerical counterpart.

  20 + 5 + 14 + 12 + 15 + 3 + 11 + 23 + 15 + 15 + 4 = 137

  I pluck a purple petal from a nearby branch and nibble as I walk to the first Gate. The breakfast of champions who are on the go. I receive nods, waves and smiles.

  I spot redhead Nico, adorable Rebel and the charming Clementine. The boys give me a thumbs-up.

  “How’s training going?” Clementine asks.

  “Slowly,” I reply. “How’s it going for you guys?”

  “I’m rocking it.” Nico flexes his biceps. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for these two clowns.”

  Snickering, Rebel punches him in the shoulder. “You’re only good with a musket, old man.”

  Clementine crosses fisted hands over her heart. “We’re going to be Laborers under General Chanel’s command. She’s the best!”

  “Unless we’re late,” Nico adds.

  She looks at the comm on her wrist. “Oh, crap! Gotta run.”

  “Have an enlightened day,” I call as we hurry our separate ways.

  The next Gate takes me to the House of Secrets. In my black catsuit, I stand out. Everyone else is wearing a white robe. Some robes have gold thread, some have red, blue or green. The Grid supplies the reason: the threads denote different sub-positions. Gold—those who are in charge. Red—assistants. Blue—assistants to the assistants. Green—trainees.

  Hoshi, Sawyer and Winifred are here, their heads bent over a table of books. Oh, look. Fatima is here, too. She’s in the middle, almost too short to distinguish. The little girl has begun training already?

  I take another Stairwell to a different section of the city, and the brands in my palms vibrate. Great! I have five minutes to make it to the Tower of Might.

  I pick up the pace. My brands continue to glow as if…are they absorbing Light?

  As a Conduit, I have the ability to absorb sunlight and turn it into Light, then project it to others. Or I should have the ability. The rays energize me before fizzli
ng. The very reason I can’t send any Light to Levi when our hands are joined.

  Frustration and disappointment plague me. But come on, what did I expect? I haven’t deciphered my Key, haven’t unlocked the secret doors inside the Grid. Whatever that freaking means! I’m still at a complete loss, and no one knows how to help me. My code isn’t like theirs, and theirs isn’t like mine.

  I reach the third Gate…exit and—

  Bang!

  I careen to the side and land on my hands and knees. Sharp pain explodes through my head, dizziness following. I come close to blacking out. Lifeblood leaks into my eyes, hazing my vision. A high-pitched ring assaults my ears, but even still I think I hear gleeful laughter from two different sources. A boy and a girl.

  A whistle of air catches my attention. Incoming! I roll to my back, kicking up to knock—A board slams into my calf, another burst of pain exploding inside me. The board sticks to me, spiked tips sinking past flesh to bite into muscle.

  I gag as I pull out the board, but I don’t hesitate to swing at anyone or thing in my vicinity.

  Thunk!

  There’s a grunt. Shuffling footsteps. Who’d I hit? I stand on shaky legs in time to watch three retreating figures; my mind is desperate to reject the idea I’ve been attacked. But I was. Three against one. The shock nearly sends me to my knees.

  Troikans physically attacked a fellow citizen.

  The knowledge leaves a dark, sticky film over my skin. A shadow?

  A strong arm enfolds me, but I wrench backward, severing contact. Friend or foe?

  “Hey, hey. Are you all right?”

  I know the voice, at least. Victor. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” Will I, though? Whether in body or spirit, people are people; where there is free will, there is potential for ultimate good or ultimate evil. I could be attacked at any moment.

  “Tell me what happened,” he demands.

  I relate the story as best I can.

  He gives me a gentle push toward the Gate. “Let’s get you to a Healer. You’ll be patched up heart, mind and body.”

  Most of—cough all cough—my training sessions have ended with me bruised and bloody, but I ate manna and boom, my spirit patched up all on its own. I had no reason to visit a Healer. Now I consider Victor’s words. Patched up heart, mind and body. I guess Healers do more than deal with physical injuries.

  “No.” Teeth chattering, I sidestep him. What if I’m deemed unfit to train? What if I’m ordered to take time off? “I’ll be all right. I’m due to practice with Levi. And so are you.” We’re overdue now.

  “When you visit a Healer, a report is filed and an investigation launched. The Grid can be used to find out everyone in the vicinity of your attack. Your assailants will be caught and disciplined. Probably with an Exchange.”

  The Exchange is the best way to teach us the importance of doing unto others as we want them to do unto us.

  “If those kinds of details can be unearthed, who would ever dare break the rules?” I ask.

  “Well…some people know how to hide their location from the Grid,” he admits. “But it’s always best to check.”

  No doubt my attackers hid their location. “Did you see what happened?” I drop the board and rub my temple, hoping to ease the pain and pressure.

  A heavy pause before he sighs. “When I came through the Gate, you were standing alone with a spiked log in hand.”

  “So that would be a no.” I wipe my eyes to clear my vision. Victor is in front of me, his hair a mess, his amber gaze glittering with concern. “I still don’t want to visit a Healer.”

  He bends to pick up the log. “This is a pretty abysmal start to your Everlife, yeah?”

  “I’m sure there have been worse.”

  “None that I’ve seen.”

  Great. Wonderful. I lumber toward the coliseum, and he stays by my side. “Why would someone do this?”

  “Before your arrival, we lost a Conduit,” he says. “Ever since, our Light has been dimmed.”

  “Exactly! Why would anyone risk killing me? I’m needed!” Whether I’m liked or not.

  “Darkness makes people…cranky. Besides, I’m not sure your Second-death was the endgame today. I’m guessing your attackers simply took satisfaction in your pain.”

  One of my number brands tingles, the same way it tingles when I read from the Book of the Law, and I frown. I look left then right, up then down, but notice nothing amiss.

  One possible explanation…his words caused the reaction? But is he right or he is wrong?

  The tingle becomes an ache, but I’m in no shape to puzzle out the reason. “Forget about me. Let’s talk about you. I’ve been training with you, but I have no idea what your position is.”

  “I’m a Messenger.” He practically pounds his chest like a gorilla. “One of the best. I whisper words of encouragement to Troikan loyalists, inspire Unsigned humans to speak with TLs and report any findings to Laborers.”

  Archer was the best at his job, too. “I know why your brother defected to Troika. Why did you?”

  He tenses before he admits, “I wanted more time with him.”

  Oh…ouch. A barbed lump grows in my throat. “Because of me, he’s gone.”

  “Every day I’m more convinced he can win the Resurrection, despite the fact a Conduit is in the running. The way everyone reacted to your involvement in his demise…he was more loved than I realized.”

  His words both tear me down and lift me up.

  To me, the Resurrection proves Myriad is wrong and souls of the dead never Fuse with human souls in order to return to the Land of the Harvest. To someone like, say, Killian, it might prove only Myriadians experience Fusion.

  A lie. Only a lie. One of so many.

  Killian, like everyone else in Myriad, believes my spirit is Fused with one of their great Generals. He also believes his mother’s spirit is Fused with a human, that she’s a new person, alive and well.

  Will he see this situation as I do, or as I suspect? The answer is so important. After all, our beliefs direct our steps, leading us along certain paths.

  Lies are shackles. Truth is freedom.

  Lies will keep us apart. Truth can bring us together.

  “Can any spirit win, or only the ones who died this year?” I ask. “And when does the Resurrection take place?

  “Only the spirits who died this year. And in less than a month.”

  What? Hardly any time to enact a plan of action. “Why do it? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m overjoyed it happens. I just don’t understand the reason.”

  “You just named the reason. Our joy.”

  I chew on my bottom lip. “I’d like to speak with those who have been resurrected in the past.”

  He sighs. “I figured you’d be asking for an introduction and already made inquiries. Don’t take this the wrong way, okay, but those I’ve spoken to so far refuse to meet with you. Free will, you know.”

  There’s a right way to take that? Talk about kicking a girl while she’s down. “How many still live?”

  “Not as many as you’d think. Once they experience the Rest, they are ready to go back. They aren’t exactly motivated to stick around.”

  Great! My odds of success are dwindling fast. “What happens when the resurrected die again?”

  “They reenter the Rest, and they are excluded from the next vote.”

  We pass through the arched doorway leading to the coliseum, where Levi and the others are waiting.

  “I still can’t believe I’m working with a General,” Victor says quietly. “While I trained with Messengers, I worked with a Leader. And really, you should be trained by the princess, and what an honor that would be, but—don’t tell anyone I said this—Levi is better. He’s stronger, smarter and in charge of our first line o
f defense. The fact that you’re working with him…that you’ll one day outrank him… I’m in awe.”

  There’s no time to respond. Not that I know what to say. I didn’t have a clue we’d been so highly honored.

  Clay and Meredith notice my poor condition and rush over to worry and demand answers. Elizabeth doesn’t reveal a hint of emotion, and I wonder…is she the owner of the board? Did she perform the hit-and-run?

  “Back in line,” Levi calls.

  With a wince and muttered apology, my friends return to their positions.

  He turns his scowl to me. “You’re late.” When he sees the Lifeblood soaking my top, he barks, “What happened?”

  I watch Elizabeth as I say, “I was attacked.”

  Her expression never wavers. If she’s the culprit, she expresses zero guilt or glee.

  Levi taps his palm, his keyboard glowing. “Why haven’t you had any manna? Why haven’t I received a medical report?”

  “I don’t have any manna on hand, and I didn’t visit a Healer.” I change the subject before he can insist I take time out to visit one. I’ll never risk being benched. “So where are Reed and Kayla?” My wingmen.

  “Elsewhere,” he says, and offers nothing more. “Why didn’t you visit a Healer?” He removes a necklace from his neck and tosses it my way. “They’re here to help you.”

  “I’m fine.” I catch the chain and find a vial of manna dangling from the end. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Whoever did this… I will find out, and I will ensure justice is done.” The fierceness of his tone… I shudder, kind of feeling sorry for the culprit now. “In the meantime, drink the manna, get the vial refilled after practice, and wear the necklace without fail in case something like this ever happens again.”

  I drain the contents and hang the now-empty vial from my neck. My wounds…fail to heal. Disappointment knocks at my door.

  Before Levi notices and decides to go ahead and send me to the Healer, I say, “Where’s Deacon?”

  “Out on assignment.” Levi’s gaze slides over me, his frown deepening. As if he sees something I don’t. “Have you decoded your Key?”