Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  A hand shackles my wrist, wrenching me to the side, out of the way, before I can follow.

  Levi is ashen. “Only you and the princess are equipped to deal with this threat, but we can’t risk both our Conduits at the same time. We also can’t allow the darkness to spread to any other humans. Even though you’re not ready for this fight, we need you down there. But I’m not going to force you. The choice is yours.”

  “This is my next mission,” I say. “My will is yours.”

  “And I’m commanding you to choose.”

  Sometimes war is the only path to peace.

  The words play on a loop in the back of my mind. War is never a good thing, but as history has proved, it can be a necessary thing. When one group tries to harm another, it is inevitable, and the only way to prevent something worse from happening.

  War is never pretty. It is bloody and brutal and violent. People die. Innocents die. We, the soldiers—we must do what we think is right.

  “I’ll fight.” I can’t allow darkness to snuff out Light. I won’t.

  “Thank you,” Levi croaks. “Once you’re down there, we won’t be able to whisk you in and out at will.” The urgency in his tone leaves a cold film over my skin. “The earthquakes you feel? They happen when one of the realms engages a Buckler. You also feel a quake when the other realm disables a Buckler. You can tell them apart with a glance. Myriad’s Bucklers are shadowed, ours glow. But you won’t need to guess which is which today. Only Myriad will be using a Buckler. They’ll enclose our soldiers in an effort to pick them off. If you see one, do not attempt to leave the Land of the Harvest. Stay where you are until it falls. Understand?”

  I’m struggling to breathe, but I nod. “I still don’t know how to cleanse—you know.” Penumbra. “When I touched Dior, I hurt her. I hurt myself.”

  He scrubs a hand down his face. “Don’t worry about cleansing anyone today. We simply want the infected out of Myriad’s control. Plus, we think your presence alone will prevent the spread of the disease. That’s why we want you near Mr. Diez until we’re able to transport him to an unpopulated area.”

  I square my shoulders. To save Troika, I’ll do whatever proves necessary. “I’ll do it. I’ll get to him, and I won’t leave his side.”

  “Good. Anytime you’re injured, take a drink of your manna.” He checks the vial around my neck to ensure it’s been filled. “Go. Go!” He waves me off. “The Buckler is down, and your location is set. Mr. Diez is on the move, so we can only transport you within a one-mile radius of him. But our Laborers know you’re on the way. They’ll protect and guide you.”

  Heart hammering, I slip back into the crowd and race through the Veil of Wings…

  Whoosh…a blur of stars…a tide of dizziness…impact.

  The landing jars my knees, but I don’t pause. I take stock. Night has fallen, and yet it’s far from dark. TLs are perched on guard towers, shining halogen lights in every direction. Light that isn’t exactly the Light we need, if that makes sense. MLs are there, too, doing everything in their power to destroy the halogens.

  So. Many. Spirits. They are in the towers, on top of nearby buildings and on the ground. Swords of fire—Pyres—swing this way, that way, every way. Glaciers, too.

  We’re in Seattle, in the middle of a busy street. Shells are in the process of ushering humans away from the battle zone. Not that the humans see the spirits around them.

  We are nothing but wind and mist.

  I search for Javier, his picture hanging in the back of my mind. Troikans glow while Myriadians wear small, dark clouds like cloaks. I see fellow citizens I’ve never met… Myriadians… I see my great-grandmother Hazel… And oh, wow. General Jane is a killing machine. She swings a pair of short swords, moving through the crowd as if she’s floating on water. Around her, Myriadians fall, dropping like dominoes set in imperfect rows. Her strength and speed are incredible.

  General Spike drops to his knees and slides across the ground, cutting through Myriadian ranks with ease. Before he stops, he swings a Pyre, and the fiery tip slices through the underside of a Myriadian’s chin—the ML who just decapitated a TL.

  A Glacier—incoming! With a yelp, I duck and roll. The smoking ice misses me by an inch. Reed rushes to my side and blocks the next strike, saving me from injury. Or worse.

  “Thank you.” As I stand, another Myriadian appears out of nowhere and strikes.

  Contact! Acid licks my neck. My flesh sizzles and bubbles like cheese on a pizza. I scream in agony but remain on my feet.

  Reed kills my attacker, but can’t help me with my wound. The next threat has arrived, and the two engage.

  Despite my pain, I step into the fray, thrusting and parrying the way I’ve been taught, maintaining a wide circle of personal space—until a dead body trips me, and I fall.

  Three Troikans rush to the rescue, Hazel among them.

  She shoves me into a wall. Impact knocks my brain into my skull. Stars overtake my vision, but they can’t obscure the fact that she saved me from another Glacier, taking the wound herself. Her comrades fend off two burly males while I pour manna down her throat.

  “No, no.” She tries to turn her head away. Lifeblood leaks from the corners of her mouth. “You need—”

  “You need it more. You’re going to be all right,” I tell her. It’s a command.

  Several other Troikans spot us and rush over. Hazel is escorted away. Home, I hope. The other TLs surround me. One of them jabs a needle in my neck, jolting me—energizing me.

  “A concentrated dose of manna,” she explains.

  She removes a thick leather belt from her waist and secures it to mine. Multiple daggers and guns are sheathed in the pockets. Whoa! She disarmed herself to arm me? No way. I try to return the belt, but she’s already moved on, fighting an ML.

  The rest of my protectors plow through the masses, steering me toward Javier. But one by one, they are taken out, and my guilt proves sharper than any sword. I’m the reason they’re targeted.

  When I’m on my own, a young ML launches an attack against me. I maneuver him into a wall and point a sword at his throat.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I tell him, and despite the burst of energy provided by the manna, I’m panting. “Let’s—”

  “Shut up and die!” He kicks me, knocking my ankles together.

  I stumble but remain upright and block his sword with my own.

  Where are the Generals?

  With a growl, the ML goes for my throat. The instinct to survive is ingrained, and the need to protect my people and the humans around us surges through my veins. I dodge his blow and lunge, extending my arms and ramming both of my swords into his torso. The tips stick out the other side of him.

  He grunts with pain, his pupils flaring with surprise.

  We never expect to reach the end, do we?

  Questions bombard me. Is he leaving a family behind? Will children be without their father? Brothers and sisters without their best friend? A mother without her son?

  Stop! Move on. Reach Javier.

  I yank, but one of my blades remains trapped in his bone; the handle begins to vibrate. Or he is vibrating? The color drains from his skin, leaving him chalk white…no, no, his skin is darkening. He’s now gray. Stone gray…stone that cracks, crumbles, and explodes. Ash rains.

  I gape, confused and revolted.

  To the left, a blaze of Light appears, nearly blinding me. In the center, Meredith appears, a Pyre in hand.

  She slays the Myriadian in front of her—the one who’d been sneaking up on me. “The human is this way.” Her gaze slides past my shoulder and widens. “Look out!”

  I dive. Too late. From behind, a Glacier nicks my thigh. My skin splits and Lifeblood hemorrhages. Instant pain and weakness. Bile rises up, but I swallow it back.

&n
bsp; Meredith closes in. My attacker has two metal swords; he uses one to take another stab at me and the other to slash at my grandmother. No! Not her! We both manage to block.

  She kicks and nails him between the legs. In this, spirits react as humans. He howls as he hunches over.

  With a single swing, she removes his head. It’s a bloody, violent death, but I have no more regret to give. I want my grandmother safe.

  When Meredith releases the Pyre, it vanishes. She helps me to wobbly legs, then palms two axes. Together, we surge onward. She hacks at three…four…six MLs who make a play for me, effectively dividing their attention.

  This woman…she is a true warrior. A magnificent sight to behold. Every spin, slash and kick is almost too swift to track.

  “Be ready,” she shouts over the craze. Then she pushes an ML at me.

  Knowing what she wants, I mimic her earlier move and ram my knee into the guy’s midsection; as he hunches over desperate for breath, I swing one of my swords. His head detaches, and his body crumbles, Lifeblood glittering, spurting and pooling.

  Meredith shoves someone else my way, but familiar blond hair and blue eyes bring me to a halt.

  Sloan?

  She’s sallow and trembling, unprepared for the horrors of war.

  Is anyone ever prepared?

  Lifeblood streaks her face and chest and soaks her hands. Her mouth is hanging open at an odd angle, her jaw broken. Mewling sounds escape her.

  Strike! What if she turns around and kills other Troikans?

  Still I hesitate. There’s good in her. I know it. I can’t punish her for it.

  “I’m sorry,” she slurs and backs away from me. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  I plant my feet, refusing to give chase.

  Meredith shoves another ML in my direction. He bows his back to avoid my kick, and my leg flies through the air. My momentum spins me. Laughing, he lifts a sword. His mistake. Instead of attempting to slow my momentum, I go with it, continuing to whirl. My swords slice through his middle, one after the other before he can deliver a single strike.

  Entrails spill onto the ground. I gag, not because the sight disgusts me. It doesn’t. His organs are hauntingly beautiful, glittering like jewels. The fact that I like the look of them—that is the problem.

  A whoosh of wind, then a loud boom! The ground shakes, a Buckler engaged.

  I trip over my victim, and I’m too weak to catch myself. Zero! I’m still hemorrhaging. At this rate, I’ll soon experience a total collapse.

  Determination took me further than skill, but I’ve reached my limit. I don’t have the strength to stand.

  “They’re closing in on us!” Meredith shouts.

  Her warning comes too late. We’re already enclosed. MLs form a wide circle around us, caging us in. Behind them, TLs struggle to reach us.

  A shot rings out—

  “Nooo!” Meredith jumps in front of me, meaning to block the bullet with the swing of her sword, but in her panic her aim is off and the bullet cuts through her chest. She cries out, her body jerking as it falls.

  The moment she hits, three daggers sink into her stomach.

  No. No! I scream with an agony of the heart rather than the body. Leave her alone! Please!

  Rage driving me, I swing my swords at the offenders. While the tips miss the MLs by a hairsbreadth, it doesn’t matter. A shower of Light—flaming metal shards?—flies from the ends of my weapons and slashes every offender across the throat.

  As they gasp for breath they can’t catch, I position myself over Meredith’s body to act as her shield. I will protect my grandmother with my life.

  An arrow flies at me, and I stop it with my swords. Another arrow follows, then another. Too many, too fast. A sharp pain suddenly explodes between my shoulder blades, and I cry out. I’ve been hit!

  Agony swims in my veins, and black dots wink through my eyes.

  I ignore the terrible sensations and keep swinging my weapons. Once again, blazing shards fly from the tips. The surrounding MLs expect the deluge this time and duck. Zero!

  A dagger is hurled at me. Despite my pain, I manage to block, and the blade pings to my feet. From the corner of my eye, I detect a blur of red. I pivot, but I’m not swift enough—an arrow lodges in my shoulder.

  The new flood of pain is quickly overshadowed by a surge of acid. Poison? I hiss as spiderwebs of black weave through my mind.

  The world shakes, and I sway. My ankles buckle, the tendons suddenly detaching, and I scream as I fall. I can’t breathe. Can’t see. The pain…it’s too great, and it’s only getting worse. The swords tumble from my grip.

  I try to yank out the arrows, but I don’t have the strength. Lifeblood gushes from me. Frigid cold envelops me.

  With a whimper, my grandmother turns her head. Judging by the pinch of her lips, the action is torture. Our gazes meet, my mismatched eyes suddenly linked to the beautiful amber windows to her soul, a soul now filled with regret and sorrow. White-hot tears catch on my lashes, and her image blurs.

  This can’t be the end of her—of us. Someone will swoop in. Someone will come to our rescue. Or we’ll be beamed back to Troika, out of danger before a deathblow can be delivered.

  Yes.—Beam us up!—I scream at anyone who might be able to hear me.—Please!—

  Meredith mouths a single word. Live. Then she closes her eyes. Muted Light begins to glow from her ears…nose…mouth…the tips of her fingers…her pores…so much Light, only growing brighter and brighter. Confusion grips me. What’s happening? What’s she doing?

  MLs scramble backward. Then…

  Her body—utterly—explodes.

  MLs wail and topple as Light and Lifeblood splash over them. Light and Lifeblood rain over me, too, but they are warm and welcoming.

  I have the strength to remove the arrows and dagger. My wounds begin to cauterize, and the cold leaves me.

  She did this…she did this to heal me…she did this to save me.

  She died.

  No, no, no. She isn’t gone. She isn’t entering into the Rest. Not Meredith. My wonderful, amazing Meredith.

  I need her. I need her now. I need her always!

  She was kind to me when others were not. She loved me when others could not. But she is…she’s gone, isn’t she? She’s joined Archer in the Rest, because I failed to stop the war. Because I failed to protect her. Because I failed her—period.

  TLs encircle me, shielding me from further attack. I hate that they are endangered. I don’t deserve their help.

  “Get her up,” a voice yells from a distance. General Spike, I think.

  “You can’t stay down, Ten.” Reed’s voice, closer than the General’s but still far away. “Hurry!”

  He’s right. I can’t stay down. I have to do what Meredith came here to help me do. I have to get to Javier. Then I’ll mourn. Then I’ll cry… I’ll cry and never stop.

  I’m trembling as I sit up. My shield of TLs has already thinned; only three are still standing…and Reed is the next to fall. I suck in a breath as an ML pins him to the ground, smiles and readies a blade.

  No!

  With a roar, I swipe up my swords and swing. He blocks, but he isn’t prepared for my second swing. The blade cuts through his shoulder, and he howls. Reed works his legs up and kicks the ML in the chest. He flies backward, and I follow, menace in every step, both of my ankles healed and steady. The moment he hits the ground, I’m there to meet him.

  I remove his head without a moment of hesitation.

  “Thank you.” Reed and the other two TLs bound off to meet a new group of MLs headed my way.

  The trio is quickly trampled, the soldiers surging past them. If I’m going to die, I’m going to take as many MLs as I can with me. Bring it!

  Something cold and hard
suddenly presses against my back. I stiffen, preparing to turn and strike. I catch the scent of peat smoke and heather and my heart leaps. Killian. Killian is here.

  To help…or to hurt?

  No time! As another ML closes in from the front, I detect the cock of a gun behind me.

  Grinding my teeth, I fake left, swing with my right, spin—block—and swing with my left. Like his comrade, the big brute avoids the first but not the second. The blade slices through his middle. He falls, revealing another ML.

  Killian shoots the new one between the eyes.

  He keeps shooting. In quick succession, eight Myriadians join the others on the ground.

  Killian is helping me, at the same time ensuring there are no witnesses to his deeds.

  The earth shakes, the Buckler vanishing. Injured TLs begin to vanish, as well.

  Killian leads me into an alley hidden between two towering buildings. TLs are driving MLs farther down the road, away from me.

  At the moment, I’m safe. But I’m too keyed up to sheathe my swords.

  Killian doesn’t seem to mind their presence. He presses his forehead against mine and whispers, “Remember your trust in me.”

  “I remember.” I long to sink into his arms, to cling to him and forget the horrors of the day. Forget the loss I’ve suffered, and the broken heart dying inside my chest.

  “Good.” He straightens and glares at me, as inflexible as steel. Fury radiates from him. “Your realm should have known better than to send you. It’s what Myriad wanted. It’s why they had an army watching Javier.”

  I blink at him. “I don’t—”

  But he’s not done. “If I save ye again, lass, my boss is going to know I’m not working to win ye to the Myriadian cause but simply protecting ye.” His accent thickens with every word. “I’ll be punished in the worst possible way. Do ye ken? Do ye even care? Do ye want me harmed?”

  He knows I don’t want him harmed. To suggest otherwise can only be an attempt to manipulate me. But why would he—

  Remember your trust in me…

  Frowning, I stare up at him. I think I understand. He’s playing his part…which must mean we’re being watched.