—He’s only allowed to answer questions about his intent. The human must answer all others.—
—But why?—
Before Deacon can reply, the MB says to the TB, “You can’t want this piece of garbage in your realm. Tell me you’re not that foolish.”
“I want this beautiful life in my realm, yes.” The Troikan Barrister’s voice is firm, assured.
“Beautiful,” the MB sneers. “Did you fail to watch the feed?”
—Even if we win, the human must meet the requirements of our contract. She must forgive herself and even the people who hurt her today. If she can’t do so, we fought for nothing.—Sadness tinged with dread adds a heavy weight to Deacon’s words. They hang in my mind like a noose.
“And you.” The MB sneers at the human. He’s treating her like she’s scum on the bottom of his shoe. “Do you wish to be ransomed from Myriad and given into the hands of Troikans? Those who have been your enemy for so long? Do you truly believe you can forgive yourself for the pain and anguish you caused their people? Do you think they will forgive you?”
She trembles. The MB is attempting to strip her of her humanity, to reduce her to raw nerves and the very anguish she’s been accused of causing others. I grip the edge of my seat.
“What if Troikans expect perfection from you?” the MB continues. “With their countless rules and regulations, how can they not? Can you be perfect?”
She licks her lips, shakes her head. “No one can.” A whisper. He’s getting to her.
“That’s right. No one can. If you return with us, we will accept you for who and what you are, no matter what you’ve done. You must simply admit you made a mistake asking for a court date and denounce Troika.”
“Tell him you have no crimes,” Deacon whispers, as caught up in the drama as I am. “Tell him you are free from your past. Tell him you are ready to start over.”
I tremble as if I’m the one on trial. —Surely our Barrister prepped her for this?—
—He did. But knowing what’s coming isn’t the same as experiencing it.—
The noose tightens.
Radiating sorrow and regret, tears running down her cheeks and snot pouring from her nose, the human chokes out, “I’ve done despicable things. Unforgivable things.”
The TB sheds a tear of his own.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I made a mistake. I can’t risk the hatred of your people. I choose to remain with Myriad.”
Cheers erupt from one side, groans from the other.
“So you have said.” The judge bangs, bangs the gavel. “So it shall be.”
A wiry blanket of disappointment wraps around me.
“This.” Deacon’s hands curl around his knees, his knuckles turning white. “This is how eighty-nine percent of cases end up.”
And this is what Dior will face. Dior, who harbors resentment against Myriad. Who hates herself for the things she’s done and the people she’s allowed to suffer.
We have to prepare her. We have to prepare her hard, until the only sentence she’s willing to speak is “I choose Troika.”
Determined, burning with urgency, I jump to my feet. —Come on. We’ve got work to do, a case to win and a girl to save.—
—Not yet.—Deacon clasps my wrist and draws me back to the bench. —The proceeding isn’t yet over.—
—But the judge banged the gavel.—And I know what’s coming next, what Deacon warned me about. I don’t want to watch. —Let’s go. Please.—
—The Barrister had the strength to risk his life. We must have the strength to witness his death.—
My chest tightens as the MB smirks at the TB, who is standing, moving around the dais. He stops in front of the MB, his hands clenched at his sides. My throat threatens to close.
Pity darkens the TB’s eyes. Pity, and a determination that is far more powerful than mine.
What I don’t see? Regret.
Tremors rock me as the judge unscrews the top from the gavel, revealing a blade hidden underneath. A blade he hands to the MB.
“Weapons aren’t allowed,” I call, willing to risk punishment to stop this. My words go unheeded.
Deacon reaches over to squeeze my knee. “His name is Tom. He has a wife he adores. He works in the orphanage in his free time, teaching children how to play baseball. He is kind.”
I want to scream at Deacon to shut up. I don’t need to know. I don’t want to know. I want to leave. But the TB—his name is Tom, kind Tom with a wife—doesn’t deserve my cowardice.
Then…oh, then…
With a single motion, the MB slashes the TB’s throat. I cry out, the reason for the drain suddenly, vividly clear.
Tom presses his hands against his wound. Lifeblood spills between his fingers and from his mouth. Though pain fills his eyes, the pity and determination never falter.
The human hunches over and vomits. Tom topples, lands with a heavy thump. He shakes…shakes, fighting death…and finally stills.
“The price is paid,” Deacon rasps. “Even though it was paid in vain.”
MYRIAD
* * *
From: K_F_5/23.53.6
To: S_A_5/46.15.33
Subject: Let’s get together
Come to my place. There are things I’d like to do in the dark…
Might Equals Right!
ML, Killian Flynn
MYRIAD
* * *
From: S_A_5/46.15.33
To: K_F_5/23.53.6
Subject: On my way
Hopefully you’re better with your hands this time.
Might Equals Right!
ML-in-training,
Sloan Aubuchon
MYRIAD
* * *
From: K_F_5/23.53.6
To: Z_C_4/23.43.2
Subject: Things are gonna get freaky
So I’m going to disconnect and take a little time out with Sloan. I know, I know. You’d rather we remained connected. Thing is, I’m giving you a heads-up, not asking for permission. We’d rather have privacy. And yeah, I know everyone claims intimate moments aren’t recorded, but we’d rather not take any chances. I’m irresistible enough as it is.
Might Equals Right!
ML, Killian Flynn
MYRIAD
* * *
From: Z_C_4/23.43.2
To: K_F_5/23.53.6
Subject: Very well
I’ll give you and Miss Aubuchon the rest of the weekend off, no questions asked. Be together, be pampered. Drink, be merry, relax and enjoy life. First, I have a new mission for you. Miss Lockwood is in a vulnerable state. You will remind her of the comfort she can find in your arms. Details attached.
Might Equals Right!
Sir Zhi Chen
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
* * *
“Let the fire burn. You will rise from the ashes, and you will be stronger.”
—Myriad
How am I supposed to prepare Dior for what’s to come? I’m not prepared.
Who’s to be her Troikan Barrister? Who will risk his—or her—life for a human who might cave under pressure? No one has volunteered yet.
Archer would step up to the plate in a heartbeat, but he’s not here. Who does that leave? Me? The only things I know about court proceedings, I witnessed today. Would I be a help or hindrance?
Is Dior strong enough to persist as an audience views the worst deeds she’s ever committed? Is she ready for her deepest secrets to be revealed?
Molten fire burns the center of my chest, and yet ice crystallizes in my veins. Is she ready to live a nightmare? Is she willing to forgive herself and start fresh? Or does the past hold her too tightly, determined to tug her back into the darkness?
No, scratch that. Does she hold the past too tightly?
The wise will rise, and the fools will duel.
There isn’t an easy way to prep her. There’s only a hard way. But even that might not work!
I’m too dazed to protest as Deacon steers me out of the courtroom. A Myriadian walks past us and snickers.
My hands ball, but remain at my sides. Fools will duel.
Insight from the Grid. And true! Breaking one of the Firstking’s rules will do me no good.
We say goodbye to the guard tower and step into the Gate. When we exit, Levi is blocking the Veil of Wings, his expression stern.
“We received intel,” he says in lieu of a greeting. “Javier Diez has an appointment with Mr. Flynn in roughly one hour. We’d like you to meet with him, Miss Lockwood.”
Killian. My heart flutters. See him? Yes. Please. Deal with Javier Diez? No way.
“I’m not ready.” Inadequacy delivers a one-two punch to my throat. What if I screw everything up? Alienate him? Get him killed? “I’d rather search for Victor.” I haven’t done nearly enough for my friend.
“Search and rescue isn’t your job, Miss Lockwood.” Levi pins me with a hard stare. A look he’s got nailed. “Your job is whatever I assign you. Remember that.”
I disappointed him. Zero! “What if this is another trap?”
“It’s not.” He pivots on his heel and strides under the water.
I follow him, entering Troika, and breathe deeply of the sweetened air, better able to center my thoughts…to focus on who and what I am. The brave and mighty Ten Lockwood. The Secondking said so. Twice!
The only way to fail is to quit. I can help Javier and Dior. I can and I must.
“How do you know?” I insist.
“You’re just going to have to trust me.”
“All right. I’ll go,” I say. “But what about Javier’s free will? He refused our aid.”
“His three-greats grandfather petitioned for a second chance.”
I spot Reed and Kayla standing under a tree. He’s holding a bundle of clothes, and she’s clutching three Whells and two weapons. Wait. Those are my weapons. My staff and my ring.
“Why?” I ask.
“We stopped by your apartment, picked up a few things.” Kayla shoves the weapons at Deacon and tugs at my robe. In unison, the boys turn, presenting me with their backs while also providing a shield from any nearby observers. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Hey!” I exclaim as the robe hits the floor. “The wardrobe change can wait.”
“Would it have killed you to wear matching underwear?” she mutters, taking the bundle of clothes from Reed.
“Maybe. If I ever did laundry and the machine fell on top of me,” I retort.
Smiling, she helps me dress in one of my black catsuits. One of the scantier catsuits. I knock her hands out of the way to finish the chore myself, and as I work, she brushes and twines my hair into… I don’t even know what kind of style.
Kayla straps a double-sided pouch to my back, and stores two Whells. Then she breaks the staff in two and hands me the pieces. “You’re up, Reed.”
“Here.” He turns and slips a small round Whell on the Shell’s finger and Meredith’s ring on mine. “Just don’t go getting any ideas,” he mutters.
“Dream on, buddy. Or don’t. Yeah, probably don’t dream about me. I’d have to smack you.”
I slide the swords into the Whells.
Kayla slaps her hands together in a job well done gesture. “You’re ready.”
“So, what do you want me to do with Javier?” I ask Levi.
“Succeed,” he commands. “Help him. Show him Troikan love. Prove our realm is home.” He taps his palm, types in the glowing keyboard. “You’ve been practicing hard, and your stamina is almost mediocre. You can do this.”
“Wow. I sound ah-maz-ing,” I quip, my tone as dry as the desert. “Practically indestructible.”
“Stay in the Light and allow the Grid to guide you.”
Right.
“You’re probably curious about the reason Mr. Diez is meeting with Mr. Flynn,” Levi says, his eyes gleaming. “Mr. Flynn is now Mr. Diez’s ML. That means you will be competing with your old flame for Mr. Diez’s Everlife.”
My nerve endings buzz with a potent mix of anxiety and excitement. “Way to bury the lead, sir.”
Kayla takes me by the shoulders and peers deep into my eyes. “Ask Killian about Victor. Please. He’ll tell you whatever you want to know. He’s putty in your hands. Just…bring Victor home, okay?”
I’d argue the word putty. And such vehemence is rare for her. Does she like like Victor? I thought she had a thing with Reed.
“I’ll ask,” I promise, wondering if Killian will be punished for answering. Before anyone can request any more favors that could prove detrimental to the boy I love, I return to our original subject. “Let’s go to the Hall of Records so I can research Javier.” I’m going to do this the right way.
Levi nods, and Kayla links her arm with mine.
We reach our destination. General Agape is waiting for us at a table in back. In the human realm, she might be classified as plain, but all I see is beautiful dark eyes filled with strength.
She stands and motions us over. I’m not as at ease with her as I am with Levi and in deference to her station, I bow my head.
“I’ve spoken with General Nanne about the situation. I’ve ensured you have a table and all necessary resources.” She is regal in a metal dress, her innate strength on display. “I command the majority of spies who act as humans in the Land of the Living. I’ve personally compiled all the information we have on Javier Diez.”
“Thank you, General,” I say.
Kayla peers at her, slack-jawed and silent.
General Agape gives us a curt nod and strides off.
When Kayla recovers, she loads me with all the info the General provided. The highlights? Javier is twenty years old, and we share a birthday. October 10 at 10:10.
What are the odds?
Well, that’s actually very easy to answer. The odds are 100 percent, since it actually happened.
I’ve been told my spirit glowed with incomparable Light the moment of my birth. I wonder if his spirit glowed, too.
Multiple Myriadian Generals died the day Javier was born. Multiple Myriadian Generals died the day I was born, too.
I wonder, again, if Javier is the one. The tipping factor in the war.
How many times have I postulated Troika made a huge mistake by selecting me? Now there might be proof to back up my claim.
Zero! I’m wheezing.
What the heck is wrong with me? I should be glad about this. The pressure to win—to save—will be his. If he chooses Troika. Will he? He remains Unsigned.
His mother is Myriadian, but his Troikan father raised him after the divorce; surely the father has more influence over him.
Over the years, Javier grew into a hard-core guy’s guy, sleeping around, drinking as if alcohol poisoning was a myth to be challenged and making money by stealing cars.
Well. Now I understand why my pals dressed me up like a good time girl. I’m supposed to be some kind of eye candy for the dangerous man-child.
I’m both offended and flattered. And okay, okay. I’m grateful. I need every edge I can get.
I’m going against Killian. He’s better with females, sure. There’s no one better at seducing the opposite sex to his side. But he’s also the kind of guy Javier appreciates most; a hard-core guy’s guy, rough and tough, mad and bad to the bone.
In the end, there will be a winner and a loser. We both hate to lose.
If I’m victorious, will he be sent to the Kennels?
If he’s victorious, will I resent him?
I shudder, wondering if this time—with us—love will be enough to keep us together. Lives hang in the balance.
“All right.” Enough wallowing about what could or might be. Fear will never be my friend. “I’ve got about forty minutes to spare before crashing Javier’s meeting with Killian. I’d like to visit Dior and Clay. Help me?”
And afterward… I’d like to visit with Aunt Lina.
I mean, I’m heading into dangerous territory. What if I’m killed? If I don’t see Lina today, I might not get another chance. More than that, I’m trusting Levi in every other area of my life. Why not this? If he thinks I can make a difference in Lina’s Everlife, I’ll set aside my grievances and speak with her.
“Of course.” Kayla squeezes my hand. “May your visit and your mission be enlightened.”
As I race to the Veil of Wings, Kayla heads to the Eye, where she’ll be watching my progress, warning me of incoming attacks and doing her best to anticipate my needs. A job Meredith should be doing.
The thought jolts me, and I lose my footing. This will be my first mission without my grandmother.
I wince as a hot poker of grief stabs into my chest.
Lockdown!
I message Levi, telling him my plan to spend half my time with Dior and the other half with my aunt. He grants his permission, even arranging for an escort to meet me at the Veil.
Sure enough, Deacon is there. Like me, he’s still in a Shell.
“Today I’m your Flanker,” he says.
A Flanker is sub-position of Laborer, meaning to guard and chronicle my exploits.
“Thank you.” He once flanked Archer, and he is the best of the best. “Feel free to ignore the troubadour aspects of your job.”
He snorts. “Already planned on it.”
“All right. First on the menu,” I say. “A visit with Dior and Clay.”
We pass through the portal—
Whoosh. We’re falling. A blaze of Lights erupts…then a solid foundation settles at our feet. The Lights fade. I experience a brief moment of dizziness before I steady.
Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife Page 59
