Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  At any point, Killian could have betrayed me. He could have chosen his realm over my fragile trust, but he never did. Not once. He picked me. He put me first. I see that, too.

  I matter to him.

  He is the answer to my every equation… I am Juliet to his Romeo, and oh, zero! I don’t want to end up like the fictitious, doomed lovers. Forced apart because a war between our families is stronger than our love.

  Nervousness pricks at me as I set the swords on the ground and fist handfuls of sand, the grains falling through my fingers.

  He notices the movement and turns his head to scowl at me. Not quite the reception I anticipated.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “Fiji.”

  Nice. “What happened to—”

  “The humans were transported to a new Troikan safe house, just as I told you. So let’s focus on what you told me. You almost died before this? Tell me what happened. I’m close to blowing a fuse.”

  He’s been sitting there stewing, hasn’t he?

  I scrub a gritty hand over my face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Less apology, more detail. I’ve been waiting twenty-eight hours, lass.”

  What? “I’ve been out for more than a day?”

  Even as I speak, the number twenty-eight rings inside my head. In the Book of the Law, page twenty-eight states: There is a time for planting seeds and a time for harvesting what has been planted, a time to fight and to a time to heal, to destroy and to build, to cry and to laugh, to mourn and to dance, to embrace and to turn away, to search and to wait, to keep and to discard, to tear and to sew, a time for keeping silent and a time to speak, to love and to leave…a time for war and a time for peace.

  Peace…the word teases me. Still a pipe dream?

  “Yes,” Killian says. “More than a day. Every second has been agony. For me. I’ve wondered if you would wake up. I’ve weighed the pros and cons of taking you to Troika’s Veil of Wings. I’ve cried, Ten. Cried like a baby—for you.”

  I melt for him.

  As I tell him about Victor’s sneak attack, he radiates aggression and menace. It’s easy to imagine him as the cold-blooded killer so many Troikans believe him to be.

  “I wish I’d been there, wish I’d protected you, but I can’t even protect your mother,” he says with a scowl. “She and a Laborer I trained are now in the Kennels. I’ve failed one too many times lately, and today might have sealed the deal. Myriad wants you dead, and I shielded you. I’ll spin my actions to the best of my ability, but I fear my treachery has been exposed. I could be sentenced to life in the Kennels the moment I return to Myriad. I could be used against you.”

  My heart sinks. For Killian, my mother and even his friend. “Don’t go back,” I say. “Stay in the Land of the Harvest until we can set a court date.”

  “I have to free them. Which means I have to continue my charade as long as possible. If I’m locked up, I’m locked up. I’ll still have a chance to rescue our people. The moment I defect, I lose that chance.”

  “Killian, please. There has to be a way we can keep you safe and save the others…together.”

  Silent, he stands. He’s so tall, I have to look up, up, up. The sun hits his back, shadows and radiance dancing over his chiseled features. Because he’s in his Shell, the sunlight doesn’t bother him.

  He walks over, sits beside me, the scent of peat smoke and heather enveloping me.

  Yearning consumes me. Hold on to him and never let go. Be his buffer in this time of trouble.

  I reach for his hand, desperate for contact, but my fingers ghost through his Shell and reach his spirit. We hiss and jerk away from each other.

  Disappointment consumes me.

  “When you fought the Myriadian army,” he says, “you were glowing. There’s still a halo around you.” He stretches out to peer up at the sky. He is shirtless, wearing only a pair of ripped jeans and leather bracelets he gave me before I died, his tattoos on magnificent display. “It’s beautiful. You are beautiful.”

  Touch him…every glorious inch…

  My gaze follows a line etched through a skull that is crying tears of blood…through a cracked and crumbling moon, with pieces falling onto a blanket of dying stars…through a rosebush. The roses are black, the leaves withered, the thorns sharp.

  “Since your Firstdeath,” he says, his tone gentle, “I’ve turned my entire life upside down. I’ve sabotaged the only home I’ve ever known. I’m doing what you said, putting word into action. For you. I regret nothing. But I can’t turn away from those in need. Not anymore. You taught me that.”

  “Killian…”

  “You were right. I think we can do more together. I think we should make covenant…with each other,” he says, and looks away.

  I feel as though my head is spinning. “Make covenant…the way humans make covenant with realms? Like, pledge our lives to each other?”

  “I’ve heard stories,” he says. “Of Troikans and Myriadians who have fallen in love. Through covenant, a bond forms between them, like our bonds to our kings. If we do it, what’s mine becomes yours and what’s yours becomes mine.”

  Head spinning faster… “Why do you want to do this? What happened to the others?”

  He rolls toward me, facing me at last, but his gaze is hooded. “I want…so many things. I want to touch you, spirit to spirit. I want you to touch me. I want us to be a family. I want peace between us. I want to find a way to save your mother and Sloan together, just like you said.”

  My heart kicks into a too-fast rhythm. There are probably a thousand rules against what he’s suggesting, and a thousand punishments. Maybe even banishment. “Will you be able to pass through the Veil of Wings and enter Troika? Will I be able to enter Myriad? The Kennels?” Will I be able to return to Many Ends?

  “Some stories say yes, some say no.”

  If the answer is no, we could try and die? “Let’s say it works, and we can. Where will we live after we’ve checked off each of our goals? When will we be together? Will we still fight for our realms, knowing we could be hurting each other?”

  He heaves a sigh. “I never said I’d worked out all the details, lass. I only know I’m willing to risk everything to be with you.”

  I flounder…reel…entertain a million different thoughts…but only one thought matters. What will I risk for him? Everything.

  “Would you set a court date?” I ask.

  “After we’ve found a way inside Many Ends…yes.”

  Spinning faster and faster. “Killian… I…”

  “Just think about it. All right?” He sits up and types into his brand. “As for today, dress and return home. Your people are missing you something fierce.”

  A pile of folded clothes appears. He offers me a black T-shirt, which I pull over my head, hiding my necklaces, and a pair of leather pants. I shimmy into the too-tight material, sheathe my swords and stand.

  Killian joins me, and we face off. He is everything I ever wanted, and I yearn to accept his offer. Can we overcome the obstacles between us?

  I’m about to set a course for home when a message from Levi comes in.

  I see your Light on the Grid. I’ve hidden Killian’s darkness, and I’ve asked Kayla to beam you to Dior’s new safe house in five…four…three…

  “I love you,” I tell Killian, already missing him.

  The look he gives me is one of abject starvation. “I love you, too.”

  I reach for him—

  Whoosh! I travel in a blaze of Light, landing on the porch of a small log cabin hidden in a forest in Montana.

  I listen as I scan the surrounding area, searching for anything out of place. The snap of a tree limb. The crunch of fallen leaves being stomped on. A light pitter-patter of footsteps. A shadow. A print. There is n
othing.

  A Shell awaits me at the front door. I anchor, and my swords bond with the special Whells strapped to my back. Remaining on guard, I step inside.

  The furnishings instantly charm me. A floral-print love seat has a colorful quilt draped over the top. The coffee table has legs made from deer horns. A lace doily covers the surface. Antique dolls perch inside a glass case. On the walls hang pictures of Troikan gardens.

  Levi is seated at a hand-carved table with Dior and Javier. He motions me over. “Join us.” His voice is tight, tension thick in the air.

  “Where’s Clay?” I ask. Injured in the battle?

  “He’s fine. I sent him home to rest.”

  Finally! A mark for the Going Well column of my life.

  I slide into the empty seat next to Levi, peering at the humans across the table, unable to hide my horror. Both Dior and Javier are riddled with Penumbra. A black cloud surrounds them. Her eyes are no longer gold, and his are no longer brown. Instead their irises are black, utterly indistinguishable from their pupils.

  Sizzling sounds echo in my head, my Light repulsed by the pair.

  An-nn-nd one mark for the Going Poorly column.

  At least I have the tools to help them now.

  “Dior has consented to being cleansed,” Levi says.

  “All right. Yes.” Can I do this? “How would you like me to—”

  Bang, bang. The sound comes from the Grid, and I frown.

  “You’ll want to answer that,” Levi says.

  How does he know—

  Bang, bang.

  I rub my temples as the image of a beautiful blonde flashes through my mind. I know her. The princess. A long white braid drapes her shoulder, her beautiful features so delicate and pure I almost can’t bear to look at her.

  Instinctively I close my eyes to concentrate, and a door opens in the Grid. The princess glides through and smiles at me.

  “I’m so pleased to meet you outside a battlefield, Tenley. I’ve been watching your progress on the Grid, and your Light has only grown brighter.”

  I bow to her.

  “No, no. Rise. Together, we will save Dior. Shall we begin?” She twines our fingers. Her grip is weaker than I would have expected, and cold. So cold.

  But a stream of warmth flows through our connection, filling me. Warmth and strength, as solid as gold. But the warmth begins to fade, and a chill wind beats against me. Tremors rock her.

  “That’s the way,” Levi says.

  My eyelids flutter open, the sight before me startling. I’m leaning across the table, Dior’s hands in mine. I must have reached for her when I reached for the princess. Dior’s mouth is open to release an endless silent scream. Her features are contorted in sheer agony.

  My fingers jerk, but Levi moves beside me, and he clasps our hands to ensure we remain linked.

  —Give her our Light.—

  With my eyes open, the princess has become a whisper in the back of my mind. And yet she issues the command with so much force I instinctively shove a ray of Light from the Grid into my hands. Dior quakes and shakes with more fervor, the darkness thrashing underneath her skin. But the ray hits a wall—and it can’t go up, down or around and returns to me.

  Another chill wind beats at me, pricking me with thousands of needle-points. Ice crystallizes in my veins, and my heart slows to a sluggish crawl.

  —More.—

  Another ray leaves my fingertips. Then another and another. The cold worsens, and a terrible pressure builds inside me. Too much Light for me to contain!

  Dior shakes with more vigor, her chair rattling.

  Javier grabs hold of her arm in an attempt to pull us apart. His mouth is moving. I know he’s speaking, but I can’t hear him.

  “Let Miss Nichols go. Now.” Levi. I hear Levi. I hear the General in his hard tone.

  Javier obeys. A miracle.

  —More.—

  Doors in the Grid are ripped open. Doors to rooms I’ve filled. Light rushes out…only to hit the wall and return to me, just like the others. The pressure continues to build, becoming a searing agony on top of the still-worsening chill.

  Dior stands—no, she levitates. Our arms stretch across the table as she lifts higher and higher. This is a scene out of a nightmare.

  —More.—The princess’s voice is strained, beginning to weaken.

  No, I try to tell her. Any more, and we’ll all explode. We can’t risk losing Troika’s strongest Conduit. I’ll continue, but she must disengage.

  —More!—

  Light obeys, banging at the wall. Then we do explode. Or I feel like we do. Our screams blend with Dior’s as the wall crumbles and the rays shoot through Dior, filling her up. Golden Light shines from her pores, pushing what looks to be another person out of her—a screaming teenage girl with black hair and freckles.

  The girl shatters into a million pieces of broken glass and evaporates.

  —General Rosalind Oriana…must have possessed Dior as if she was a Shell… General is now dead…her Second-death…our Light… Tenley! Pull the Light back inside the Grid before Dior experiences Torchlight!—

  I pull and pull and pull, my mind whirling. If General Rosalind Oriana possessed Dior…that meant the other presumed dead Myriadian General possessed Javier. That’s one of the ways Myriad stayed a step ahead of us. Not just Victor. That’s how the other realm always knew where we’d stashed the humans. The Generals had sent word.

  Dior crashes to the floor, unconscious, our hands finally unlocking. I slump over, laboring for every breath.

  “The princess,” I manage to wheeze. Is she—Yes! She’s alive. I see the glimmer of her Light on the Grid.

  Levi checks my vitals while a pallid Javier checks Dior’s.

  “You’ll recover.” Levi grins and pats my shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, Ten.”

  “Javier…shouldn’t touch…” If she contracts Penumbra again…

  “He’s not.” Levi waves in the couple’s direction. “He can’t. Not without pain. She’s still filled with Light. But not too much Light,” he adds as I struggle to rise.

  Too weak. So weak. All I can move is my gaze. Levi is right. Javier is crouched beside Dior, who is rousing, but no part of him touches her. He’s maintaining distance.

  Realization dawns. The other General knows Light will force him out of the human, ending his Everlife.

  We have to…to…my one-hundred-pound eyelids close, too heavy to hold up…

  Lights-out, Ten.

  * * *

  The Lights flicker, until they are shining brightly. I straighten gingerly, careful of new aches and pains, memories and questions rolling through my mind.

  The Grid answers each question as soon as it forms.

  Can any spirit possess any human?

  Only higher-ups have the necessary skill. More than that, the human must grant permission—even if they do not know they are granting permission.

  I remember how I used a human as a shield and flinch. Can Troikans possess humans?

  Possession is forbidden to Troikans. It removes free will.

  Why don’t all Troikans know about this?

  Too many TLs would kill the possessed humans rather than risk the lives of their Conduits.

  My temples begin to throb. Javier needs to be cleansed, too, but I’m in no shape to help him. If I rush headlong into battle right now—and cleansing is a battle—I’ll lose. I’m ready to win! Time isn’t our friend. As the days pass, Penumbra—the Myriadian General—will only strengthen his hold on Javier.

  I catalog my surroundings. I’m still in the cabin, but I’ve been moved to the couch.

  Levi sits on the arm. He winks at me. “Have a nice nap, Miss Lockwood?”

  “How long was I out?”
/>   “Only an hour.”

  A radiant Dior dances through the house, her smile wide and infectious. Javier watches her with a scowl.

  She bounds over to hug me. When her skin brushes against mine, warmth arcs between us, and she laughs. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I hadn’t realized…the difference is astounding. I’ve never felt better and…thank you!” She releases me to hug Levi.

  Though his eyes glow with affection, he clears his throat and says in a stern tone, “All right. Let’s continue this meeting.”

  She sits at the table, but practically bounces in her chair. “Is Javier next?”

  “No,” Javier says.

  At the same time, Levi says, “Not today. Miss Lockwood must recover.” He frowns at Javier. “I know you objected to Miss Nichols’s cleansing, but as you can see, she survived. So will you. Trust me, kid. You want to be cleansed. I know you couldn’t see what came out of Miss Nichols, but it wasn’t pretty, and the same type of thing lives inside you.”

  “Don’t care.”

  Levi is a bundle of irritation as his gaze lands on me. “Because of the brutal battles being fought over Miss Nichols, the judge has decided to move up her trial. It begins tomorrow.”

  No way! “She doesn’t even have a Barrister yet.”

  “She does.” He reaches out to pat Dior’s hand. “Me.”

  “You can’t. You’re a General. You’re needed in the realm. We can’t risk—” The rest of my words die on my tongue, killed by the Grid.

  Humans aren’t to know the price we pay. Our sacrifice isn’t to drive theirs.

  My hands fist.—We need you, Levi.—I throw the statement through the Grid as if it’s an accusation.

  —She needs me, too. She needs someone strong to lean on. She needs to know someone will stand beside her, no matter what.—

  —Levi!—He’s willing to risk his life for someone who is currently his enemy.

  And I’m not?

  —If she fails, you die.—I plow on. —No if, ands or buts about it.—

  He offers me a soft smile. —One at a time. That’s how we end a war, yes?—

  Jerk! He’s fighting fire with water.