Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  How much am I willing to sacrifice for my realm…for peace?

  How far am I willing to go for Killian…for love?

  If we are truly to be one body—the chosen—the members of our body matter more than ever.

  “We have an hour until the vote,” Clementine begins. “I can return to the Eye and—”

  A vibration rides across the Grid, arresting me. Arresting all of us. In unison, we go still.

  “The Secondking has issued a summons,” Raanan says, decoding the message that accompanies the vibration. “Due to murmurs of discontent, the Resurrection ceremony has been moved up. We’re to head to the Garden of Exchange now.”

  Zero! What about Killian?

  Deep breath in, out. Right now, he’s safe. So I’ll go to the Garden of Exchange. I’ll cast my vote. As long as the Generals need me, he’s going to be fine. Afterward, I’ll find him. Perhaps with the help of the person who is Resurrected.

  In a blink, my To Do list changes. Decide who will come back from the dead. Find and save Killian.

  No pressure.

  As Raanan helps me out of the water, Clay taps his wrist and a bright Light appears directly over it. He type, type, types. A towel appears in one hand, and a purple robe in the other. Purple = royalty. I gulp.

  Definite pressure…

  Argh! When there is pressure, do not panic—sow and reap. Life is a garden. Plant a seed, and grow a blessing…or a curse. The harvest depends on your seed, for like gives life to like. If I want love, I must sow love. If I want to help my goals, I must help my realm.

  Which of the slain will help my realm if Resurrected?

  Clay tosses me the towel. After I dry off, I hand the towel to Clementine, and she uses it to shield me as I change into the purple robe. Then I braid my wet hair.

  “Drink up. You’re a Conduit, special and we need you well. I’m sure you could use a boost.” She places a vial of manna in one of my hands, and heads for the exit.

  I follow her, and everyone else follows me.

  “I’m not special,” I mutter, and drain the vial.

  “You saved us during the invasion,” Clay says. “Trust me. You’re special.”

  The manna is sweet on my tongue, but for the first time, it burns going down. Sharp pains shoot through me, but thankfully they fade in a hurry.

  Do I now need a mix of manna and ambrosia?

  I’ll figure it out. Later. Ahead is a Gate, an archway that looks to be made entirely of diamonds. Our group enters two at a time, the diamonds vanishing as fireworks explode around us. We remain on our feet, even continue walking, while we’re shot to a new location.

  There, we enter a Stairwell. Then we enter two more Gates before reaching our destination. The Garden of Exchange. Thank the Firstking, this city is untouched by the bomb blasts, its hanging wisteria, honeysuckle and ivy vines as lush as ever. Fruit trees are in full bloom, branches heavy with peaches, oranges, apples and every other kind of treat you can name. Wild strawberries and blackberries intermix with a maze of colorful flowers, sweetly scenting the air while leading to the heart of the city, where millions of citizens have already congregated, everyone decked out in some kind of robe.

  There are children, teenagers and adults, though no one looks older than thirty-five. That’s to be expected. When a spirit reaches the Age of Perfection, the outward appearance freeze-frames, no matter how old a physical body becomes or used to be.

  Different animals are present, as well. Dogs. Cats. Deer. Wolves. A handful of zebras. Horses. Birds fly overhead. Despite the number of living beings amassed here, not a single conversation is taking place. Not a roar, growl or purr can be heard. Silence reigns, and it’s eerie.

  As we approach, the crowd parts down the center for the one who will be rendering the only vote. My heart thuds against my ribs. We motor forward, sweat dotting my palms. I catch sight of Nico and breathe a sigh of relief. Until his eyes narrow and fill with hate.

  Hate? I stumble. Does he know I married Killian?

  Someone steps in front of him, blocking him from view before I can speak with him. My gaze lands on my great-grandmother Hazel, and my mind trips along after it. Such a precious woman! Beside her is my great-grandfather Steven. If I fail to vote for Meredith, their daughter, they’ll be hurt.

  I swallow the lump growing in my throat. Next I see Millicent, my little brother’s nanny, and Jeremy. My heart squeezes. As he wiggles and giggles, I pause to caress his soft cheekbone.

  —Ten!—

  His voice drifts along the Grid, filling my mind. This isn’t the first time he’s spoken to me this way, but I’m still startled.—Hey, baby bro. I love you so much.—

  —Love, too.—

  “Get him out of here,” I whisper to Millicent. “Keep him safe.” If there’s a riot after I render my vote, I don’t want an infant caught in the chaos.

  Her jaw drops, and she blinks rapidly. Then she nods and works her way through the crowd, heading in the opposite direction.

  Keep moving. Get this done. A royal palace is ahead, with walls made of diamond, sapphire and ruby, emerald, topaz, and beryl, onyx and jasper. Every gem is flawless, breathtaking.

  Before the palace is a bridge. Before the bridge is a dais.

  Tremors flood me. On the dais stands the Secondking. The majestic Eron, Prince of Doves, is wearing a spectacular violet robe with gold seams and a hem that glitters as if it’s been soaked in Lifeblood. He’s tall and leanly muscular, with dark skin and eyes bluer than a morning sky, brighter than a sapphire and lovelier than a blue jay.

  Despite the majesty of those eyes, his face is plain. A fact that always astounds me. He should be a showstopper.

  Who am I kidding? He is a showstopper. Appearance means nothing. Heart, everything. Love and power radiate from him. So much power. Too much for one person to bear. Well, an ordinary person. Eron is far from ordinary. Light shines from his pores, radiant and pure, warming me.

  In the back of my mind, the shadows shudder with fear. I grin.

  Behind the Secondking stands each of our thirteen Generals. They represent a mix of nationalities and hail from all over the Land of the Harvest. Today they are dressed in turquoise robes with metal links sewn into the shoulders to denote their exalted station.

  My grin fades. Do the other Generals know that Luciana and Shamus are holding Killian hostage?

  The shadows seize upon the rage that sparks inside me, and dip their toes in the waters of my mind…ripples flow along the Grid. Threatening to invade other doors?

  Careful. In an effort to control the emotions, I breathe deeply and turn my focus to the others. The handsome Alejandro gives me a nod of greeting. I’ve always liked him, and I hope beyond hope that I have an ally in him—no matter what. Jane and Spike give me a nod of greeting, as well, while the others implore me with their gazes.

  I can almost hear the chant inside their heads. Choose Orion. Please.

  Tremors shake me. With my head high, I ascend the steps, the pitter-patter of my feet almost as loud as a scream. I walk onto the dais, stop a few feet from Eron and kneel, at the same time crossing my arms over my chest to form an X. As I raise my arms, they uncross to form a V. A show of my fealty.

  Just like that. The rest of the world vanishes. I’m alone with Eron, surrounded by Light and fluffy white clouds.

  “Rise,” he tells me, his voice like music and thunder and rain all at once.

  I obey, my mind whirling. “Where are we? Why are we here?” Whoa. Bring it down a notch. This is my king. Be respectful or be quiet.

  “Consider this today’s briefing.”

  Great. Wonderful. Hesitant, I say, “You know about my bond with Killian.”

  “I do.”

  He offers no protests. “You support us?” I suspected, but confirmation will—

  “I do,” he repeats.
“Love never fails.”

  Confirmation will thrill me. I stand taller. “Some would argue I don’t know real love.”

  “Some are deceived.”

  He says no more, and I don’t press my luck.

  “Would you like to know why I gave you the sole vote in this Resurrection?” he asks.

  “Yes.” The word leaves me so quickly, it’s almost a hiss.

  “After the bombing I realized a startling truth. You, Tenley Lockwood, are not a Conduit.”

  I gape at him, certain I misheard. “I’m not?”

  “You are the first of your kind. A Conduit and an Architect.”

  “A what now?” I’ve never heard the term in association to a position here.

  “You possess the amazing ability to make Conduits.”

  Part of me wants to argue with him. The other part of me accepts the knowledge without reservation. Look at Raanan. I suspected this. And really, in Troika, nothing is impossible.

  “How?” I ask. And, wow. Wow, wow, wow. Being one of only two Conduits capable of cleansing Penumbra had come with tremendous responsibility and pressure.

  Without pressure, there would be no diamonds.

  Now there is another, and there will be more.

  The ferocity of Eron’s gaze intensifies, nearly drilling me to my knees. “Do you know what apocalypse means?”

  I nod, even as my stomach churns. “The destruction of the world.”

  “That is one meaning, yes. But the other? A revealing. The end of the war nears, and with it, change comes.” He motions to the horse branded on my wrist. “Change rides his—or her—warhorse. You are the first of many. There will be others, on both sides.”

  My mouth goes dry. Killian bears a horse on his wrist, as well. Is he on our side—or Myriad’s?

  “How do I make Conduits?” I’ve touched others. Killian. Clay. Luciana, even. Only Raanan has made the transition.

  “When you find a candidate who is ready,” he says, “your Light will know, and do the work for you.”

  That…makes sense. But I’ll have to ponder the pros and cons later. I’m not sure how long I’ll have Eron’s undivided attention. “I still don’t understand why you gave me the vote.”

  “Don’t you?” He offers me an indulgent smile. “I value life. All life. Like you, I crave peace.”

  Nice to know I’m on the same page with someone like Eron. He is a good king and a great man. I can’t—no, I won’t—let him down. And not just him, but everyone; even those who do not fully comprehend. My baby brother has to live in the world we create. I can fight to give him something better, or let him wade through whatever crapstorm we allow to rage.

  “What if people are disappointed with my choice? Or infuriated?” I ask. “Will you stand with me?”

  The look he gives me can be described only as indulgent. “I’m always with you, even during the most trying times. Especially during the most trying times. Just because you can’t see me, doesn’t mean I’m not there. Just because things go badly one day, doesn’t mean I’m not working to make them better the next.”

  That’s fair.

  “You’ve read the Book of the Law,” he says. “My mission statement has never changed, never will. Trust that we are working together for the good of all. While I am the head, you—the people—are my body. Trust that I want what is best for everyone, no matter their allegiance. I believe my actions have proven this, again and again, even if some of my people have strayed.”

  The clouds vanish as quickly as they appeared, the rest of the world coming back into view. We’re back on the dais, the crowd overflowing the Garden of Exchange.

  “Have you decided who will rejoin our fight?” Eron’s voice booms for one and all.

  Here it is, the moment of truth. What am I going to do? Is the right choice for Troika the right choice for Killian? What about the right choice for facilitating the end of the war?

  Half of the crowd begins to chant. “Orion. Orion. Orion.”

  The other half chants, “Levi. Levi. Levi.”

  Well. The masses want a General, no doubt about it.

  But I cannot forget—these people are stuck in negative flow. A rushing river pulls us one way, and too many are content to be swept along. I’m fighting my way upstream, even though I’m tired, unsure and plagued by darkness. I can’t stop. The second I do, the very second, I’ll drift down the river alongside everyone else—and I’ll suffer the same end.

  Gotta get them in a different body of water.

  My gaze meets Hazel’s, then Steven’s. This time, they silently plead with me. Vote for Meredith, the woman who gave her life to save yours.

  My heart squeezes in my chest. I love Meredith. I want her back. I really do.

  “Tell us, Ten.” The Secondking waves in my direction. “Speak the name, and I will do the rest.”

  Shadows writhe with more force. People chant. Animals call out. The Generals stare daggers into my back. My nerves fry. Inside me, pressure builds.

  “I…” Deep breath in, out.

  I had already tentatively removed Elizabeth from the equation, but I do so with surety now. She’s with her boyfriend, Claus, and she’ll have no desire to leave him. That leaves Orion, Levi, Meredith and Archer. Who’s it going to be?

  Loyalty, passion, liberty.

  Sow, reap.

  There’s a name in my heart. The person I’ve wanted to pick from the beginning. The person I believe will most help this realm. Someone I would have picked already, if my mind hadn’t gotten in the way, obsessing about the consequences of a wrong choice.

  Heart and mind might not agree, but I’m done worrying. I’m going to take emotion out of the equation, and let my heart lead the way—the true Troika way.

  For better or worse, I announce, “I vote for…Archer Prince.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  * * *

  “The only advice you should heed is your own.”

  —Myriad

  Ten

  Behind me, the Generals give a collective gasp of shock and disappointment. Except for Luciana. With a scream of rage and horror, she falls to her knees. Beyond us, the crowd goes wild, a handful of people cheering, most others booing.

  My decision remains unwavering. With Archer at my side, peace between the realms isn’t just a possibility but a probability.

  Approval glows in Eron’s eyes, and I’m certain I made the right decision. Relief nearly buckles my knees. But mixed with relief is a tingle of dread. I’m still going to be punished by my haters, aren’t I?

  Eron speaks into my mind as clearly as if he’s addressing the entire realm.—Doing what’s right isn’t always supported by those around you. Even the most well-meaning people can stumble into darkness. Show your adversaries the Light, Architect. Show them you are willing to fight for what you believe. Show them you will not back down. You will not cower. That is how you win.—

  The reminder jolts me: I’m an Architect. What does that mean, exactly?—Help me.—

  A soft laugh.—Not a day goes by that I don’t.—

  “The choice has been made. So she has said, so it shall be done.” This time, the Secondking’s words resound throughout the entire city, drowning out every other decibel of noise. “Behold. The Resurrection of Archer Prince.”

  A bright Light shines, blinding me. My world goes dark, but only for a second.

  As the Light fades, the world comes back into focus. The Secondking is gone. At least, gone according to my eyes. Eyes do not always tell the full story.

  Across the dais, a doorway forms from air, as if one layer has been peeled away from another, revealing a whole new world. Through that doorway, I see the fantastical land of the Rest, where a rainbow-colored sky glitters with thousands of stars, dinosaurs roam and peace isn’t a hope but a way of life.

  Is thi
s really happening? Will Archer, a boy I’ve missed with every fiber of my being, walk through that doorway and join the living? Will he receive a second chance at Secondlife?

  For a moment, one perfect, stolen moment of time, I think I spy the others in that small doorway. Elizabeth, a tall, slender brunette, smiles at me, content. Meredith, a petite blonde, beams at me, as if she’s proud of me. Levi, the tallest, all tanned and chiseled, nods in support.

  Tears scald my eyes, threatening to fall. I miss these guys, so, so much. Then Archer steps through the doorway, and my heart stops thudding only to flutter with happiness. He’s as tall as Killian, as packed with muscle, tanned like a surfer and blond with copper eyes. While Killian is raw seduction and rugged aggression, Archer is flawless beauty and tempered steel.

  I used to think of the two Laborers as sinner and saint, but I was wrong. Like everyone else, both boys have their strengths and their flaws.

  Both deserve the best life has to offer, and both want what’s best for their realm.

  They will choose love over war, and love will not let them down.

  With unsteady knees, I trip forward, my speed increasing until I’m running. Then I’m throwing myself into Archer’s open arms, hugging him tight. He hugs me right back, and he’s trembling just as violently.

  I breathe in his scent—clean cotton warmed by the sun. I love this boy like a brother. Since his death, a piece of my heart has been missing.

  Finally he pulls back and shakes me. “Why?” he demands, his English accent slight but noticeable. “I mean, I know why. I just think you should have—”

  “No,” I interject, the word little more than a croak. His eyes are different. The same color, just…deeper, wiser, fathomless. “I did what I should have done.”

  “The war—”

  “I want peace between realms, Bow. You’re going to help me.” The first time we met, his gloriously masculine self was encased in the Shell of a short, pink-haired girl he’d called Bow. The nickname stuck. “I need to catch you up on everything that’s happened.”