Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  But Fate had other ideas for her.

  Caroline Flynn died within minutes of giving birth to me.

  My chest constricts, breathing a little more difficult. I’ve watched the video of my birth…watched her nuzzle my cheek and coo to me as she bled out.

  Before a child reaches the Age of Accountability, parents decide his or her fate. Caroline had a covenant to Myriad, ensuring I would follow her to the realm. And I did, two days later. The medication she’d taken while pregnant affected my heart. Or so I’ve been told. Deep down, I think I’d known I lost something—someone—precious, and my heart broke.

  I know beyond a doubt Caroline would have taken me in, but again, Fate had other ideas. Even in the Everlife, her spirit was too weak to sustain her, and she experienced Second-death within days of her first.

  “Killian.”

  Tenley’s gentle voice invades my mind, causing the memories to scatter. I focus on her, wanting to lash out and hug her at the same time.

  What is this strange pull she has on me?

  “Be honest,” I say, unable to mask the croak in my voice. “Tell me how you convinced me to bond with you. What leverage did you have?”

  “Me, convince you?” She snorts. “Baby, you practically begged me.”

  I run my tongue over my teeth, not liking the baby endearment, either. “You lie. I would never beg you or anyone for anything.”

  A glimmer of sadness appears in her mismatched eyes, only to vanish as she rallies. “No, you wouldn’t.” Gaze pointed, she adds, “You asked, and I said yes because you are one of the best people I know. You are strong, and you are kind…sometimes. You fight for what you want, never back down. Your courage astounds me. The lengths you’ll go to for the ones you love amazes me.”

  My heart thuds against my ribs. She’s lying. Of course she’s lying. I can’t be one of the best people she knows.

  But every fiber of my being wants to believe her.

  “We married because we love each other, but also because I need to get inside Myriad,” she says. “Trust me, you want me there, too. We must dethrone Ambrosine.”

  Myriad is all I have. I’d rather die than lose my place. “I would never agree tae dethrone—”

  “And we must get inside Many Ends,” she continues, quieting me. “Many Ends is connected to Myriad, and we both believe your mother is trapped there. We plan to rescue her, together. And we can. I know we can. I’ve been to Many Ends before. Three times, to be exact. On my final trip, I rescued two spirits who now live in Troika.” She pauses, chews on her bottom lip and looks up at me through the thick fan of her lashes, hopeful. “Any of this ringing a bell?”

  Breathing becomes a little more difficult. My mother, trapped in Many Ends. The equivalent of hell.

  Truth? A falsehood?

  Falsehood, definitely. Anger froths inside me. I must have told Tenley about my mother’s First-and Second-death. Or she did some digging and learned all on her own. Either way, the result is the same. She used the information against me.

  And I let her.

  Tenley Lockwood thinks to manipulate me. Because she has power over me. Power that has nothing to do with the bond.

  What if she finds the human fused with my mother? What if she hurts my mother?

  The anger heats, turning into fury, my cells becoming bombs and exploding. With a snarl, I leap to my feet. Menace in every step, I approach her.

  She straightens, but she doesn’t back up. When I reach the bars, she raises her chin, stubborn to the core, and I almost admire her.

  Who am I kidding? I do. I admire her.

  But I won’t stop. Though I’m without a single weapon, I’m far from helpless. I can kill an entire contingent of soldiers with my bare hands—and have.

  Silent, we stare at each other.

  Shadows protest such close proximity to her, my bride. The bond warms and tingles, empowering the Light inside me. I don’t care. Tension crackles in the air, so thick I can feel tendrils of it brush against my skin, sensitizing my nerve endings. She feels it, too. Her inhalations grow shallow, her chest rising and falling in quick succession.

  She’s tall for a girl, but I dwarf her. I have a good hundred pounds of muscle on her, too. I could easily overpower her. And yet, just then, overpowering her isn’t what I crave…

  The fact that she doesn’t back down, well, I’m impressed.

  “Before our bond, someone in Myriad told you the identity of the human your mother’s spirit is supposedly Fused with. A teenage girl,” she says, her voice as calm and steady as before. “You tracked her down, and decided she couldn’t possibly be the woman who had given birth to you. Couldn’t even be half of her. So I told you my suspicion—Fusion is a lie Myriadians tell to cover up the fact that they wind up in Many Ends after Second-death.”

  Please. “I would know if Many Ends was connected to Myriad.”

  “Because you know everything? Because you’re never wrong? Because no one in Myriad has ever been dishonest for personal gain? Which is it, Killian? One, two or three?” She grips the bars of the cage, and shakes. “Maybe all? A lie cannot stand forever, because its foundation is fundamentally cracked. When a storm comes, the lie will crumble and fall, and only the truth will remain.”

  I don’t want to answer her questions or respond to her analogy, but for some reason I don’t want to lie to her or hurt her, either.

  Wanting her off guard, I reach out and place my hands over hers. She gasps, but still she doesn’t back down. Her gaze zooms to my wrist, to the horse branded there.

  “Have we had sex yet?” I ask with enough sneer and leer to enrage a saint.

  Her gaze jerks back up, meeting mine. Twin pink circles stain her cheeks. The blush quickly spreads to her neck, covering the pulse hammering at the base, and along her collarbone. How I would love to strip her, find out just how far that blush travels.

  “No,” she snaps. “We were waiting until we could touch without our Shells.”

  As we’re doing now? “Interesting, considering I’ve never waited for anyone.”

  “You said you’d wait forever for me.”

  Another lie. Except…

  I’ve never wanted anyone this intensely.

  Slowly, so slowly, giving her time to avoid me if that is her choice, I lift my hand toward her face. She merely lifts her chin another notch. The closer I get to contact, the tenser we both become. Then my fingertips are on the rise of her cheekbone. A tremor rocks her at the same time that white-lightning arcs through me.

  White-lightning…pleasure.

  Undiluted bliss.

  With a grunt, I drop my arm to my side to sever contact. I’d wanted to tease her, as well as put her on the defensive by saying something smarmy like, We can touch now. How about you hit your knees, baby, and drink me down. At the moment, I can’t work a single word past the lump growing in my throat.

  The front door of the house suddenly bursts open, and a new snarl leaves me. Archer Prince, a boy I despise with every fiber of my being, stomps inside, a massive white-and-brown dog at his side. A tiny Chihuahua trails behind them.

  My mind locks on a single thought: Archer was dead, and now he’s alive. I watched him die. We were in the middle of a battle and—

  Shadows sink their claws into the memory. Distorting my view of it? I wince.

  “I said I would prove spirits that experience Second-death never return to the Land of the Harvest. Well, here is my proof.” Tenley sounds almost smug. “Fusion is a lie.”

  “For Troikans, at least.”

  Now she sputters for a response.

  Not by word or deed do I reveal she’s set my mind on a new path. Could Fusion be a lie for Myriadians, too?

  A bolt of Light slams into the shadows. Hisses erupt. Darkness scatters. Despite a flare of pain, a memory clicks into place. I’ve hear
d rumors that Troikans can be resurrected; Light is life. That Myriadians cannot be resurrected because shadows are, supposedly, death.

  Perhaps Myriadians could be resurrected, as well, if our Secondking would let us? But in order to preserve the illusion of Fusion, the dead must stay dead.

  Not that Fusion is an illusion. Truth…lie… Suspicion niggles the back of my mind.

  If this is true, the other might be true as well, and more than the Unsigned go to Many Ends.

  Unease slithers through me.

  Archer’s copper gaze skips over me to land on the girl. For some reason—that treacherous bond, no doubt—I’m not happy that another guy is looking at her, and she’s looking back.

  Can’t get her to Myriad soon enough. Will use her against Troika, lock her away and finally wash my hands of her.

  Blue flashes from Tenley’s comm. With a single tap, a glowing message appears just over her wrist. I’m unable to read the words, but she hasn’t received good news. Her color fades. She frowns.

  “We’ve got problems,” Archer says.

  “Tell me about it,” Tenley mutters.

  “The army…it’s already here.”

  TROIKA

  * * *

  From: Unknown

  To: T_L_2/23.43.2

  Subject: Hi

  Did I tell you I died? I’m sorry I killed Killian.

  I cried. You cried. I cried some more. I’m glad my husband made it up to you.

  Light was the answer. Light was always the answer.

  TROIKA

  * * *

  From: T_L_2/23.43.2

  To: Unknown

  Subject: Aunt Lina?

  Let’s face it: If anyone could find a way to reach me in the Everlife, it’s you. But I need clarification about, well, everything you said. You died, or you will die? Are you in Myriad, or will you wind up in Myriad sometime in the future? Please—PLEASE—help me understand.

  And what do you mean, you killed Killian? Tell me every detail! You have to know I won’t let you hurt him. I will stop you—wait. Is that why you die? Do I kill you? (If you aren’t already dead, that is. Ugh, I’m confusing myself.)

  Second to last question: If Light is the answer, what is the question?

  Lastish query (on my part): Who is your husband? You and Uncle Tim are divorced, and you’ve never remarried.

  Light Brings Sight!

  Conduit-in-training,

  Ten Lockwood

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  * * *

  “Make others fear your anger now, and save yourself heartache later.”

  —Myriad

  Ten

  Anger and frustration mount as Lina’s message plays through my mind. Neither of which will do me any good right now. Lashing out will make a bad situation worse.

  My emotions cannot dictate my actions. Right. I block the message and all its implications—for now—and focus on the matters at hand.

  Bea growls at Killian, the cutest little bundle of ferocity I’ve ever seen.

  Killian growls right back, though there’s no heat to the action.

  Unable to trust my husband at my back, I step away from him and toward Archer. Bea goes quiet, but turns her focus to me, as if daring me to make a move against her charge.

  “How many soldiers?” I ask him. “How many Generals?” A sense of urgency kicks my heart into a gallop that would put our zebras to shame. “Where are they?”

  “Two hundred soldiers, led by Luciana and John,” he replies. He’s pale, little tremors shaking him on his feet. “They—”

  “Hey. Are you all right?” I ask, fighting concern. Leaving the Rest couldn’t have been easy for him. There, he’d had peace. Here, I’ve tossed him straight into war.

  He continues as if I never interrupted. “—just exited the nearest Gate. I’m guessing they want to capture you and lock you up until they can find a way to break your bond with Killian without killing you.”

  John Blake. I don’t know much about him. Considering the current location of his army, I have roughly five minutes to learn everything I can. “What do I need to know about John? And was there any sign of Shamus?”

  “No sign of Shamus.” He thinks for a moment, frowns. “There’s a back entrance to every city, one only Generals are supposed to use. Shamus could be sneaking in from the other side.”

  Or he’s staying as far away from me as possible, because he fears what I’ll do to him the next time I see him.

  “As for John,” Archer continues, “you should know he’s—”

  “The one who’s called upon when capture rather than death is the desired result,” Killian interjects. “That’s why your boyfriend thinks the army plans to capture you.”

  I scrub a hand down my face and mutter, “Archer isn’t my boyfriend. Unfortunately.”

  “Unfortunately?” Killian glares daggers at me, as if I landed a powerful blow. “What does that mean?”

  A romantic relationship with Archer would have been easy, even effortless. Too bad I feel only sisterly toward him.

  Archer’s gaze is unreadable as he glances between Killian and me. “John’s soldiers will do their best to split us up. They’ll want to capture one of us, at least. Once they succeed, they’ll torture the captive in an effort to control the rest of us.”

  “If they fail, will they try and use Jeremy against me?”

  “No. Never. Not for any reason.” Archer shakes his head, adamant. “He’s a child, an innocent, and he’s off-limits.”

  Inhale…exhale…

  Will I sacrifice my friends to save Killian?

  Will I sacrifice Killian to save my friends?

  Yes and yes. Sacrifice anything and anyone. Save yourself.

  No and no. Sacrifice yourself to save the others.

  Ugh! There are two sides of me. Troikan and Myriadian. Those sides will never agree. Not exactly a news flash, I know, but come on! The constant tug-of-war leaves me floundering.

  I’d go with what I know, but any sacrifice I make will be in vain. Archer is right. The Generals hope to sever my bond with Killian. I can’t let them. I must get into Many Ends.

  One of the reasons I choose to live in Troika? The people (supposedly) support each other in the best and worst of times. The people (supposedly) love each other. Didn’t take me long to learn that people are people, and no matter their realm, they are flawed. They make mistakes. Even Troikans sometimes let their emotions get the better of them.

  Sow and reap. A harvest will come in. Sow support, receive support. Sow dissent, receive dissent. Today, I will sow support—for the innocents who need me. I will not let the shadows win.

  “Here.” Archer tosses me two short swords, his aim off. “You don’t want to hurt our people. I know. I get it. But you can’t remain weaponless while armed soldiers approach.”

  I have to jump to the left to catch both swords by their hilts. “You just came back from the dead, and I’ve thrust you into the middle of a war with people you love, respect and admire. If you want to ride the pine for this battle, I will—”

  “Ride the pine while you risk your life?” If looks could kill, I’d be dead. “Never!”

  “—knee your testicles into your throat,” I finish.

  A moment passes while he absorbs my words. Then he snorts, and the reaction is pure Archer. He’s always appreciated my snarkier quirks.

  “A little obsessed with balls, wouldna you say?” Killian asks me.

  His accent has emerged a couple of times, thrilling me. Even better, his words are classic Killian, his snarling tone suggesting he’s upset that I dared to threaten another male’s genitalia. Like I’m supposed to threaten his, and his alone.

  I turn, hoping to see a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. However, he isn’t focused on me but Archer, and it’s safe to say he�
��s forgotten the truce he and his former bestie once shared. Killian’s expression is cold and dark, and his hands are twitching, as if he wishes he clutched his own pair of blades.

  Boys!

  His life matters more than his feelings.

  The house begins to shake, only to stop…shake again. Stop. Shake. Stop. My heart thuds in time. “Bombs?”

  Archer smiles with genuine amusement. “Nah. I think the elephants have arrived.”

  Elephants? Seriously? Well, why not?

  Killian looks at me, one brow arched. “Perhaps you’re Fused with Tarzan. Or some kind of Disney princess.”

  Fusion again. Before this day ends, I’m going to slap him. As a favor to us both. Maybe I’ll knock some sense into him.

  Ignoring him, Archer says, “I placed inter-realm Bucklers around the house. No one but us will be able to transport inside. On the other hand, none of us will be able to transport out, either. We’ll have to walk.”

  A small price to pay for a safe haven. “Where are the others?”

  “Here.” Raanan’s voice blasts through the house.

  He appears, with Clay and Reed at his sides. Clementine and a blonde Healer named Dawn are quick on their heels. Dawn has patched me up on numerous occasions.

  Different animals trot in behind the group, and introductions are made.

  Raanan’s guardian is a donkey named Pop Tart. Spot, one of the zebras, is working with Clay. Paco the parrot stakes his claim on Reed by perching on his shoulder. A black Lab named Frank remains glued to Clementine’s side. Gloria, a deer, is paired with Dawn.

  I wish Kayla were here. Forget any trust issues. She would understand me better than most. And she’s part of our crew. She’s valued. Where is she? Last time I saw her, she was inside a makeshift hospital, recovering.

  Dawn looks me over, and clicks her tongue against her teeth. “What have you done to yourself?” When she’s standing directly in front of me, she checks my vitals and pulls a small syringe from her pocket.