Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  “Whoa,” I say. “Hold up.” A sedative? What if she’s here to knock me out and make me easy prey for the Generals?

  “So suspicious.” Again she clicks her tongue against her teeth. “This is concentrated manna. You have my word, Conduit. I’m a Healer. I’ve never hurt anyone, never will.”

  Deciding to trust her—because she’s never lied to me before—I relax, allowing her to inject my bicep annnnd yes. Warmth seeps inside me, trailed by strength. Definitely concentrated manna.

  The shadows kick up a fuss, malevolence spewing from them. They crave death and destruction—not just mine, but everyone’s.

  These shadows…

  Ambrosine and his people revere them. But…but…why? I don’t understand. Why is Ambrosine like he is? He has the same father as Eron. The two had the same upbringing. How can one brother be so good and the other so evil?

  Choice.

  The single word whispers across the Grid, and I suck in a breath. New Light floods me, the Grid suddenly glowing like a tree at Christmas, sending the shadows fleeing, desperate for cover.

  Relief nearly buckles my knees, and yet, my mind remains on the quandary. Ambrosine versus Eron. Always everything comes back to choice.

  Something I know firsthand: Every downward slide begins with a single thought.

  Troikan history claims Ambrosine envied—envies—his brother. When the first vine of envy grew in his heart, he must have fed and watered it, rather than yanking it up by the root and destroying it. Eventually he would have reached a point of no return, his mind completely overshadowed by a garden of jealousy, resentment and rage.

  Now he is obsessed with the idea of besting his brother.

  And Killian is currently his staunchest ally.

  My husband has devolved into the person I first met at Prynne, doing everything in his power to intimidate me. Or seduce me. With him, there’s no middle ground.

  How am I supposed to deal with him?

  When he touched me moments ago, the shadows inside my head quieted, but only for a few seconds as pleasure assailed me. I’d begun to hope. Surely we can make this work. Then he backed away as if I’m the equivalent of toxic waste, and the shadows erupted all over again.

  I’m floundering. I want to hug and kiss him, then shake and slap him.

  Actually, there’s no need to deal with him right now. Lives are at stake. I’ve got to take my relationship out of the equation. And really, no relationship is going to be a fifty-fifty give-and-take every day. Some days—some weeks and even months—someone is going to need their partner to pick them up and carry them.

  Dawn uses a second syringe on me. Warmth…a river of new Light…a new tide of information from the Grid…

  When the first human spirits arrived in Myriad and bonded to Ambrosine, their Secondking, his shadows had new hosts. Mere playthings. New darkness was conceived, and the vilest emotions quickly spread.

  Ambrosine can’t just be dethroned; he must be killed. No ifs, ands or buts about it. Although, the notion goes against everything I’ve come to believe. All life is precious.

  How can I justify murder?

  In war—on the battlefield—I protect the weak, the innocent, even the not so innocent, those who can’t or won’t defend themselves. An enemy who attacks us must be dealt with, plain and simple. Otherwise we’ll be enslaved or slaughtered.

  When Ambrosine dies, his shadows will die with him. At least in theory. Myriadians could be freed from his evil influence, able to live life on their own terms.

  Yes! This! This is what I want.

  Since no one else seems willing to do the deed, the burden falls on me. But how am I to accomplish it? Ambrosine isn’t human or spirit; he’s something else entirely. Like must fight like. Flesh to flesh. Spirit to spirit.

  And what about my shadows? How did they come to be? At first, I thought they came from my bond with Killian. Then I suspected they’d been with me for years. Now I’m certain. We all have a garden in need of tending. I failed to uproot hatred for my father and fury directed at my mother. I fed and watered both in the bowels of Prynne Asylum.

  Upon my escape, I buried my emotions, but I didn’t eradicate them. They’ve been with me for years.

  I shudder. I need a complete overhaul, but oh, wow, there’s so much to do.

  One mission at a time. Right now, I choose to focus on the emancipation of Myriadians. They can be saved. And, no matter who they are or where they come from, they are worth saving.

  A warm hand settles on my shoulder, startling me from my thoughts. “Check your messages,” Archer says, his voice taut with grief.

  Acid churns in my stomach. “What happened?”

  “Check,” he commands. “Tell me he’s wrong.”

  Churning faster. I type into my comm and find a message from General Alejandro.

  We need you, Miss Lockwood, more than ever before. Word has just come in. Our soldiers discovered a warehouse in the Land of the Harvest, with an army of potential Abrogates inside. These humans are infected just as Dior Nichols was. They are strapped to gurneys, asleep, and hooked to machines. We need your Light to cleanse them before these people awaken and escape. I don’t have to tell you the devastation they could cause to us—to the world.

  My blood chills in my veins. I haven’t fully digested the ramifications of this development before another message catches my attention. Drawing in a deep breath…hold, hold… I read it. Alejandro again.

  The bad news keeps coming. Dior Nichols and Javier Diez were killed in a car accident. Myriad’s doing, I’m sure. They must be planning another strike against us, and building their forces. We have to act fast, before it’s too late. Please, Miss Lockwood. Let me help you so that you can help our realm. Shamus told me what he did to Mr. Flynn. I will take over the boy’s care. I will guard him with my life. You have my word. All you must do is sever your bond to him. If you are plagued by shadows, how can you aid those who need your Light?

  All the air leaves my lungs in a single burst. My gaze flips up, landing on Archer. “I’m so sorry. He’s right. Dior experienced Firstdeath. She’s now in Myriad.”

  His nostrils flare as his attention whips to Killian. “Did you know what they planned?”

  Merciless, Killian spreads his arms, all what do you think?

  “Don’t pretend ignorance.” Archer points at him, the action spurring Bea into another round of snarling. “Dior is no longer human, able to right the wrongs committed against other humans. Yesterday’s actions led us to today’s destination. She is stuck on the wrong path!”

  Guilt darkens Killian’s features only to vanish a second later. “Just think. If you’d stayed in Myriad, where you belonged, you’d be with her.”

  How cold and callous he sounds.

  With a curse, Archer bangs a fist into one of the bars. “If I find out you were involved in her murder…”

  “You’ll forgive me,” Killian snaps. “Because you’re a Troikan. Isn’t that right? Or can you take the boy out of Myriad but not take Myriad out of the boy? Would you like to let your dark side out to play and wreak havoc against me? Would you like vengeance? Go ahead. Feel your rage, Archer. Act on it. I dare you.”

  Tremors rock Archer. He’s like a powder keg about to blow.

  Zero! What should I do?

  By slaying Dior and Javier, Myriad has upped their game. They have an Abrogate in their realm rather than the Land of the Harvest, and that Abrogate is a major threat to my friends. He must be fought by a Conduit at the top of her—or his—game. More than that, the potential Abrogates must be stopped. Alejandro is right about that. Where he messed up? Suggesting I sever my bond to Killian and give him to the Generals.

  Can the bond between an inter-realm couple be severed? Surely. A bond between a spirit and a realm can be dissolved in court. Perhaps we simply need to disavow each oth
er.

  My mind whirls as my gaze meets Killian’s.

  He frowns. “Your thoughts,” he says, frown deepening. “I can hear them.”

  What?! No way. Sweat beads my brow. “I’m not pushing my words into your head.” Am I?

  “Oh, really? You’re thinking about severing our bond. We simply need to disavow each other.” He smiles coldly as I struggle to breath. He had heard my thoughts. “How about this? If you don’t meet my list of demands, I’ll disavow you here and now.”

  Okay, I had unconsciously pushed my thoughts into his head. I’d been thinking about him, and must have activated the link. I summon beams of Light around my mind, just in case, sending the shadows into a tailspin. Pain shoots through my temples, but I continue to let the Light shine. Killian winces, as if burned.

  I think: If you tell me what I’m thinking now, I’ll strip naked.

  His expression never changes, and I nearly drop with relief. Okay, then. My thoughts are now shielded. No way a hedonist like Killian could resist such bait. Not because he wants to see me naked—maybe he wants to see me naked—but because the act will embarrass me.

  I’ll have to be more careful in the future.

  “What are your demands?” I grate.

  “For starters, Archer Prince will leave the house. On his hands and knees.”

  Anger sparks. Around me, my friends sputter. I hold up my hand in a bid for silence, and return to my musings. If I’m right, and Killian lost his memories because he must choose to love me, the enemy, without the aid of emotion—effectively embracing his Troikan side—his Myriadian side would make him inclined to disavow me as soon as possible. But. By willingly sticking with me, he’s going against the urge to drop me like a hot potato, unwittingly embracing Light.

  Maybe I’m off base. Shall I force the issue, as he has done, and find out?

  You want to be rid of me? Fine. Disavow me.

  I will be taking a big risk. Huge. He could respond without hesitation: Boom. You’re disavowed.

  Beads of sweat pop up across my brow. I can’t lose my way into Myriad, and Many Ends.

  But no risk, no reward, right? And I can’t let him hold our bond over my head, continuing to use it as leverage every time he wants something.

  “I’m not meeting any of your demands,” I tell Killian. “Neither are my friends. If you want to disavow me, do it.”

  His eyes narrow to tiny slits, his breathing a bit more labored.

  “Do it,” I shout. My hands fist. “Say goodbye to your ticket into Troika and disavow me.”

  Though anger glitters in his eyes, a slow smile blooms. A wicked one. “How could I ever let you go, baby? I have plans for you…”

  I run my tongue over my teeth. I’m sure he does. But three cheers for me! I’d defused a tough situation. The risk had paid off.

  “Just as I have plans for you,” I tell him. I won’t lose focus on my endgame. Peace between the realms. Freedom for the spirits in Many Ends.

  One mission at a time.

  The smile fades in a hurry. He didn’t like hearing that I might be using him. Good!

  “I’ll help Dior,” I promise Archer, getting us back on track. I’ll enter Myriad with Killian, as planned, find and hide her so that she can’t be used against us, then go full steam ahead toward my endgame.

  I face the others. “You never asked to be part of my personal war, and I don’t expect your support.” Amid twitters of confusion, I add, “I intend to find Shamus, free Killian and enter Myriad…and Many Ends. The two are connected. Ask Reed. I intend to—no, I will save the spirits trapped inside. It can be done. Reed and Kayla are proof of that. But. While I’m there, I need your help in the Land of the Harvest. There’s a warehouse full of humans who are infected with Penumbra.”

  Penumbra is a big, bad boogyman, and only a select few citizens know about Dior’s and Javier’s infection. We’ve held our silence, hoping to avoid widespread panic.

  My friends are part of the few.

  “I’m proof spirits can be saved from Many Ends,” Reed says, “but you forget. I never experienced Second-death while there. Others were not so fortunate. I witnessed countless murders. There, spirits vanish.” He snaps. “Just like that. What if they are dead for good?”

  “They could be, but I doubt it. You remember the screams as well as I do, I’m sure.” From the moment I awoke in Many Ends till the very second I left, a chorus of pain and agony rang out. “There are survivors, and whether those people died once, twice or a thousand times, they are suffering unimaginable horrors.”

  Eyes closed, he shuffles from one booted foot to the other, huffs out a breath. When he faces me once again, he’s pale, as if a soundtrack of those screams is now playing inside his head. “You’re right. I’m in. Whatever you need me to do.”

  One down. Five to go. The majority.

  “What about the people infected with Penumbra?” Raanan asks.

  “I doubt I can cleanse anyone. The bond to Killian…it’s changed me. Shadows fill my head. What if I share shadows instead of Light? I won’t weaken Penumbra but strengthen it.” Time to drop a few truth bombs. “Raanan, you are a Conduit, and I did change you. Apparently, I’m a Conduit and an Architect.”

  Murmurs of confusion arise.

  “Before the vote,” I say, “Eron told me I have the power to make Conduits. Well, my Light has the power. It decides who’s ready and who isn’t. Raanan, you were ready. You can go to the warehouse. You can cleanse the infected.” I’ve had trust issues for as long as I can remember, but I’m not letting them dictate my actions anymore. I’m letting others help.

  I can’t do everything on my own, and neither can they. We need each other. One body. One heart. Working together.

  “Not on your own, though,” I add. “Okay? All right? Without help, you could drain yourself to death. Through the Grid, I can be with you.” The way the princess was there for me. “I will help you every step of the way. All you have to do is contact me when the time comes.”

  Silence greets me, thick and oppressive.

  Finally Raanan draws in a deep breath. Bright, bright Light glows from his pores. “Yes, I’ll go to the warehouse. I’ll cleanse the infected.”

  Thank the Firstking.

  Wait. Back up a sec. I see his Light?

  I do, I really do. Three cheers.

  One is lonely. Two are necessary for war. Three is the minimum number of examples needed to explain a concept efficiently.

  The shadows must be losing their hold on me.

  “I’m with you,” Archer announces with a nod.

  “I’m insulted you don’t already know my answer,” Clay says. “You’re my Number Girl, and I’m on your side. Always.”

  I’m grateful beyond measure. Absolutely overcome. “Why are you guys so loyal to me? So far, I’ve given you nothing but trouble.”

  “You’re honest, brutally so,” Archer says. “I’d rather help an enemy who tells me truth than a friend who tells me lies.”

  During my Firstlife, I read an amazing series of books by Kresley Cole. The Arcana Chronicles. In it, a character says lies are curses we place on ourselves, and I wholeheartedly agree.

  “You always do what you believe is right.” Raanan crosses his arms over his chest. “You inspire me to do the same.”

  Clay smiles at me. “You never back down. No matter the obstacles in your way, you forge ahead.”

  “You consider peace, not the destruction of an enemy, a worthy goal.” Dawn withdraws another syringe and fills the vial hanging around my neck. “As do I.”

  Clementine nudges my shoulder. “I firmly believe you could hit eleven out of ten targets, with only nine bullets.”

  I snort-laugh.

  “What?” she says. “It’s true. I also believe you could cut a knife with butter.”

  Thi
s time, everyone snort-laughs.

  A pulse of annoyance flows along the bridge that connects me to Killian, and I frown. What’s his problem now?

  “While Raanan visits the warehouse and I hunt Shamus,” I say, “I’d like the rest of you to stay here and defend the house—and Killian.” I bat my lashes, all pretty please with a cherry on top. “I know he’s your enemy, but we Troikans embody love, and it’s time we acted like it. It’s time we loved everyone, rather than those it’s easy for us to love.”

  Agreement doesn’t come quickly, but it does come.

  Relief pours through me. “For the coming battle, there’s only one rule. We do not kill or irrevocably harm a Troikan.”

  “In that case,” Killian says, “you will fail. Free me, and I’ll win the battle for you.”

  “You mean you’ll slaughter everyone,” I mutter, and again I feel the pulse of his emotion along our bond. Frustration this time. The need to act—to destroy. “Look past the shadows. You’ll be surprised by what you find.”

  Biscuit barrels inside the house before Killian can respond, knocking down Ranaan, Clay and their guardians. “Who’s ready to do this? Me, me, me! Don’t worry, you don’t have to catch me up on the latest developments. I gots me some super hearing! And looks who’s with me. Deacon!”

  “A talking dog.” Killian moves his gaze over the other animals, and I realize the pack has remained quiet during our conversation. “In Myriad, dragons fly at all hours, but to my knowledge they’ve never deigned to speak with lowly citizens.”

  Head high, Deacon strides inside the house, claiming center stage. My first reaction: dismay. He’s a by-the-rule-book kind of guy, and I’m about to go rogue. My second reaction: surprise. How did he get past our Buckler? Unless the Buckler Archer erected includes Deacon as “one of us.” Yes. That. My third reaction: joy. This is Deacon. We’ve had our differences, but my love for him has never faltered. He’s here, and he’s safe.

  He nods at me before focusing on Archer, his best friend. The two close the distance to meet in the middle. Any lingering dismay that Deacon might blow up my endgame fades. He will never go against Archer. As the two embrace, a beautiful contrast of light and dark—unity—my eyes mist again.