Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  Nico says, “After you attacked Victor, he came to me, admitted his feelings for me. We were going to be together—until he had to defect. Because of you.”

  Another tide of information. When Victor Prince reached the Age of Accountability, he made covenant with Troika in order to spy for his father and ultimately lead the revolution to destroy the realm from the inside out. I’d had no idea, until too late.

  Too late—for what? I scour my mind, but the shadows maintain a firm hold on the memory.

  “Victor,” she spits at the redhead. “He’s a liar and a user.”

  “No!” Spittle sprays from the corners of Nico’s mouth. “Troika voided his contract, allowing him to return to Myriad. I wanted to go with him, but I was denied. To be with him, I’ll have to go to court.”

  —Throw the shard.—

  She doesn’t. She says, “He only loves himself, Nico.” Her tone is soft, gentle. “He used you, just like he used Kayla. Probably many others.”

  “No. He loves me.” He pulls a minigrenade from the pouch anchored to his waist. His hawk squawks in what sounds like protest. Clearly he—she—doesn’t want the Laborer to murder an innocent girl. Good bird. “To void my contract, I must do as Victor did.”

  His message is clear. Victor tried to kill her, and Nico plans to finish the job. My rage returns, redoubles, a fever boiling in my blood, and this time, there’s no tamping it down.

  —Throw the shard. Now!—The moment Nico pulls the pin, all hope will be lost. Both Tenley and I will die.

  Not ready… Haven’t truly lived.

  A deluge of fury, fear and determination vibrates along the Grid, and for a moment, I’m afraid she’s going to try to talk some “sense” into herself and then the boy. Foolish girl. There’s no time. When death comes for you, you don’t try to reason with him. You fight hard, and you fight fast.

  With a cry from the depths of her soul, she swings out her arm, hurling the shard. Her aim is true. The tip slices through Nico’s neck, skin splitting open, Lifeblood spurting out.

  His eyes widen with shock. He struggles to breathe as he reaches for the wound he will never be able to close. His knees give out, and he topples. The grenade falls from his grip.

  The hawk swoops down to catch the grenade before it hits the ground.

  Tenley rushes forward, too, her heart a riotous storm. When she realizes the hawk succeeded, she stills, unsure what to do, but the bird gently sets the weapon in her palm.

  She expels a sigh of relief. Then she kneels beside Nico and whispers, “I’m sorry.” Hands trembling, she sets the grenade aside, pushes the man to his back, and rips a vial of manna from his neck. “It didn’t have to be the way. I wished you’d listened to me.”

  —What’re you doin’? Doona waste yer manna on him. You might need—Argh!—

  The foolish lass dispenses much-needed liquid directly into Nico’s wound, wasting every precious drop. Because it’s too late. He breathes his last as Second-death claims him.

  Her shoulders roll in, and her head bows.

  Now she mourns for him? I ground my teeth. Mourns the loss of the man who tried to kill her. How can her heart be so…soft? I’d like to kill the male all over again.

  Perhaps she absorbs my determination through the bond. She straightens, and returns to Biscuit, swiping up the extra vial of manna along the way. The dog watches her with dark eyes filled with adoration.

  She takes a drink. Only a sip, not nearly enough, and only for the boost of strength needed to push and shove the slab from Biscuit’s leg.

  The moment he’s free, she empties the remaining liquid down his throat.

  I loathe being a voice in her head, unable to force her movements, to ensure she does what’s necessary to ensure her own survival. How can she help an enemy at a time like this? How can she take so little for herself when a battle looms, and give so much to a dog?

  Frustration burns as deeply as my rage. Does she not understand weakness is her enemy? With every drop of Lifeblood she loses, failure moves from a possibility to a guarantee.

  Part of me wants to shake her, and rattle her brain against her skull. Come on, help yourself. If she won’t do it, I’ll do it for her. Somehow, some way. She must be protected, whatever the cost. She needs me, and I think… I think I need her.

  In the back of my mind, a memory arises. Just after our bond, she looked at me with absolute, utter acceptance. To her, I was family.

  I’d never really had a family. The something from before…the something I couldn’t identify but suspected was longing—it strikes again, pricking my hollow heart.

  For the first time, that hollowness bothers me.

  Like the big bad wolf, I huff and I puff with indignation. Family is an illusion. Never forget. Even if I forsook my realm to be with this girl, giving up my home, my job and the accolades I’ve earned in favor of the rancor I’ll receive from Troikans, one day Tenley will leave me.

  No one sticks.

  “You stayed,” Biscuit says, awe crackling in each word.

  “Well, we’re a team.”

  “Yeah, but you stayed.”

  Though she’s panting and sweating, she takes time to scratch him behind the ear. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Much.” He leans into her touch. “But you’re not.”

  “I’ll be fine. Right now, we need weapons. And a place to store the grenade.”

  He bounces up and stretches, testing his agility. “I know the perfect place. Come on!” His limp lessens in severity as he bounds forward.

  Tenley lumbers to her feet and follows after him. Sharp pains shoot through her legs. My legs, too. Muscles burn and tremble, and bones ache. This poor, sweet lass has it worse. Blood pools in her ankles, causing swelling, making every step agony.

  I bang a fist into the cold, hard floor beneath me with enough force to crack the wood. While I lounge comfortably in a cell, she is fighting with every ounce of her strength to free me. Despite her aches and pains. Despite any consequences. Her tenacity blows my mind. Nothing stops this girl. Ever. Although…General Shamus might. If he’s at full strength, and she’s not…

  Pang. I rub my chest.—Return to the house, Tenley. We’ll find another way tae set me free.—I doubt she’ll obey, but I have to try. Have to do something.

  —There isn’t another way. I’ll continue on, as planned.—

  PANG. Is this how she won me over and got me to bond with her? By keeping me on a mental carousel, always spinning, spinning, never sure what was up and what was down?

  How can she care about my well-being, even now?—There’ll be no reason tae open the cage if I’m dead. Return, and we can have lunch at one, and two drinks at three. Eat petit fours at five, and be in bed by six.—

  —Well, well. You certainly have my number. But I’m going to pass. Don’t worry, though. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.—

  —I’ll protect my own life, thank you very much. Do us both a favor and see to yers.—

  —Careful, Killian. It almost sounds like you care about my well-being.—

  I sidestep that little land mine with a question, making sure my accent is undetectable.—Why would my shadows want to hide memories of you?—

  —I think they want you to forget me so that you’ll betray me. I also think the Light lets them hide those memories, so that you’ll learn to trust me even without the aid of your emotions.—

  —And why aren’t you learning to trust me, hmm?—

  —I trusted you long before this, against all logic, emotion and the advice of my friends.—

  I…have no rejoinder. Guilt sidles up to me like an old friend. An old friend with a knife in one hand and a gun in the other.

  Hurt sizzles over the Grid. Her hurt. My throat constricts, and my chest tightens. But I don’t care. I won’t care. I’d rather she hurt em
otionally than physically.

  I would? What is wrong with me? A girl is a girl is a girl, right?

  Yes, but this girl is mine.

  Stop. Just stop! Claiming her will do me no good. I’ll never be able to count on her.

  Count. The word gives me pause. Tenley Lockwood…count… A memory teases me, but shadows writhe, maintaining a firm grip on our past.

  Screw the shadows. Screw the Light. Someone tell me something!

  I slam a fist into the floor beneath me. I suspect Tenley and I had a sizzling connection before her Firstdeath. Problem is, that connection must not have mattered to her. Not enough, anyway. She still chose Troika over me. She will always choose Troika, so I will do the same; I will choose Myriad.

  Besides, nothing lasts, remember?

  Escape the cage, weaken Troika, return to Myriad with Tenley.

  Put the needs—

  No. Stars whiz at her sides as Biscuit leads her through a Stairwell, then a Gate. We have a similar travel system in Myriad, only there are no bright illuminations to signify movement, just a moment of blinding darkness, where you can’t even see your hand in front of your face.

  The pair emerges into a busy metropolis, Laborers working alongside Leaders, Messengers and Healers, cleaning up debris.

  I huff and puff with indignation.—Don’t just stand in front of these people as if today is an average day.—

  “Uh, Biscuit?” she says.

  “Can’t be helped, my little hooman. By the time word of your location spreads, you’ll be long gone. Let’s burn rubber. We gots a lot of ground to cover and very little time to cover it.”

  As the two hurry forward, Tenley receives smiles and waves from some of the throng, but glares from others. She scrambles for a distraction, asking the dog, “Why the name Biscuit?”

  “I had a Firstlife, too, you know. In the Land of the Harvest, my owner named me, so you’d have to ask her.”

  “If you spent your Firstlife with her,” Ten says, “why weren’t you assigned to guard her?”

  “She decided to go to Myriad.”

  “So why didn’t you go to Myriad? Why didn’t any of the animals?”

  “Eron called dibs on everything with four legs and fur, and fish. Ambrosine wanted dragons, snakes and creepers like that.”

  Suddenly a big bruiser steps in front of her and Tenley skids to a halt. “Hey!” he snaps. “You owe us an explanation, little girl. Why did you vote for Archer Prince? He’s a Laborer. We need a General. Or do you want us to lose the war?”

  “I want peace,” she says.

  Biscuit growls. “Take one more step toward my girl, and you’ll lose a foot.”

  I’m impressed. And I’m jealous of a freaking dog. He’s a hero, and I’m a zero.

  Bruiser is lucky I’m not with her. I would have shut him up with my fists. And of course, Tenley would have been angry that I dared to hurt one of her precious people.

  Paling, Bruiser backs off. The dog doesn’t relax his I’ll-chew-your-foot-off stare until Tenley runs her hand along his spine. The two hurry on without any more interference. Once they reach a more rural area, Tenley swipes a catsuit from a line of clothing drying in the sun. She discards her tattered robe and shimmies into the suit, careful not to look down.

  —Don’t want me to see your curves?—Adorable.

  —You can see them as soon as you remember me.—

  —Suddenly I remember everything. Honest.—

  She snorts, and I experience a flicker of satisfaction.

  Ignore it. Change the subject.—Why do you protect people who don’t like or respect you?—I’m genuinely curious.

  —They dislike me now. They might grow to like me later.—Her tone is sharp, defensive.

  Interesting. I’ve struck a nerve.—You need their approval, do you?—

  —No. I wasn’t saying… Look. Their feelings have nothing to do with anything. But. They deserve a chance to live in peace, whether they like me or not.—

  I’m beginning to understand why her friends follow her so ardently. One of a kind. Fights for what she believes in, no matter the obstacles in her way.

  She is different. Okay. All right. There’s no denying it any longer. She’s different from other girls, boys and everyone in between. Part of me cares for her; I admit it. The other part of me recognizes the danger she poses to me. To my future. That part of me wants to cut all ties and run.

  Embrace your feelings. Isn’t that what I’ve been told all my life? If those in Myriad knew what I was feeling, they would change their tune.

  —Rise above what you feel, good or bad, and do what’s right.—

  Tenley’s voice drifts through the Grid, and I tense. Did I unintentionally project my thoughts, prompting her response?

  Must be more careful.

  Biscuit leads her through another Stairwell and a Gate, through a vibrant manna field, where she plucks petals straight from the vine. Those petals aren’t as strong as the liquefied version, but they provide a kick of strength.

  The next Stairwell leads to a snowcapped mountain with skyscraper trees and wild, overgrown bushes teeming with the biggest flowers I’ve ever seen. A beautiful—and treacherous—landscape. Icy winds beat at her, worse than a thousand needles poking and prodding her skin. Her teeth chatter.

  Biscuit enters a small, dark cavern. Muscles heavy as stone, Tenley trudges after him. As warm air envelops her, she whimpers with relief.

  Two polar bears lounge on boulders…telling jokes?

  “—call a cow that eats your grass?” one asks.

  “Don’t know,” the other says. “What?”

  “A lawn moo-er.”

  Laughter abounds.

  When the bears notice Biscuit, they jolt upright, ready to attack. The moment his identity clicks, however, they relax.

  “Hey, Biscuit. What you doing this far out?” one asks.

  “And with a human.” The other tsk-tsks. “You broke the beast-code.”

  “Frick, Frack, this is Ten,” Biscuit says. “Ten, Frick and Frack. Forget the code, guys. We need to borrow some weapons. And by borrow I mean keep forever.”

  In unison, the bears ask, “Why?”

  The dog glares, the hair on his back spiking. “Because I said so. Why else?”

  “Uh-oh,” Frick says. “His poodle’s about to come out, isn’t it?”

  Frack gulps. “Oh, yeah. Give him whatever he wants.”

  Frick, the bigger bear, lumbers toward the back wall. “We got Stags, Oxis and Dazers? Or you wanting something old school?”

  A single dart from a Stag can trap a spirit inside a Shell, preventing any sort of mobility and rendering both incarnations defenseless. That dart can also incapacitate a spirit without a Shell, causing agonizing pain.

  Oxis age a spirit and Shell until both are reduced to ash.

  “Yeah,” Biscuit says. “Those. All of those. New and old. Whatever the hooman can carry.”

  In the back of the cavern is the most beautiful arsenal of all time. I weep with envy. There are different types of guns, just like the bears said, but also swords, daggers and garrotes.

  Tenley stores the grenade in a box before selecting a pair of short swords, wrist cuff garrotes like the ones I prefer to wear, two bejeweled daggers and a mini-Dazer. Doesn’t take a genius to notice she avoids the most dangerous items.

  Foolish girl. She hopes to avoid hurting others, even the temptation of it, but others might not hope to avoid hurting her. Doesn’t she know? The enemy you allow to walk away is the enemy who will return to stab you in the back.

  “Thank you so much for your help,” she says.

  Frick nods. “Any friend of Biscuit’s an acquaintance of mine who is sometimes welcome.”

  Laughter bubbles from her, and I hate to admit it, but the sound of her amusem
ent enchants me. I’m the fool.

  Biscuit heads for the door. “One, two, three, time to move, my Ten.”

  Through another Stairwell, then another Gate they go. They reach what looks to be an abandoned warehouse. Inside, there are no furnishings. Dust motes dance, illuminated by bright red lasers shooting from every wall, blocking a large metal grate in the floor. That grate is shaped like the Troika symbol: a circle with three petals.

  “We need to get to the symbol, but if we touch the beams, we experience instant Torchlight,” Biscuit mutters.

  Torchlight. For Troikans, Light is power. Like electricity. If a human is hit with too much electricity, his or her body shuts down. Torchlight is the spiritual equivalent. Only, a spirit doesn’t just shut down. A spirit explodes.

  Tenley shakes her head. “Not me. I’m a Conduit, remember?”

  His eyes widen. “That’s right! You can walk right through, push the lid out of the way, and descend into the tunnels, no problem.”

  “Shamus is down there?” Tenley asks.

  “Yep. So is Princess Mariée. She is kept down here when danger is high.”

  Princess Mariée is Eron’s fiancée. Maybe it’s the Troikan in me, but I no longer feel a need to avoid the name Eron. Like Tenley, Mariée is a Conduit. And because there are only two Conduits in existence—three now, with Raanan—one must be protected at all times. If both are killed, other citizens will weaken and die, and the war will be over. Just. Like. That.

  If I die, Tenley dies. Troika will weaken.

  Am I willing to die for Myriad?

  “There’s a slight problem, however,” Biscuit says, and cringes. “So minor I probably shouldn’t mention it.”

  Tenley presses her hands against her stomach. “What? Tell me.”

  “Normally I can scent us through anything, but I still got smoke trapped in my sniffer. We’re going to need a lamp. We won’t be able to see the passages otherwise. But, if we use a lamp, Shamus will see us coming and we’ll lose the element of surprise. If we lose the element of surprise, we’ll lose, period.”

  She draws in a shaky breath…slowly releases it. “Well. It looks like we’re going in without a lamp.”