Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  If we’re going to overcome this new Penumbra attack, we need more Conduits—we need us.

  Light Brings Sight!

  General Luciana Rossi

  TROIKA

  * * *

  From: A_T_3/23.40.29

  To: L_R_3/51.3.15, J_A_3/19.37.30, S_C_3/50.4.13, C_M_3/5.20.1, Y_L_3/59.1.2, A_S_3/42.6.31, T_B_3/19.30.2, B_S_3/51.3.13, M_V_3/54.5.8, J_B_3/19.23.4, S_J_3/62.5.5, M_P_3/45.10.9

  Subject: I disagree

  For a Myriadian General, turning an ordinary citizen into Abrogate requires self-sacrifice. And the sacrifice might not even work. All they can do is infect a single person with Penumbra and hope for the best. (Like Miss Lockwood, I will name the disease without fear.) Yet, we must sacrifice no one for our advancement, and an Architect can turn more than one person. That is the difference between Light and dark. Light builds up. Dark tears down. And Miss Brooks is a former traitor. There’s a difference. Eron has forgiven her. So should we.

  We should be celebrating our victories rather than envying our members.

  We are leaders. So, let’s lead.

  The people Raanan has succeeded in turning into Conduits? The people aiding Miss Lockwood. We have done nothing but hinder her. And before you ask—hinder her from doing what?—I’ll tell you. She craves peace between the realms.

  Perhaps we should consider the same?

  I know. We tried to facilitate peace eons ago, only to endure one ambush after another. But at this very moment, I can almost hear Miss Lockwood screaming inside my head that the answer is simple. Myriad needs a new Secondking. The head directs the body.

  Is this worth considering?

  As for the warehouses, I have good news and bad news. I’ll start with the good. We have unexpected help. Sloan Aubuchon managed to fight her way free of the pole. She’s doing her best to deactivate the many alarms. If a single one is triggered, every potential Abrogate in all eighteen warehouses will wake, a Buckler will fall around the buildings, trapping our men inside while allowing the humans to leave.

  Be ready to act at a moment’s notice.

  Bad news. Someone told Myriad about our Architects, new Conduits, and our plan to sneak inside the warehouses and cleanse the infected before anyone knows we’ve been inside. The Bucklers we’ve placed around the buildings will not hold much longer.

  Light Brings Sight!

  General Alejandro Torres

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  * * *

  “Do not wait for what you want. Take what you want.”

  —Myriad

  Ten

  Hours pass. Perhaps days. One agonizing moment bleeds into another. If Javier isn’t flooding me with darkness, Victor is electrocuting me. My muscles aren’t just cooked; they’re burnt to a crisp. The blood in my veins boils. I have no Light, no strength and I desperately need both, but I can’t drop my shield. I just can’t. Javier will flood my friends with darkness before they can fill me with Light.

  Killian has fared no better. He’s as soaked in Lifeblood and sweat as I am. His lips are gnawed to ribbons, and multiple bones are broken from the strain of clenching muscles.

  Again and again he’s threatened to murder every man in this room, each threat more brutal than the last. He kicked off with decapitation, then vivisection and finally ended with peeling everyone like an onion.

  Now he’s a panting, sweaty mess, and he’s watching me. For a moment, only a moment, I think I see gut-wrenching guilt, soul-shattering regret and agony. Mostly he radiates determination. His nostrils are flared, and a vein is bulging in his forehead, as if he’s exerting pressure. And yet, he’s sitting perfectly still.

  I wonder if he’s attempting to help me? If he’s the reason I’m able to hold the shield, despite my weakness?

  Too little too late.

  Love, always love, even in the face of the worst betrayal.

  “How is she doing this?” Javier demands.

  Perhaps he would have succeeded already, forcing his shadows along my section of the Grid, if not for his anger, frustration and embarrassment. He hates that he is failing in front of his new king, and his emotions are getting the better of him.

  Though my jaw is nearly unhinged, my tongue swollen, I manage to slur, “Easily. You’re weak. You can’t—”

  Slap.

  “—win,” I finish. If I can push him over the edge, he’ll no longer pose a threat.

  Slap, slap.

  “If I link to her, she will die instantly,” Ambrosine says, anger crackling in his tone. “She’s of no use to us dead. Yet.”

  “Try harder,” Zhi snaps at Javier.

  “Don’t be afraid to break her.” Victor clenches his fists, and it’s clear he wants to be the one tormenting me. “Break her!”

  With a roar, Javier shoves his palms against my temples. He uses so much force, I’m pretty sure my skull cracks. Thousands more shadows flood my mind, each one beating at my shield. Every strike sends a lance of pain through my head, and I scream and scream and scream. Unconsciousness beckons, but even still, the shield holds strong.

  But Archer’s voice is stronger and fills my head.—Ten! Drop the shield. Now!—

  —No. Can’t.—

  —You won’t.—

  Exactly. —I won’t risk you.—

  —Trust us. Please. Let us fight him for you.—

  I…won’t. Zero! I won’t. If my friends fail, Myriad will prevail and Troikan will lose the war. I love them too much to risk them.

  Will fight…on my own…

  No, not alone. Eron is with me always, yes? And Killian is here. The shadows. So many shadows. I’m consumed by hatred for Ambrosine, and an icy determination to defeat him. I won’t give in—won’t give these men the satisfaction of defeating me. Revenge is sweet.

  “Let. Me. In,” Javier snarls.

  “Die.” I laugh in his face, knowing there’s a fresh coat of Lifeblood on my teeth.

  Hissing, he hits with another blast of darkness. Still I laugh. Oh, how I adore making these men shrivel up with frustration. Although, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. I’m exhausted, utterly drained. Without the shadows, I would have caved already.

  “You,” the Secondking says in a chilling tone. He glares at Killian, who is drenched in sweat, cut and bruised, and barely able to hold up his head. “If you want out of your cage, you’ll gather what remains of your strength, break through her barriers and allow my Abrogate entrance. Do this for your realm. Do this for your king.”

  Oh, no. No, no, no. Swallowing my panicked pleas, I peer at Killian, beseeching him. I want to shout through our bond, Don’t do this. Please, don’t do this. But I remain silent. Strong or weak, he can use our link to orchestrate my doom.

  The shadows laugh, gleeful, as fear squeezes my throat, and air wheezes from my mouth.

  Killian’s gaze remains glued to the Secondking. “You lied tae me and locked me up.” His voice is raspy, as broken as mine. “Of course I trust you tae keep yer word now.”

  Ambrosine’s features twist with disgust. “Must you sound so…poor when speaking to me?” He lifts his chin. “The end justifies the means. Lies are sometimes necessary to facilitate a desired result. You know this. If you put your realm first, as you once swore to do, you would understand—no, you would welcome the sacrifice I’m asking you to make.”

  Terrible silence. Killian flicks me an unreadable glance, and my heart sinks.

  —Please, Killian. Don’t do it.—

  “Lies,” Killian says, his voice roughened by abuse, “are never necessary. Trust is too important.”

  Seconds pass before his meaning clicks. My heart flies. He knows he picked the wrong team. He’s going to fight for me, not against me. Unless this is another trick? Could be.

  Must remain guarded at all times, with everyone.

  I lov
e him, but trust is another story.

  “Enough.” The Secondking’s crown of shadows splits in two and slides down his arms, stretches past his hands and culminates into razor points. “You. Leader,” he says to Zhi. “If your man cannot break Miss Lockwood, then we will kill the humans infected with Penumbra. Those who exhibit the traits of an Abrogate.”

  What, does he not know the names of his own people, and yet he knows mine?

  “The warehouses are currently surrounded by Troikan armies,” Zhi replies.

  “Perfect.” The Secondking smiles. “We’ll use the Abrogates to kill them, too.”

  Cursing, Javier drops his hands to his sides. He’s panting, unable to catch his breath.

  —Archer! Stop trying to give me Light. Tell our Generals that Ambrosine is sending men to the warehouses to kill the infected so they can try to infiltrate my Grid, harming everyone in Troika.—

  —We aren’t giving up, Ten. You…need…Light.—He roars as he continues to push.

  Then a gentle voice whispers through my head, startling me.—Love my Ten.—

  Jeremy. For one moment, my defenses are down. A ray of Light glides past my shield, along the Grid and rains over me like ice-cold water on a scorching summer day. I jolt. The ray came from my little brother, didn’t it? My infant brother? Not by force, but by love.

  I can’t let Javier get to him, and fight with every ounce of my newfound strength to fortify the shield. Must protect Jeremy. If Javier senses any vulnerability inside me…

  “What just happened?” Victor demands.

  —What just happened?—A demand from Archer.

  Javier’s eyes narrow on me. Leaning forward, he sniffs me. “Somehow, she received a bolt of Light.”

  “How?” Ambrosine walks a circle around me. He seems to glide, his grace unparalleled. “I have worked hard to ensure there are no sources of Light in this realm.”

  He has worked hard…meaning, there were once sources of Light for Myriadians?

  “The Grid,” Victor says. “Her friends. They love each other.”

  “Impossible,” Zhi replies.

  All three males stare at me as if I’m a rat in a lab. Though it strains already strained muscles, I keep my chin lifted high. Not by word or deed will I reveal my inner turmoil. Reveal a weakness, they’ll exploit it—and more!

  With the Light came strength, yes, but also knowledge. Knowledge is power. I fought too hard for control of my Secondlife, and I won’t allow my future to fall to ruins at the hands of men who see no value in me, and no worth in anyone willing to break the cycle of darkness and pave a better path for a better future.

  How often they disparage Troikans for their rules. Too restricting. All work, no play. But at the heart of those rules: love. Love fellow spirits, love humans, love yourself. While these men tout indulgence and self-love, they punish anyone who dares put themselves before the realm.

  Hypocrites.

  The Secondking stares at me for a long while, an obvious attempt at intimidation. Fear of any kind cranks his chain. Perhaps even strengthens him.

  Shadows, feeding…

  When I refuse to cower, he snaps, “Cage her and put her in the town square until our new Abrogates arrive. Let my people witness the weakness of Troika’s strongest soldier.”

  My cheeks heat with humiliation, but I force myself to laugh, as if he’s just offered me a tropical vacation. “Say goodbye to your PB&J.” At his confused look, I add, “One day I’m going to knock your penis, brain and jaw right off your—”

  Slap. Stars wink before my eyes.

  Javier gets in my face, his nose pressed against mine. “Give me another crack at her.” Though he’s speaking to his Secondking, he’s glaring at me. “I can get through. I know I can.”

  “If that were true, you would have done so already. Instead, you did nothing but waste our time.” Ambrosine wipes an invisible piece of lint from his shoulder. “Admit it. The girl can’t even stand without assistance, and yet she bested you. You should be on your knees begging for your life, not demanding a favor.”

  A vein throbs in the center of Javier’s forehead. He pops his jaw, but he says no more.

  Zhi clears his throat. “And what would you have me do with Mr. Flynn?”

  Victor steps forward, shoulders squared. “I would like to keep him. Consider him a gift from a beloved father to his loyal son.”

  I almost shout No! A thousand times no. Victor has a score to settle, and he won’t hesitate to hurt Killian in order to hurt me.

  For the third or fourth time, my gaze locks with Killian’s. I’ve lost track—how unlike me. I’m not even sure how many seconds pass as I stare into soulful gold eyes flecked with electric blue; they are filled with hurt, so much hurt, all ingrained. In my mind I see the little boy who desperately craved a family of his own, who faced rejection over and over again. The nightmare of his childhood is being relived here today. Rejected and abandoned by his king, no friend at his back.

  I have Archer, Clay and the others. Killian has no one.

  He had me, but he threw my trust away.

  “You hardly deserve a reward for your most recent failures,” Ambrosine tells Victor. Then he sighs. “However, you did ruin several cities in Troika, so, you may have the caged boy for the rest of the day. Do what you will with him, as long as you do not kill him. He’s still connected to the girl.”

  Having delivered his verdict, he glides from the room on a carpet of shadows.

  Maybe I’ve been stripped of sanity, because the first thought I have? Drama king. A hysterical laugh bubbles from me.

  On a mission, Zhi marches my way. “Do you think you’ve won a reprieve, Miss Lockwood? Is that why you dare to laugh?” He reaches out, clasps my chin in his hand and forces my gaze to meet his. “You, girl, are a fool.”

  The moment his skin touches mine, a scene flashes inside my head, and I gasp. I’m not bonded to this man—or perhaps I am, through Killian. Or perhaps Zhi’s actions against me formed some kind of twisted tie between us. Perhaps my new status as Architect comes with perks.

  Again I see a dark-haired little boy, but this time, the image has nothing to do with Killian. This boy is no more than ten years old, perched at the edge of a bed, trembling. Like Zhi, he has dark eyes with a ring of ebony around the edge.

  Realization: Not like Zhi at all—the boy is Zhi.

  Tears slip down his cheeks, but he’s careful to swallow his whimpers so that he never makes a sound. There’s a cut on his lip, and drops of crimson blood drying on his chin, proving he’s human. There’s also a knot in his jaw.

  His father paces in front of him, his fisted hands smeared with crimson. His blood, as well as his son’s. The last time he punched, Zhi’s teeth cut into his knuckles.

  “We are Troikans,” his father snarls. “Your visit to the Myriadian center has shamed us. Our loyalty will be questioned now. How could you do this to us?”

  “Because…because I don’t want to be like you,” Zhi whispers. Then he raises his head, emboldened by hatred and defiance.

  “Ingrate! Fool!” His father backhands him. “You would be so lucky.”

  Zhi withers under the new onslaught of pain, but as quickly as the scene manifested, it vanishes.

  I stare at him now, at the adult he’s become. Knowledge is power. I understand his hatred for Troikans. It was beaten into him.

  Words are either seeds or water. What is spoken is planted in the rich soil of a human heart. What is spoken again is poured over the seed, and in time, that seed sprouts. Roots grow. A trunk. Branches, leaves. Fruit. Like produces like. Speak evil, reap a harvest of evil. Can’t see the forest for the trees. Soon, if the tree isn’t uprooted, the fruit will be eaten…and shared.

  We must break the cycle. Help create a better path for a better future.

  Whatever Zhi sees in my expr
ession unnerves him. The compassion I can’t help but feel? His hand falls away, and he steps back, widening the distance between us.

  “There are good and bad Troikans.” Every word scrapes my raw throat. “Same with Myriad. Good and bad. Though I’m still waiting to meet a good one.” From the corner of my eye, I see Killian flinch, as if he’s been punched. Oops. Sorry. But truth is truth. “Want to know what’s similar between us? We all have baggage, even our enemies.”

  I get it now. Even when I don’t understand why someone does what they do, or why they make the choices that they do, I must choose love.

  Their actions cannot dictate my reaction. And that goes double for Killian.

  “You, shut your mouth,” Zhi snaps. “And you,” he says to Javier, “let her down.”

  Javier glares at me before holding up one arm. The shadows release my wrists and ankles, and I topple to the floor. What little oxygen I’ve managed to draw in leaves me in a single burst.

  Victor stalks to me, leaving his Shell behind. He is pale and sickly thin, with tiny nubs growing at the ends of his arms. Hardly matters. He doesn’t need hands to hurt me. Now that I’m on the floor, too weak to stand, he kicks out his leg, his boot nailing me in the stomach. My already empty lungs deflate, and another shower of stars winks before my eyes.

  Just like that. My resolve to love and not hate is put to the test.

  He draws back his foot to deliver another kick—

  He topples before contact, his face smashing into the ground. I peer beyond him to Killian, whose arm is sticking out of the cage, the wire from his wrist cuff extended and wrapped around Victor’s ankle. No time for Zhi or Javier to react. With another yank from Killian, the wire cuts through muscle, catching on bone, nearly removing Victor’s entire foot.

  A scream of anguish rents the air.

  Zhi unsheathes a blade and hacks the wire in two. Panting, sweating, Victor reaches for me. I spin around and punt him in the face. Yes, I’m determined to love my enemies. No, I won’t allow others to abuse me.

  The muscles in my thigh quake and burn, the bones threatening to crack. Agony sears me, but I brace, ready to deliver another kick if necessary.