Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  Leonard pulls him back, and the two spin on booted heels to stomp off.

  As soon as I’m certain we’re alone, I attempt to speak into Ten’s head, afraid she won’t believe me otherwise. The words never leave my head. How I despise the wall between us.

  “Ten. Lass. I’m Killian, and I’m goin’ tae free you.” I crouch so that we’re eye level and press my thumb into the lock. A second passes, then another, but nothing happens. I curse. I’m in Victor’s Shell. He is the king’s beloved son; his print should open every cage.

  “I know who you are.” Finally her gaze lifts to meet mine. Those mismatched eyes are windows to endless pools of anguish. “A change of eye color isn’t the only tell. You and Victor smell nothing alike. He’s tart. You’re sweet.”

  Thank the Firstking for—

  “But I trust you as much as I trust Victor,” she adds, her tone flat. “Meaning, not at all. I thought I’d found a well of love, one big enough for everyone. I was wrong.”

  A knife seems to twist in my chest. “I’m so incredibly sorry for betrayin’ yer trust. I’m sorry for gettin’ you into this mess. I’m sorry about yer mother. More sorry than I can ever articulate. I’m sorry…for everythin’. If I could go back—”

  “But you can’t. None of us can.”

  Twist. “You’re right. But I will never stop trying tae make up for my actions.” Without hesitation, I settle on my knees. I expect my mind to scream in denial, to demand I rise, something. Instead, I remain shockingly calm. Here I am, the Butcher, the boy who once refused to beg for scraps, now begging for forgiveness, and happy for the chance.

  Her eyes go wide. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m so incredibly sorry,” I repeat. “You deserved—deserve—better, and I will give you better. I know I do no’ deserve absolution, but I’m beggin’ for it anyway.” Some things are worth any sacrifice. “No one and nothin’ means more tae me than you.”

  She gulps.

  “I’ll do more beggin’ soon, have no doubt. As for now…let’s take care of yer needs.” I stand and yank off my T-shirt and toss the garment through the bars.

  “Thank you,” she mutters.

  I remember the time I told her I wouldn’t thank her for her aid, and I want to kick my own ass.

  After pulling the material over her head, she draws in a deep breath and squares her shoulders. The sadness and sorrow seem to leave her, quickly replaced by determination.

  I’ve seen this same transformation come over her many times, as she shucked off emotion in order to turn her attention to her endgame. I’m staggered, and impressed.

  I’m also proud. This is my wife.

  “Did your memory return?” she asks.

  I will not disrespect her with anything less than the truth, because I would rather die than give her another reason to doubt me. “Not fully, but I’m rememberin’ more every minute.”

  Her expression doesn’t change.

  Twist, twist. I wish so badly she would look at me the way she used to, with admiration and adoration. But even if she doesn’t? I’ll never stop fighting for her.

  “Do you have a key to my cage?” she asks.

  “No, but I’ll acquire one.”

  “Sow and reap, huh? I acquired one for you, now you acquire one for me.”

  “Not just sow and reap. You are the best person I know, and I want you free. But, since Victor’s print didn’t work, the cages will open only with the fingerprint of a Magister.” The men and women in charge of the Kennels. “I’ll be payin’ one a visit and returnin’ within the hour.”

  Her head cants to the side. “Do you think saving me will make me trust you?”

  TWIST. “I know my word means nothin’ tae you right now, but I’m not goin’ tae rest until we’ve saved our mothers from Many Ends. At the same time, I’ll be doin’ everythin’ in my power tae win you back.” I have to win her back. I might not know the full breadth of my past, but I know beyond a doubt I need her in my future. Without her, I have nothing, no one. “Even if it takes me forever, I’ll consider my life well lived.”

  She is my life.

  “You’re right.” She stretches out her legs in a deceptively causal pose, as cold to me as I was to her. “Your word means nothing to me.”

  I flinch, rubbing away the sting in my chest. What I don’t do? React to the rejection in typical Killian Flynn fashion. I refuse to lash out at her or try to protect myself from further hurt by distancing myself emotionally.

  For the first time in my life, I have something worth fighting for. Screw my old memories. I don’t need them. I’m making new ones.

  I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but one day soon, I will be.

  “I hate tae leave you, lass, but I’m gettin’ you that key.”

  “Just…be careful out there,” she says, and plucks at the frayed edge of the shirt. “There’s a chance my aunt is lying in wait somewhere. According to the message she sent me, she plans to kill you.”

  I long to reach through the bars and touch her beautiful face, but I don’t, because I don’t want my girl uncomfortable. “I’ll be careful. And I will be back for you. I will prove myself tae you. Nothin’ will stop me.”

  TROIKA

  * * *

  From: Unknown

  To: A_P_5/23.43.2

  Subject: Hi

  If you want to save Ten’s life, you’ll meet me at the Veil of Midnight. Bring only the core four. Also, I’m going to marry a General. Congrats to me!

  TROIKA

  * * *

  From: A_P_5/23.43.2

  To: Unknown

  Subject: Lina?

  Of course I want to save Ten’s life. But how can I trust you to help her and not hurt her—and the “core four”? What are you talking about? And which General are you going to marry?

  Light Brings Sight!

  Conduit-in-training,

  Archer Prince

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  * * *

  “Love is the only wasted emotion. It removes focus from your realm—and yourself!”

  —Myriad

  Ten

  So much to process…

  My mother is dead. My father murdered her. Killian begged me to forgive him. I don’t…

  Thoughts begin to fragment, different emotions surging through me. At the forefront: horror. My mother is now inside Many Ends. At least, I think she is. My theory hasn’t yet been proven.

  But let’s say I’m right. How long until the monsters capture and torture her?

  I love you. Made my life worth living. Fight for what’s right and never stop.

  My forced calm is shattered as tears burn the backs of my eyes.

  “Lass,” Killian says, hanging back.

  “Go,” I say. “Do what you need to do.” I rub my fingers over the words tattooed on my forearm. Loyalty. Passion. Liberty.

  My fingers stray to the shadow of the horse, and I frown. The image is fading. Because my bond to Killian is fading?

  Is that what I want?

  The tears burn hotter. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know anything anymore.

  With a last, lingering look, he rushes out of sight. Will he return? I don’t know. He’s acting like my Killian 1.0, but what is truth and what is lie?

  Doesn’t matter. I can rely only on myself, and I won’t be a damsel in distress. No, oh, no.

  I’m sniffling as I wipe the tears away with the back of my wrist. There will be no mourning. Not now. There’s too much to do, too much at stake. I can fall apart later.

  Determined, I stuff the pain of my mother’s death deep inside my heart. Next I stuff the fury directed at my father. Maybe hatred, too. Then I stuff the hurt Killian caused. Using distrust and disappointment as brick and mortar, I erect a wall. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. Good, that’s good.


  Feeling somewhat sane again, I lift my head. If my mother is trapped in Many Ends, I’ll save her when I save everyone else. This? This isn’t the last I’ve seen of her.

  Now to get free. I reach through the bars of the cage to try and jimmy the lock, but it holds.

  In the distance, I catch a glimmer of color. A man is peeking around a corner. Looking for someone specific? As soon as he deduces no one is nearby, he rushes my way. A woman follows behind him, a basket clutched to her chest.

  “Here. Ambrosia.” She shoves a small bottle in my direction. “Drink.”

  She’s just like the others. She can’t be trusted.

  I realize I’m nodding, and I gnash my teeth.

  How quickly circumstances can change. How quickly feelings can change.

  Maybe she means to hurt me, or maybe she does intend to help me. Either way, Myriadian ambrosia—if that’s what this is—will do me more harm than good, strengthening my dark side while weakening my Light side. After my tangle with the Veil of Midnight, I’m sure of it.

  I return the bottle to the woman’s waiting grip. She frowns but accepts, and hurries on to the next prisoner, who eagerly drinks. Color and tone returns to his pallid, sagging flesh. How long has he been locked up?

  So, she is helping. Her willingness to put herself in danger reminds me that there are good people in this realm, the same way there are bad people in my realm.

  “Hurry,” her companion calls. He’s keeping watch a few yards away.

  “Can you open the cage?” I ask her as she feeds yet another prisoner. “Do you have a key?”

  Her mournful gaze slips over me. “No, I’m sorry. I wish I could do more, but…”

  She can’t. I get it. She reaches through the bars of Victor’s crate and tugs at the binding over his mouth.

  Panic infuses me, and I shout, “You gotta go.” I can’t let her succeed. “Go now. Before the authorities arrive.”

  Panic infuses them, too, and the couple rushes away, desperate to avoid detection.

  I must escape. And soon. No telling when Zhi and Javier will realize Victor isn’t Victor and return.

  Again, there’s a glimmer of color in the distance. I turn my head to study the newcomer more thoroughly, and my heart slams against my ribs. A familiar face barrels toward me.

  This is Lina. My heart soars; I guess it recognizes what my eyes do not. This is the woman who played with me when my parents were too busy. The one who helped me survive Many Ends the first three times.

  I love her, I do. Despite the fact that she once stabbed me with the end of a paintbrush.

  “This is for you.” She tosses a vial of liquid in my direction. Manna. “Bottoms up.”

  “How did you die?” A lump grows in my throat as her message reverberates inside my mind. 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.

  “Walked across the street at just the right time. Boom. Crash.”

  A crash was “just the right time”? I drain the contents of the vial. Strength plumps my muscles, fortifies my bones. The darkness wanes, the fog of dismay clearing from my head.

  “I’m here to help you get into Many Ends.”

  Whoa. She’s speaking in complete sentences, and present tense. “If you’re here to hurt Killian—”

  “I would never hurt your boyfriend,” she says, adamant.

  And yet you’re going to kill him. Uh, how will that help him, Auntie dearest?

  A group of people rushes behind her, startling me—astounding me. Surely my eyes deceive me. Archer, Raanan, Clay, Reed and Biscuit cannot be here, in Myriad. Cannot be perfectly alive.

  “I don’t understand.” I shake my head, thinking the image will fade. Lo and behold, it remains, and elation consumes me. This is real. This is happening.

  “Guess what, guess what, guess what.” The words burst from Biscuit, as if he can hold them back no longer. “Lina contacted Archer, and we met her at the Veil of Midnight, and she snuck us inside. We’re the rescue crew!”

  Are you freaking kidding me? “Guys, you could have burned to ash. The Veil of Midnight is a death trap for Troikans.”

  “True,” Lina says, “but that was a chance I was willing to take. You’re connected to Killian, and the Troikans are connected to you. I figured they’d make it through just fine.”

  A chance she had been willing to take. Because she figured. Because my friends mean nothing to her.

  Fury and gratitude mix and mingle inside me, leaving me reeling.

  “Killian took the chance and entered Troika,” Archer says.

  “He was forced,” I remind him.

  “Well, you took the chance. How could we do any less?”

  Lina steps aside, and Archer presses a severed thumb into the lock. Click. “Took a page from your book. Courtesy of a Magister,” he says with a grin. “Had to hunt one down before coming to see you. Totally worth the hassle.”

  The lock opens without further ado, and my cage door swings out of the way. At that moment, I’m just appreciative. I climb out of my prison, my legs trembling, and straighten. I don’t care that I’m in nothing but a shirt and undergarments.

  Archer winds an arm around my waist to hold me steady, then places a second vial of manna at my lips. I drain the contents; sweet liquid manna pours down my throat. Fresh strength. Steady legs. In seconds, I can stand on my own.

  “I don’t know what to say.” I scratch Biscuit behind his ears. “I want to yell at you for risking your lives, but thank you for saving mine.”

  “These are for you.” Lina hands me a pair of jeans and a pair of boots, both in my size. Guess it helps to know the future before it happens, and everything your team is going to need.

  As I dress, I say to Archer, “You defected, and your face is recognizable. Why weren’t you stopped as soon as you entered the realm?”

  “I’m no longer part of their Grid. No one ever thought I’d be able to return to Myriad. And I did my best to keep out of view.” Sadness creeps over his expression as he scans the City of Carnal Delights. “I could have made a difference here, wanted to, but my efforts were always in vain.”

  Sometimes I forget he grew up here, a vital part of Myriadian society, at one with the darkness. Oh, how he’s changed. Now he is the essence of Light.

  “Killian,” he says now, and motions to the cage across from mine. “We should—”

  “That isn’t Killian. It’s Victor.” And he’s still trying to fight through his bonds.

  “Deacon, Clementine and Kayla remained in Troika,” he adds. “Kayla made the change. She’s now a Conduit like the rest of us. They are all working with the princess, helping her cleanse the Abrogates. And our friends aren’t the only ones who have made the change. There are others. Many others. Those who used to be everyday average citizens. The number grows by the hour.”

  Shock punches me. “More than seven?”

  He nods. “Twenty-six at last count.”

  Shock! Asteroid number 26, Proserpina, was named after the Queen of the Underworld.

  I’m pretty sure I’m headed to the underworld myself.

  “Any other Architects?” I ask.

  “Yes.” Clay grins and spreads his arms, revealing a horse branded into his wrist. “Us.”

  My chest constricts with joy. The war will come to an end, and we will win.

  “Soooo. How happy are you to see me?” Biscuit bounds in front of me, grinning and panting and vibrating with eagerness.

  “The happiest.”

  He has a full arsenal hanging at his sides, weapons stuffed into sheathes. I claim a Sunray, street name Light’erup. The gun shoots beams of Light, and—happiness unfurls inside me. My short swords are here. I tremble as I shove my
arms through their harness, anchoring the weapons against my back. The familiar weight comforts me.

  A furious male bellow suddenly pierces the air. “Sound the alarm. Someone! Anyone! Ten Lockwood is free.”

  Victor. He’s unbound.

  Hate, love? Let him live, kill him?

  Clay unsheathes a Sunray of his own and aims at Victor. “Be quiet or die.”

  Still the traitor shouts. “Help! I’m Victor Prince, and I’m trapped in Killian Flynn’s Shell!”

  “Time to go, go, go,” Lina says. “Got to get the belle to the ball, so I can rescue my husband.”

  Yes, she mentioned a husband before, but I’m shocked all over again. “You’re married?”

  “Yes. Of course. Or I will be? I’ve forgotten.”

  Okay. We’re dealing with future tense again. “To whom will you be wedding?”

  “Who else? My husband. The General.”

  Ugh! Can she not—Wait, what? She’s wedding a Myriadian General?

  Can I really trust her?

  As Victor continues to shout, I place my hand on Clay’s shoulder. Tension radiates from him. “Daze him, but let him live,” I say, my tone soft. Light equals love. Love is always the answer. “Murder is his forte, not ours.”

  “His death will save us a lot of trouble.”

  “His death will cause us trouble. Trust me on this. I’ve killed before. You haven’t. Some actions you can’t ever take back, and guilt follows you around like a boulder chained to your ankle. Are you ready to condemn someone to an eternity of torture?”

  “Grace, grace,” he mutters before exchanging the gun for a Dazer. One shot. He nails his target.

  Victor goes still, and quiet.

  Clay is a good guy, exceptional actually, and violence is never his first choice. I don’t want that part of him tainted.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “Enough chitchat. Let’s go,” Lina says.

  As we follow her through the darkness, Biscuit remains beside me. Killian will have no idea where I’ve gone, but that’s okay. I don’t want him and Lina near each other. I still don’t trust him, but I don’t want him dead, either. And not just because his death would cause mine.