We run, race, sprint for hours, or what seems to be. We skirt around skyscrapers, fly through alleys, and maneuver through a throng of people dancing in the streets. Above us, a group of boys bungee jump from the surrounding buildings to grab purses, hats and other items from the crowd. Shirtless muscle men swing from ropes. Half-naked women twirl from ribbons that are hanging from an overhead canopy.
Drunk people call out, “Is that a dog?”
“It is. It’s a dog!”
“Dude. Are you hallucinating, too? I think I see a dog.”
“Don’t be fooled. It’s a costume,” someone else shouts. “So lame.”
Is this Killian’s party? The one that will get us inside the Kennels?
“Wait,” I call, grabbing Archer’s hand.
He stops and orders the others in our group to do the same.
I haven’t believed in Fate for years. And I still don’t. But some part of me is beginning to see divine intervention at work. I had nearly given up all hope, only to be surrounded by friends. We rushed to escape capture, only to stumble upon the very party that can lead me where I want to go? A party Killian planned, even though he’d betrayed me and never expected to enter Many Ends.
Some part of him must have been on my side.
Lina’s visions… No matter which way I slice it, she is the reason we’re here, together. But where do her visions come from? The Troikan Grid?
She must have had access all her life. But to whom was—is—she connected?
Only one person would have the power…
Eron, I realize. Eron is helping us through Lina, and others. Through his body.
My heart races toward an invisible finish line. How else has he helped? And there are other ways, I know it. Even if I can’t see them. He’s been teaching us, preparing us for our futures. We’ve learned to work together, to rely on each other. To see our enemies as people like us, with hopes and dreams, rather than insects in need of extermination.
“Your costume sucks,” someone sneers to Biscuit. Then adds, “Hey, want to give me a ride?”
Biscuit chomps his teeth in irritation.
Around us, laughter and cheers blend together. Bodies bump and grind to a fast pulse of music. Anyone who accidentally touches my group hisses in pain. Archer pulls me out of the mob, using his big body to shield me from slapping hands and kicking feet as couples grind together. Clay and Raanan herd Lina to my side and take up posts beside Archer.
I should be shielding them. They are bright, too bright, like night-lights. But booze and drugs are flowing freely—from one kiss to another—and everyone seems too inebriated to understand what’s truly happening.
“What are we doing here?” Archer asks. “We won’t be able to blend in for long.”
“We’re not blending in now,” Raanan says, his tone dry.
“We need a plan.” I explain Killian’s idea to use the party to get inside the Kennels.
“Very well. We’ll head for the Kennels. But first, we’re disguising you. You’re the one they’re looking for.” Archer steals a hat from a guy standing nearby. When the guy growls in protest, Archer puffs his chest, ready to throw down.
The guy rushes off. A grinning Archer tucks my telltale hair under the hat. This boy is a priceless treasure. Brave. Strong. Fierce. And weird as heck.
“A hat won’t hide me for long,” I tell him.
Biscuit rubs against my leg. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of anyone who thinks to out you. Tongue is a sweet treat.”
Nice. “Good boy.”
“We don’t need it to hide you for long, just long enough.” Archer’s head tilts to the side as he scours the sea of faces, and squeezes my hand. “Victor is famous for these types of parties. You sure this is Killian’s handiwork?”
“I am.”
Archer’s eyes—so lovely, like freshly polished pennies—radiate anger as his smile evaporates. “Killian isn’t going to come through for you. He’s going to hurt you, again, and I’m going to have a hard time not killing him.”
No. No more killing. “You were friends once. You know he’s endured rejection, humiliation and loneliness.”
Whoa. I’m defending him?
“I also know he plotted against me even after we called a truce,” Archer says.
“Of course he did,” I say, and Archer’s brow furrows with confusion. Yep, I’m definitely defending Killian. “He’s connected to Ambrosine, which means he’s connected to an endless pit of paranoia, rage, envy, hatred, bitterness. I’ve gotten a taste of it myself. It’s a miracle Killian didn’t stab you in the back literally.”
Realization dawns. With me, Killian did what he thought was right and turned to the person he once trusted most. The male he saw as a father figure and longed to impress. At the time, I was an unknown entity.
I have to forgive him for his betrayal, don’t I? Face it. My distrust stemmed from hurt and anger that he chose Ambrosine over me, nothing more, nothing less.
Sow, reap. My harvest finally came in.
“I’ll take care of Killian. You take care of Dior,” I say. “I spoke with her right before you arrived, but she took off and I don’t know where she was headed. When Killian searched the database for her home address, it was blocked. I’m sorry.”
Determination and anticipation flare in those copper eyes, no hint of dread. This boy will not be giving up. Ever. “No worries. I’ll find her.”
I’m certain he will. “While you’re doing your thing, we’ll be herding the party into the Kennels.” I give him a little push. “Join us when you can.”
Biscuit brushes against my leg. “Leave the herding to me. Plus, I’ll clear a path for you, Arch.”
“You don’t know your way—never mind.” Who am I kidding? This super-dog can find any place, any time. “Thank you.”
Biscuit takes a step forward, only to pause. He sniffs the air, frowns. “I scent two heavily armed guards coming this way. I’ll take care of them and herd. I’m an excellent multitasker.” Off he goes, his howl cutting through the cacophony of laughter.
Again, drunk people cry out, surprised to see a dog in their midst. Others complain about his “costume.”
“Dior?” Archer gasps out. “Ten, I see her.”
What? She’s here? “Go.”
“I’ll cleanse her and meet you in the Kennels.” He leaps forward and disappears in the crowd.
“Tenley.” Lina’s hand gloves mine. With a hard yank, she pins me to the wall.
I don’t fight back. Yet. I remain aware of her other hand, hanging at her side, clutching a dagger.
“Please don’t attempt to stab me, Aunt Lina.” I’m not sure how I’ll react. I don’t want to hurt her.
She blinks, as if confused. When next she focuses on me, the confusion is gone, and her eyes are cloudy. “You’re here when you should be there,” she says, a new childlike tenor to her tone. Shivers of dismay move through me, and my stomach twists. “He’s there when he should be here. If you don’t work together, you’ll both die. If you don’t trust each other fully, you’ll both die. Blocking him will only hurt you both.”
Him…Killian? “You messaged me, Aunt Lina. Before this. You said you were going to kill him.” By killing me? “Why do you kill him? At the orders of your future husband?”
“Stop talking. Start listening.” She snarls, clearly furious, and shakes me. “Help me help you. The darkness has to be chased away, Ten. We will all do what we must, or we will all fall down. Forever bound to Ambrosine.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
* * *
“It’s not what you know that changes you; it’s what you do.”
—Troika
Ten
As the crowd surges in the right direction, thanks to Biscuit, people bump into me, driving me farther away from Lina. Her ominous warning echoes
in my head.
The darkness has to be chased away, Ten. We will all do what we must or we will all fall down. Forever bound to Ambrosine.
The Grid hums with agreement, and my thoughts whirl. Okay, let’s break this down. Darkness has to be chased away. By Light, only Light. Light was always the answer. Killian is bound to Ambrosine, the ultimate darkness. I’m bound to Killian, and my friends are bound to me. Other people are bound to them. Therefore, we’re all bound to Ambrosine.
The bond must be broken.
Ambrosine must die. I was right about that, too. Upon his death, his people will be freed from their need for darkness. They can remain in Myriad if they wish, living their Everlife on their terms, no longer forced to stay here because of an allergy to Light.
Flaws: Only Eron is strong enough to kill Ambrosine. Will he?
Do I want him to? I just cautioned my friends against killing.
Let’s be honest. There’s a big difference between Ambrosine and other citizens. Huge! Even if Ambrosine is defeated, he cannot be contained. He’s too powerful. Also, he’ll never abide by a truce. His words are never the same as his actions.
His end means a new beginning for millions. And really, his death won’t be in cold blood, but an action born of this war. Because he is the war.
So, yes. Despite my speech to Clay, I am willing to help Eron kill Ambrosine. I doubt I’ll walk away from the encounter, or even crawl. Ambrosine is evil incarnate, and his reign of terror must end. I’ll gladly give my life to get it done.
Second issue. How deep is my bond to my friends? Strong enough to get them inside Myriad, but when I was injured, they were not. If I’m killed, will my friends die, too? Surely not. If I die, will I go to the Rest or Many Ends? Where will Killian go? Where will our friends go?
There are too many unanswered questions. Too many things that can go wrong. But then, there are tons of things that can go right.
Pounding footsteps echo in the distance, catching my attention. The sound of marching? Yes, oh, yes. Multiple men and women in multiple rows. An army is on the way.
We’re being hunted.
I surge toward Clay and Raanan. We need to be at the head of the throng.
Pop, pop, pop.
The series of gunshots assails my ears just as I reach the others, and in unison, we duck. Chaos erupts. Panicked screams create a discordant chorus. However, one voice—Victor’s—rises above all the others. Someone must have fed him ambrosia.
“Move to the walls and kneel. Those who refuse will be shot.”
In unison, everyone stills. But it isn’t long before one person after another is lining up against the wall and kneeling, as ordered.
I share a look with the boys, a moment of silent communion. We can’t line up and kneel, and we can’t not line up and kneel. But if we remain standing, we’ll be easy targets.
We have to act.
Raanan takes the lead and throws a punch, nailing the Myriadian next to him. Clay pushes a group of guys, knocking them into each other.
“I’m sorry,” I say, then trip the girl to my right. She falls into another girl.
Just. Like. That. A fight breaks out among the masses.
No, these people weren’t being controlled. They were simply afraid of the speaker.
Fists fly. Legs kick. Obscenities darken the air, blending with grunts and growls. No one lines up, and no one kneels.
This is child’s play, really, and proof that giving in to emotion isn’t always wise.
Biscuit continues to urge the crowd onward…through a Stairwell, then another Stairwell, and there’s nothing the army can do to stop us. We leave them in our dust.
Anytime the fight begins to dissipate, my group ensures tempers are roused all over again.
I duck, avoiding punches thrown my way. I jump over the legs kicked at me, until finally I reach the front of the throng, Clay and Raanan right behind me. There’s no sign of Archer, Dior or Lina.
Biscuit leads us through another Stairwell and into a maze of twisting hallways. There are no patterns on the ceiling, walls or floor to help us navigate. Everything is the same. I don’t know if we’re going in circles or making progress. And I don’t think Biscuit knows, either. His tongue is hanging out as he pants, his gaze darting from left to right, little whimpering sounds leaving him.
Our drunken followers begin to laugh, thinking this is a fun game.
I purposely cut my finger on the end of my sword, and wipe a bead of Lifeblood on the wall. A few minutes later, we pass the smear of Lifeblood, and I know. We are going in circles.
New plan. “Let’s have a contest, guys. Sounds fun, right? Everyone stays where I put them. The person who stays put the longest, wins.” The prize? My gratitude. But I keep that little gem to myself.
Cheers. Every time we turn a corner, I direct two people to stay in each hallway. That way, we know our next turn needs to lead to a hallway without people. It works! Finally—thank the Firstking, finally—we exit the maze and enter the Kennels.
My relief is short-lived, replaced by horror. I remember the first time I saw this room. I’d wanted to vomit. This is my second sighting, and I still want to vomit. Bone torches light the cavernous room—flames dance at the ends of human remains. The floor is covered by pulled teeth and something akin to cat litter.
This is a nightmare come to life.
The scent of unwashed bodies, urine and filth pervades the air, stinging my nostrils. The walls are made up of cages, one cage stacked upon another. Inside every cage is a single person. Male, female. Young, oldish. Each captive has been stripped to their undergarments, just like I was. Whatever their crime, they are pallid, dirty and clearly starving, flesh hanging on bone. Their eyes are without hope. My heart utterly breaks for them and their plight.
Before my father bought and killed her, my mother spent time here. Killian has spent time here, too. His former Flanker, Erica, the one who tattooed him, is here still.
Behind us, gun blasts erupt. Screams of pain cut through the air. Bodies fall. Soldiers are mowing down their own people. Men and women, teen boys and girls, run in every direction, fear saturating the atmosphere.
Where is Archer?
Determined, I unsheathe my swords and work my way through the throng once again, this time in the opposite direction.
There. The moment I catch a glimpse of him, I’m stunned into immobility. He and Dior are holding hands, bright Light surrounding them both as he attempts to cleanse her of Penumbra. On his own. Without the princess’s help.
First, he’s turned himself into a beacon for Victor’s crew. They haven’t yet found us, but they will and soon. They weren’t too far behind.
Second, if Archer isn’t careful, he’ll drain himself to death. Hit the point of no return, when an infusion of Light can’t help him.
I don’t have much Light to offer, but I’m willing to give the pair everything I’ve got. Except, with the shadows writhing inside me, I might do more harm than good.
No time to debate the pros and cons. Someone rams into me, knocking me down. Stars wink through my vision. Blinking, I jump to my feet—or try to. A stampede rushes over me, and all I can do is curl into a ball until the worst is over, using all of my strength to maintain my hold on my swords. They are special to me, and I won’t give them up, not even to save my arms from the worst of the damage.
Ha! Every part of me sustains the worst amount of damage. No part of me is spared. Agony sears me. As my head swims with dizziness, a brutal roar blasts. The rampage stops, but it’s too late. My bones are broken, my muscles frozen in protest. I can’t move.
“Drink.” Sweet liquid is poured down my throat.
Bones snap into place, and torn flesh weaves together. The pain is excruciating, but at least it’s quick. I cough out a shredded piece of lung as I sit up.
Thank the Fi
rstking, my swords are unharmed. Clay is crouched beside me, Biscuit in front of us, standing guard, forcing people to move around us.
“You good?” Biscuit asks, then snarls at a guy who stumbles too close. “I gots to know. Tell me!”
“I’m good, I promise. Thank you.” Without my friends, I would have died in this realm.
Together we stand, or one by one we fall.
Beyond Biscuit, Raanan is fighting off a horde of guards, protecting…Killian! He’s out of Victor’s Shell and now in spirit form, but he’s splayed on the ground, turning my relief to dismay. My injuries must have weakened him. However, my healing ensures his, and he lumbers to his feet.
He and Raanan work in tandem, guarding each other’s backs while striking at the enemy. Their motions are fluid, graceful—and despite the violence meted against them, they are as gentle as possible with the opposition.
As I watch Killian safeguard my friends, the block around my heart begins to crumble. He meant what he said. He’s fighting for me, and for us. He’s putting our relationship first.
As soon as the last brick crumbles, the mortar nothing but ash, the bridge between us opens up. Killian’s thoughts and emotions flood me. Love. Determination. Anger directed at his people, who have turned against him. Concern for my well-being. But beneath it all…there is Light, stronger and brighter than ever before.
If zero is my curse word, infinity must be my exclamation of joy. So…sweet infinity! His shadows are gone and—
Like a river, his Light showers and floods me, and drowns my darkness. That part of me is dying. Killed by Light. Love. All the cruelties, all the insecurities, all the hatred, fury and paranoia. There’s nothing left for them to feed on.
He and I…we are together, wholly, nothing held back.
—There you are. I’ve been so worried.—
His voice drifts along the Grid, and another upsurge of strength hits me, as if I’ve just ingested another vial of manna.
Love is Light, Light is love.
Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife Page 101
