Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  Through our new bond, I offer words of comfort, and she casts me a thankful half smile.

  “Hey, hey now. No apologies.” He grins at her, saving himself from a…chat with me. No one makes my girl feel guilty about anything without severe consequences. “We planned to enter Many Ends one way or another to help you save souls. This just sped up the process.”

  “So you owe me your eternal thanks?” she asks, her tone now pure sass.

  He snorts.

  “Where’s Clay?” She rises on her tiptoes to try and peek over Archer’s shoulder.

  Sadness glitters in his eyes. “Minutes after we arrived, he was taken by a horde of the ugliest birds in creation.”

  Tears well in her eyes and spill down Ten’s cheeks. Tremors rock her. Then she lifts her chin and clears her throat. “Well. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters here. All will be well, everyone freed. We’ll save him, along with everyone else. We will.”

  “We will,” I agree. Nothing will stop us.

  “Victor is here, too, but he was taken by a horrendous-looking monkey-spider thing,” Archer says.

  “Victor?” I demand.

  Archer’s nod is wooden, his teeth clenched. “I killed him before I died.”

  “What about Biscuit?” Ten asks, gazing around the garden as tension radiates from her. “Is he here?”

  “No,” Archer says, and she expels a relieved breath. “He made it out of Myriad.”

  “Thank the Firstking.” She pulls from Archer’s hold to hug Reed, Raanan and Dior, who she clings to longest.

  “I’m so sorry,” Dior says.

  “I know,” Ten replies.

  “I never meant for him to—”

  “I know,” Ten repeats.

  Him. They must mean Levi Nanne, a Troikan General, now deceased. Both girls loved and respected him, maybe even considered him a father figure. But he died trying to save Dior from Myriad and the horrible covenant I tricked her into accepting.

  Guilt slithers through me, wraps around my neck like a boa constrictor, and squeezes. Our every action has a consequence. Not just for the people involved, but for innocents, as well.

  Perhaps we can save Levi, too, just like we’re going to save the souls in Many Ends. The Unsigned can leave this sub-realm. Myriadians should be able to leave, as well; we’ll soon find out, one way or another. Ten thinks so, or we wouldn’t be here. Troikan spirits can exit the Rest, absolutely, no question. Archer is proof.

  In a perfect world, everyone escapes and becomes one big happy family.

  Hey, stranger things have happened.

  It’s time I make amends with the family I already have. And these people are my family. They helped me when no one else would so much as spit on me if I was lit on fire.

  “I’m sorry, Dior,” I say. “I have no excuse tae offer for my past actions.”

  As her dark gaze finds me, shame claws at my mind. Because of me, this girl suffered greatly. She planned to make covenant with Troika and spend her eternity with Archer. Their love had been evident, even back then.

  When Dior’s father had a heart attack, I seized the opportunity to defeat my former friend. I told Dior I would ensure good ole dad walked out of the hospital, but only if she made covenant with Myriad right then and there—and made no adjustments to the contract I offered.

  She agreed, and I did as promised, using shadows to convince the man he felt better. But the moment, the very second her father walked through those hospital doors, fulfilling my commitment, I took the shadows away. He died in an instant, the stress of his movements too much for his fragile body.

  By then, it was too late for Dior. She’d already signed the worst covenant imaginable.

  As a med student, she was supposed to help humans from both realms, and yet, her contract ensured she would face punishment every time she helped a Troikan.

  Horrible of me, yes. At the time, I told myself I was saving Dior from Ambrosine’s wrath. He’d wanted the girl killed so that he could use her against his unfaithful son. I made sure there was a reason to keep her alive: her continued torment. But I’d lied to myself. Back then, jealousy had seethed inside me. Resentment, too. Archer had left me behind, scarring me for life, and yet he got to enjoy his future? No!

  Something in my chest tightens. I do not deserve Dior’s forgiveness, but I lift my chin and repeat, “I’m sorry for everything I did to you. If it helps, I was banned from Ambrosine’s presence for ensurin’ yer torment rather than yer death, and placed under Madame Pearl Bennett’s care.”

  “It doesn’t help.”

  No, I don’t suppose it does. My gaze moves to Archer. “I’m sorry.” I mean the words with every fiber of my being.

  Dior continues to peer at me, her stare unwavering as tremors rack her. “I want to hold a grudge against you, I really, really do. You used my dream of becoming a doctor against me.”

  “I understand,” I tell her. Truth. Some mistakes you can’t recover from.

  “But I need forgiveness, too.” She pulls from Ten to lean into Archer’s side. “How can I withhold from you what I seek from others?”

  Archer doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her waist. The two share a look so loaded with tension the air around them heats. The air around us all heats. Awareness crackles.

  “You’re together together?” Ten asks, fanning her cheeks.

  Archer rolls his eyes. “We haven’t had time to discuss all the details yet, Nosey, but thanks for inserting yourself into our relationship.”

  Ten pretends to tip a hat. “Anytime.”

  “If he’ll have me,” Dior says, “I’ll stay with him always.”

  Now Archer beams, as bright as the sun. “Oh, I’ll have you all right. Again and again and again…”

  A rosy blush paints over her cheeks, and he chuckles.

  Just like that, a small fraction of my guilt eases. Archer deserves a happily-ever-after with the girl he loves. Finally he’s on the right track.

  Reed and Raanan pretend to gag.

  “Enough making me sick. Time for medicine.” Reed pulls leaves from the Tree of Life and passes them out to his crew.

  As everyone eats, gashes weaving back together, bruises fading, I twine my fingers with Ten’s. Touching her isn’t a compulsion but a necessity. To my delight, she melts against me and rests her head on my shoulder. The sweetness of her scent envelops me. But the best part? Her scent is mixed with mine.

  Satisfaction and contentment shimmer inside of me, new and wonderful. Why did I ever want to resist her? Why did I even try? With her, I’ve always been doomed to fail.

  “What’s our next move?” Archer asks. His gaze moves from Ten to Reed, concern darkening his expression. “You guys are the only ones who have been here before.”

  “Before Aunt Lina killed me,” Ten says, “she told me to find the doorway, and I would save the day. Check. Killian and I took care of that just a little while ago. Then she said something about hills having eyes, so everyone will die, and if I wanted to win the fight, I would have to use Light.”

  Reed pales. “The hills. With eyes.”

  “Uh, I’ve seen that movie,” Raanan says, and shudders. “Spoiler alert. We’re all going to die.”

  “I lived here for years, but never dared venture into the hills. For good reason.” Reed rubs a fist over his heart, as if the organ is in the midst of a panic attack. “The screams you hear—they come from there.”

  If the hills are where spirits are being kept, well, that’s where we need to be. Wonderful. “We’ve got tae get our hands on weapons.”

  “Weapons. Right.” Nibbling on her bottom lip, Ten searches the ground. “Problem. There are no fallen branches here.”

  No branches, no weapons. And venturing outside this fantastical haven to search for branches would be foolish. Everything outside this area i
s covered in bugs and poison.

  “No, there aren’t. Nothing dies in this little paradise.” Reed sighs. “And don’t try to pull anything down. It doesn’t work, only gets you slapped.”

  Slapped? As if the tree is sentient?

  Sentient = aware. I scratch my jaw and say, “Why don’t we ask the tree for limbs?” The idea wafts through my mind, as if whispered into my ear by an invisible friend. The Grid? Maybe, but not the Grid I’m used to dealing with. Something is different.

  Raanan laughs. “Aren’t you adorable? Ask a tree? Afterward we can talk to the dirt.”

  “Well, why not ask a tree?” Dior spreads her arms wide. “I’m sure we’ve all had worse conversations with people.”

  Ten tilts her head to the side, thoughtful as she regards me. “Killian is right. The tree is alive, like all the others here. Hello, it even has a name. The Tree of Life. While the others do their best to harm us, this one willingly feeds us. I mean, we aren’t bitten or poisoned when we take the leaves. So why wouldn’t the tree give us more—if we ask nicely?”

  “Why don’t we have to ask for the leaves, then?” Reed asks.

  “Because food is a necessity, and weapons are a luxury?” Ten hikes one shoulder in a shrug. “Because the Tree of Life doesn’t want us using the limbs to hurt other spirits?”

  Facing one of the massive trunks, she brushes her palms over the bark. “Please. We want to help the people here, not hurt, and we could use—”

  Before she can finish her sentence, a branch lowers, reaching for her. The end curls around her fingers and turns her arm before stroking the warhorse branded into her wrist.

  Limb after limb tumbles to the ground, and not a single one comes close to hitting us.

  Reed gasps. “All this time…”

  Our group goes silent, shock palpable. Then we begin whooping with happiness. The tree is alive and is aware and is willing to help us.

  “Thank you, thank you, a thousand times thank you,” I say.

  Other thanks follow. “Thank you muchly.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “Owe you.”

  “Thanks so much.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You rock!”

  Raanan is the first to sober. “We’re not going to get far with a bunch of clubs. And that’s all these branches are good for, considering none of us has a dagger.” A limb still attached to the tree swings in his direction and whacks him on the butt.

  Giggling, Dior flattens a hand over her mouth.

  “Could it be?” Ten stares at a branch for a several prolonged seconds. “I mean, it’s possible. Even probable. Even though it makes no sense.”

  She doesn’t make any sense. “Could what be, lass?”

  “Light is always the answer,” she says, ignoring my question. She lifts the biggest branch and sits down. “I have an idea.” With her eyes closed, she draws in a deep breath…wraps a hand around each end. Deep breath out. Tension soon lines her face, a sign of deep concentration.

  “What is she—” Reed begins, and reaches for Ten.

  I grab his wrist, stopping him. “Let her work.”

  His nod is stiff, but he drops his arms to his sides and presses his lips together.

  Soon pinpricks of Light flicker to life at the ends of Ten’s fingers, muted at first, but growing in intensity. Light she is somehow channeling. Light = heat. Heat = fire. Fire = change.

  She rubs her fingers along the end of the branch and…yes! The heat creates a pointed tip. A spear. Or an arrow, if we can create a crossbow. I think that we can. My belt is metal, and we can unfasten each link to use as nails.

  By the time she opens her eyes, she’s drenched in sweat and pale. I pick the most succulent leaves for her and do not relax until she’s consumed each one, her color bright once again.

  “Never thought I’d see Killian Flynn playing nursemaid,” Archer mutters.

  “I’m practicin’ for later,” I reply, deadpan. “When I’m naked with my lass.”

  Ten elbows me in the sternum, and I throw her a grin, all, was it something I said?

  I rub the sore spot, and pretend to pout. “Baby, I was tellin’ the truth, just the way you like.”

  Her snort delights me.

  “Where did you get Light?” Raanan asks.

  “Love is Light and Light is love. You have some, too. You all do.” Her mismatched eyes gleam with anticipation. “Anyway, the tree showed me how my staff was created. One of its limbs was used, along with Light. Did you know that? About the staff, I mean.” She directs the question at Archer.

  He shakes his head, sandy hair falling over his forehead. “I had no idea. After I defected to Troika—” he casts me an unreadable look “—the Prince of Doves gave me the staff and told me to keep it close, because it would one day save my life.”

  The Prince of Doves has visited Many Ends? When? Why?

  How?

  Did he somehow rescue someone here, without ever stepping foot in the sub-realm? But if he was here, why not rescue everyone at once?

  I met him once. I was on assignment, and he simply appeared before me. He tried to convince me to defect to Troika. I mocked him, sneering at his offer. Truth is, as I’d looked into his sky-blue eyes, I’d never felt more inadequate. Plus, I genuinely believed he would regret his offer; I also suspected he’d made it simply to throw me off my game. Which he did. I’d been turned inside out, and failed to recruit my target. One of my first failures.

  Now, I’ve seen the Secondking of Troika through Ten’s eyes. He would never come here and leave spirits behind. That’s not who he is. He cares too deeply.

  So. Someone besides Ten, Reed and Kayla managed to escape Many Ends, and take a branch with him. Or her.

  Ten gasps, her entire body jolting. “Eron,” she blurts out, and everyone frowns. “Centuries ago, there was a bridge between Troika and Myriad. Eron used to come here. He and Ambrosine would meet with the Firstking under the tree’s shade.”

  So I was wrong?

  Reed purses his lips. “How do you know this?”

  “The tree.” She pats the trunk. “Do you not hear him?”

  “No,” we all say at once.

  Her ears twitch as she concentrates. “Reminds me of Eron. A piece of Eron, maybe?”

  I’m not sure if she’s talking to us or to herself.

  “Once the bridge burned,” she says, “Ambrosine placed obstacles around the tree—the creatures, insects, doorways—and built a barrier around them. What he didn’t know until too late—he’d created Many Ends, binding himself to the sub-realm. Because he is bound, his people are bound.”

  Well. I wasn’t wrong, not really. Eron was here, but not while souls were being tortured.

  “What about the Unsigned?” I ask. “Why are they sent here alongside Myriadians who experience Second-death?”

  Her eyes go wide. “Because there’s no such thing as Unsigned. When the Firstking created the Land of the Harvest, he gave possession of it to both of his sons. But Ambrosine stole the deed. He owns the Land of the Harvest. If you aren’t bound to Troika, you are bound to him. Rather than welcome the Unsigned into his midst, he sends them here, as punishment.”

  Dior rubs a hand over her breastbone, as if to ward off a terrible ache. “How can Ambrosine be so cruel to so many?”

  This, I can answer. “He feeds on the pain he causes.” I’ve seen it firsthand. As Zhi, Victor and Javier tortured Ten, I watched him close his eyes and soak up her misery as if it was his own personal brand of ambrosia.

  “Well, it’s time to take him down. Destroying this realm and stopping the constant torment should starve and weaken him.” Ten links her fingers with mine and gives a comforting squeeze. “Come on. We’ve got weapons to construct.”

  After we gather enough leaves to feed an army—gotta keep
up our strength—we sit, forming a circle around our pile of fallen branches. I perch on Ten’s right, Archer on her left. Dior sits on his other side, and the two share a brief kiss.

  I watch as everyone but Dior creates one weapon after another. Spears, bows and arrows. Daggers. Or more precisely, shivs.

  Noticing my lack of effort, Ten frowns and whispers, “What’s wrong?”

  “I have no Light.”

  “Uh, that’s not true.” After positioning herself in front of me, she flattens her hands against my temples. Her touch is soft and welcome, and I have to swallow a moan of desire. I want her again.

  Who am I kidding? I always want her.

  “Close your eyes,” she says, and I obey—though it’s difficult. I could stare at her forever, but it still wouldn’t be long enough. “Look. Look deep inside you.”

  Her voice drifts through my mind, rippling along the Grid. A Grid I see more clearly as I follow those ripples, deeper and deeper—

  There! I spot a small Light, unimpeded by a single shadow. It is a flame that crackles in the heart of our marriage bond.

  Joy explodes inside me, and the flame grows.

  My eyelids pop open, and my gaze meets Ten’s. She’s peering at me, expectant.

  “Well?” she asks.

  I offer her a slow, secret smile as I lean toward her, intending to steal a quick kiss. Just before contact, a lance of pain renders me immobile. The Light has spread, burning away a thin film that covered a section of my mind. Not a section of memories, but…coming events? I tense.

  The world around me vanishes, and I see myself staked inside…a nest? Warm Lifeblood drips on to my naked body. It comes from a tier above me. Another nest? My chest is cut open, several of my organs gone, but I’m still lucid as a skeleton-bird swoops down and pecks at my liver.

  A scream bubbles in my throat, but I’m too weak to release it. And why bother screaming again, anyway? Help will never come. This will happen again and again and again—as it has already happened again and again and again.

  Comprehension dawns. With it? Alarm. I’m not glimpsing my future. I’m seeing the present through someone else’s eyes.

  But whose? And why?

  Besides my own, I’ve only ever seen through Ten’s eyes, because of our bond. So… I must be bonded to this other person. But how?