Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  “Why—”

  “What—”

  “The Light,” I say. “It has to be our Light.” Death and life cannot coexist. Light = love. Love = life.

  More confident by the second, we continue on, maneuvering through the bugs, unimpeded. Our hands drop to our sides and we spread out, though we remain in shouting distance of each other as we search for the leaves Killian dropped. We find the second and third and adjust our route accordingly.

  As soon as we pass the last of the bugs and snakes, we pick up the pace. Running, running. Tree limbs reach for us, but we dodge and dive, avoiding capture. When we reach a darker part of the forest, however, thorny vines stretch from bushes, and those we can’t dodge or dive. The thorns snag our clothing and embed in our skin.

  As I pull at the vines, thorns prick my fingers, and I hiss with pain. Blood wells, and my fingers throb.

  “Ten,” Reed gasps out.

  “I’m stuck,” Raanan calls.

  I don’t… I can’t…

  A scream practically rends the air in two. My head whips to the side, and I groan. One of the vines is wrapped around Dior’s throat, squeezing. The goal is clear: Take out the weak link to weaken the strongest.

  Archer fights to escape the vines twined around his wrists and ankles, Lifeblood pouring from different wounds. “No!” he snarls. “Stop!”

  I put every ounce of my strength into reaching the girl, no longer fighting my capture but allowing the thorns to rip through me… Lifeblood pours from me, as well.

  Dior’s knees give out, and she sags to the ground. Archer is there to catch her and ease her down. Finally, I reach her. Her eyes are open and locked on Archer, her lips opening and closing as mewls of pain escape.

  “Save your strength, doc.” He yanks at the vines around her neck, but they only squeeze harder, causing her eyes to bulge. “I’ll get you out of this. I will. I—”

  “Love…you.” A final breath escapes her. Her head lulls to the side, those wide eyes dulling, staring at nothing.

  “No. Don’t you die. Don’t you dare. I love you. We’re going to make plans.” Frantic, he feels for a pulse. He stiffens, his watery gaze lifting to meet mine, revealing a mix of rage, torment and sorrow in their copper depths.

  “Archer—”

  “No. This can’t be. The monkey-spiders exploded. The bugs died. How did the thorns thrive when they touched us?”

  Even as he speaks, the thorns begin to wither.

  When Archer realizes what’s happened—too late, far too late—he looks up at the sky and roars with pain and rage and sorrow.

  He must have left a spark of Light inside her when he cleansed her of Penumbra. Light = love, love = Light. Light is poison to the creatures here. She saved us. She gave up the little Light she had to save us.

  “This doesn’t matter,” I say, but my chin trembles. “She’s going to appear somewhere else in the realm, and we’re going to save her. We’re going to save them all.” I won’t believe anything less. “That’s why we’re here. We have to keep going. Okay? All right?”

  “How do you know she’ll appear elsewhere?” he demands. “How?”

  “I just do.” Because I have to. Nothing else is acceptable.

  “Ten,” he says, and his whole body shudders. Grief encompasses him, a dark cloud—a sign of another impending storm. “I just got her back. I just cleansed her of Penumbra. She was going to defect. I would have been her Barrister, and this time she would have succeeded. We were going to talk about our future, make things official. I love her. I’ve never stopped loving her.”

  Tears sting my cheeks. “I know you have every right to be upset. I know your pain.” I know he failed to save her once before, dying when she needed him most, and he thinks he’s let her down again. “But suck it up. Wallowing will get us killed. And we have to move on. Now fight!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  * * *

  “Lies have no foundation. In a storm, lies will always fall, and truth will always remain standing.”

  —Troika

  Killian

  At last. My “escort” reaches the infamous hills. Mountains, really. Each one has been hollowed out, hordes of birds and prey inside. Outside…

  I shudder. The “eyes” belong to creatures I’ve never before encountered. Small of stature with the fangs and the forked tongue of a snake, the shell of a turtle upon their backs—shells that are lined with bony spikes—and the arms and legs of an alligator. But those eyes…they are neon red, watching me as I soar overhead. Abject hunger sharpens the air, made worse by the fetid scent of death saturating every burst of wind.

  I watch as another bird flies by and drops an unwitting victim to the creatures. What happens next…

  Bile rushes up my throat, threatening to empty my stomach.

  The creatures—monsters—react instantly, caught up in a feeding frenzy, biting into the guy, ripping his limbs from his body.

  That is what Ten and the others must face. If she’s harmed…

  There will be nothing I can do about it. Not until I escape. And I will escape. I must.

  The closer we came to our destination, the louder the screams became. Now that we’re here, those screams are deafening. Millions of them clash in terrible disharmony, blending with moans, groans and grunts. My ears ache from the assault.

  I drop a leaf on the hill of my carrier’s choosing, though I wish I could keep it. For medicine, yes. But also as a weapon. Something I’ve noticed: the animals and insects bolt away rather than touch the leaves.

  Unfortunately, I just discarded my last leaf.

  We descend down, down, down into the depths of the mountain. There’s an uncountable amount of tiers—though my sweet Ten will somehow find a way, I’m sure. Upon each tier are equally uncountable nests. Inside most of those nests are skeleton-birds that are feeding on their prey—spirits.

  Myriadians I’ve met over the years. Myriadians I’ve watched die. There are others, of course, so many others, but whether they are Myriadian or Unsigned, I’m not sure.

  My mother is in one of these mountains. One of these nests. Ten’s mother, too. Aunts, uncles and cousins I never knew. Colleagues I lost in battle.

  None of the victims notice me, too lost in their pain. For most, limbs are missing. For some, bones have been picked clean. Torsos are cut open, organs missing, just like the image I saw inside my head. My gaze scans, searching for my mother. She—

  I tense as my gaze collides with Sloan. She’s here, trapped inside this mountain. My stomach churns. She’s awake, though pieces of her heart are missing. One of her legs stops at the knee.

  She opens her mouth to speak. Or scream. I’m not sure which. Either way, she’s too weak. No sound emerges.

  The bird releases me. I tumble through the air before landing in a nest of my own, a single tier down from Sloan. In an instant, thorns stab and snare me. Black vines reach out to wrap around my neck, wrists and ankles, rendering me immobile.

  A bird in the nest next to mine spots me, looks at his own meal—a little bit of muscle left on a skull—and decides I’ll make a tastier treat. He hops over, but my captor dives into him, and the two fall from the tier. They plummet down, down, pecking and clawing at each other along the way.

  I struggle against my restraints, old wounds bleeding more—faster. New wounds tear open, and weakness sets in. I do not stop. Thoughts of escaping, of doing everything possible to clear the way for Ten, drive me. Those turtle things…how can I force them from the hills?

  “Killian.” Sloan’s voice. Weak, thready. “Don’t fight…makes worse…”

  Must!

  Accepting abuse isn’t in my wheelhouse. But all too soon, my captor returns. Though his skull possesses no eyes, he seems to stare straight at me, and he radiates hate and hunger.

  He squawks with triumph at the
sky—before using the tip of his beak to slice open my chest cavity and tear off a piece of my heart. The pain! A scream bubbles my throat, but I swallow it back. Screaming is too much like begging.

  The bird takes another bite, and another. Not just pain, agony. Darkness closes in…welcome darkness…

  * * *

  I’m not sure how much times passes before my eyelids crack open, consciousness jarring me. One moment I’m blissful, lost in dreams of Ten, the next I’m aware of my throbbing head, and the torment wracking the rest of me. A chorus of sobs.

  At first, my surroundings are blurry. Blink, blink. As my vision clears, I look around with dry, burning eyes. My captor is gone. So are all the other birds. A welcome miracle.

  I look at my body, distressed by the thought of what I might find. Elation sparks. My limbs are still attached, and bits of my heart remain. I’m only missing a kidney and a section of bowel.

  Only. A near hysterical laugh escapes. How sad is it that I’m elated only a kidney and bowel were eaten?

  “Killian.”

  A weak voice sounds from above me. Lifting my head proves difficult, pulling against the thorns still embedded in my neck, but I do it. My gaze lands on Sloan. She’s leaning out of her nest, her skin ashen, her cheeks sunken.

  “You died,” she says, her lip trembling. “How?”

  One of her tears splashes on to my forehead. “Long story.” And I’m not sure I have the strength to tell it. “Where are the birds?”

  “Yours retched after feeding from you and flew off. Nothing like that has ever happened before, and most of the others followed him.”

  I’ve been saved from round two of torture. But for how long?

  “I wish I had a way to save you,” she says, her voice breaking as if she’s fighting tears. “No one has ever found a way. Some of these people have been here for decades.”

  Decades. Of this. What’s sad is, I’m sure there are millions of spirits who have been here longer.

  Will I be one of them?

  No way. Ten has never let me down, and she never will.

  “We’re going tae be rescued,” I say. “Help is on the way.”

  Hope glimmers in her blue eyes. “Ten is coming for us?”

  “She is.”

  The corners of Sloan’s mouth lift. “If anyone can save us…”

  “She can. She will.” I have faith.

  MYRIAD

  * * *

  From: H_S_3/51.3.6

  To: Z_C_4/23.43.2

  Subject: Prepare your army

  Also, prepare our Abrogates in Myriad as well as the Land of the Harvest. Troikan soldiers are headed this way. It’s on like Donkey Kong!

  Might Equals Right!

  General Hans Schmidt

  MYRIAD

  * * *

  From: Z_C_4/23.43.2

  To: H_S_3/51.3.6

  Subject: We have a problem, sir

  I’ve just learned some distressing news. One of our subjects—Lina Lockwood, Tenley’s aunt—has bonded to a Troikan General. He’s the one we captured. Alejandro Torres. The two are now missing. How would you like me to proceed?

  Might Equals Right!

  Sir Zhi Chen

  MYRIAD

  * * *

  From: H_S_3/51.3.6

  To: Z_C_4/23.43.2

  Subject: Forget them

  There’s nothing they can do to stop us. They’re a distraction, nothing more. Proceed as commanded, and focus on annihilating the incoming army.

  Might Equals Right!

  General Hans Schmidt

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  * * *

  “Some lies are more necessary than oxygen.”

  —Myriad

  Ten

  Time is running out. Energy, too. We’ve been following Killian’s trail, without a single break, only pausing to fight when challenged by a monster, plant or insect. We win. Every time, we win, but every battle takes something from us. A little hope. A little strength.

  I’ve been counting the minutes inside my head, and we are a mere two hours away from the reset of the realm. Aka 120 minutes. Aka 7,200 seconds. That means he’s been with the birds for twenty-two hours. Aka 1,320 minutes. Aka 79,200 seconds. He could have been tortured and killed multiple times already.

  If we fail to find him in time…

  We can’t fail.

  I’m tense as we stumble this way and that. Trees hiss, and leaves snap their razor sharp teeth, but nothing else challenges us. Maybe word has spread. Try to stop us, die.

  Up ahead, a lavender leaf glows. The next beacon. One more step closer to Killian.

  I’ve pocketed every leaf he’s dropped. When we find him, he’s going to need an infusion of strength.

  Urgency burns inside me, and I quicken my pace. The others follow without objection. Finally we make it out of the forest, and enter a clearing without trees. Ahead looms a dry and barren landscape, mist, and—I gasp. Mist clears, revealing hills. So many hills.

  We did it!

  With a whoop, we rush forward…only to stop when we’re roughly five hundred yards from the first hill. What looks to be black tar is smeared over the ground. Thousands of…alligators? Kind of. There are differences. These creatures, whatever they are, form a circle around each of the leaves that lead to one particular hill.

  “What are those things?” I ask, pointing to the creatures.

  “Kayla and I used to call them land sharks,” Reed says. “At the first scent or sight of Lifeblood, they erupt into a frenzy.”

  “Don’t worry.” Archer eyes the creatures as if he’s hungry and could use a snack. “I’ll distract them.”

  He wants to avenge Dior’s death, and I understand. A good portion of his Light died with her. Now he hopes to join her, wherever she is. And she is somewhere. I will believe nothing less.

  I reach out, take his hand, and squeeze. “You’ll get her back, Bow. We’ll find Killian, then we’ll find a way to free the spirits.”

  “We can free the spirits if we figure out a way to do something no other ordinary citizen has done since the dawn of time,” he grates.

  “We’ve already done something no other ordinary citizen has done,” I remind him. “We are Troikans, and we entered Many Ends. And did you ever think you’d see Killian Flynn happily married? Face it. I’m a miracle worker.”

  One corner of his mouth twitches, some of his tension easing. “I never thought I’d see Killian Flynn married, period.”

  “And don’t forget, Clay is in one of these hills, too. So is my mother. So is Killian’s mother. I’m not going to rest until everyone is free of Many Ends.”

  “Don’t forget we’ve got to pass through the creatures first.” Raanan unstraps the two branches that are hanging against his back, places one end in the ground, then lets the other end fall toward our foes. “I think I have an idea about how we can do it—and survive.”

  The creatures squeal as they scramble out of the way to avoid any kind of contact with the wood.

  Smiling now, Reed nods. “I get it. We walk across the branches. As we move forward, we drop another branch, then pick up the one behind us.”

  Giving him a pat on the shoulder, Raanan says, “Exactly, my friend. Exactly.”

  It could get us killed, but it could also maybe hopefully probably work. Really, what other choice do we have?

  Find the doorway, save the day. If the hills have eyes, everyone dies. To win the fight, you’ll need Light.

  “So how do we blind these fiends?” I ask.

  Raanan pops the bones in his neck. “Whatever the answer, I call first kill.”

  “We’re running low on Light,” Reed says. “We’ve got to have more.”

  Understatement of the year. The weaker you are, the harder it is to draw on love. We’ve been e
ating leaves from the Tree of Life, but we want to save as many as possible for any spirits we find.

  “We’re going to have to risk it,” Archer says, his tone firm. “I’ll go first. Ten and Reed will take the middle. Raanan will take the rear.”

  “Nope. No way.” I shake my head, tendrils of hair slapping my cheeks. “Think about it. Weight has to be evenly dispersed across the branch. The two lightest take the ends, and the two heaviest take the middle, becoming our center of gravity and preventing us from tilting one way or the other. That puts me in the front, you and Rannan in the middle and Reed in the rear.”

  There’s no reason to waste time debating my plan, and every reason to hurry. As my heart thumps against my ribs and sweat runs down my spine, I clutch my spear to use it for balance, draw in a breath and onto the “plank.”

  Every single creature eyes me like I’m some kind of tasty treat. Several even step closer while sharpening mental forks and knives.

  My friends go still, and I know they’re debating the wisest course of action.

  “Wait,” I say. If the hills have eyes, everyone dies.

  Eyes…eyes…

  Perhaps Aunt Lina meant…

  Well, why not? Pushing my weight into my heels, I stab one of the creatures directly in the eyes. Jab, jab, destroying one peeper after the other.

  The land shark squeals a high-pitched sound of pain as black goo sprays from the injured sockets. Other creatures leap onto its back, devouring every inch of it, even its bones.

  Steady, steady. During the frenzied feeding, I stab three more land sharks in the eyes, causing another frenzy.

  “Be ready. I’m stepping forward now,” I say, fighting tremors.

  As Archer steps up behind me and stabs two more creatures, I take my next step. The feeding continues. More goo sprays in every direction. The fetid scent of rot saturates the air. And the sucking, slurping, chomping sounds… I shudder.

  “On three,” I say. “One, two, three.” Archer and I step forward, allowing Raanan to move on to the branch without tipping us over.