Firstlife (Everlife #1)

by Gena Showalter

  “How?” As far as I know, once a spirit is lost in Many Ends, it’s lost for good.

  “I’ll watch for signs.”

  “And the so-called signs are never wrong?”

  A slight tremor sweeps through her before she shrugs.

  My head cants to the side. “Do you have any family in Troika?”

  “I do.”

  “You war with them?”

  “I do,” she repeats. “Troikans want to destroy everything I hold dear. They look down their noses at me, only seeing a heathen they’ve deemed unworthy of their precious light. As if I’m inferior.”

  “There are some who despise the animosity between the realms.” Archer and Deacon defend their home, but they also love their enemy. I’ve seen glimpses.

  “You’re championing them?” Her eyes narrow on me. “If you continue to refuse Myriad, I’ll be forced to kill you myself. And then I’ll kill Killian.” She arches a brow, suddenly smug. “You care for him. Just the way he planned.”

  She’s trying—again—to manipulate me. To turn me against the boy I’ve come to admire. “I won’t let you harm him. In fact, you have three seconds to release him from the Kennel and the collar before I sign with Troika. One.”

  Her eyes narrow. “You can’t—”

  “Two.”

  She has a choice. Reach for a dagger and end me now, or comply. I didn’t lie. I will sign with her enemy.

  “He will be released,” she rushes out.

  “Now. Today.”

  Her nod is stilted.

  We lapse into silence, and I should feel triumphant. I’m actually sad.

  I peer out the window, trying to figure out where we’re going. I know the area. Designated for stupid-rich Myriadians. My mom shops—shopped—in these stores.

  The limo pulls in front of a spa, as promised. I say nothing as I’m ushered into the warmth of the day. The sidewalk gleams as if it’s made of marble—painted cement—and palm trees sway in a gentle floral-scented breeze. With towering white columns and a gleaming staircase that leads to a wide set of arched doorways, the building could pass for a castle.

  Pearl stays at my side as we enter. Several staff members step forward, smiling friendly smiles and offering the beverage of my choice, everything from champagne to aged whiskey. I decline. Must keep a clear head.

  No other customers occupy the lobby. Guess Pearl rented out the entire place.

  There’s a tiered waterfall just like the one I saw in Myriad, with a mermaid perched on top. There are seating areas scattered throughout with leather couches and plush chairs. The concierge booth is framed by two ginormous sculptures, one of a woman with a dragon tail wrapped around her to conceal her breasts and the space between her legs, the other of a muscled man holding a globe of the world. The walls are painted a lovely shade of gold, and the air smells of lavender and lilac.

  “Don’t think,” Pearl says. “Just enjoy.”

  Until I see Killian, I’ll have to play along, so I nod. The girls who offered me a drink usher me to a private room in back, with two cushioned massage tables, two tubs filled with steaming water—Killian would be thrilled, if he were here. Soft music plays in the background.

  Both Pearl and I are stripped. I hate that I’m weaponless and surrounded by strangers, but I keep my mouth shut. I hate that Pearl can change her mind about waiting and strike at me at any second. I remain on high alert as I’m bathed, waxed, oiled and massaged. And in a way, it’s nice. After all the running I’ve done, as many accidents as I’ve endured, I’m sore.

  Pearl watches me expectantly. I think she believes a rush of Ashley’s memories will flood me, I’ll open my arms and shout, “Momma!”

  Sorry. Never going to happen.

  My nails are painted girlie pink. My hair is trimmed and curled, the sides pulled back. Makeup is applied to my face. I’m given a beautiful sheath dress, Grecian in style, white with pleats that begin just under my breasts and fall to the floor. The spaghetti straps reveal my pale skin from neck to finger.

  “Your favorite,” Pearl says from behind me. “Look.”

  I actually twirl in front of the full-length mirror and gasp.

  “You are breathtaking.” She twines our fingers. “I’ve put together a party in your honor. The kind you used to love.”

  I’m in no mood to celebrate my greatness, but I offer no protest as we return to the limo. We travel the same roads, going back the way we came—are we going to my house? Where my mother and brother just died?

  Oh, yes. We are.

  Keep it together.

  As the limo parks in the driveway, I stare at Pearl. “Now you’re just being needlessly cruel.” Before she can deny it, I demand, “Is my dad still here?”

  “No. I’ve had him moved.”

  That’s something in my favor, at least. “And Killian?”

  “He’s inside, waiting for you.” She smiles at me. “Perhaps you’ll see someone else you missed a little more...”

  What’s she planning now?

  The answer presents itself as I emerge from the vehicle and climb the porch steps. The front door opens, and James steps onto the porch. Beautiful James, who must have been waiting for me. James, who protected me from Vans, bringing me extra food and making plans to escape with me.

  James, who lied to me every day of our association.

  He’s tall, but not as tall as Killian, with dark blond hair and big brown eyes. His black-as-night suit hugs his muscled frame lovingly, the dark color making the blues and greens in his tie pop. Blue and green, like my eyes. A romantic gesture? Barf. He’s romanterexic.

  He grins at me, as if he’s happy to see me.

  “He grew far too attached to you,” Pearl says, coming up beside me, “so I removed him from your case.”

  Liar! He didn’t grow fond of me. He failed to do his job.

  “My mistake,” she adds.

  “What makes you think I want him?” I lift the hem of my dress and scale the porch steps.

  “Tenley.” James holds out his hand, expecting me to accept, probably melt. “I missed you so much.” His smile begins to fade as I continue to stare at him. “I hated to leave you, but I had no choice.”

  “Really? Tell me. How do my tits look in this dress?” As he gapes at me, I say, “Excuse me,” and sail past him. I enter the foyer.

  People are everywhere, but there’s enough free space to maneuver into the living room. Laughter abounds, and perfumes clash. I wrinkle my nose as I scan the sea of faces, searching for Killian.

  James comes up beside me, clasps my arm. “Ten, please. You have to listen to me.”

  She likes ’em big.

  I yank from his hold. “I don’t have to do anything.”

  “Yes, you were an assignment. At first. But I fell in love with you and—”

  “You never loved me. If you had, you would have told me the truth.”

  Irritation flares in his eyes. Irritation he quickly masks with faux hurt. “If I told you the truth, I would have lost you.”

  “You lost me anyway.” I did love this boy, but only a mirage of him.

  Feminine twitters draw my attention to the stairs. Killian stands at the top. He—is—gorgeous. Our gaze meet, and oh, the blood in my veins heats, sizzles and melts me. He’s here. He’s unharmed.

  Slowly he descends the staircase, every female he passes stopping whatever she’s doing to watch him. Some even try to gain his attention. A few reach out to touch him, but he’s focused only on me.

  “Him?” James snarls at me. “You want him?”

  I’d forgotten he was standing next to me. I yank from his clasp once again, my heart pound, pound, pounding. Like James, Killian is wearing a suit: black, pin-striped and perfectly tailored to his Shell. When he’s right in front of me, his heated gaze sweeps over me, making me shiver.

  “You look...” His gaze slowly works its way back up. “There are no words good enough.”

  “Thank you.” I smooth my hand down the
sides of my dress. I decide not to tell him about Pearl’s threat. I’m not putting him in a position to fight on my behalf and perhaps be returned to the Kennel. “And you...wow. Only three words are good enough. Delicious man-meat.”

  The warmth of his chuckle strokes my skin. “That’s my favorite compliment ever.”

  James puffs out his chest. “Killian.”

  His amusement fades as he meets the boy’s gaze. “You’ll want to move. Now.”

  James sputters. Killian cants his head—that’s it—and James backs a few feet away.

  A girl I’ve never met sidles up and wraps an arm around Killian’s waist. He stiffens and flicks her off, but she doesn’t seem to mind the negative reaction, returning to rest her head on the crook of his shoulder.

  She looks me over. “Is she your flavor of the week? Well, I approve. Those mismatched eyes are striking, aren’t they?”

  He wraps an arm around my waist. “Excuse us.” As she stares in astonishment, he leads me away.

  “Another conquest of yours?” I ask.

  “There’s nowhere in the world you can go and not find one. I told you I was very good at my job, and I meant it. But...”

  I’m teetering on the edge of anticipation as I await his words. “But?”

  “You aren’t just a job.” He stops to cup my jaw, peer deep, deep into my eyes. “I didn’t like being parted from you today.”

  My knees go dangerously weak. “I could admit I didn’t like being parted from you.”

  He gives me the slow, wicked smile he first unveiled in the asylum. “Could you, or do you?”

  “I do.” I lean into him, breathe him in. I’ll never get enough of his scent.

  James approaches—again—and clears his throat. Was he always this annoying?

  Without looking away from me, Killian grabs him by the tie and shakes him. “Go. Away.”

  James slaps at his hand like a bitch but it does no good. “I have a gift for you, Ten.”

  “Tenley,” I snap. “And you can stuff your gift—”

  A smiling Sloan peeks over his shoulder. “Actually, I think you’ll want to keep this one.”

  chapter twenty-one

  “There is no line we won’t cross to get the job done.”

  —Myriad

  I push James out of the way and throw my arms around Sloan, so happy to see her I could cry. Who am I kidding? I am crying.

  “Thanks for ruining my makeup,” I tell her.

  “Anytime.” With a laugh, she pulls back and twirls. “Tell me you’ve never seen a more glorious sight and mean it or I’ll hate you forever.”

  “I’ve never seen a more laborious sight. There. Did I say it correctly?”

  She flips me off, but she’s still smiling. A scarlet dress adorns her body all the way to her knees, where the material flares and flits with her every movement. Her pale hair is swept to the side of her nape in an elegant knot of braids.

  She waves a finger from the top of my head to the bottom of my heels. “Even with the mascara streaks, you’re a hot tamale. If I were into girls, I’d give Killian a run for his money.”

  I snort. “You just won a little piece of my heart.”

  “Like I didn’t already own one hundred percent.”

  “I’d love a chance to—” James begins.

  Killian punches him in the throat, causing the Shell’s voice box to collapse. Suddenly all James can do is flap his lips open and closed, no sound emerging.

  I pat Killian’s cheek. “My night just got better. Thank you.”

  Grinning now, he leans in to kiss my ear. He whispers, “I want you to choose Myriad, but I want you to want to choose the realm. I’m not going to pressure you, and I’ll prove it.” He traces his fingers along my arm, causing goose bumps to rise. “Take Sloan to your room.”

  What? “No. I don’t want to leave you,” I whisper back.

  “I’m going to keep Pearl occupied. There’s something you need to see.” He kisses my cheek and lifts his head.

  My heart thumps against my ribs. Do I need to see a good thing or a bad thing?

  “Ugh. Enough lovey-dovey crap already,” Sloan says.

  I force a smile as I face her. “Why don’t we go to my room and get away from all this noise? We can catch up.”

  “Nutter, that’s the best offer I’ve had all day. Which is saying something!” She links her arm with mine, adding, “That guy over there wanted to—and I quote—teach me the meaning of ecstasy.”

  “So lucky,” I say drily. I meet Killian’s gaze, silently telling him, Stay close.

  His gaze says, Nothing will keep me away.

  All right. Time to concentrate and figure out what he wants me to see upstairs. I lead Sloan away, saying, “Have you signed with Myriad?” Why else would Pearl allow her to come?

  “No, ma’am. When we parted, I hit the road with Deacon, thinking my first order of business would be destroying my family once and for all.”

  “Right.”

  She stiffens, adding, “They were so broke they couldn’t afford my stay at Prynne, so...they made a deal with Vans. While he convinced me to marry the man they’d picked out for me, he could have me anytime he wanted, as long as he didn’t get me pregnant. I kept thinking my prospective groom would grow tired of waiting for me and marry someone else, and I’d finally be freed, but he never did.”

  My hand flutters over my heart. “Oh, Sloan. I’m sorry.” The words aren’t good enough.

  “Guess I’m worth waiting for,” she says, every word sharp enough to cut.

  “I had no idea what you were going through.” And I’d only added to her problems.

  When we reach the top of the stairs, she says, “No one did, which was the way I wanted it. I hated him, hated the times he...visited me, and I don’t think I could have lived with the humiliation if everyone knew what was happening.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say again. What a horrible existence.

  She waves the words away, the motion clipped. “Anyway, I fired my ML Elena for her attitude problem.”

  “You mean you fired her because she wouldn’t do everything you demanded the second you demanded it?”

  “Exactly. I love that you know me so well.” She beams at me. “Anyway. My case was given to James. He was invited here, and he asked me to join him. I decided destroying my family could wait another day or two so I could see my friend.”

  A friend. I have another friend, one I made all on my own. A human who understands my predicament.

  There’s a crowd of people milling about on the second level, so we have to push our way through. Someone waves at us. Others smile. We just keep trucking. When a couple drunkenly spills out of my mother’s room, I have to swallow a curse...but I can’t swallow the next one.

  “No way. This isn’t happening.” I stomp to them—calm, remain calm—and barely manage to stop myself from chewing off their faces. “You don’t go in that room ever. Ever! Do you understand?”

  Sloan grabs my shoulders and pulls me back. “Fits of temper can wait.”

  “I mean it.” I scan the rest of the faces around me. “No one goes in that room.”

  People rush downstairs. Good riddance!

  A guard is posted at my bedroom door. A big, beefy guy with a mean scowl. But he opens the door as if he knows me. As if he’s been waiting for me.

  I grin and bear it. For now. “No one goes in the other rooms.”

  He nods. “Your command, my honor.”

  I like his readiness to please, but I kind of hate it, too. I’m not who he thinks I am.

  Once inside the bedroom, I shut the door with a hard kick and Sloan flips on the light.

  “Take a breather,” she says, “and calm down.”

  My heels clink against the hardwood floor as I walk to the bed. I plop on the edge and sigh. Last time I was in here, Archer and Killian snuggled me.

  I want to be snuggled again.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but...this place is kinda
sterile,” Sloan says, her lips curled in distaste.

  “A decorator selected everything, and I was expected to keep it clean.” A room should be a sanctuary, but mine became a gilded cage over the years.

  There’s a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice. What Killian wanted me to see?

  I pop the bottle’s cork and pour the contents on the white rug at the end of the bed. Last time I had alcohol, I got stupid. Well, stupider.

  Sloan laughs. “You dirty the carpets while I plan to torch an entire house. How do we even like each other?”

  I smile at her. “Maybe we shouldn’t dig too deep.”

  “That’s true.” She sighs, the amusement leaving her with the breath. “Okay, so. Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty. I need your advice.”

  The reason Killian sent me away? “Shoot.”

  “Well, I kinda threw myself at Deacon, and he kinda turned me down.”

  “Kind of?”

  “He told me he’ll never date anyone outside his realm, and no one in his realm would ever do what I’m planning—the torching, in case you need a reminder—so I sent him away. Then James showed up and I thought, as crappy as he is, maybe he’ll make Deacon jealous and you know, spur the guy into motion. And I know, I know. I’m immature. Whatever.”

  “I don’t hear a question.”

  “Well, you know how eager I am to avoid Many Ends.”

  “I do. And having been there—twice—I can officially give the realm a one-star rating.”

  “What! You died? Twice? Why am I just now hearing about this?” She stomps over and slaps my arm. “What was it like?”

  “Well, if your worst nightmare and the black plague had a baby, and that baby grew up to marry the boogeyman, and they had a baby, that baby would be Many Ends.”

  “Wow.” She plops beside me. “You want to know what’s sad? That’s only slightly worse than I imagined.”

  “What are you waiting for?” I asked. “Why haven’t you signed?”

  She nibbles on her bottom lip. “Myriad and Troika refuse to give me what I really want.”

  “Which is?”

  “Vans’s spirit. I hate him more than I love anything else.” In that moment, she reminds me of a live wire—ready to strike the first person dumb enough to touch her. “Troika doesn’t play that way, and Myriad says they can’t get to him, that he died as an Unsigned and ended up in Many Ends.” I can hear the hate in her voice; it’s so thick I figure it must be choking her. “My only real option is to go to Many Ends myself.”