“Yes. Your aunt’s house.”
Aunt Lina. Loony Lina. “I haven’t seen her in years.” I wonder which version of her I’ll find today. “Won’t that be the first place Pearl looks?”
“Yes,” he repeats, “but she won’t find you there.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry. You will. Pearl mentioned tracking you, which means she had a tracker put inside you. I should have known.”
A tracker? “How?” I ask, appalled. “Where?”
He squeezes my hand. “Do you know what I thought the first time I saw you?”
There’s a sense of urgency in his tone now, as if he has a wealth of things to say but only a short time to do so. “Let me guess. Great, she’s crazier than I heard.”
His chuckle is soft but ragged. “Yes, but soon after that?”
“After I punched you in the throat?”
“During our date.”
“No.” I lose my breath. “Tell me.”
“I thought of something Archer told me right before he defected to Troika. Something I hadn’t allowed myself to think about until that day. About a horse—”
“Hey!”
He smiles at me. “A warhorse. It’s a compliment.”
“Well, then, let’s hear the rest of this supposed compliment.”
“The day Archer chose Troika, I told him we were enemies and I would come for him. I told him that his father would forever hate him, and that he’d make it a personal mission to destroy him. His response confused me, until today. He said, The warhorse paws fiercely, rejoicing in its strength, and charges into the fray. It laughs at fear, afraid of nothing; it does not shy away from the sword. The quiver rattles against its side, along with the flashing spear and lance. In frenzied excitement it eats up the ground; it cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds. At the blast of the trumpet it snorts, ‘Aha!’ It catches the scent of battle from afar, the shout of commanders and the battle cry.” Killian squeezes my hand. “Then he added, When you fight for what you know is right, my friend, you already have the victory. There’s nothing to fear.”
I place my free hand over my heart, moved in a way I would never have expected. A warhorse, unafraid of battle, actually craving it, daring his opponents to fight him, his enemy’s efforts only making him laugh, because he knows he’ll win. “You thought I was brave.”
“And kind. And odd.”
“Hey!”
“You shook me up. The things other assignments valued meant nothing to you. The things I valued meant nothing. Only when I spoke of a past I’d rather not remember did you soften toward me, as if you saw something in me no one else ever had.”
He shook me up, too. He’s still shaking me up. “Do you want to know what I thought about you when we met?”
“Please, Killian, kiss me.”
Ha! “Close. I thought you were the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen...and that I’d better invest in a chastity belt.”
He barks out a laugh, though his good humor doesn’t last long. There’s something going on inside his head.
“I wanted to know more about you, and I was secretly thrilled about our date. I was intrigued by everything about you, from your cocky attitude to your tattoos. There’s a pattern to the designs.”
“Yes,” he says, but offers no more. “One day I’ll tell you about them.”
The device in his arm lights up, but he snags a razor from the console between us—one I didn’t notice before—and runs the blade across his arm, tearing the flesh out of the Shell. He grunts. The light fades...dies as thick, sparkling Lifeblood gushes from the wound.
Fighting past my shock, I place my arm over the wound, applying pressure. He is risking everything for me.
“She threatened my mother,” he says tightly.
“Oh, Killian. I’m sorry. Is there anything you can do to stop her? Wait. Let me rephrase. What can I help you do to stop her?”
He flicks me a glance loaded with surprise. “I need to get inside the Annals. A building heavily guarded. When I know my mother’s new identity, I can protect her.”
I don’t think I believe in Fusion anymore, but I don’t have the heart to tell him his mother is probably gone for good already.
When the hemorrhaging stops, I peer out the window. Palm trees whiz past. The sun is a magnificent ball of fire as it sets in the horizon. Warm, golden rays stroke over me and absorb through my skin.
For the second time, he lifts my hand to his lips, kisses the scars on my knuckles. He’s kissed my knuckles once before, but this time...this time there’s something special about the action and I feel branded deep in my soul.
“You wanted to know more about me,” he says, returning to our conversation. “Here’s the truth, flat out. I’ve pushed you so hard because I don’t want you to end up like me. A failure.”
I frown at him. “When did you fail?”
“Once I was thought to be Fused with a General, too. That’s why I was allowed to train with Archer. That’s why the King would visit with me.”
Dread fills me, but I say, “What happened?”
“I couldn’t complete the final stage of training. The King was disappointed, of course, and he gave me a task meant to redeem me. I was given the name of a human...someone I was supposed to kill.”
The dread becomes tinged with horror. “Murdering an innocent isn’t right, Killian. Your realm needs reform.”
“Then join us and reform us, Ten. That kind of change can be made only from within.”
Ugh. He makes a good point. But what of Troika? They need work, too.
And, wow. When did I become Miss Know It All, as if my way is the best way?
I sigh. “Go on.”
“I was given the name Dior Nichols.”
Oh...zero. “Does Archer know?”
“No. He’d already defected to Troika, and it was well-known she was one of his assignments. Which is why the King wanted me to kill her, I’m sure. I hated Archer, but I saw the way he looked at the girl, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t send her to Many Ends. I turned her against him and signed her to Myriad instead, and while I succeeded, I failed my King. I was banned from his presence and placed under Madame Pearl’s leadership as a Laborer.”
No wonder failure at his job is so abhorrent to him. No wonder he pushes and pushes to win every assignment given to him. He seeks to prove himself worthy of love and respect.
His motive doesn’t excuse his method, but he’s not the boy he used to be. “You’ve learned from past mistakes. You know what’s right and what’s wrong, and you’re taking steps to make up for it through your dealings with me.”
The gaze he throws me reveals shattered eyes. Something inside him is breaking. “How can you say such things to me?” His voice is layered with different degrees of pain.
“Because there are no conditions for the things I feel for you.”
He whips the car to the side of the road. Acting on instinct, I unbuckle and climb over the console to straddle him. He stares up at me with surprise and hope—a hope that breaks what little piece of my heart was still intact.
I brush my nose against his. “Is the night-night drug always in your mouth?”
“Only when I bust the capsule behind my tooth. A capsule I haven’t yet replaced.”
“Good.” I frame his cheeks with my hands and press my lips against his.
He opens immediately and rolls his tongue against mine. I taste sugar and a hint of cinnamon, and I’m instantly addicted. I want more...want to devour. We thrust and parry, and I moan as delicious sensation after delicious sensation pours through me.
It’s a kiss worth every moment of confusion and uncertainty. Worth every sleepless night and tormented day. A kiss capable of restarting a thousand dead hearts. A kiss with the power to soothe the rawest of wounds.
He wraps his arms around me, one hand sinking under my shirt to stroke up my spine, the other flattening on my rear to pull me nearer.
No matter how close I get, I can’t get close enough.
I gasp his name. I comb my fingers through his hair. Soft and silky, the strands make my palms tingle. Those tingles ignite sparks and those sparks swim through my veins, heating everything they encounter, until I’m burning up from the inside out.
“I feel you,” he gasps out. “The heat of you...it’s so good.”
Unable to sit still, I move against him, actually grinding on him. He leans forward, pressing his chest against mine, and my back arches until I accidentally hit the wheel. The horn gives a short but loud blast.
I chuckle. He chuckles. Then the ground beneath the car shakes, and he breaks from me. His hands tremble as he smooths the hair from my cheeks. His eyes are glassy, his pupils so enlarged his golden irises are almost completely eclipsed.
When he manages to catch his breath, he says, “We don’t have time for this. Archer and friends are fighting Pearl, trying to stop her from tracking you. They’ve lost a Conduit, the light in their realm dangerously dim. They are now doubly determined to save and recruit you.”
I’m struck anew by the knowledge that so much happens in the worlds and the realms, so much I can’t see and don’t realize.
“Besides,” he adds, “I don’t want our first time to be in a car.”
We are cramped and anyone can approach the windows, attack us while we’re distracted.
“Since our first time will be my first time ever,” I say, my cheeks beginning to burn, “I agree the car isn’t the best choice.”
He presses his forehead against mine. “You’re just making things harder for me. And I mean that in multiple ways.”
I snort-laugh, killing the illusion I’m cool about the subject, and return to my seat. The pressure to make a decision has never been stronger. I’ll save Killian, or I’ll save a realm. But I’m beginning to suspect I finally know the right path for me.
chapter twenty-three
“Fight for us, and we’ll fight for you. Fight against us and you’ll lose.”
—Myriad
Lina is waiting for me at the door of her house, a small but well-kept bungalow with white shutters and blue trim. Quaint and utterly perfect. As a little girl, I sometimes dreamed of living here. Uncle Tim, her husband, allowed Lina and me to put bows in his hair and paint his nails.
Of course, Uncle Tim eventually ran off with another woman, divorcing Lina and her crazy ways.
Porch light shines over her, illuminating dark hair and a pretty face aged by worry. This is Aunt Lina!
Killian puts the car in Park and latches on to my hand before I can jump out. “I got you a present.” He reaches into the glove box, withdraws two leather wrist cuffs. “I know how much you loved your old pair.”
“Killian! Thank you!” Grinning, I hug them before snapping them in place. “I did love them.”
“That smile... I swear it’s going to haunt me for eternity.” He sighs. “I’m not going in with you. I have to destroy the car.”
I don’t like the thought of being without him, even for a second, but I nod. There’s no time to waste.
“I’ll miss you,” he says, and there’s something about his tone. An emotion I’ve never heard him use before. “Will you miss me?”
“Very much.” I lean over and press a hard, demanding kiss onto his lips, tasting him one more time, letting him taste me. “Hurry back.”
When I pull back, his hand snakes around the back of my neck to hold me captive. “The things I feel for you come without conditions, too.”
I give him a dreamy smile before hustling outside. The cool of the night embraces me as I run toward the woman I’ve missed more than air. Tears burn the backs of my eyes when she meets me halfway, throwing her arms around me.
“Ten! I’m so glad you’re okay. I knew something was wrong when your dad refused to give me the name and address of the boarding school you were supposedly attending, but I had no idea...not until the girl, Elena, came to see me.”
Boarding school. That’s what he told family and friends? “I was in prison, Aunt Lina, but I’m okay now. I’m actually kind of grateful for the experience.” I’m stronger, and I have the answers I’ve always craved. The direction. Killian. Archer.
“Come on.” She draws me into the house, one of her arms remaining locked around my shoulders. “Elena said you have a tracker inside you. I need to—”
“Yes. Killian told me. Though I don’t know how it’s possible.”
“I’ll explain when we’re in the shed.” Aunt Lina leads me past the cozy living room with the floral-print couch, lacy doilies and cat figurines, past the kitchen with yellow linoleum and chipping and peeling cabinets, then into the backyard, where a wooden shed consumes half the space.
Inside it, I grind to a halt. This is a serial killer’s wet dream. Sharp, shiny tools hang from the walls. There’s a gurney with straps awaiting a prisoner.
“Do you trust me?” she asks.
“Yes.” Of course. Maybe. Probably. Zero! Way to test my limits.
“I’ve worked for Myriad for twenty-two years. I’ve heard things...seen things. I know what I’m doing, honey. Lie on the gurney. Please.”
I hesitate. “Will you get into trouble for this?”
“Nah. Who can prove I did it? Anyway, some things are worth the risk and you, my dear, are one of them.”
I hope you’re worth it. How many times have I heard those words lately?
I think back. Three. Three times. Not as many as I would have guessed. Still. A lot of people have gone to a lot of trouble for me, and what have I done in return?
My stomach roils as I do as commanded.
“This is for your own good.” She binds my wrists and ankles.
I don’t protest. Considering everything Vans did to me, my silence is a huge deal.
She bustles here and there, gathering everything she needs before she comes up beside me. “Once the tracker has been removed, I’m going to take you to a safe house. Human, not Myriadian and not Troikan.”
Leave? “Does Killian know the address?” Does he know where to go if he returns and I’m gone?
“I told him. Well, I told the girl, Elena.”
Elena better not “forget” to tell him. Or betray me. Ugh. So much rides on a girl I don’t like!
“All right. Moment of truth.” With a flick of her wrist, Aunt Lina angles an oval-shaped glass over my forehead. “You might want to close your eyes for this.”
“No, I’m good.”
“Okay then.” A bright light clicks on, and oh, wow, in an instant my corneas feel as if they’ve been doused in bleach.
I close my eyes. Heat strokes me as she runs it over every inch of me.
“Let’s try this again.” This time, she stops at my left hipbone, where I’ve been burning since Levi shared his light with me. “Aha. Found you!”
The tracker, I’m guessing, and I guess I don’t really have to wonder who or why or how. Anytime I acted up—and a few times just for fun—Vans injected me with sedatives. Oh, and we can’t forget the handful of times he beat me unconscious. Pearl must have paid him.
A sense of betrayal and violation overwhelms me.
I hear a gurgle and figure Aunt Lina is slathering her hands with liquid latex. Once it dries, she rucks my dress to my chin and lifts a syringe filled with neon blue liquid. “This will numb you so I can make the necessary incisions.”
“If I’ll be numbed, why am I bound?”
“These types of devices cause a certain...mental reaction.” She rubs me with antiseptic. A sharp sting slowly fades as she injects me. “You can open your eyes now. The light is directed on the site, not your face.”
I watch as she picks up a scalpel and cuts into my hip with a steady hand. I watch, untouched by pain, as blood pours out of me. I missed the insertion, so there’s no way I’m missing the extraction.
She sprays something clear into the wound and the bleeding stops. With the glass in front of her—the light illuminating
my hip—she picks up what looks to be a pair of tweezers and slips the tips inside my wound. Again, there’s no pain, but I do feel pressure.
Though her wrist is steady, the tool moves. A slight motorized buzz that fills my ears.
“Get ready,” she says. “I’ve almost got—”
Click.
The muscles in my abdomen clench, and I cramp, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.
The sound of the motor intensifies as Aunt Lina leans over to grab a pair of surgical scissors with her free hand. The moment she makes the first snip, a cool flood sweeps through me. An avalanche that gains speed and power as it moves, before finally stopping inside my mind.
Why is she removing the tracker? I don’t want it removed. I want to keep it forever and ever and ever. “Aunt Lina. You have to stop.”
“Can’t do that, sweetheart.” Another snip.
I pull at my bonds. When I fail to gain my freedom, I arch my back and twist to the side, willing to do anything to get those stupid scissors out of me. “You have to stop. Okay? All right? I need to be tracked. I want to be. It’s important.”
“I want you to be still.”
I only struggle harder.
Expression resigned, she climbs on the table and straddles me, digging the scissors in deeper. Frantic, I buck my hips and wrench my arms. What will it take to make her understand? I’ll die without the tracker. It’s a part of me. It’s the best part. “If you do this, I’ll hate you forever. Please. Just stop. Please.”
“No, you won’t hate me. In just a few seconds, you’ll love me.” Sweat trickles from her temple as she pulls the light back into position under eyes and snips, snips. “Just one more to go...” Snip. “Got it!”
She lifts the scissors to reveal a capsule pulsing with neon red liquid, wires sticking out of its belly like spider legs.
“That’s mine. Put it back where it belongs.” My voice is a guttural snarl now.
I blink rapidly as the fog inside my mind thins. Wait. I begged to keep the tracker? “Are you freaking kidding me!”
“A drug,” she explains. “We call it Special K.”
“K?”
“K is for keeps.” She giggles like a schoolgirl, and I have to cut back a groan.
Firstlife (Everlife #1) Page 30
