Everlife (An Everlife Novel)

by Gena Showalter

  “I’ll go with Raanan,” Deacon says. “I’ll watch over Sloan.”

  Ten nods. “I’ll free Killian, and we’ll be long gone before they can stop us. Mostly, I’d rather you were as far away from us as possible. If Killian were to hurt one of you—”

  “All of you,” I correct.

  Her eyes narrow, the first sign of trouble. “I’d have to hurt him, which would in turn hurt me.”

  “There’s no way I’ll betray you,” Archer says, lifting his chin. “Not now, not ever.”

  “You’re not betraying me,” she replies. “You’re helping me.”

  “And now you’re irritating me.”

  Their easy camaraderie irritates me. As my wife, she should banter with me, and only me.

  Archer rubs the back of his neck. “Killian could evade you and turn his sights to the destruction of the realm.”

  “Yes. He’s told me.” She smiles at me slowly, coldly. “But he’s as bound to Troika as he is to me. He might fight the connection, but it’s there. Hurting our realm will weaken him, and he will never purposely weaken himself.”

  She isn’t wrong.

  Frustration mounts. All right. New plan. Escape without harming Troika. Return to Myriad with Ten. Find a way to break our bond. Give her to Ambrosine. Receive a promotion.

  Different pangs raze my chest. First guilt. Then remorse. Finally loss.

  Ignore. Focus on the prize. Maybe, when all of this is over, I’ll enjoy my life for once.

  Or hate myself more than ever.

  “Don’t go,” Deacon says. “You’ll be on your own in Myriad, surrounded by the enemy. I doubt you’ll escape. What are we supposed to tell your brother then, huh?”

  I bite my cheek to stifle a snarl. He’s trying to manipulate her. I know, because I’ve often done the same thing to others.

  “Someone has to stand in the gap,” she says. “For those who won’t, or can’t. So you’ll tell Jeremy I love him.” Tears fill her eyes, but she blinks them away. “That I died fighting for what I believe in. Peace, and salvation for the damned. You’ll tell him I regret nothing.”

  Her words shut down any other protests.

  She hugs Clay, Raanan, Dawn and Deacon, then Archer. His hug lasts seconds longer.

  I’m grinding my molars all over again. Jealousy has never been part of my playbook, and I’m not sure how to deal. Well, besides killing Archer.

  The idea has merit. Should have struck while I had the chance. Ten would never forgive me, of course, so even if I continued to want her, I’d never be able to have her. Two birds, one stone. Or dagger.

  Finally, everyone but Ten and Biscuit takes off. The dog hangs back, determined to stick to her side. “Protect my friends while I’m gone.”

  “Nope. Sorry. Where you go, I go.” His tone is petulant.

  How quickly the dog has bonded to her. I bite my cheek until I taste blood. How quickly I bonded to her.

  Frowning, Ten presses a hand against her cheek. “Please,” she says to Biscuit. “I’m begging you.”

  I jerk with astonishment. Begging. She’s begging. Has no concept of the damage she’s doing to her pride. I want to close my eyes, cover my ears. For a moment, my chest feels as if acid has been poured inside.

  “You’re so strong, Biscuit,” she adds. “You can protect my friends while I’m away. Please. I need them protected.”

  A pause. Then a sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you had better return—or I’ll go digging for bones inside your friends.” He presses a paw against her before running out the door.

  With a sigh of her own, Ten picks up the General’s severed hand. Steps slow; a bit unsure, she approaches my cage.

  “Shall we bargain for my freedom?” I ask before she can speak. She has conditions for my release, no doubt. If I seem eager to participate, she’ll be more likely to believe I’ll keep my word.

  “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “I can’t trust you to keep your word.”

  Ouch.

  She’s not the first to say so, but she’s the first I’m unwilling to charm out of her pique. An action that has always proven necessary in order to win spirits for Myriad. Necessary, and annoying.

  Being free to act like myself is, well, freeing.

  “You’re right,” I say. “You can’t trust me.”

  “Right now, the only things you need to know about me are…I always tell the truth, and I never threaten. I promise.”

  “So you’ve told me.”

  “I know, but with your memory problems, a girl can’t be too careful. So. Here’s how this is gonna go.”

  “Do tell.” I make a sweeping gesture with my hand, a royal prince demanding more information. I like this side of her, bossy and prickly but also vulnerable.

  “I’ll let you out. As we travel through Troika, you’ll stick to my side like glue, or I’ll shoot you and drag you to Myriad. There, I’ll prove Many Ends is connected. We’ll kill your Secondking and save…everyone. We’ll find your mother, and my friend Marlowe. We’ll free your friend Erica. Not too long ago, you told me she had been locked in the Kennels.”

  Erica Morales. One of my Flankers. She aided me when I asked, putting her eternal future at risk. I owe her.

  I gulp as anticipation goes head-to-head with dread. If Ten is right, and Many Ends is connected to Myriad, my mother has been tortured every year of my life. Rescuing her will be priority one. I’ll need Ten’s help.

  But helping Ten means betraying my king, a man I greatly admire.

  Ambrosine is the epitome of power. Beyond ruthless. Savage when necessary. And yet, he took a chance on me when no others were willing. Every time I’ve won a new soul for our realm, he’s praised me, given me boons. Once I asked for the head of the Myriadian General who tortured me as a child, and made me beg for every scrap of food— even beg for beatings I didn’t want.

  My body shudders. It amused him to break my spirit, I suppose.

  While the Secondking refused to grant that particular wish, he did grant me time with the General. Time to mete vengeance. He begged me for mercy I refused to show.

  I can’t betray my king. Not even to save my mother.

  Not even to save Ten.

  “What happens if I betray you the moment we’re inside Myriad?” Heed my warning, beautiful girl. It’s the only one I’ll give.

  Her shoulders wilt a little. “Let’s deal with one problem at a time.”

  TROIKA

  From: J_B_3/19.23.4

  To: T_L_2/23.43.2

  Subject: Do not make me harm your friend

  Miss Lockwood,

  As you know, I have captured Reed Haynesworth. I also have Kayla Brooks in my possession. We had to drag her out of her sickbed, but desperate times…

  I assure you, I don’t want to harm the two. Violence is never my first choice. Over the centuries I have learned to make hard choices, and do what needs doing for the good of the people. Mr. Haynesworth and Miss Brooks will be released the moment you turn yourself in. You will stand before a jury of your peers and explain your actions these past few days. You will accept punishment, whatever it is, and help us cleanse the humans infected with—well, there’s no need for me to say the word. You know it.

  Until each of my requirements have been met…

  I will harm your friends.

  Light Brings Sight!

  General John Blake

  TROIKA

  From: T_L_2/23.43.2

  To: J_B_3/19.23.4

  Subject: You don’t know me very well

  Dear General Blake,

  When it comes to saving the humans infected by Penumbra, we’re of the same mind. Although I’m not afraid to say the P-word. Penumbra. PENUMBRA. We are stronger than the disease. Let’s act like it.

  BTW. You have a new Conduit in your midst. He can cleanse the Abrogates in the warehouse. Yes, I said he. Raanan Aarons. He’s ready to be of service. The princess can help him the way she once helped me.

  And before you
wonder if this is really Ten Lockwood talking/typing, don’t. At one time, delegating work would have been the equivalent of stabbing myself in the heart. Now, not so much. I know my people, and they are spectacular.

  You can break Reed’s and Kayla’s bodies, but not their spirits. Or mine. Even if you hurt my friends, you will not change my mind. However, you will darken your soul. The concept is found in our Book of the Law. I suggest an immediate reread.

  If you harm your own people, you are no better than the Myriadians you fight.

  Face it. Your plan has been rendered moot. I’m leaving Troika today, entering Myriad—and Many Ends.

  Don’t worry about Killian. He’s going with me. In fact, by the time you read this message, he and I will both be gone.

  I’m led by three things, General. Loyalty to my realm, passion for the truth and liberty for all. You will not stop me.

  Light Brings Sight!

  Conduit and Architect,

  Ten Lockwood

  TROIKA

  From: J_B_3/19.23.4

  To: T_L_2/23.43.2

  Subject: You put yourself in danger—and all of us

  Architect? Never heard of it.

  As for Mr. Aarons…what you want me to believe is impossible. A Laborer cannot become a Conduit.

  Leave this realm, and I will break one bone in one of your friends’ bodies every day that you are gone.

  Actions have consequences, Miss Lockwood.

  Light Brings Sight!

  General John Blake

  PART TWO

  Myriad

  TROIKA

  From: A_P_5/23.43.2

  To: T_L_2/23.43.2

  Subject: Guess what?

  Per your orders—when did you become so bossy, anyway?—we told the Generals about your plan to free the spirits in Many Ends. They’re pretty sure you’re going to die, but we have faith in you.

  Also, Biscuit rocks. He rallied Reed’s and Kayla’s guardians—a parrot and a mountain lion—and bingo bango,they rescued Reed and Kayla. (Can I keep the dog, Mom? Huh, huh, please, can I?)

  Everything went down in a matter of minutes. No one knew what hit ‘em.

  All the Generals are frenzied. Not about the prisoners they lost, but about Raanan. He returned just long enough to confirm his new Conduit status.

  Oh, and you’ll be happy to know the princess has agreed to aid Raanan in his cleansing efforts. Three cheers. The first part of your plan worked. Let’s just hope the next part does as well.

  Deacon is determined to get in the warehouse and rescue Sloan, Myriad’s version of a scarecrow, I guess. I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be able to keep him out.

  But. You’ll be happier to know we’re all fine, and so is the realm. (I probably should have led with that. My bad.)

  Stay safe, or I will spank you till you scream for mercy.

  ←Not a joke. And I know I don’t have to ask you to check on Dior, and keep me updated.

  Light Brings Sight!

  Archer Prince

  chapter twelve

  “The best treasure is total domination of your enemies.”

  —Myriad

  Ten

  I’m either the dumbest girl in all the realms…or the second dumbest. If I’m second dumbest, I feel sorry for the ditz ahead of me, because wow. She’s a few clowns short of a circus. Let’s be real. If she had a second brain, it would be lonely, her intellect rivaled only by her garden tools.

  I armed a boy who practically guaranteed he’ll betray me, all because I hope that he won’t. Now, I’m going to free him.

  See? Dumb. To achieve my goals, I’m willing to risk everything. So maybe I’m actually a genius. I mean, let’s face it. Sometimes the world’s definition of “foolish” is actually wisdom at work.

  At least Reed is safe. And Kayla, apparently. All thanks to Biscuit. And, with the princess’s help, Raanan is going to cleanse the humans afflicted with Penumbra.

  I don’t know the specific plan of action, or what’s going on with Deacon and Sloan, the “scarecrow.” Not going to the warehouse, not helping my former enemy-turned-friend-turned-enemy-turned-friend-again is tough. Tougher than tough. A little piece of my heart withers.

  If anything happens to any of my friends…

  It will be okay. It will all be okay. What I’m doing, I’m doing for everyone.

  With a sigh, I pick up Shamus’s hand from the floor. The fingers curl inward, like claws. Lifeblood is congealed at the tips of disconnected tendons and arteries.

  Gearing for an attack, I press the thumb against the ID pad on Killian’s cage. There’s a whoosh as the lock disengages. Then my husband is free. He stalks toward me, every step measured and precise. He is a predator who’s spotted prey…

  Breathing becomes a little more difficult, the air electrified, crackling with awareness. His scent—peat smoke and heather, forbidden fantasies and midnight rain, as dark and mysterious as the boy himself—goes straight to my head, intoxicating me.

  I back a step away, then plant my heels into place and still. I’m not weak, and I’m certainly not a coward. I face my problems head-on, whatever—whoever—they might be. And Killian is a problem. A very beautiful, seductive problem. Until he remembers me, I must resist him, my warhorse. Or rather, Myriad’s warhorse. Who will he support in the end? In this, he cannot play both sides.

  He’s with me. We charge ahead together.

  Loyalty to my realm—our realm. Passion for…Killian. Liberty for all.

  My pulse points go crazy, hammering at warp speed. My blood burns as hot as fire, becoming a forge that melts the steel in my spine, remaking the bones into a weapon…of seduction. I tingle and ache.

  Finally he stops, only a whisper away. So close our chests brush together every time one of us inhales.

  “Are you trying to intimidate me?” I ask, breathing faster. The tingles expand.

  “Tryin’?” He laughs, and the deep, husky notes caress me. “If intimidation were my goal, lass, I’d say mission accomplished.”

  Perhaps he needs a lesson or three about the girl to whom he pledged his eternal future. I slam my fist into his nose once, twice, thrice—and feel the cartilage in my nose shatter. In unison, we howl in pain.

  “I’ll never advocate spousal abuse, but right now, you aren’t my husband, are you?” I raise my chin. “You’re my enemy.” Wait. Hold up. He called me lass.

  Suddenly I want to grin. My Killian is in there.

  He chuckles. “Shoulda known you would cut off yer nose tae spite yer face.”

  Shiver. His accent is back, and oh, do I love it. “I’ll punch you every day for the rest of our lives if it means I get to hear your sexy brogue.”

  In a blink, his good humor is gone. He scowls at me. At least our noses heal, the manna I consumed only minutes ago still rushing through my veins.

  I reach up, causing Killian to back up a step. But I follow him, determined, and flatten my palms on his chest. His heart is racing in time to mine. Despite his memory loss, he’s still affected by my nearness.

  A cool cascade of relief blends with a sizzle of excitement, but I fight to keep my reactions separate from the Grid. I don’t want Killian to know how I feel. Let him wonder. Let wonder turn to obsession.

  Whether he’s onboard or not, I’m going to help him.

  Pre-Killian, my life was a mess, my heart nothing but jagged pieces. I was dealing with my parent’s abandonment and the fact that they’d paid Dr. Vans to torture me, all in a desperate bid to force me to sign with Myriad. I mourned the friends I’d lost in the asylum, and struggled to make a viable plan for my future. Killian helped me pick up the pieces of my heart and weld them back together. He made me stronger.

  Now I will do the same for him.

  Resisting him isn’t the answer, I realize. No, I’ve got to help him the way he helped me. I’ve got to strap on my big girl panties and go for gold. His gold, to be exact. I’ve got to seduce him, the same way he’s seduced me. I’ll keep him of
f balance and guessing—and wanting more.

  More…yes. The more he thinks about me, the sooner his memories will return. The sooner he’ll trust me.

  “Before we transport out of Troika,” I say, my voice as low and husky as I can make it, “you’re going to kiss me.”

  His breath hitches. “Am I, then? Because you always get what you want?”

  “No.” I nibble on my bottom lip and bat my lashes at him, all false innocence and temptation—I hope. “Because I’m giving you what you want.”

  Rather than deny my allegation, he stares at my lips, as if they hold the key to his salvation. White-hot desire smolders in his baby blues.

  I’ve seen him in battle. I’ve witnessed his calm, his unwavering relentlessness. Now, he trembles—for me.

  “Do you think I’ll kiss you, fall in love and forsake my home?” he rasps.

  Been there, done that, my love. “Are you afraid you’ll fall in love and forsake your home?”

  I expect him to balk, to rant about my daring, or perhaps even feign disinterest.

  But he croaks, “Yes,” and presses his mouth against mine. Gentle. Tender. Exploratory. Even still, a startled gasp escapes me. He’s kissing me. Killian Flynn is kissing me.

  He takes full advantage of my astonished delight, tangling his tongue with mine. Another gasp escapes me.

  He’s giving me a glimpse of the bliss to come. Teaching me to crave it—to crave more. And I do. Oh, I do.

  Desire fogs my head. He’s as sweet as manna and as potent as the wine we once shared inside of Prynne. Waves of pleasure roll over me, eroding any resistance I might have harbored.

  “More,” I say.

  Muscled arms wind around me, yanking me closer, mashing my chest against his. I’m breathing his air and he’s breathing mine. Touching him isn’t just a want, but a need. I comb my hands through his hair. The strands are butter-soft and seem to melt against my fingers.

  He’s so strong and hard against me. Where he is stone, I am silk, and I can’t get enough.

  We’ve kissed before, and he’s touched me far more intimately, but this is somehow inestimably…better. As if he’s staking a claim, one he’s determined not to forget. As if he’s stoking a slow-burning fire with every intention of basking in the ensuing inferno.