Everlife (An Everlife Novel)

by Gena Showalter

  Then a gentle voice whispers through my head, startling me. —Love my Ten.—

  Jeremy. For one moment, my defenses are down. A ray of Light glides past my shield, along the Grid and rains over me like ice-cold water on a scorching summer day. I jolt. The ray came from my little brother, didn’t it? My infant brother? Not by force, but by love.

  I can’t let Javier get to him, and fight with every ounce of my newfound strength to fortify the shield. Must protect Jeremy. If Javier senses any vulnerability inside me…

  “What just happened?” Victor demands.

  —What just happened?— A demand from Archer.

  Javier’s eyes narrow on me. Leaning forward, he sniffs me. “Somehow, she received a bolt of Light.”

  “How?” Ambrosine walks a circle around me. He seems to glide, his grace unparalleled. “I have worked hard to ensure there are no sources of Light in this realm.”

  He has worked hard…meaning, there were once sources of Light for Myriadians?

  “The Grid,” Victor says. “Her friends. They love each other.”

  “Impossible,” Zhi replies.

  All three males stare at me as if I’m a rat in a lab. Though it strains already strained muscles, I keep my chin lifted high. Not by word or deed will I reveal my inner turmoil. Reveal a weakness, they’ll exploit it—and more!

  With the Light came strength, yes, but also knowledge. Knowledge is power. I fought too hard for control of my Secondlife, and I won’t allow my future to fall to ruins at the hands of men who see no value in me, and no worth in anyone willing to break the cycle of darkness and pave a better path for a better future.

  How often they disparage Troikans for their rules. Too restricting. All work, no play. But at the heart of those rules: love. Love fellow spirits, love humans, love yourself. While these men tout indulgence and self-love, they punish anyone who dares put themselves before the realm.

  Hypocrites.

  The Secondking stares at me for a long while, an obvious attempt at intimidation. Fear of any kind cranks his chain. Perhaps even strengthens him.

  Shadows, feeding…

  When I refuse to cower, he snaps, “Cage her and put her in the town square until our new Abrogates arrive. Let my people witness the weakness of Troika’s strongest soldier.” My cheeks heat with humiliation, but I force myself to laugh, as if he’s just offered me a tropical vacation. “Say goodbye to your PB&J.” At his confused look, I add, “One day I’m going to knock your penis, brain and jaw right off your—”

  Slap. Stars wink before my eyes.

  Javier gets in my face, his nose pressed against mine. “Give me another crack at her.” Though he’s speaking to his Secondking, he’s glaring at me. “I can get through. I know I can.”

  “If that were true, you would have done so already. Instead, you did nothing but waste our time.” Ambrosine wipes an invisible piece of lint from his shoulder. “Admit it. The girl can’t even stand without assistance, and yet she bested you. You should be on your knees begging for your life, not demanding a favor.”

  A vein throbs in the center of Javier’s forehead. He pops his jaw, but he says no more.

  Zhi clears his throat. “And what would you have me do with Mr. Flynn?”

  Victor steps forward, shoulders squared. “I would like to keep him. Consider him a gift from a beloved father to his loyal son.”

  I almost shout No! A thousand times no. Victor has a score to settle, and he won’t hesitate to hurt Killian in order to hurt me.

  For the third or fourth time, my gaze locks with Killian’s. I’ve lost track—how unlike me. I’m not even sure how many seconds pass as I stare into soulful gold eyes flecked with electric blue; they are filled with hurt, so much hurt, all ingrained. In my mind I see the little boy who desperately craved a family of his own, who faced rejection over and over again. The nightmare of his childhood is being relived here today. Rejected and abandoned by his king, no friend at his back.

  I have Archer, Clay and the others. Killian has no one.

  He had me, but he threw my trust away.

  “You hardly deserve a reward for your most recent failures,” Ambrosine tells Victor. Then he sighs. “However, you did ruin several cities in Troika, so, you may have the caged boy for the rest of the day. Do what you will with him, as long as you do not kill him. He’s still connected to the girl.”

  Having delivered his verdict, he glides from the room on a carpet of shadows.

  Maybe I’ve been stripped of sanity, because the first thought I have? Drama king. A hysterical laugh bubbles from me.

  On a mission, Zhi marches my way. “Do you think you’ve won a reprieve, Miss Lockwood? Is that why you dare to laugh?” He reaches out, clasps my chin in his hand and forces my gaze to meet his. “You, girl, are a fool.”

  The moment his skin touches mine, a scene flashes inside my head, and I gasp. I’m not bonded to this man—or perhaps I am, through Killian. Or perhaps Zhi’s actions against me formed some kind of twisted tie between us. Perhaps my new status as Architect comes with perks.

  Again I see a dark-haired little boy, but this time, the image has nothing to do with Killian. This boy is no more than ten years old, perched at the edge of a bed, trembling. Like Zhi, he has dark eyes with a ring of ebony around the edge.

  Realization: Not like Zhi at all—the boy is Zhi.

  Tears slip down his cheeks, but he’s careful to swallow his whimpers so that he never makes a sound. There’s a cut on his lip, and drops of crimson blood drying on his chin, proving he’s human. There’s also a knot in his jaw.

  His father paces in front of him, his fisted hands smeared with crimson. His blood, as well as his son’s. The last time he punched, Zhi’s teeth cut into his knuckles.

  “We are Troikans,” his father snarls. “Your visit to the Myriadian center has shamed us. Our loyalty will be questioned now. How could you do this to us?”

  “Because…because I don’t want to be like you,” Zhi whispers. Then he raises his head, emboldened by hatred and defiance.

  “Ingrate! Fool!” His father backhands him. “You would be so lucky.”

  Zhi withers under the new onslaught of pain, but as quickly as the scene manifested, it vanishes.

  I stare at him now, at the adult he’s become. Knowledge is power. I understand his hatred for Troikans. It was beaten into him.

  Words are either seeds or water. What is spoken is planted in the rich soil of a human heart. What is spoken again is poured over the seed, and in time, that seed sprouts. Roots grow. A trunk. Branches, leaves. Fruit. Like produces like. Speak evil, reap a harvest of evil. Can’t see the forest for the trees. Soon, if the tree isn’t uprooted, the fruit will be eaten…and shared.

  We must break the cycle. Help create a better path for a better future.

  Whatever Zhi sees in my expression unnerves him. The compassion I can’t help but feel? His hand falls away, and he steps back, widening the distance between us.

  “There are good and bad Troikans.” Every word scrapes my raw throat. “Same with Myriad. Good and bad. Though I’m still waiting to meet a good one.” From the corner of my eye, I see Killian flinch, as if he’s been punched. Oops. Sorry. But truth is truth. “Want to know what’s similar between us? We all have baggage, even our enemies.”

  I get it now. Even when I don’t understand why someone does what they do, or why they make the choices that they do, I must choose love.

  Their actions cannot dictate my reaction. And that goes double for Killian.

  “You, shut your mouth,” Zhi snaps. “And you,” he says to Javier, “let her down.”

  Javier glares at me before holding up one arm. The shadows release my wrists and ankles, and I topple to the floor. What little oxygen I’ve managed to draw in leaves me in a single burst.

  Victor stalks to me, leaving his Shell behind. He is pale and sickly thin, with tiny nubs growing at the ends of his arms. Hardly matters. He doesn’t need hands to hurt me. Now that
I’m on the floor, too weak to stand, he kicks out his leg, his boot nailing me in the stomach. My already empty lungs deflate, and another shower of stars winks before my eyes.

  Just like that. My resolve to love and not hate is put to the test.

  He draws back his foot to deliver another kick—

  He topples before contact, his face smashing into the ground. I peer beyond him to Killian, whose arm is sticking out of the cage, the wire from his wrist cuff extended and wrapped around Victor’s ankle. No time for Zhi or Javier to react. With another yank from Killian, the wire cuts through muscle, catching on bone, nearly removing Victor’s entire foot.

  A scream of anguish rents the air.

  Zhi unsheathes a blade and hacks the wire in two. Panting, sweating, Victor reaches for me. I spin around and punt him in the face. Yes, I’m determined to love my enemies. No, I won’t allow others to abuse me.

  The muscles in my thigh quake and burn, the bones threatening to crack. Agony sears me, but I brace, ready to deliver another kick if necessary.

  Snarling, he reaches for me again, but this time Zhi steps in the way.

  “Enough,” the Leader says, and motions to Javier.

  Though Javier is vibrating with rage, he remains quiet as he helps Victor stand and hobble back to his Shell.

  “You just made the biggest mistake of your life, Flynn.” Victor smiles. “Did you forget? I own you now.”

  Killian doesn’t pull his gaze from me, and through the bridge between us I feel a frisson of…strength? As if he’s returning the Light I gave him. “I am the fool, Victor. I deserve what you do tae me. I only wish you were more like yer brother. Archer is—”

  “Dead,” Victor snarls. “In the grave where he belongs.”

  “You don’t think he Fused with a human?” I ask, batting my lashes at him.

  A slow smile curves Killian’s beautiful lips. “He experienced Resurrection. He’s alive and well.”

  In a blink, Victor is as stiff as a statue. “No. There were two Generals. The people would not vote for a lowly Laborer.”

  “The people didn’t,” I say, trying to stand. My legs are jelly and refuse to hold me, and I crash back to the floor. Zero! “The honor of the selection was given to me. And guess what? He’s a Conduit.”

  Because of my predicament, the enormity of the development managed to escape me until just this moment. Now, I rejoice. Princess Mariée, Archer, Raanan, Clay, Reed, Clementine, Kayla, even Sloan—we are a team.

  In a single day, Troika went from two Conduits to seven.

  The rainbow has seven colors. Seven means completeness and perfection, both of the physical plane and the spiritual.

  Now there is one Conduit for each city. Coincidence?

  Coincidence shmincidence.

  “Impossible.” Victor gives a violent shake of his head. “Even if it’s true.” Javier’s chest puffs up before he bends downs and hefts me into his arms. “I will destroy them all. No one is my match.”

  I want to fight him, but don’t. I must pick my battles. Here, now, I’m well aware of the fact that I don’t have the strength to win. But. As soon as Javier leaves me in the town square, I can lower my shield to receive Light from my friends without reservation. A veritable torrent of Light.

  I’ll strengthen. I’ll plot, plan.

  Tomorrow, when—if—other Abrogates arrive, I’ll be ready.

  chapter seventeen

  “Corruption happens gradually, a slow fade of Light as darkness creeps in.”

  —Troika

  Killian

  Once, I considered myself pain. Today I am rage. It fills me, consumes me and darkens every corridor of my mind. Most of it is self-directed. I’ve done many despicable things in my Everlife, but this is by far the worst.

  My actions led to Ten’s capture and torture.

  While Javier Diez attempted to gain access to the Troikan Grid, I could only lament my part in her pain. As I chastised myself for not trusting her, a new memory assailed me. Just one, not nearly enough. Ten stood before me, her back to my front. She was human and on the verge of becoming drunk. I was in a Shell. We were both prisoners inside of Prynne. Unwillingly on her part, willingly on mine. I’d signed up in order to spend time with her and convince her to make covenant with Myriad.

  Erica was there, too, only she was in spirit form, so Ten couldn’t see her. Erica leaned over to whisper into the human’s ear, His towering height is a very good thing, there’s nothing to be afraid of, and maybe you should hold on to his shirt. For balance.

  An effort to influence her. While Ten’s ears failed to hear the words, her spirit picked up everything. That’s how Flankers—a subdivision of Messengers—worked.

  “Are you ready for me?” Ten asked me.

  “Can anyone ever be ready for you, lass?” I replied, and even then, I’d been scared of the truth. I wasn’t ready for her. “But don’t worry. I won’t let you get hurt. You have my word.”

  Finally she trusted me enough to fall into my arms. When I caught her, I spun her around. If Erica hadn’t been there, I would have kissed Ten then and there. Even then, I wanted her. Craved her like a drug.

  I might have kept my word that day, but I have broken it many times since.

  I made a terrible mistake today. I trusted the wrong people, betrayed the wrong girl. An innocent girl.

  Once, she saw something great in me. She looked at me with adoration and admiration, even hope. When Javier carried her out of the small room, she cast me a final glance, one laced with wariness and suspicion. That glance hurt in ways I never imagined possible.

  The electricity might have burned my body, but Ten’s look burned my soul.

  I’ve lost something precious: her trust. And for what? Imprisonment, degradation and pain, all of which I deserve. But she does not.

  My hands fist. Determination rises inside me, an undeniable tide. Those who hurt her will pay. I will make sure of it. And I will do whatever proves necessary to win back her trust.

  First, I will escape. Then I will save her.

  Firstking help Myriad then. I will torch the realm and never look back.

  “Let’s get you more comfortable, shall we.” Victor Prince clutches the edge of my cage—a cage tangible to both spirits and Shells—and drags me through the door.

  Despite the injuries his spirit sustained, his Shell is strong. The outer casing is meant to shield us through the worst of times. Like a type of armor.

  Revenge might not be Ten’s thing, but it is mine.

  Forgive. Let the Light illuminate your path and order your steps.

  The other side of me. A side I ignore.

  As I’m hauled through a hallway, down an elevator, outside the building and through a Stairwell, my rage continues to blaze. Every step he takes only serves as kindling. I want to maim and kill him. I will maim and kill him. I will also maim and kill Zhi, Javier and even Ambrosine— after I save Ten.

  In the town square, she’ll be used as an example. Love Troika and suffer.

  As if she hasn’t suffered enough.

  While Javier did his best to invade her Grid, she remained strong as a rock, astounding me. No wonder I once fell in love with her. She is the only ten in a world of ones. She endured excruciating pain in order to protect her people, and despite her distress—distress I, too, experienced firsthand, certain I would die at any moment—she fought, a warrior to her core, and she won.

  Now I will win, or I will die trying.

  Victor drags me through a crowded section of the City of Carnal Delights. The carnival. More dragons fly overhead, streams of fire like fireworks. There’s a kissing booth, and even an orgasm booth. Come one, come all. Every game involves stripping. Lose the severed hand toss and you have to remove an article of clothing. Lose Whack-a-Prisoner, and you have to remove an article of clothing. So really, everyone wins.

  Except the spirits in the Kennels, of course. They provide the severed hands, and they are the ones who get beaten with a b
arbed-wire-covered baseball bat.

  There are rides: the carousel showcases Shell versions of Troikan Generals on their hands and knees, bumper cars fly around an arena smashing into replicas of famous Troikan landmarks and a zip line offers a tour of the entire realm.

  Snacks are sold: cotton ambrosia, fried ambrosia, ambrosia corn and ambrosia cakes. Even ambrosia bacon.

  As a child, I often snuck out of the Center of Learning to play here. No one paid me any attention then, and no one pays me any attention now. I don’t bother shouting for help. I know these people; I won’t be aided—I’ll be mocked.

  Victor takes me through another Stairwell, then a Gate, and we enter the Capital of Bliss. Also known as the Cob. The air smells of chocolate, champagne and sex. The most basic indulgences. Skyscrapers, cottages and pyramids are scattered throughout. For our poorer citizens—those who refuse to fight in the war—there are warehouses or communal living spaces.

  Here, crowds stop and stare at us, everyone dressed in the era of their death. Be you, be free. Some people laugh at me, others look at me with pity. Once, both reactions would have sent me over the edge. I would have ranted and raved. Having been raised in the Learning Center, abandoned by my father, overlooked by other families, I craved the good opinion of others, desperate for acceptance. Now I see the truth.

  I wanted to be admired, but I also wanted to make everyone who’d ever overlooked me sorry for doing so. Another type of revenge.

  At this moment? The opinions of others—of strangers— mean nothing to me. These people have no bearing on who I am or what I’m worth. With my actions and words, I decide my worth. And after everything I’ve done to Ten, I’m not worth much. But I’m going to change that.

  Escape. Save Ten, kill our enemies. Rescue the survivors in Many Ends, including my mother.

  It’s time to face facts. Myriadians lie. The end justifies the means, Ambrosine said. What he meant: Sometimes, for the greater good, evil is necessary. But he’s wrong. Evil is never necessary. It will never help the masses, will only ever hurt. And lies are evil; the very language of malevolence.

  If the Secondking will lie about little things, he will most assuredly lie about big things. Like Fate and Fusion.