Everlife (An Everlife Novel)

by Gena Showalter

  My tension escalates, my hands balling at my sides. Where is she? Did she survive her aunt’s shot? Part of me hopes she did, somehow, some way. I love that girl more than I love my own life, and I want her well. Even if it means I must live without her. Or die without her.

  143, 10

  I want her to have a full, long life, even if it doesn’t include me.

  On the flip side, I very much want that life to include me.

  I know I don’t deserve her. I’ve lived my life pretending to be everyone’s friend—from my bosses to my targets— until the moment I had to make a choice: who could do me the most good, who could do me the most harm. I did everything in my power to make people love me, not just because I hoped to avoid the same rejections I suffered in my childhood, but because I wanted others to act against their own best interests in order to help me. That’s how I’ve won so many spirits for Myriad.

  Somehow Ten saw something good in me. She forgave me for my crimes. At the end, I felt her emotions, including more love than I have ever dreamed possible.

  A blood-curdling scream cuts through the air. I’m rushing forward before my brain registers I’ve taken a step. Branches slice my cheeks and dizziness swims in my brain.

  As I sway on my feet, I slow. When I reach out to brace myself against a tree trunk, a thousand stings explode in my hand. Yelping, I jump back—and trip over a fallen branch.

  Everything is working against me. This must be Many Ends.

  From my perch on the ground, I blink rapidly until my vision clears. Of course, even then I’m not given a reprieve. The ground begins to shake, and the air thickens with dust.

  Overhead, a plume of dark smoke mushrooms across the sky, and I tense. As the smoke dissipates…

  No way, just no way, though I doubt my eyes deceive me. The smoke breaks apart and transforms into birds. Large, black birds with spiked beaks, skeletal bodies and wings that look to be made of sharpened bone and dipped in metal. Their claws are definitely made of metal.

  As Ten would say: Zero!

  One of the creatures catches sight of me and swoops down, down. With a squawk, it stretches its claws in my direction. Intending to collect me? What, I’m to be dinner?

  Sorry. Not today. I grit my teeth and wait for it…wait… Now! I kick out my leg the moment the creature is within striking distance. Contact! Another squawk sounds. The creature soars through the forest, crash lands, and skids across the ground. I expect him to be down for the count, but he regains his bearings quickly and leaps into the sky.

  As I climb to shaky legs, he circles overhead. Two friends join him, looking at me, projecting a single message: You can run but you can’t hide.

  Things are about to get ugly.

  Thinking fast, I reach for a fat, fallen branch, but again, a thousand lightning stings explode over my hand like mini-grenades, courtesy of the tiny bugs that are crawling all over the wood.

  My vision begins to swim all over again, leaving me defenseless. No, no. I’ve trained for this—trained in the dark.

  Though my sight is compromised, I can rely on my other senses. I go still, listening. My ears twitch, detecting a whoosh, whoosh of wings. Wind brushes my face. The scent of rot…growing closer, closer…

  I dive out of the way. A sharp sting agonizes my back, claws scraping my spine, but I’m moving too swiftly for the birds to grab hold of me. Thankfully, my vision clears as I jump to my feet. The birds remain low as they circle around me…and dart toward me.

  Deciding to use my fists this go-round, I stand my ground. Ready…ready…

  Just before contact, a thick branch comes out of nowhere, hitting two of the birds. New squawks. Hisses. I disable the third creature as planned, with a fist to the face. The bones in my hand crack, and pain floods me. Pain must flood the bird, too. It flops to the ground and struggles to straighten.

  Another bird knocks me to the ground in order to grab its friend and return to the sky.

  I roll to my back and blink in shock and relief.

  “You okay?” My helper offers me a hand.

  Ten! My heart leaps at the sight of her. She’s not glowing, but she’s not surrounded by shadows, either. She’s alive, and she’s here. Our connection is gone, but she’s here. She’s safe. Or as safe as possible, considering our location. Nothing else matters to me.

  “I could be dyin’—again—and I’d be okay right now, because yer here. I love you, lass.” I take her hand, but I don’t stand. I pull her down on top of me. Breath gushes from my lungs as her slight weight settles atop me. I’m overcome, undone and overjoyed all at once. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Never. You’re stuck with me. And stop apologizing. You died for me, Killian. I’d say we’re even.” She softens against me for a split second, and I luxuriate in the feel of our bodies pressed together. Then she places a swift kiss on my lips and climbs to her feet. “We need to reach the Tree of Life, and fast.”

  “Tree of Life?”

  “Come on!” She grabs the limb and takes off.

  I have no choice but to jump up and follow. Along the way, I snatch the limb from her grip, freeing her from its weight.

  “Only step where I step,” she says. “Okay? All right? The entire realm is a maze. There are invisible doorways. Pits, tricks and poisons. Monsters and disasters waiting everywhere.”

  Monsters that are worse than the birds? Wonderful. “So this is Many Ends?”

  “Yep. Where happiness comes to die.”

  I reel. She was right. All along she was right about Myriad’s connection to Many Ends. How it’s possible, I don’t know. How it’s been kept a secret, though, I can guess. Ambrosine has always refused to host a resurrection. When Archer and I were friends, he told me it takes power from the Secondking to bring back one of his people. Power Ambrosine refuses to relinquish.

  “How do you know where tae go?” She’s been here several times before, yes, but I can see no marks to distinguish one path from another.

  “I see the patterns. Raised stones and limbs every few steps, plus other tells—like glittery patches of air.” She is panting now, the temperature rising. Sweat pours from us.

  “Others are here?” I’m panting, too, the poisons I’ve already encountered still playing havoc with my systems. Without ambrosia or manna—or whatever I need now—I have no way to heal. Except naturally, of course, but who wants to wait for that?

  “More spirits than I’ve ever encountered before. When the birds arrived, everyone took off in different directions. Some vanished through invisible doorways, some got grabbed by birds, some by gorillas. A few escaped, but I don’t know where they ended up.”

  Gorillas? Invisible doorways? “Why did I no’ appear in the same location as the rest of you? And how did you find me?”

  She turns a corner and yelps as a branch slaps her in the neck. I snake my arms around her waist and spin her, taking the next lash against my back. Ouch. The bark bites into the wounds caused by the birds, and I grunt. Stars wink over my vision all over again.

  Ten pauses, her gentle hands framing my face. Just for a moment. Gone far too swiftly. But in that stolen moment, I’m no longer in hell but heaven. She’s all I see, all I know. Her blue hair lifts in the breeze, and her mismatched eyes regard me with an emotion I cannot name or feel. The bond… I frown. Like the Grid, it’s gone, and a great sense of loss overwhelms me.

  “Be careful, baby. Distraction kills.” She leaps back into action, the moment broken. I remain close to her heels.

  Baby. “I get why you hate the endearment. But shouldna you hate lass, too? It’s just as common.”

  “Not for you. You hate your accent and fight it, but I make it slip out unbidden. Face it. You have no defense against me. What’s not to love about that?”

  Darling girl.

  “And to answer your previous questions, I don’t know why you ended up elsewhere. To find you, I followed the echo of your voice.”

  “Do you feel our connection, then?”


  “Faintly,” she admits. “I’m aware of the Grid, and our bond, but I can’t quite get a lock on either one.”

  With a world-rocking roar, a gigantic ape leaps into our path. In unison, Ten and I skid to a stop. The ape swipes at Ten with a beefy arm, but I’m faster, leaping to the safety zone and taking her with me. When he swipes air, he issues another roar.

  He’s as wide as the trees, with a barrel chest. His arms and legs are the size of battering rams, and his teeth the size of sabers. But the worst thing about him? He has friends.

  Six gorillas step from the foliage, revealing we’re trapped in a tight-knit circle.

  “Zero!” Ten gasps. “I led us straight into a trap.”

  chapter twenty-three

  “Do not be led by opportunity. Be led by peace.”

  —Troika

  Ten

  I knew it before, and I know it now with far more certainty. The creatures of Many Ends have one goal: Destroy everyone.

  The birds hope to carry us to their mountain, where they will feast on our organs, again and again. The screams… even now they assault my ears. The gorillas want to beat us into submission and, yep, feast on our organs.

  The information came courtesy of Kayla and Reed during my last visit.

  I’ve fought these gorillas before, but only one at a time. I’ve run from a big group of them, and if not for the lake— a lake that is nowhere near here, at least that I can see— they would have caught me. They can’t swim. Or won’t. In Many Ends, the lake is as dangerous as everything else.

  “You see monsters every day. But you’ve never seen a monster like me.” There’s just enough contempt in Killian’s voice to prove he means what he says. “I suggest you walk away. I’m out of mercy, only have wrath to offer.”

  He moves in front of me to act as my shield, and I’m grateful, I am, but there’s no way to protect all of me at once. We’re surrounded.

  “When they attack, and they will, go for the throat, the only vulnerable part of their bodies,” I tell him.

  At least we aren’t dealing with the monkey-spiders. (No relation to spider monkeys in the Land of the Harvest.) The creatures here have the bottom half of a toddler-size spider, with eight hairy legs tipped by ivory hooks, and the top half of a monkey with two heads. A nightmare and freak show rolled into one.

  I could win the idiot of the year award, right? I mean, I wanted to return to this land and actively fought to get here.

  One amazing development? The shadows no longer rule my mind. There isn’t even a glimmer of darkness. As soon as I “woke up” in Many Ends, I opened doors inside the Grid, letting Light spill out, sending whatever shadows that remained fleeing. But it was then, that very moment, that my connection to the Grid and my bond to Killian faded.

  Focus. I’m already cut and bruised from my trek to Killian, not to mention the fight I had with the spirits of soldiers who died seconds before and after me. Something I opted not to tell Killian. I’d rather he not get angry with the men and women, boys and girls we’re here to save.

  Save… The word rolls through my mind, reminding me of my aunt’s newest rhyme.

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

  The doorways. Okay, then. They are invisible…mostly. Glittering pockets of air lead to entirely new locations within Many Ends. If we go through one now, we’ll be transported away from our new opponents. And we have to get away from the gorillas. We have to reach the Tree of Life. There’s only one in the entire realm, and it produces…something.

  Something akin to manna, maybe. Definitely not ambrosia, despite Many End’s connection to Myriad. Whatever it is—I’m just gonna go with manna—the creatures here avoid it. Its leaves have the power to heal and strengthen us, and even protect us from the harsh realities of the landscape.

  In Many Ends, there is sunshine and there is darkness, but both are warped. The sunshine is too hot, scorching everyone and everything in its path, and the darkness is too thick. In the cool shade, we can take time to heal, regroup and figure out our next move.

  Zero! There’s no time to look for one of the doorways.

  With a war cry, the gorillas converge on us, swinging their mighty fists.

  Killian—

  Dang him! He trips me, at the same time spinning me out of the way. As I crash into the ground, he meets round one with my branch, but the wood swiftly snaps in half.

  I want to slap myself. I selected the branch because it was light enough to carry while we were on the move, but also because few insects were crawling along the surface. In Many Ends, the insects inject toxins meant to slow a spirit down for a second or two.

  A single second can win or lose a battle.

  Killian is fast, and he is methodical. He ducks when necessary and punches when the opportunity arises. So do I. I pop up, nail a gorilla in the throat, and dive back down.

  At this rate, we’re going to lose.

  “Run, lass.” Killian spins before shoving me to the ground, his body enveloping me. “Please.” Pop, pop. He hisses, and I cringe. POP. The sound of his bones breaking.

  Without our bond, his injuries are his own. That can be worked to our favor. But—

  The realization hits me as hard as the gorillas are hitting Killian. He said please. Over this. To him, pleading for anything is begging for something.

  Melting…

  Focus! Right. But come on! As if I’ll ever leave him behind simply to save my own hide.

  Determined, I crawl between a gorilla’s legs, escaping the circle of doom. Wasting no time, I jump on the back of the gorilla, jam my thumbs into his eye sockets and pop out both of his eyes. Cruel. Necessary.

  He roars and raises his arms to beat at me. I hop down and swipe up the two pieces of the broken branch. Standing, I swing at another gorilla. Whack, whack. One slap of a branch after another. Impact jars me, not him, and I stumble back.

  Slowly he turns to face me and give me a death glare. Without hesitation, I strike, jabbing the end of one branch into his throat. When he hunches over, desperate for air, I knock him in the side of the head with the other branch. He careens, toppling into the beast next to him. As that one turns, I jab him in the throat, too, with enough force to crush his windpipe.

  Killian is forgotten, every gorilla concentrating on me. And why not? Killian is no threat, his face cut and bleeding, his body motionless as it sprawls on the ground, his hand sticking out between their legs—reaching for me?

  Please, please, please be only unconscious, because I’m not sure where your spirit will reform.

  “Cowards,” I spit. “Takes six of you to kill two spirits, does it? You’re that weak?”

  Understanding darkens their eyes. So. Like the animals in Troika, communication is a skill.

  Talents for their resumes: Comprehends English, eats people.

  A twitch of Killian’s fingers. He’s waking up! Okay, okay. Time to get this show on the road. Killian needs to escape the circle, so, I need to keep attention away from him.

  I twirl the branches and smile. “Well. Come on, cowards. Show me what you’ve got.”

  Roars. Three of the beasts dive at me. At the last second, I duck. They soar overhead, knocking into fellow soldiers. As those soldiers protest, Killian yanks at the ankles of the creature who remained behind to beat him, then pops to his feet. Lifeblood soaks his face. His gaze is narrowed, his irises fierce and glittering. Despite a wealth of injuries, he’s never looked more beautiful.

  In a single, fluid move, he takes a gorilla by the neck and twists, breaking the spine. Despite his own broken bones, he kicks out his leg, punting another gorilla to the side.

  I give the stumbling gorilla an extra whack, and a path opens up. Killian limps my way, grabs my wrist and pulls me forward.

  “We need to find a doorway, fast,” I pant, searching for one of those glittering air pockets…searching…

  As a chorus of roars s
ounds behind us, I spot what we need and tug Killian in the right direction. Unsure where we’ll end up, we soar through a doorway—

  Between one blink and the next, I’m with Killian and then I’m alone, right back where I started. Zero!

  I’m certain he ended up in the spot where I first found him. If I go back for him—when I go back—we’ll encounter the same problems as before. I must be better armed. Problem is, there’s a lack of viable weapons.

  In Many Ends, every inch, tree and creature is designed to hinder the spirits trapped within. There are thousands of discarded branches, each with sharp ends, but poisonous bugs crawl all over the best ones. There are trees with grooves all over their trunks, offering the perfect footholds, but poisonous sludge drips from each one. And let’s not forget the fact that the leaves are like the Venus Flytrap, with razor-sharp teeth.

  The air is dry, hotter than hot, my sweat doing little to cool me. Screams of anguish continue to fill the air, soon joined by wails of agony and moans of pain. A snakes slithers past me, then pauses to stick out its tongue and taste the air. Its forked tongue. At the same time, ember-bugs buzz around me; every time they touch me, I blister.

  In the distance, a crack of thunder sounds, and I cringe. Zero! A rain shower will cool the air and drive away the insects and monsters—but every drop will burn like acid.

  I need to—

  Whoosh! Something hard slams into the back of my head, and the pain is excruciating. I stumble forward, barely managing to prevent a dirt kiss. Footsteps—thump, thump, thump.

  Despite a bout of dizziness, I spin, and kick out my leg. Contact. My attacker grunts. He’s a man—a spirit—not a gorilla. Probably one of the soldiers who died in battle today.

  I swing my branch, forcing him to jump back. “Stop this,” I pant. “To survive this realm, we’ve got to work together.”

  “I know who you are, and I’ll never work with—”

  A bird swoops from the sky, sinks its claws into the man’s shoulders and hefts him into the air. Happens in less than a blink of time. I don’t understand. Why was he grabbed but not me?