Everlife (An Everlife Novel)

by Gena Showalter

  He wants to avenge Dior’s death, and I understand. A good portion of his Light died with her. Now he hopes to join her, wherever she is. And she is somewhere. I will believe nothing less.

  I reach out, take his hand, and squeeze. “You’ll get her back, Bow. We’ll find Killian, then we’ll find a way to free the spirits.”

  “We can free the spirits if we figure out a way to do something no other ordinary citizen has done since the dawn of time,” he grates.

  “We’ve already done something no other ordinary citizen has done,” I remind him. “We are Troikans, and we entered Many Ends. And did you ever think you’d see Killian Flynn happily married? Face it. I’m a miracle worker.”

  One corner of his mouth twitches, some of his tension easing. “I never thought I’d see Killian Flynn married, period.”

  “And don’t forget, Clay is in one of these hills, too. So is my mother. So is Killian’s mother. I’m not going to rest until everyone is free of Many Ends.”

  “Don’t forget we’ve got to pass through the creatures first.” Raanan unstraps the two branches that are hanging against his back, places one end in the ground, then lets the other end fall toward our foes. “I think I have an idea about how we can do it—and survive.”

  The creatures squeal as they scramble out of the way to avoid any kind of contact with the wood.

  Smiling now, Reed nods. “I get it. We walk across the branches. As we move forward, we drop another branch, then pick up the one behind us.”

  Giving him a pat on the shoulder, Raanan says, “Exactly, my friend. Exactly.”

  It could get us killed, but it could also maybe hopefully probably work. Really, what other choice do we have?

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

  “So how do we blind these fiends?” I ask.

  Raanan pops the bones in his neck. “Whatever the answer, I call first kill.”

  “We’re running low on Light,” Reed says. “We’ve got to have more.”

  Understatement of the year. The weaker you are, the harder it is to draw on love. We’ve been eating leaves from the Tree of Life, but we want to save as many as possible for any spirits we find.

  “We’re going to have to risk it,” Archer says, his tone firm. “I’ll go first. Ten and Reed will take the middle. Raanan will take the rear.”

  “Nope. No way.” I shake my head, tendrils of hair slapping my cheeks. “Think about it. Weight has to be evenly dispersed across the branch. The two lightest take the ends, and the two heaviest take the middle, becoming our center of gravity and preventing us from tilting one way or the other. That puts me in the front, you and Rannan in the middle and Reed in the rear.”

  There’s no reason to waste time debating my plan, and every reason to hurry. As my heart thumps against my ribs and sweat runs down my spine, I clutch my spear to use it for balance, draw in a breath and onto the “plank.”

  Every single creature eyes me like I’m some kind of tasty treat. Several even step closer while sharpening mental forks and knives.

  My friends go still, and I know they’re debating the wisest course of action.

  “Wait,” I say. If the hills have eyes, everyone dies.

  Eyes…eyes…

  Perhaps Aunt Lina meant…

  Well, why not? Pushing my weight into my heels, I stab one of the creatures directly in the eyes. Jab, jab, destroying one peeper after the other.

  The land shark squeals a high-pitched sound of pain as black goo sprays from the injured sockets. Other creatures leap onto its back, devouring every inch of it, even its bones.

  Steady, steady. During the frenzied feeding, I stab three more land sharks in the eyes, causing another frenzy.

  “Be ready. I’m stepping forward now,” I say, fighting tremors.

  As Archer steps up behind me and stabs two more creatures, I take my next step. The feeding continues. More goo sprays in every direction. The fetid scent of rot saturates the air. And the sucking, slurping, chomping sounds… I shudder.

  “On three,” I say. “One, two, three.” Archer and I step forward, allowing Raanan to move on to the branch without tipping us over.

  He stabs four of the creatures, and we motor forward a third time, allowing Reed to claim the rear of the branch.

  Jab, jab. I blind another creature—and wobble. My thudding heart almost stops as Reed wobbles, too. Archer plants a hand on my shoulder, steadying me. He also plants a hand on Raanan’s shoulder, and Raanan plants a hand on Reed’s shoulder. We’re a unit. A team. Balanced by each other. And surrounded by monsters.

  Must stay calm.

  “All right,” I say. “We step forward, stab a land shark, then step again. I hope everyone’s ready, because we’re doing this on my count.” No time to waste. “Three, two, one.”

  We step forward, stab the land sharks, then step again, as planned. For over an hour we repeat the action again and again. The only problem? We’re at a point of total exhaustion, and we’re only halfway to Killian’s hill.

  Reed wobbles, and though Raanan tries, he is unable to steady him. Features contorted with panic, Reed places one foot on the ground beside the branch. Just for a second, only a second. The land sharks rip into his ankle, removing his foot.

  Falling, he screams. Raanan reaches for him while Archer reaches for Raanan, and I reach for Archer, but we’re too late. Reed topples, and the land sharks instantly pounce.

  His screams end as quickly as they began, his voice box gone—just like the rest of him.

  I suck in a breath, and fight a wave of tears. My chin trembles. My heart aches, and bile burns my throat. I don’t… I can’t even process what… Such brutal, savage violence, rendered so quickly.

  “We’ll save him,” I say, my mouth dry. This can’t be the end for him. “We’ll add him to our to-do list, and we’ll save him.” We must.

  Archer scrubs a hand down his face. “How is he going to revive from that, Ten? Tell me. Please.”

  “He’s a spirit. Spirits never die, and his Lifeblood wets the ground, even now. Blood is life. He’ll regenerate.” He must. This can’t be the end of Reed. It just can’t. “We’ll save him,” I repeat.

  “If a spirit never dies, where is Reed now?” Archer spreads his arms to indicate the entire sub-realm.

  “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. But I don’t have to know how manna works, either, and yet it still heals me. Every time. So zip your mouth and get your butt in gear.” I wobble, and my stomach seems to drop into my ankles. When I steady, I clear the lump from my throat, and, with a gentler tone, I say, “I don’t have all the answers. I never have. I only know I have to do this. I can’t stop. I have to believe good will come from this or…or…” Or I will have no reason to motor on.

  I’ve lost too much already.

  “We gonna stand here debating something we can prove with action, or what?” Raanan demands in typical Raanan fashion.

  He’s right. I will prove the spirits in Many Ends can be saved, even spirits like Reed.

  “Let’s move.” Only fifty-five minutes to go. Our destination is ahead, still so close, still so far.

  Time continues to tick, and tick fast. We move forward together and stab the eyes of the land sharks in unison. Again. Then again and again.

  Forty-one minutes. Symphony No. 41 is the last symphony created by Mozart.

  Twenty-nine. The atomic number of copper, like Archer’s eyes.

  Thirteen. Apollo 13. Known by some as a successful failure. The rocket failed to land on the moon but much was learned in the rescuing of the crew.

  Our mission will be a successful success.

  Eight. Seven. Six. Five.

  “How much time before everything resets?” Archer asks. Sweat pours from him.

  “Four minutes, thirteen seconds.” Will the hills switch places? Zero! What will we do then? We must be on Killian’s hill.

  “I don’t care ho
w tired you are, pick up the pace,” Raanan commands.

  I obey. Drawing from my love for Killian and all my friends, I find a reservoir of strength. At last we reach the desired hill, bypassing the land sharks completely. I’m trembling as I pick up the final lavender leaf.

  What if everything we’re doing is for nothing? What if we’re stuck here?

  Ugh! Doubts suck. I can’t let them lead me—they’ll take me down a dark path. Without hope, there is no Light. That means hope is a necessary weapon right now.

  “What’s next?” Raanan asks. “Are we supposed to go through or over the hill?”

  “There are no caves that I can see.” Archer wipes sweat from his brow. “So, we go up.”

  Great. “Makes sense, since we’re dealing with birds.” My muscles burn and strain, my entire body trembling as we trudge up, up. My lungs feel as if they’re melting.

  Four words keep me motivated. Save Killian. Save everyone.

  “If we have to fight anything, we’re going to lose,” I rasp. “I’m almost tapped out.”

  Two minutes.

  “Leaf,” Archer says.

  Left with no other choice—if we want to win—we each consume a leaf. The last we’ll allow ourselves. Our supplies are running low, and what remains will be passed to Killian and the others.

  “Wait. You know what I don’t hear? Squawking,” Raanan says. “Maybe the birds are gone. But why leave?”

  With the new boost of strength, we increase our pace. But we aren’t yet all the way up when the entire world goes black. I gasp and stumble, rendered blind as another reset takes place. What will we find when—

  The darkness flees, revealing an island littered with hills, surrounded by water rather than tar and alligators. Water as far as the eye can see, surrounding the hills.

  If we’d been any lower, we would have drowned.

  Dread. Dismay. This is the lake. The one with the portal into the Kennels.

  Carnivorous mermaids swim beneath the surface. But okay. This isn’t a bad thing. Our portal home is a dive away.

  Did Lina time my death, so that I’d be on the hills when the lake appeared around them?

  I’m still on my knees, gripping hunks of grass and dirt. Realization. We’re still positioned on Killian’s hill!

  “Come on.” Heart hammering, I right my position. “We need to reach the top before the birds come back.”

  chapter twenty-nine

  “As long as there’s breath, there’s hope.”

  —Troika

  Ten

  Raanan reaches the top first, only to rear back, nearly falling down the side of the hill. As every muscle in his body seems to clench, he drops to his knees. The color drains from his cheeks.

  “What is it?” Archer demands. He reaches the top next—

  And has the same reaction.

  My stomach churns. What do they see?

  “Help me,” I plead, stretching out my arm.

  Archer’s eyes are pools of shock when he faces me. He takes my hand and hoists me to the top of the hill. A ledge. The inside of the hill has been hollowed out and—

  Air wheezes between my teeth. There are thousands of nests, each one occupied by a person or two. Or really, the remains of a person or two. Moans and groans assault my ears.

  I can’t… I don’t…

  Where is Killian?

  The scents of rot, punctured bowels and shredded bladders reach me, and my stomach stops churning in favor of heaving. I lurch forward to vomit. Bye-bye precious leaf. And so, so, sooooo sorry, person underneath me.

  “We were right. No birds.” Raanan’s words blend with the anguished chorus.

  I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and call, “Killian? Where are you?” What horrors has he endured?

  A terrible pause as I wait, hoping, praying. What if his final leaf blew away from another mountain? The right mountain?

  Finally I hear a weak and broken, “Lass.”

  One word. Only one, but still my heart leaps. My gaze scans…

  Oh, please, no. Killian is sprawled inside one of the nests, his chest cavity split down the center, exposing muscle, bone and multiple organs. I press a quavering hand over my mouth. Hot tears well in my eyes, spill down my cheeks; I feel like I’m crying rivers of acid.

  “Just hang on, love.” My voice trembles. “We’re going to…” What? We’ve come so far, and Killian is down there, helpless. He needs me now more than ever. All of these people need me, but I don’t know what to do.

  I glance at Archer, who is scanning the nests in search of Dior, just in case she reawakened here. I glance at Raanan, who is chalk white, staring at someone I’ve never met. I glance at the multitude of other victims. My gaze lands on a girl I don’t recognize—

  I inhale sharply, my horror magnifying. I do recognize her. This is Sloan. Once luxurious blond hair is now tangled, caked with…things, and thinned out; she has bald spots, where birds have picked her scalp clean. One of her eyes is missing. And one of her legs.

  She’s in worse shape than Killian.

  Mouth drier by the second, I call, “Hang on just a little longer. We’re going to free you.” How? How can I keep my word?

  A sob escapes her. Hope and relief glimmer in her remaining eye.

  “Miss Lockwood.” A feeble voice catches my attention. “Please. Help me.”

  I study the mass of faces…and find Dr. Vans, the former leader of Prynne, and once my greatest tormentor. Hatred pricks me, attempting to worm into my mind and heart, but I resist. Hatred = darkness. Darkness = weakness.

  Bitterness will not poison me. Not again. No more shadows, please and thank you. I will do the right thing. Save one, save all. I can’t pick and choose.

  Squawks sound in the distance. Stiffening, I whip around and spot large black clouds in the distance. No, not clouds. Birds. They are returning to their nests.

  Panic showers me with ice, determined to slow me. Ruin me. “They’re coming.” And there are too many for three lone—exhausted—Troikans to fight.

  “We’re in no shape to challenge them,” Raanan says. “Especially on their home turf.”

  Archer squares his shoulders. “We have only one weapon capable of keeping those birds away. Our Light.”

  Searching the Grid…searching…on the lookout for any rooms where extra Light might be stored. I find none, and my chest tightens. No Light, no hope. No hope, no victory. I call on my love for Killian and the others, but I’m tapped out. So weak.

  I try to open one of the doors in the Grid, just in case, but none of the knobs will turn. I’m locked out?

  —We’re here, Miss Lockwood, and we’re ready. Open your link to Killian, then your link to your fellow Troikans.—

  The voice overtakes my mind, familiar and welcome. General Alejandro Torres. He’s alive, and he’s…here, in Many Ends? But… I’m not bonded to him like I am to my friends.

  —What do you mean, you’re here?— Though I’m speaking with Alejandro, I keep my gaze on the birds. Closer…

  —I’m inside Myriad with your aunt. We’re bonded. It’s a long story best told when we have time. The other Generals are outside of Myriad. According to your guardian, Ambrosine planned to flood our Grid with shadows, weakening us. Now we’re going to use the Secondking’s plan against him and flood the Myriadian Grid with Light. The citizens will be weakened, my soldiers will enter the realm, and the final battle will be waged.—

  Too much information to process, every bit startling. What strikes me with the most force? Alejandro is the General my aunt married.

  Shock demands answers now, now, now, but he’s right. Later is better. Time is short, and this is everything I’ve wanted, wrapped up in a satin bow. This is help. Except, if the General is wrong, or this is a trick, I’ll expose everyone I love to Myriadian shadows. Exactly what I fought to prevent during Javier’s torture.

  Closer still…

  “Guess we have no other choice.” Raanan’s tone is resigned, as if
he knows he’s going to die but plans to go down swinging. “Get ready to engage.”

  There’s no time to think this through. I didn’t trust my team before, and it cost me dearly. I won’t make the same mistake again.

  “Don’t fight, just trust me.” I grab both Archer’s and Raanan’s hands. “Concentrate on your bond to me while I concentrate on my bond to Killian.”

  “If we stand here,” Archer says, “we’ll be—”

  “Please,” I beg, and then I decide action is better than words. I close my eyes and do as promised, concentrating on my bond to Killian while dropping my shields.

  Whoosh. One of the doors springs open of its own accord. That exact moment. Light floods me. Light from the people of Troika. Not just Alejandro and the Generals—so bright, nothing brighter—but Laborers and Leaders, Headhunters and Messengers, too.

  My aches and pains vanish. Amazing warmth invades every inch of my body, then spills from me into my friends.

  “Too much,” Raanan grates. “Too much for us to contain.”

  I’ve experienced this before, when I cleansed Dior of her first case of Penumbra, only on a much smaller scale. “As Conduits, we have the power to share. So share it! Now!”

  Just. Like. That. Light explodes from our pores. We’re lifted off our feet, held suspended by magnificent rays of Light.

  We soar, shining, shining so brightly, empowered by Light, by love. We are warhorses, each of us, ready for battle, refusing to give up, even when the odds are stacked against us.

  Nothing is impossible for us. Victory is ours. Victory will always be ours.

  As quickly as the Light hit, it disappears. We collapse to the ground.

  Panting, I blink open my eyes. I’m flat on my back, staring up at a bright Light that isn’t coming from the boys. No, it reminds me of a sunrise in the Land of the Harvest. For a moment, I imagine children playing in the streets, laughing together, ice cream melting in dirt-smudged hands.

  Sitting up gingerly, I survey Many Ends and a fresh dose of shock saturates my cells. The birds are scattered on the ground—dead. Mermaids float atop the surface of the lake—dead. The hills are gone, the land flat, millions of people lying all around me. Missing limbs and organs have been replaced. Everyone is healed and whole!