Firstlife

by Gena Showalter

  The very question I once asked him. "Some things you can't explain. You just know. Right here." I take his hand and place it over my racing heart. "The truth is so bright the shadows of doubt are chased away."

  "What of actual proof?"

  "I'm living proof."

  He's thoughtful as he twines our fingers and leads me into the hall. "If you want to stay, we'll stay, but not in this room."

  "Let's go to my bedroom." I point straight ahead, only to realize he probably has the blueprint of the house memorized. "Did you hurt Deacon to get to me?"

  "Are you kidding? I wanted to fight him, but he told me to do whatever was necessary to protect you and then he opened the door for me."

  Surprise, surprise. Troika and Myriad worked together.

  We enter what had once been my sanctuary, and everything is just as I left it. The king-size bed has a large white canopy. When I was a little girl who dreamed of living in the moonlight of Myriad and marrying a handsome prince, my dad would use my sheets to make me a castle.

  My mind shies away from the memory. Too painful right now.

  I pull from Killian's side to walk around, bypassing the chrome-and-glass nightstand to stop in front of the vanity, where I used to sit every morning before school to fix my hair and makeup. Over the marble fireplace hangs a portrait of white roses. While some of the roses are skillfully done, some are clearly not so skillfully done. My mother and I painted the portrait together. Our first--really our only--dual project. My chin trembles. I was seven at the time.

  I walk to the bed and recline in the center. Killian parts the window curtains and peers outside--searching for trouble? He checks the seam of the pane and places a small black device on the lock.

  "A flash-scribe?" I ask.

  "Similar. This one creates sounds waves imperceptible to humans. It will keep spirits from entering the house and spying on you, but not Shells." He closes the distance and stretches out beside me, dragging me against his body, holding me close, offering comfort.

  It isn't long before Archer appears in a blaze of light. He spots us and, as if it's the most natural thing in the world, stretches out at my other side.

  Killian stiffens, but doesn't protest. I'm glad. I'm surrounded by pure male aggression, and I like it. I take comfort in it, the most I've experienced in a long, long time. These boys are my friends. I owe them so much. I mean, even though I've distrusted them, hurt them, snapped at them and insulted them, they've stuck by my side, even putting their own agendas aside.

  "Jeremy is with General Levi, a man I respect with every ounce of my being," Archer says. "He'll be protected and loved as if he is Levi's son. In fact, Levi is already teaching your brother a new language. Does either of you know what goo-goo and ga-ga mean?"

  I want to laugh. I want to cry. "I think they mean happiness awaits." I reach over, squeeze his hand. "Thank you."

  He squeezes back.

  Killian growls low in his throat, but again, he doesn't protest. He takes my other hand.

  The name Levi strikes a chord inside me. "My TL, before I was sent to Prynne, was named Levi."

  "One and the same," Archer says.

  Good. That's good. I'd had no idea Levi was a General; he'd never announced his title, but he was kind to me.

  Are you living your parents' dream...or your own?

  "Why did you choose to leave Myriad when you reached the Age of Accountability?" I ask Archer. For my benefit, but also Killian's. I know he's agonized over it. "Especially since your father is there...and the boy you once considered a brother."

  Killian doesn't just stiffen; he goes rigid.

  "I was training to be a Laborer, learning to occupy a Shell and travel to the Land of the Harvest. A group of us accompanied our trainer on a mission, not to sign a soul but to ambush a handful of Troikans. Men and women who were helping Firstlifers plant a garden."

  "I remember," Killian says, his voice tight.

  "We slaughtered them." Archer's voice cracks. "We slaughtered them, and as one of the women lay dying, hemorrhaging inside her Shell, unable to leave it because I'd pinned her inside with an arrow, she smiled at me. Smiled, with Lifeblood on her teeth. She managed to gasp out I forgive you. Can you imagine? She forgave me, when I suddenly couldn't forgive myself. I was the victor, soon to be rewarded for my deeds, when I should have been abhorred and punished. I knew I couldn't go on that way."

  Footsteps sound outside my door. In unison, we sit up. My heart pounds against my ribs as the boys unsheathe weapons I didn't know they carried. Either my dad has woken up...or my potential killer is on the way.

  Crack!

  Hinges on the door bust, shards flying in every direction. Three big, beefy men I can only assume are Shells rush inside the room, guns drawn.

  "On your knees," one of them shouts. "Now."

  Both Killian and Archer leap to their feet, blocking me from the line of fire.

  "You want to live, you leave." Killian squares his shoulders. "Now."

  He doesn't wait for the men to obey, and neither does Archer. The two hammer away on the triggers of their guns. There's no blast or pop, only a soft whoosh as a dart embeds in each of the Shells.

  Darts...darts...

  This one, the Stag, shoots darts that, when embedded in a Shell, trap the spirit inside and shut down mobility.

  In a blaze of light, three new Shells appear on one side of the room, and three more appear on the other. They are armed, as well, and we are completely surrounded. Killian and Archer continue shooting, but they can't dodge the darts fired at them without making me a target.

  They both take a round to the chest and drop to their knees.

  "Will kill you...for this." Killian's voice is barely audible, but I hear the menace in his tone.

  "Stop! Enough!" Not wanting the boys further incapacitated, I put my hands in the air and move in front of them.

  "You heard her. Enough." A woman in a formfitting red dress and killer heels strides into the room. Madame Pearl Bennett.

  Her expression softens as she meets my gaze. "Hello, Ten. I've missed you."

  chapter twenty

  "Do your best, not just what's good enough."

  --Troika

  Pearl enfolds me in a hug I can't bring myself to return. She smells just like I remember: a mix of roses and lilac. When she pulls back, she's smiling at me with fondness. "Were you hurt while the boys were restrained?"

  Once upon a time, I really liked this woman. I think I even loved her. But she convinced my father to send me to Prynne. She requested unimaginable tortures be visited on me. Now she wants to chat as if we're long-lost pals?

  I remain mute.

  She turns to the Shells. "Collar Killian before he's able to cause any more trouble."

  "Don't you dare--" Killian goes quiet when the Shell closest to him wraps a glowing band around his neck. Horror and rage shine in his eyes.

  "Stop!" I reach for him, desperate to help him, even though I have no idea what the collar is or does. But judging by his reaction, it's bad. Really bad.

  "While a human can command a Laborer, you have no authority over a Leader." Pearl clasps my wrist, holding me in place with surprising strength. "I know you're fond of Killian. You were always fond of him, but he's been a very naughty boy and needs to be transported to the Kennel."

  Kennel? And what does she mean, I've always been fond of him?

  The answer slides into place. Ashley. She thinks I'm Fused with her daughter.

  "Don't you dare!" The muscles in Killian's face and shoulders go taut as he struggles for freedom. "You have no right."

  "Please, Pearl," I plead, my hands forming a steeple. "Don't hurt him." I never begged Vans for anything, but then, he'd never had anything worth begging for.

  "I won't. If you sign with Myriad right here, right now."

  My gaze darts to Killian. He already knows my answer. His head is already bowed in defeat.

  "I... I...can't. I'm so sorry, Killian." There has
to be a better way. Caving to evil manipulation now means caving later.

  "I'm sorry, as well." She nods to one of the Shells.

  He types into his wrist, a blue light glowing. Then he places a hand on Killian's shoulder. Killian's head lifts and our gazes lock for a split second. I see regret, sorrow and challenge. I feel them, too.

  There's so much I want to tell him. I consider you my family. I'm grateful for all you've done for me. We were learning from each other, weren't we? I'm coming for you.

  A blast of light slams into the two. Between one blink and the next, they're gone, and I hiss with a combination of fury and concern.

  "Now. Time to deal with you. The prodigal son," Pearl says to Archer. "The fact that I admire your father is the only reason you'll survive this day."

  "Don't hurt him. Please." I'll beg for him, too. My boys.

  She pats my cheek. "I hear he's due to attend an Exchange." She motions to one of the Shells. "Send him home so that he can at last receive it."

  As a gun is pressed between Archer's eyes, he says, "I love you, Ten. You are the sister of my heart."

  "Don't do this, Pearl. You said he'd live," I shout, but the trigger is squeezed. Pop! Archer's Shell bursts into ash.

  "We freed his spirit from the Shell," Pearl assures me. "That's all."

  The escape hatch. Right.

  She takes my hand and leads me through the house. We pass my dad, who's standing beside the front door. He won't look at me and even though this man tried to kill me--twice--his complete disregard wounds me all over again.

  A limo is parked in the driveway. A man in a suit is waiting for us. He opens the back door and helps me inside, and Pearl slides in behind me.

  "We're going to a spa, just like we used to when you were a little girl. Remember?"

  The spa. On the day my mother and brother died. The day she placed Killian in a hellish situation. The day she sent Archer to face judgment.

  "I hate you," I snarl at her.

  She flinches, as though wounded. "You will not talk to me that way. Do you understand? I'm your superior. And Ten," she says, her voice softening, "I'm your mother."

  "My mother is dead." The words leave me, and I go still. A terrible thought hits me, and I can't escape it. "Did you kill her? Did you kill my brother?"

  Her gaze implores me to listen, to understand. "I am your mother. You're Fused with my Ashley. I know it. The timing was perfect--a sign. And you glowed so brightly, as only Generals do."

  "I'm not just a General. I'm an Abrogate." Or rather, a Conduit. The car motors forward, twisting and turning along the roads. "Eight other Myriadian Generals died the same day as Ashley."

  "Yes, but all the Generals are--" She stops herself, clears her throat.

  "All the Generals are...what?"

  "It doesn't matter."

  Oh, it matters. Apprehension radiates from her, as if she's revealed a secret she should have died to protect.

  "All you need to know is that you are my Ashley." She stares straight ahead. "And that...that woman planned to break you out of Prynne, to keep you from me forever." Disgust and anger drip from her tone. "Yes, I poisoned her. Something you will one day thank me for. Your brother was simply an unfortunate casualty."

  I breathe through my rage. I know what happens when the emotion pulls my strings. Chaos. Destruction. Which is unnecessary. Like everything else, rage is temporary, changeable. And if I allow it to control me, I allow it to make my decisions for me. In that case, I might as well be taken over by Ashley or anyone else.

  But I can't just sit here.

  "You remind me of my father. You don't see the harm in what you've done. Allow me to remedy that." Without any more warning than that, I yank the wire from my bracelet and leap onto her lap. With a few swirls of my arm, I have the wire wrapped around her neck--thank you, Killian.

  I yank my arm as hard as I can, cutting into her jugular. "This is all your so-called love will get you. Resistance."

  I'm about to release her, my point made, when her eye sockets clear and the Shell goes still.

  The car stops abruptly a few seconds later, and the door opens. A scowling Pearl leans in and shoots me with a dart. As electric pulses beat through my body, making my muscles spasm, she shoots the useless Shell, turning it to ash, then slides into the seat, removes both my bracelets and throws them out the window. She frisks me for other weapons, finds none and relaxes in her seat.

  The pulses taper off the moment she removes the dart from my neck, and I go lax.

  "I don't want to kill you," she says, "but I will if I must. You and Ashley will end up in Many Ends, but one day you'll return to the Land of the Harvest. I can find you again."

  "How?" As far as I know, once a spirit is lost in Many Ends, it's lost for good.

  "I'll watch for signs."

  "And the so-called signs are never wrong?"

  A slight tremor sweeps through her before she shrugs.

  My head cants to the side. "Do you have any family in Troika?"

  "I do."

  "You war with them?"

  "I do," she repeats. "Troikans want to destroy everything I hold dear. They look down their noses at me, only seeing a heathen they've deemed unworthy of their precious light. As if I'm inferior."

  "There are some who despise the animosity between the realms." Archer and Deacon defend their home, but they also love their enemy. I've seen glimpses.

  "You're championing them?" Her eyes narrow on me. "If you continue to refuse Myriad, I'll be forced to kill you myself. And then I'll kill Killian." She arches a brow, suddenly smug. "You care for him. Just the way he planned."

  She's trying--again--to manipulate me. To turn me against the boy I've come to admire. "I won't let you harm him. In fact, you have three seconds to release him from the Kennel and the collar before I sign with Troika. One."

  Her eyes narrow. "You can't--"

  "Two."

  She has a choice. Reach for a dagger and end me now, or comply. I didn't lie. I will sign with her enemy.

  "He will be released," she rushes out.

  "Now. Today."

  Her nod is stilted.

  We lapse into silence, and I should feel triumphant. I'm actually sad.

  I peer out the window, trying to figure out where we're going. I know the area. Designated for stupid-rich Myriadians. My mom shops--shopped--in these stores.

  The limo pulls in front of a spa, as promised. I say nothing as I'm ushered into the warmth of the day. The sidewalk gleams as if it's made of marble--painted cement--and palm trees sway in a gentle floral-scented breeze. With towering white columns and a gleaming staircase that leads to a wide set of arched doorways, the building could pass for a castle.

  Pearl stays at my side as we enter. Several staff members step forward, smiling friendly smiles and offering the beverage of my choice, everything from champagne to aged whiskey. I decline. Must keep a clear head.

  No other customers occupy the lobby. Guess Pearl rented out the entire place.

  There's a tiered waterfall just like the one I saw in Myriad, with a mermaid perched on top. There are seating areas scattered throughout with leather couches and plush chairs. The concierge booth is framed by two ginormous sculptures, one of a woman with a dragon tail wrapped around her to conceal her breasts and the space between her legs, the other of a muscled man holding a globe of the world. The walls are painted a lovely shade of gold, and the air smells of lavender and lilac.

  "Don't think," Pearl says. "Just enjoy."

  Until I see Killian, I'll have to play along, so I nod. The girls who offered me a drink usher me to a private room in back, with two cushioned massage tables, two tubs filled with steaming water--Killian would be thrilled, if he were here. Soft music plays in the background.

  Both Pearl and I are stripped. I hate that I'm weaponless and surrounded by strangers, but I keep my mouth shut. I hate that Pearl can change her mind about waiting and strike at me at any second. I remain on high aler
t as I'm bathed, waxed, oiled and massaged. And in a way, it's nice. After all the running I've done, as many accidents as I've endured, I'm sore.

  Pearl watches me expectantly. I think she believes a rush of Ashley's memories will flood me, I'll open my arms and shout, "Momma!"

  Sorry. Never going to happen.

  My nails are painted girlie pink. My hair is trimmed and curled, the sides pulled back. Makeup is applied to my face. I'm given a beautiful sheath dress, Grecian in style, white with pleats that begin just under my breasts and fall to the floor. The spaghetti straps reveal my pale skin from neck to finger.

  "Your favorite," Pearl says from behind me. "Look."

  I actually twirl in front of the full-length mirror and gasp.

  "You are breathtaking." She twines our fingers. "I've put together a party in your honor. The kind you used to love."

  I'm in no mood to celebrate my greatness, but I offer no protest as we return to the limo. We travel the same roads, going back the way we came--are we going to my house? Where my mother and brother just died?

  Oh, yes. We are.

  Keep it together.

  As the limo parks in the driveway, I stare at Pearl. "Now you're just being needlessly cruel." Before she can deny it, I demand, "Is my dad still here?"

  "No. I've had him moved."

  That's something in my favor, at least. "And Killian?"

  "He's inside, waiting for you." She smiles at me. "Perhaps you'll see someone else you missed a little more..."

  What's she planning now?

  The answer presents itself as I emerge from the vehicle and climb the porch steps. The front door opens, and James steps onto the porch. Beautiful James, who must have been waiting for me. James, who protected me from Vans, bringing me extra food and making plans to escape with me.

  James, who lied to me every day of our association.

  He's tall, but not as tall as Killian, with dark blond hair and big brown eyes. His black-as-night suit hugs his muscled frame lovingly, the dark color making the blues and greens in his tie pop. Blue and green, like my eyes. A romantic gesture? Barf. He's romanterexic.

  He grins at me, as if he's happy to see me.

  "He grew far too attached to you," Pearl says, coming up beside me, "so I removed him from your case."

  Liar! He didn't grow fond of me. He failed to do his job.

  "My mistake," she adds.

  "What makes you think I want him?" I lift the hem of my dress and scale the porch steps.