Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  Paling, Bruiser backs off. The dog doesn't relax his I'll-chew-your-foot-off stare until Tenley runs her hand along his spine. The two hurry on without any more interference. Once they reach a more rural area, Tenley swipes a catsuit from a line of clothing drying in the sun. She discards her tattered robe and shimmies into the suit, careful not to look down.

  --Don't want me to see your curves?--Adorable.

  --You can see them as soon as you remember me.--

  --Suddenly I remember everything. Honest.--

  She snorts, and I experience a flicker of satisfaction.

  Ignore it. Change the subject. --Why do you protect people who don't like or respect you?--I'm genuinely curious.

  --They dislike me now. They might grow to like me later.--Her tone is sharp, defensive.

  Interesting. I've struck a nerve. --You need their approval, do you?--

  --No. I wasn't saying... Look. Their feelings have nothing to do with anything. But. They deserve a chance to live in peace, whether they like me or not.--

  I'm beginning to understand why her friends follow her so ardently. One of a kind. Fights for what she believes in, no matter the obstacles in her way.

  She is different. Okay. All right. There's no denying it any longer. She's different from other girls, boys and everyone in between. Part of me cares for her; I admit it. The other part of me recognizes the danger she poses to me. To my future. That part of me wants to cut all ties and run.

  Embrace your feelings. Isn't that what I've been told all my life? If those in Myriad knew what I was feeling, they would change their tune.

  --Rise above what you feel, good or bad, and do what's right.--

  Tenley's voice drifts through the Grid, and I tense. Did I unintentionally project my thoughts, prompting her response?

  Must be more careful.

  Biscuit leads her through another Stairwell and a Gate, through a vibrant manna field, where she plucks petals straight from the vine. Those petals aren't as strong as the liquefied version, but they provide a kick of strength.

  The next Stairwell leads to a snowcapped mountain with skyscraper trees and wild, overgrown bushes teeming with the biggest flowers I've ever seen. A beautiful--and treacherous--landscape. Icy winds beat at her, worse than a thousand needles poking and prodding her skin. Her teeth chatter.

  Biscuit enters a small, dark cavern. Muscles heavy as stone, Tenley trudges after him. As warm air envelops her, she whimpers with relief.

  Two polar bears lounge on boulders...telling jokes?

  "--call a cow that eats your grass?" one asks.

  "Don't know," the other says. "What?"

  "A lawn moo-er."

  Laughter abounds.

  When the bears notice Biscuit, they jolt upright, ready to attack. The moment his identity clicks, however, they relax.

  "Hey, Biscuit. What you doing this far out?" one asks.

  "And with a human." The other tsk-tsks. "You broke the beast-code."

  "Frick, Frack, this is Ten," Biscuit says. "Ten, Frick and Frack. Forget the code, guys. We need to borrow some weapons. And by borrow I mean keep forever."

  In unison, the bears ask, "Why?"

  The dog glares, the hair on his back spiking. "Because I said so. Why else?"

  "Uh-oh," Frick says. "His poodle's about to come out, isn't it?"

  Frack gulps. "Oh, yeah. Give him whatever he wants."

  Frick, the bigger bear, lumbers toward the back wall. "We got Stags, Oxis and Dazers? Or you wanting something old school?"

  A single dart from a Stag can trap a spirit inside a Shell, preventing any sort of mobility and rendering both incarnations defenseless. That dart can also incapacitate a spirit without a Shell, causing agonizing pain.

  Oxis age a spirit and Shell until both are reduced to ash.

  "Yeah," Biscuit says. "Those. All of those. New and old. Whatever the hooman can carry."

  In the back of the cavern is the most beautiful arsenal of all time. I weep with envy. There are different types of guns, just like the bears said, but also swords, daggers and garrotes.

  Tenley stores the grenade in a box before selecting a pair of short swords, wrist cuff garrotes like the ones I prefer to wear, two bejeweled daggers and a mini-Dazer. Doesn't take a genius to notice she avoids the most dangerous items.

  Foolish girl. She hopes to avoid hurting others, even the temptation of it, but others might not hope to avoid hurting her. Doesn't she know? The enemy you allow to walk away is the enemy who will return to stab you in the back.

  "Thank you so much for your help," she says.

  Frick nods. "Any friend of Biscuit's an acquaintance of mine who is sometimes welcome."

  Laughter bubbles from her, and I hate to admit it, but the sound of her amusement enchants me. I'm the fool.

  Biscuit heads for the door. "One, two, three, time to move, my Ten."

  Through another Stairwell, then another Gate they go. They reach what looks to be an abandoned warehouse. Inside, there are no furnishings. Dust motes dance, illuminated by bright red lasers shooting from every wall, blocking a large metal grate in the floor. That grate is shaped like the Troika symbol: a circle with three petals.

  "We need to get to the symbol, but if we touch the beams, we experience instant Torchlight," Biscuit mutters.

  Torchlight. For Troikans, Light is power. Like electricity. If a human is hit with too much electricity, his or her body shuts down. Torchlight is the spiritual equivalent. Only, a spirit doesn't just shut down. A spirit explodes.

  Tenley shakes her head. "Not me. I'm a Conduit, remember?"

  His eyes widen. "That's right! You can walk right through, push the lid out of the way, and descend into the tunnels, no problem."

  "Shamus is down there?" Tenley asks.

  "Yep. So is Princess Mariee. She is kept down here when danger is high."

  Princess Mariee is Eron's fiancee. Maybe it's the Troikan in me, but I no longer feel a need to avoid the name Eron. Like Tenley, Mariee is a Conduit. And because there are only two Conduits in existence--three now, with Raanan--one must be protected at all times. If both are killed, other citizens will weaken and die, and the war will be over. Just. Like. That.

  If I die, Tenley dies. Troika will weaken.

  Am I willing to die for Myriad?

  "There's a slight problem, however," Biscuit says, and cringes. "So minor I probably shouldn't mention it."

  Tenley presses her hands against her stomach. "What? Tell me."

  "Normally I can scent us through anything, but I still got smoke trapped in my sniffer. We're going to need a lamp. We won't be able to see the passages otherwise. But, if we use a lamp, Shamus will see us coming and we'll lose the element of surprise. If we lose the element of surprise, we'll lose, period."

  She draws in a shaky breath...slowly releases it. "Well. It looks like we're going in without a lamp."

  I swallow the words poised at the edge of my tongue. Such recklessness will get us both killed, you fool!

  I've learned enough about Tenley to know she doesn't react to threats, dangers and warnings like anyone else. I'll only spur her on. Fuel to her fire. Besides, she doesn't need a rebuke. She needs help.

  Though my mind is a jumble of contradictions, I make a decision. --Don't worry, baby. The dark is where I excel.--

  chapter ten

  * * *

  "Seeing is believing."

  --Myriad

  Ten

  I walk through the lasers, expecting no problems. Mistake! Shadows scream and hiss, clawing at my skull. My chest constricts, and my lungs empty.

  Instinct demands I turn. Retreat. Leave now, now, now. Destroy everyone, always.

  I grit my teeth and continue forward, my fingers remaining clenched in Biscuit's fur. I won't let him go for any reason. My dog will not experience Torchlight. And he is mine. A part of my family--just like Killian.

  Biscuit contorts this way and that, avoiding the lasers. If he accidentally brushes against one,
I will absorb and store the excess boost of Light. Light I can then share with Raanan when we cleanse the humans in the warehouse.

  With every step, Killian's last words reverberate inside my mind. The dark is where I excel. Having him with me has been a blessing and a curse, a help and a hindrance. A comfort, but also a distraction. Does he have my best interests at heart?

  No, no. Of course not. He has his own interests at heart.

  New Killian sucks. Maybe if I punt his face like a soccer ball a few dozen times, I'll knock Myriadian-made screws loose, and he'll start to remember our past.

  --I'm sensing irritation.--His voice is a caress along the Grid, causing tremors to rush down my spine.

  Argh! Concentrate.

  If there are rats down here, I don't want to know it. Or insects. During my time at Prynne, I had to eat bugs to survive. But...oh, zero! What if the rats and insects talk?

  --Now I'm sensing fear. Is the mighty Ten afraid?--

  --I'm leery. There's a difference. I mean, what if I once dined on their family member?--

  His chuckle is genuine and husky, and it warms me. How I've missed his amusement.

  Very few people have the ability to make him smile, and even fewer people have the ability to make him laugh.

  "We did it!" Biscuit exclaims as we pass the final laser.

  Thank the Firstking. Breathing is easier. And rewarded. The air is warmer here, and scented with manna, lavender and orchids.

  The princess is nearby. I like her, admire her even, and do not want to hurt her. If she tries to stop me, however...

  Determined to return to Killian victorious, I push aside the grate, revealing a small entrance to the tunnels. Light bursts free, pure and bright and warm.

  I thought we were experiencing total darkness?

  I scale down, down, Biscuit behind me. The scent of lavender and orchids intensifies as we inch forward, toward an open doorway, from which the Light seems to originate.

  Looming outside the door, we see the princess inside. She's standing--no, she's levitating, her head thrown back, her arms spread. She is oblivious to the rest of the world. No longer does she appear to be a living being--she is the embodiment of a true conduit. I don't mean the job title, but a channel or instrument.

  Awe renders me immobile. Light shines from her. Bright, bright Light, spilling from her pores. I'm astonished I'm able to see her, but I'm certain she can't see me. Beams of Light shoot from her eyes, as well. Glorious beams aimed up, up at the ceiling. Through the ceiling.

  Around her, I hear... My ears twitch. A chorus of singing angels? The melody is haunting and gorgeous, a soothing balm. A promise that her royal highness is not alone. None of us are.

  One of the voices stands out, capturing my attention, and the singer's identity crystalizes. Meredith. Our dead are serenading the Conduit?

  Shock punches me. The spirits in the Rest are helping her as she...

  She's powering the entire realm, isn't she? Sacrificing herself to save others.

  My awe deepens, and my Light responds to hers, warming, growing, brightening. Shadows flee in terror, searching for new hiding spots. I'm witnessing a miracle, and I don't want to ever look away. This is beauty. This is life.

  I've never exuded so much Light, even when I fought Dior's Penumbra. I absorb as much as possible, strength driving the last of my tremors away.

  Zero! I might not be able to help Raanan cleanse the people in the warehouse, after all. We'll have to come up with a new plan.

  There's no sign of Shamus.

  I force myself to continue on, Biscuit at my side. The farther we get from the room, the darker the tunnel becomes, until whoosh, all Light is gone.

  In an instant, I'm weakened. Which sucks more than usual, because the cuts in my legs have been steadily leaking Lifeblood, and I'm out of manna.

  "I can do anything, absolutely anything...except see in the dark," Biscuit says.

  "Today, thanks to Killian, I'll be your Seeing Eye dog." I unwind the thin metal belt from my waist, then loop one end through the other to create an all-in-one collar and leash. "I hope this doesn't offend you, but..." I lean over, patting the air until I encounter the softness of his fur.

  "We'll tell no one of this," he mutters as I anchor the collar to his neck, and I want to smile. "Ever."

  Killian's voice directs me. --Close your eyes. Let your other senses take over.--

  I obey, knowing he needs me alive. Not because he loves me, but because he'll do anything to protect himself, just the way he's been trained. A stab of disappointment keeps me quiet.

  --Feel the breeze against your skin. Hear the sound of it drifting through the hallways.--

  A slight wind drifts from...the left!

  --Go against it.--

  Very well. With my arms extended, I move forward at a gradual pace. Encountering no resistance, I increase my speed, fueled by ferocious determination. Biscuit's nails click-clack against the concrete, blending with our panting breaths, creating an ominous soundtrack.

  Exhaustion sets in, but I remain resolute. My mind is my worst enemy right now, a whirlwind I can no longer subdue, and a bramble of emotion I do not want to feel. Less than an hour ago, I killed a man. A friend of my friends.

  Guilt threatens to burn my outward calm to ash. Sorrow picks off my excuses like a hunter who finally found worthy prey. I had to kill Nico in self-defense--I could have found another way. I had no time to capture Nico and escort him to jail--There's always time to save a life. I had to choose, him or me, and I chose me--Could I not have chosen both?

  How am I supposed to tell my friends what I've done?

  If Nico had survived, he might have realized his mistake. He might have gone on to do amazing things, perhaps even help save our realm. What if he was a key player, necessary for our victory? We'll never know, because he'll never have the chance, and it's my fault.

  --Why am I bein' flooded with sadness? Whatever you're thinkin', stop.--

  I sigh. Killian is right. In the past, I would have broken down over something like this. At least for a little while. I've never enjoyed ending a life. But. I won't break down, not this time. I defended myself, yes, but also Killian and Biscuit. I can bring myself to regret only the need to act.

  Nico made his choices, and I made mine. What's done is done.

  Now I wonder how many other lovers Victor left behind. Who else will attack in his name?

  And, oh, zero! All this focus on death reminds me of Aunt Lina's message. I jolt before tensing from head to toe. She thinks she's going to kill Killian. Has she foreseen his death?

  My stomach twists into those hated knots, wringing out acid. I've never had the power to change her visions, but then, I've never before known they were, in fact, visions. This time, I can take precautions.

  --So. What do you plan to do with Shamus when you reach him?--

  Good question. --I'll Daze him and, with Clementine's help, transport him to the house. Boom. Done.--

  --If the Bucklers are down, sure. You can use your comm to transport. Good plan. If Bucklers are still up, you'll have to drag the man across the realm. And we both know citizens will not be lookin' the other way when they see a General being hauled down the street like luggage.--

  Ugh. He just had to go and make a good point, didn't he. --What do you suggest?--

  --You already know the answer, you just don't want to do it. Now slow down. You're approachin' a fork, and I need to figure out which way you should go.--

  I ignore his comment about knowing what to do...because he's right. --How can you tell? About the fork, I mean.--The gloom hasn't thinned, is still all-consuming.

  --Subtle nuances in darkness. Trust me.--

  --I did...once. Look what it got me.--A groom with no memory.

  Silence. And it's like poking a bear with a stick. The anger currently lying dormant inside me yawns and stretches, close to wakefulness. My hands fist.

  When I reach the fork, as predicted, I pause, as commande
d.

  I'm told: --Go right.--

  --How do you know?--

  --You are bound to Troika, and I am bound to you. I feel what you feel. There's a charge when you shift right, but no charge when you shift left.--

  Right again.

  My heart rate spikes as I round the corner. Up ahead, a spark of Light glows. More of the princess's Light? Like a moth to a flame, I surge forward. Must get closer. Strength awaits.

  --Stop!--

  Killian shouts the command, jarring me enough to stop me. Biscuit bumps into the back of my leg, and I stumble forward another step.

  --What's wrong?--My heart is ready to pound its way out of my chest.

  --Look down.--

  My gaze drops, and I gasp. Through the Light, I spy a row of zigzagging spikes that extend from the ground, ready to rip me to ribbons.

  --Thank you.--"Careful," I whisper to Biscuit.

  Together, we tiptoe, hop and wind our way past the spikes.

  --In roughly one hundred feet, there's a room on the right.--

  --I'm not going to ask how you know. Not again.--No way he can miss the grumble in my tone. I palm the mini-Dazer, my finger hovering over the trigger.

  Kill Shamus. He dared take Killian from you. He must learn the error of his ways.

  Not Killian, not this time, but me. The darkest part of me. I stumble as the desire for bloodshed overwhelms me.

  Resist! My teeth gnash. Must ignore her--or me. I'll Daze Shamus, nothing more.

  Once again I surge forward, this time counting my steps. Two...ten...thirty...ninety...

  At long last, I reach this newest Light. Killian claimed the room is on the right, but the Light shines from the left. I'm about to step in that direction when the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. Electrical impulses. From the Light. A trick?

  I turn to the right--

  Something hard slams into my jaw. I careen to the side, sharp pain exploding through my face, stars winking in the back of my mind.

  Killian hisses. Biscuit growls.

  A booted foot kicks my stomach, and I careen once again, stumbling toward the Light, then through it. Lasers! Shadows scream and claw at my skull, sharp pains shooting through my temples.

  No time to recover. Another kick. The Dazer flies out of my hand and skids across the ground, and it does reach the Light. Oh, yeah. Definitely electrical impulses. A new kind of laser. The gun disintegrates.

  --Attack!--A command from Killian, the white-hot burn of his rage crackling, inciting my shadows. --He isn't allowed to hurt you.--