His jaw drops and he sputters for a response. “You feel sorry for me?”
“When I return to Troika, and I will, I’ll be reprimanded for disobeying a direct order, but I’ll also be accepted back into the fold. My worth isn’t based on what I do, but on who I am. A Troikan. Beloved. You will never be able to say the same. You’ve already been cast aside by your king, labeled a failure.”
With a snarl, he reaches through the cage, and though he can’t touch me, his shadows can; they extend from his fingertips to wrap around my neck and squeeze. As I fight for air, he smugly says, “How do you feel about me now?”
Love…love…do I love him? The worst of the worst.
“Stop this.” A young woman pushes her way through the throng. “Please.”
Dark hair frames a face I recognize. She has a small nose and adorable, Cupid’s bow lips. Her skin is a few shades lighter than her jet-black hair while her eyes are a few shades lighter than her skin and ringed with gold.
Dior Nichols in the flesh. Or rather, spirit.
I cleansed her of Penumbra, only to find her re-infected the next day, all because she refused to cut ties with Javier. Bad company will corrupt.
In the Everlife, she is more beautiful than ever, but she is still suffering from the effects of Penumbra, black lines branching under the surface of her skin. Her clothes are wrinkled and dirty, as if she hasn’t showered or changed since her Firstdeath.
Archer was right. Troikans are in danger. But so are Myriadians. The infection can turn an ordinary citizen into an Abrogate, but I’ve gone head-to-head with it, and I know what others don’t. Penumbra obliterates everything good and right inside a person, leaving only the things that thrive in absolute darkness. Hatred, misery, violence, despair.
As I gasp for breath she looks me over and squares her shoulders. “Where is the key to her cage? I’m letting her go.”
Do I love her?
She’s the reason Levi is dead. He went to court for her, acting as her Barrister, and died trying to save her. I want to hate her, but how can I? She made a mistake; she believed the lies Javier, her boyfriend, told her.
“Leave,” Javier snaps.
“Let her go or lock me up with her,” Dior states bluntly.
He goes stiff, ready to tell her off. Maybe because he’s embarrassed by her behavior. Maybe because he doesn’t want the crowd to turn on her. Either way, I brush a spider off my shoulder and tell her, “Don’t worry about me.” If I die and wind up in Many Ends, I can escape, free the spirits trapped there…and ambush Ambrosine. Win/win.
“I don’t want to lock you up.” Through gritted teeth, he adds, “But I will if you stay.”
“That’s fine,” she says. “I’m standing with her—and against you.”
His eyes widen. “You don’t mean—”
“I do. I’m done with you. I should have been done with you long before now. You’re a liar and a cheat. But I’m no better. I’ve been a fool. I let you play on my fears, convince me to stay with Myriad, despite the awful things they’d done to me, because I was afraid of being punished by Troikans. A good man died because of my decision.” Tears well in her eyes, and her chin trembles. “I punish myself more than anyone else could.”
“Dior.” He reaches for her, but she wrenches back.
“No. Don’t touch me. I hate you, and I hate myself.”
—Ten? Lass?—Killian’s voice drifts along the Grid, and my heart races with a mix of emotions I can’t name.—I’m comin’ for you. Almost there. You need tae know…—
The wall of my distrust shakes, but in the end holds steady, cutting off his words. Silence reigns.
No time to reach out. “I’m sorry, Ten,” Dior says, drawing me out of my head. “Your father…he’s on his way.”
My heart races faster. One, ten, twenty, fifty—counting the beats doesn’t do me any good.
Daddy loves me. Daddy loves me not. Loves me. Loves me not.
Yeah. That one. He loves me not.
“What’s worse,” she adds. There’s worse? “He’s got your mom.”
Javier laughs, overcome with glee at the first sign of my distress. Then, my dad is there, standing beside my tormentor. He’s alone, no sign of my mother. Like everyone else, Senator Leonard Lockwood is young and beautiful, and in his prime. He’s tall, as leanly muscled as pictures promised, with blue hair and mismatched eyes: one blue, one green.
How can we resemble each other so much but be so different?
He’s shirtless but wearing black leather pants. His feet are tucked into combat boots. Women eye him appreciatively, as do some of the men.
His gaze meets mine—and he smiles. “You destroyed my Firstlife. It’s nice to see you’re finally getting what you deserve.”
The words slice me to ribbons. Deep down, part of me has always yearned for his approval. His affection. Even when he paid Dr. Vans to torture me at Prynne Asylum.
A little girl is supposed to be her daddy’s princess, not his nightmare.
“How adorable,” I tell him, feigning nonchalance, acting as if I’m not sobbing inside. “You’re a fool. You haven’t realized you destroyed your own life. As for me, I wanted only what you’d already been given. A chance to make a decision about my future.”
“You thought of no one but yourself.”
“Hello, Pot. Meet Kettle.”
His eyes narrow to tiny slits. “Watch your mouth, young lady. Speak to me with respect.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll punish your mother for your crimes.”
When he jerks his arm forward, I notice a strip of leather in his hand. At the end of that strip? Grace Lockwood, my mother. A metal collar circles her throat. She’s on a leash, I realize, anger threatening to detonate inside me.
My love for this man withers.
My mom’s head is bowed, shoulder-length hair shielding her face. When she was human, the strands were auburn. Here in the Everlife, the strands are fire engine-red.
She sniffles, a glistening teardrop falling to the ground.
“Let her go,” Dior says, stepping toward him, but Javier grabs hold of her, keeping her in place.
The anger bomb detonates. Fire seems to sear me. Debris rains. Shrapnel embeds, slicing my heart to ribbons.
“Let her go,” I scream, launching forward to rattle the door of my cage. “Now!”
“Or what?” my dad asks, mocking me.
Breathing becomes more difficult, every molecule of air an inferno in my lungs.
Kill him. Teach him the error of his ways. He deserves pain, and not even you, Goody Two-shoes that you are, can deny it.
Dread overtakes me. Not my dark side. No, no, no. Not now. My resistance is weak…
I shake my head, hoping to dislodge the terrible urges bombarding me. Or maybe I’m holding on to those urges. I want to hurt my dad the way he has hurt me. The moment I do, however, the darkness wins. It will own me; I know it. With every fiber of my being, I know it.
I will do everything I chastised my dad and Killian for doing.
You can’t preach the merits of love, then turn around and hate your enemy. Anyone can love a friend. It takes a warrior to love an enemy.
Deep breath in, out. “You won’t hurt her,” I croak.
“Won’t I? She attempted to defect to Troika, a terrible crime. As punishment, she was placed in the Kennels until early this morning, when she was gifted to me. I’m allowed to harm her however I wish.”
“Gifted to you? As if she’s a pair of shoes?” Does any life other than his own hold any meaning to him?
“Had she supported her realm, she would have been punished but forgiven, eventually permitted to rejoin society. But she continued to push for a court date, determined to defect.”
“Let her go. Please.” I swallow my pride. What good is
pride, anyway? The opinion of others matters little. “This is between you and me. Face me like the man you never were in Firstlife.”
A new smile blooms, but it radiates fury. “Beg a little more. I like the sound of it.”
I don’t hesitate. “Please, Leonard. Dad. If you want to hurt someone, hurt me.” I want what she and I were denied as humans: more time together. I want her to defect to Troika, as planned, and raise Jeremy. This. This is a true desire of my heart. “Don’t deny your son the mother he so desperately needs.”
Now my dad stiffens. “You mean the son she tried to hide from me?”
Mom lifts her gaze, finally meeting mine. We have the same pale skin, freckles and eyes too big for our faces, though hers are dark and filled with a storm of tears. I inherited her high cheekbones, small but pert nose and heart-shaped lips, as well. Jeremy, too. He is her masculine counterpart.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“The past is the past,” I tell her. The bond between a parent and child is sacred, a gift as well as a responsibility. “Jeremy needs you, too, Dad. One day, there will be peace between the realms. We could be a—”
“Shut up!” His nostrils flare as he inhales sharply.
While my parents failed me most of my teenage life, my mother more than made up for it the day of her Firstdeath, doing everything in her power to break me out of Prynne. She sent Jeremy to Troika, even though she would end up in Myriad. There’s still time for my dad.
“I love you,” she tells me softly. “Tell Jeremy I love him, too. You two made my life worth living. You are my greatest accomplishments, and I—”
“I told you to be quiet,” Dad snaps, yanking her leash.
I reach for her, intending to take her hand, but he wrenches her backward, out of range.
“Oh, daughter dearest,” he says, and tsks. “You’re supposed to be smart, but you haven’t yet grasped the gravity of the situation. Though enjoyable, no amount of begging is going to save your mother’s life. Either you let Javier do his job, or I kill her, right here, right now.”
I gulp. I can’t let Javier invade the Grid. I can’t save one woman while condemning an entire realm to death. Not even this woman.
“Momma,” I say, my chin trembling. Hot tears stream down my cheeks.
“I understand, my sweet girl.” She offers me a brave smile. “I want you to do something for me, okay? I want you to fight. Fight for what’s right and never stop. Never give in—”
Again my dad wrenches her leash, silencing her. Then he forces her to kneel in front of my cage. My tears pour faster.
“Perhaps you don’t think I’m serious.” He unsheathes a dagger—and presses the tip into her throat, where a bead of Lifeblood wells. “Last chance, Tenley.”
“Don’t do this.” Dior struggles against Javier’s grip to no avail. “Please, don’t.”
“I know you’re serious, Dad, but I won’t allow Myriad to poison my home. My family.” I grip the bars of my cage and shake. “If you do this, you poison yourself, and I will—”
“You’ll do nothing.” He jerks the blade across my mother’s neck. As I go still with shock and horror, he looks me straight in the eye, and says, “You have no one but yourself to blame.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
* * *
“The greatest expression of love is giving.”
—Troika
Killian
A woman’s scream rips through the City of Carnal Delights. Ten. I know it’s her.
Frantic and panicked, I pick up speed, rushing through a crowd, holding a bound Victor by the neck and dragging him behind me. As long as I keep my gaze downcast, no one will know we’ve switched places.
—Ten. Lass.—I shout her name, even though I no longer sense her along the Grid. If something has happened to her…
No. She isn’t hurt. If she were, I would know. Right?
Protests erupt as I continue to push through the masses. As soon as my identity registers, protests become mutters of awe. Apparently Victor Prince is a national hero.
Finally I reach the dais in the town square. I scan the cages for Ten…where is…there. She’s on the other side. I’d recognize that fall of azure hair anywhere.
Still dragging my cargo, I round the dais, then stop abruptly.
Ten’s father stands in front of her, Javier and Dior at his side. Dior struggles for freedom. At their feet, Ten’s mother. Lifeblood pools around the woman, her body motionless. A body that is disintegrating before my eyes, as slain spirits do. Before Ten’s eyes.
Ten is still as a statue, her gaze remaining on the pool of Lifeblood. Her arms are wrapped around her middle, as if she’s attempting to protect her vital organs.
My heart shudders and aches as I drop Victor. Rage returns, boiling inside me.
Calm. Steady. I can’t ask questions about what transpired. Victor might already know the answers.
Frustration joins the deluge inside me, only fueling the rage. Whatever the reasons, the cruelty of Grace Lockwood’s death leaves me floundering. How can a man do this to his wife? How can a father do this to his child?
Once, I would have justified the act, thinking Grace would be Fused to a human spirit and reborn. Why mourn her loss? But life is precious. Every stage of life should be cherished, savored.
If Ten is right and Myriadians appear in Many Ends after Second-death, Grace is now faced with an eternity of torture. Unless we save her.
Leonard points a Lifeblood-soaked dagger at Ten. “You won’t have to mourn your mother’s death long. You’ll join her soon enough, little girl.”
My hands fist, my biceps flexing; I’m ready to lash out. What would I do if Ten were killed?
I. Would. Unleash. Hell.
A bitter laugh congeals in my throat, but I swallow it. Actually, I’d do nothing. She would go to the Rest, maybe, probably, and I would go to Many Ends, maybe, probably, and be tortured just like every other Myriadian. Either way, our time would be cut short, and I’m not okay with that. I’m not okay with any of this.
But…isn’t a life without her better than the alternative? What if Ten winds up in Many Ends with me? She wants to go, plans to go, and she knows the way out, but I hate the thought of her in more danger. Worse danger.
I flip up my gaze, hoping to meet her eyes, to reassure her—I’m here, I’ll help—but she’s staring down at the spot her mother died, tears pouring down her cheeks, leaving track marks. My chest constricts.
This isn’t the first time she’s had to watch her mother fade away.
Bits and pieces of memory are coming more frequently now, the shadows losing their hold on me. At the end of her Firstlife, Grace was poisoned by Pearl Bennett, my former boss. The woman who adopted me only to return me when her daughter died. Ten had just escaped the Prynne Asylum and rushed home in time for her mother’s final breath. Only seconds later, Jeremy, Ten’s brother, took his final breath.
Ten cried that day, too.
I offered to take her brother’s spirit to Myriad, so that he could be with their mother, but Ten rejected me, giving the boy to Archer instead. At the time, the rejection had cut like a knife, reminding me of all the times I had been passed over at the Learning Center, never good enough, unwanted.
Then. That moment. A part of me had begun to resent her. The rest of me—the smarter part—never stopped loving her. Now, I understand her reasoning. See so clearly. Loving someone doesn’t mean agreeing with their bad ideas—and my idea was very, very bad. Absolutely terrible. Here, Jeremy would be used against Ten. In Troika, harming the infant brother in order to bring the sister into line isn’t an option, no matter the desperation of the need.
Without looking away from Ten, I toss “Killian” in Javier’s direction. Careful of my speech patterns, I say, “Put him in a cage.”
“Why?” Javier releases Dior and gr
abs hold of the prisoner. “I thought you were going to—”
“I don’t recall asking for your commentary. I gave you an order. Obey it.”
Dior steps up to Ten’s cage and wraps her fingers over Ten’s hands. “I’m so sorry.”
Ten remains silent.
Javier stiffens, and so do I. Is he going to challenge my authority?
After a slight hesitation, he obeys.
“Leave the traitor bound and blindfolded,” I tell him, and don’t bother offering an explanation. I’m Victor Prince, right? I do what I want, when I want, and the rest of the world can deal.
Leonard Lockwood bows in my direction. “Good to see you again, Mr. Prince.”
How easy it would be for me to rip the blade from his hand and slay him. But I cannot say all life is precious one moment and kill the next. If my actions do not align with my words, I am a liar, and I refuse to be a liar. Ten hates lies, and for the first time in my life, so do I.
“Everyone leave,” I shout. “Now.”
“I’ll stay,” Dior tells Ten. “I’ll stay and—”
“Go,” she croaks, finally speaking up. “Just go.”
Greater tension steals over Dior, but finally she nods and stalks off.
“You, too,” I tell Javier and Leonard. “Go.”
Javier stares at me, hard. “What are you going to do to her?”
“Whatever I want.” I step closer to him, my chest bumping up against his. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Now he bristles. “What’s wrong with you, man? Why are you acting this way?”
Had Victor treated Javier as a friend? I’ll have to tread carefully here. “Did you or did you not fail to invade Lockwood’s Grid?” A question is not a lie. And casting blame, well, I figure Victor is very good at that.
He huffs and puffs, probably scouring his mind for an excuse, a way to cast blame to someone else. Then he says, “I’m new to this. There’s no one here to teach me, so I’m forced to learn as I go.”
“When I succeed with her, you can ask me how I did it, and I might explain.” I make a shooing motion with my hand. “Now go.”
Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife Page 99