Everlife (An Everlife Novel)

by Gena Showalter

  No one sticks.

  “You stayed,” Biscuit says, awe crackling in each word.

  “Well, we’re a team.”

  “Yeah, but you stayed.”

  Though she’s panting and sweating, she takes time to scratch him behind the ear. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Much.” He leans into her touch. “But you’re not.”

  “I’ll be fine. Right now, we need weapons. And a place to store the grenade.”

  He bounces up and stretches, testing his agility. “I know the perfect place. Come on!” His limp lessens in severity as he bounds forward.

  Tenley lumbers to her feet and follows after him. Sharp pains shoot through her legs. My legs, too. Muscles burn and tremble, and bones ache. This poor, sweet lass has it worse. Blood pools in her ankles, causing swelling, making every step agony.

  I bang a fist into the cold, hard floor beneath me with enough force to crack the wood. While I lounge comfortably in a cell, she is fighting with every ounce of her strength to free me. Despite her aches and pains. Despite any consequences. Her tenacity blows my mind. Nothing stops this girl. Ever. Although…General Shamus might. If he’s at full strength, and she’s not…

  Pang. I rub my chest. —Return to the house, Tenley. We’ll find another way tae set me free.— I doubt she’ll obey, but I have to try. Have to do something.

  —There isn’t another way. I’ll continue on, as planned.—

  PANG. Is this how she won me over and got me to bond with her? By keeping me on a mental carousel, always spinning, spinning, never sure what was up and what was down?

  How can she care about my well-being, even now? — There’ll be no reason tae open the cage if I’m dead. Return, and we can have lunch at one, and two drinks at three. Eat petit fours at five, and be in bed by six.—

  —Well, well. You certainly have my number. But I’m going to pass. Don’t worry, though. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.—

  —I’ll protect my own life, thank you very much. Do us both a favor and see to yers.—

  —Careful, Killian. It almost sounds like you care about my well-being.—

  I sidestep that little land mine with a question, making sure my accent is undetectable. —Why would my shadows want to hide memories of you?—

  —I think they want you to forget me so that you’ll betray me. I also think the Light lets them hide those memories, so that you’ll learn to trust me even without the aid of your emotions.—

  —And why aren’t you learning to trust me, hmm?—

  —I trusted you long before this, against all logic, emotion and the advice of my friends.—

  I…have no rejoinder. Guilt sidles up to me like an old friend. An old friend with a knife in one hand and a gun in the other.

  Hurt sizzles over the Grid. Her hurt. My throat constricts, and my chest tightens. But I don’t care. I won’t care. I’d rather she hurt emotionally than physically.

  I would? What is wrong with me? A girl is a girl is a girl, right?

  Yes, but this girl is mine.

  Stop. Just stop! Claiming her will do me no good. I’ll never be able to count on her.

  Count. The word gives me pause. Tenley Lockwood… count… A memory teases me, but shadows writhe, maintaining a firm grip on our past.

  Screw the shadows. Screw the Light. Someone tell me something!

  I slam a fist into the floor beneath me. I suspect Tenley and I had a sizzling connection before her Firstdeath. Problem is, that connection must not have mattered to her. Not enough, anyway. She still chose Troika over me. She will always choose Troika, so I will do the same; I will choose Myriad.

  Besides, nothing lasts, remember?

  Escape the cage, weaken Troika, return to Myriad with Tenley.

  Put the needs—

  No. Stars whiz at her sides as Biscuit leads her through a Stairwell, then a Gate. We have a similar travel system in Myriad, only there are no bright illuminations to signify movement, just a moment of blinding darkness, where you can’t even see your hand in front of your face.

  The pair emerges into a busy metropolis, Laborers working alongside Leaders, Messengers and Healers, cleaning up debris.

  I huff and puff with indignation. —Don’t just stand in front of these people as if today is an average day.—

  “Uh, Biscuit?” she says.

  “Can’t be helped, my little hooman. By the time word of your location spreads, you’ll be long gone. Let’s burn rubber. We gots a lot of ground to cover and very little time to cover it.”

  As the two hurry forward, Tenley receives smiles and waves from some of the throng, but glares from others. She scrambles for a distraction, asking the dog, “Why the name Biscuit?”

  “I had a Firstlife, too, you know. In the Land of the Harvest, my owner named me, so you’d have to ask her.”

  “If you spent your Firstlife with her,” Ten says, “why weren’t you assigned to guard her?”

  “She decided to go to Myriad.”

  “So why didn’t you go to Myriad? Why didn’t any of the animals?”

  “Eron called dibs on everything with four legs and fur, and fish. Ambrosine wanted dragons, snakes and creepers like that.”

  Suddenly a big bruiser steps in front of her and Tenley skids to a halt. “Hey!” he snaps. “You owe us an explanation, little girl. Why did you vote for Archer Prince? He’s a Laborer. We need a General. Or do you want us to lose the war?”

  “I want peace,” she says.

  Biscuit growls. “Take one more step toward my girl, and you’ll lose a foot.”

  I’m impressed. And I’m jealous of a freaking dog. He’s a hero, and I’m a zero.

  Bruiser is lucky I’m not with her. I would have shut him up with my fists. And of course, Tenley would have been angry that I dared to hurt one of her precious people.

  Paling, Bruiser backs off. The dog doesn’t relax his I’llchew-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 Mariée. She is kept down here when danger is high.”

  Princess Mariée is Eron’s fiancée. Maybe it’s the Troikan in me, but I no longer feel a need to avoid the name Eron. Like Tenley, Mariée 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.