Everlife

by Gena Showalter

  I think: If you tell me what I'm thinking now, I'll strip naked.

  His expression never changes, and I nearly drop with relief. Okay, then. My thoughts are now shielded. No way a hedonist like Killian could resist such bait. Not because he wants to see me naked--maybe he wants to see me naked--but because the act will embarrass me.

  I'll have to be more careful in the future.

  "What are your demands?" I grate.

  "For starters, Archer Prince will leave the house. On his hands and knees."

  Anger sparks. Around me, my friends sputter. I hold up my hand in a bid for silence, and return to my musings. If I'm right, and Killian lost his memories because he must choose to love me, the enemy, without the aid of emotion--effectively embracing his Troikan side--his Myriadian side would make him inclined to disavow me as soon as possible. But. By willingly sticking with me, he's going against the urge to drop me like a hot potato, unwittingly embracing Light.

  Maybe I'm off base. Shall I force the issue, as he has done, and find out?

  You want to be rid of me? Fine. Disavow me.

  I will be taking a big risk. Huge. He could respond without hesitation: Boom. You're disavowed.

  Beads of sweat pop up across my brow. I can't lose my way into Myriad, and Many Ends.

  But no risk, no reward, right? And I can't let him hold our bond over my head, continuing to use it as leverage every time he wants something.

  "I'm not meeting any of your demands," I tell Killian. "Neither are my friends. If you want to disavow me, do it."

  His eyes narrow to tiny slits, his breathing a bit more labored.

  "Do it," I shout. My hands fist. "Say goodbye to your ticket into Troika and disavow me."

  Though anger glitters in his eyes, a slow smile blooms. A wicked one. "How could I ever let you go, baby? I have plans for you..."

  I run my tongue over my teeth. I'm sure he does. But three cheers for me! I'd defused a tough situation. The risk had paid off.

  "Just as I have plans for you," I tell him. I won't lose focus on my endgame. Peace between the realms. Freedom for the spirits in Many Ends.

  One mission at a time.

  The smile fades in a hurry. He didn't like hearing that I might be using him. Good!

  "I'll help Dior," I promise Archer, getting us back on track. I'll enter Myriad with Killian, as planned, find and hide her so that she can't be used against us, then go full steam ahead toward my endgame.

  I face the others. "You never asked to be part of my personal war, and I don't expect your support." Amid twitters of confusion, I add, "I intend to find Shamus, free Killian and enter Myriad...and Many Ends. The two are connected. Ask Reed. I intend to--no, I will save the spirits trapped inside. It can be done. Reed and Kayla are proof of that. But. While I'm there, I need your help in the Land of the Harvest. There's a warehouse full of humans who are infected with Penumbra."

  Penumbra is a big, bad boogyman, and only a select few citizens know about Dior's and Javier's infection. We've held our silence, hoping to avoid widespread panic.

  My friends are part of the few.

  "I'm proof spirits can be saved from Many Ends," Reed says, "but you forget. I never experienced Second-death while there. Others were not so fortunate. I witnessed countless murders. There, spirits vanish." He snaps. "Just like that. What if they are dead for good?"

  "They could be, but I doubt it. You remember the screams as well as I do, I'm sure." From the moment I awoke in Many Ends till the very second I left, a chorus of pain and agony rang out. "There are survivors, and whether those people died once, twice or a thousand times, they are suffering unimaginable horrors."

  Eyes closed, he shuffles from one booted foot to the other, huffs out a breath. When he faces me once again, he's pale, as if a soundtrack of those screams is now playing inside his head. "You're right. I'm in. Whatever you need me to do."

  One down. Five to go. The majority.

  "What about the people infected with Penumbra?" Raanan asks.

  "I doubt I can cleanse anyone. The bond to Killian...it's changed me. Shadows fill my head. What if I share shadows instead of Light? I won't weaken Penumbra but strengthen it." Time to drop a few truth bombs. "Raanan, you are a Conduit, and I did change you. Apparently, I'm a Conduit and an Architect."

  Murmurs of confusion arise.

  "Before the vote," I say, "Eron told me I have the power to make Conduits. Well, my Light has the power. It decides who's ready and who isn't. Raanan, you were ready. You can go to the warehouse. You can cleanse the infected." I've had trust issues for as long as I can remember, but I'm not letting them dictate my actions anymore. I'm letting others help.

  I can't do everything on my own, and neither can they. We need each other. One body. One heart. Working together.

  "Not on your own, though," I add. "Okay? All right? Without help, you could drain yourself to death. Through the Grid, I can be with you." The way the princess was there for me. "I will help you every step of the way. All you have to do is contact me when the time comes."

  Silence greets me, thick and oppressive.

  Finally Raanan draws in a deep breath. Bright, bright Light glows from his pores. "Yes, I'll go to the warehouse. I'll cleanse the infected."

  Thank the Firstking.

  Wait. Back up a sec. I see his Light?

  I do, I really do. Three cheers.

  One is lonely. Two are necessary for war. Three is the minimum number of examples needed to explain a concept efficiently.

  The shadows must be losing their hold on me.

  "I'm with you," Archer announces with a nod.

  "I'm insulted you don't already know my answer," Clay says. "You're my Number Girl, and I'm on your side. Always."

  I'm grateful beyond measure. Absolutely overcome. "Why are you guys so loyal to me? So far, I've given you nothing but trouble."

  "You're honest, brutally so," Archer says. "I'd rather help an enemy who tells me truth than a friend who tells me lies."

  During my Firstlife, I read an amazing series of books by Kresley Cole. The Arcana Chronicles. In it, a character says lies are curses we place on ourselves, and I wholeheartedly agree.

  "You always do what you believe is right." Raanan crosses his arms over his chest. "You inspire me to do the same."

  Clay smiles at me. "You never back down. No matter the obstacles in your way, you forge ahead."

  "You consider peace, not the destruction of an enemy, a worthy goal." Dawn withdraws another syringe and fills the vial hanging around my neck. "As do I."

  Clementine nudges my shoulder. "I firmly believe you could hit eleven out of ten targets, with only nine bullets."

  I snort-laugh.

  "What?" she says. "It's true. I also believe you could cut a knife with butter."

  This time, everyone snort-laughs.

  A pulse of annoyance flows along the bridge that connects me to Killian, and I frown. What's his problem now?

  "While Raanan visits the warehouse and I hunt Shamus," I say, "I'd like the rest of you to stay here and defend the house--and Killian." I bat my lashes, all pretty please with a cherry on top. "I know he's your enemy, but we Troikans embody love, and it's time we acted like it. It's time we loved everyone, rather than those it's easy for us to love."

  Agreement doesn't come quickly, but it does come.

  Relief pours through me. "For the coming battle, there's only one rule. We do not kill or irrevocably harm a Troikan."

  "In that case," Killian says, "you will fail. Free me, and I'll win the battle for you."

  "You mean you'll slaughter everyone," I mutter, and again I feel the pulse of his emotion along our bond. Frustration this time. The need to act--to destroy. "Look past the shadows. You'll be surprised by what you find."

  Biscuit barrels inside the house before Killian can respond, knocking down Ranaan, Clay and their guardians. "Who's ready to do this? Me, me, me! Don't worry, you don't have to catch me up on the latest developments. I go
ts me some super hearing! And looks who's with me. Deacon!"

  "A talking dog." Killian moves his gaze over the other animals, and I realize the pack has remained quiet during our conversation. "In Myriad, dragons fly at all hours, but to my knowledge they've never deigned to speak with lowly citizens."

  Head high, Deacon strides inside the house, claiming center stage. My first reaction: dismay. He's a by-the-rule-book kind of guy, and I'm about to go rogue. My second reaction: surprise. How did he get past our Buckler? Unless the Buckler Archer erected includes Deacon as "one of us." Yes. That. My third reaction: joy. This is Deacon. We've had our differences, but my love for him has never faltered. He's here, and he's safe.

  He nods at me before focusing on Archer, his best friend. The two close the distance to meet in the middle. Any lingering dismay that Deacon might blow up my endgame fades. He will never go against Archer. As the two embrace, a beautiful contrast of light and dark--unity--my eyes mist again.

  No time for a break. "How many friends have you recruited to our side?" I ask Biscuit.

  "Counting...counting. One sec, still counting. Okay done. Only all of them."

  The exact answer I hoped to hear. "Can you escort me to General Shamus?"

  His furry chest puffs with pride. "I can do anything. I'm amazing."

  And mega humble.

  "Anyone going to introduce me?" Killian asks. "To the dog, not the Laborer. He and I have met. Although, if I'm being honest--for once--I consider him a dog, as well."

  Nice. My husband remembers everyone but me.

  I'm not bitter--much.

  The dog bounds over to press his face through the bars of the cage. "Hiya. I'm Biscuit. The best! You're Killian. You smell like you've been rubbing all over Ten." Sniff, sniff. "I like it."

  My cheeks heat as I hug Deacon, then Archer. "By the way, I'm really glad you're here."

  "I know." He tweaks my nose. "Because I'm invaluable to your cause."

  "And as humble as Biscuit," I reply, my tone dry. "Though I'd love to stay and chat, there's a little business I must attend." I turn, intending to leave.

  "Hold up," Archer calls, stopping me. "If you think you're leaving without weaving me a poem, you're sorely mistaken."

  Ha! "Little Bow Peep, there's no time."

  "If you're breathing," he counters, "there's time."

  Very well. Knowing he prefers poems that rhyme--all others are crap in his mind--I sigh and say, "The worst happened and you were dead. I couldn't get your loss out of my head. I cried, I mourned, I longed to see you. It sucked, I tell you true. But here you are, back in my arms. Ready to battle--though you might be harmed. But listen well, you adorable piece of poo. If you die again, I'll forever haunt you."

  He barks out a laugh, and I go soft as butter. With this boy, I'm basically mush.

  Smiling, I reach out and pat his head. "You are the sister I always wanted."

  Mock growl. "The poem sucked balls, sis. Work on it."

  My smile widens. I soften further, but also warm. He is a bright Light in my life, our relationship as necessary as air. "I missed you, too, Ten," I say, mimicking him. I focus on Biscuit. "All right. Let's go, guardian."

  I motor forward, the dog at my side. Just before I clear the door, I'm driven by a crazy impulse to look back at Killian. In the same way Archer is like a sibling to me, Killian is like an addiction. Resistance is futile.

  Our gazes meet, and lightning arcs across our bond, startling me. It's bright, hot and unmistakable. A palpable hum of energy.

  "Be careful." His body is drawn as tight as a bow, ready to snap. "Your death will cause mine."

  Disappointment slaps me, but I say nothing as I head outside with Biscuit.

  One mission at a time.

  Different species of animal now surround the house. Six elephants at the helm, four giraffes directly behind them, then ten gorillas and two rhinos at the rear.

  6 + 4 + 10 + 2 = 22.

  Twenty-two, the atomic number for titanium.

  I must be as strong as titanium right now.

  On the sidelines of the neighborhood are countless dogs and cats, deer, alligators, bears, lions and tigers. I'm awed. The city has become a veritable zoo.

  In the distance, hundreds of Laborers crest a hill. They are dressed in catsuits. Troikan armor. No more robes. They are ready for battle, even if destruction isn't the desired result. Swords glint in the Light that shines through the Veil of Wings. Red, red rose petals tumble from the sky, dancing and twirling toward the ground.

  Leading the way are Luciana and John.

  John is dark-skinned and muscled to the max. A warrior without equal.

  Animals stand beside their soldiers. A blast of fear almost sends me rushing back into the house. What if someone gets hurt? What if--No! Stop.

  I rub the brand on my wrist. I must be the warhorse. Fearless. Determined. Nothing will stop me from my goal: victory.

  The Grid hums with approval, causing the shadows to writhe. Here, now, it doesn't feel like they've lost their hold on me. Not that I rely on my feelings. But either way, I know I'm going to have to battle those shadows. Soon.

  One mission at a time. Focus. Right. My brows knit as the Grid guides me to push a ray out, Light from my eyes. Um, okay. But why?

  Does it really matter? The Grid has never steered me wrong.

  I close my eyes and concentrate on a ray of Light. Deep breath in, out. Then I shove the Light, and open my eyes. A ray shoots from me, zooming through the air like an arrow. My gaze follows it and--I gasp. I can see a great distance perfectly! Can see little details I might have missed otherwise.

  Might have? Ha! Definitely.

  Luciana is wearing a metal and mesh dress, a regal look, but also a deceptive one. I've worn something similar, and I know the design allows easier weapons storage, as well as more fluid range of motion.

  I've met John once. We shook hands at my Welcome to Troika party. Though he is six-four, he appears tiny standing next to a massive steed. His shoulders are wide, his chest shaped like a barrel. John's, not the horse's. A thick golden beard covers the lower half of his face.

  "I don't recall you looking so awed when you met me." Biscuit bumps into my leg. "The General isn't as cool as me."

  "Oh, I was awed. Trust me." When John glances in my direction, I duck. Silly. The Grid informs me I'm hidden. The ray of Light I blasted has blinded others from seeing me. So cool!

  Biscuit bounds off in the opposite direction, and I give chase.

  We slip past the Buckler Archer erected with zero problems. Not that I expected any. We can come and go as we please.

  We trek through row after row of the tiny homes. The deeper into the city we go, the cleaner it becomes, until we reach an area without any damage at all. A forest stretches for miles, only it's a forest like no other I've seen. A veritable rainbow. The trees have green trunks and blue leaves. Some of the bushes are pink, some red, some orange. Lush yellow grass carpets the ground.

  Colorful birds fly from branch to branch, singing about love, love is always the answer.

  According to Aunt Lina, Light is always the answer. Perhaps they are one and the same?

  "By the way," Biscuit says. "I wasn't lying about your scent. Your butt is--"

  "Hey!" I swipe up a rock and lob it at him.

  He laughs as he ducks, then picks up the pace. A Stairwell looms ahead. I wonder where it leads, where we'll--

  A twig snaps behind me. Whirling, I reach for a dagger. But a whip of Light lashes out, snags around the blade and yanks. Shock. Dread. Both consume me. A shadowed figure about fifty yards away. In one hand, he holds the whip. In the other, a rock. A rock he hurls--

  No. Not a rock. A grenade.

  "Bomb," I scream, diving for Biscuit to cover him with my body.

  Boom!

  chapter nine

  * * *

  "Believing is believing."

  --Troika

  Killian

  The moment Ten is gone, Ar
cher seizes the reins of control, certain he'll be obeyed.

  "Everyone outside," he orders. "Subdue anyone who makes it past the animals, and remember--killing isn't an option. Dawn, you stay inside." He slaps a Dazer into her hand.

  As one of ten legitimate sons of the Prince of Ravens, Archer grew up issuing commands, expecting and receiving absolute compliance. At one time, even I obeyed him.

  When we were friends, I envied his confidence. Then he defected to Troika, leaving me behind, proving once again that no one sticks around and "love" can't be trusted. Now? The trait makes me see red. I grew up with nothing, had to work for every promotion, every scrap of admiration, yet still I am seen as less than nothing. He is looked upon as a savior.

  I...envy him? I would rather die!

  "Arming a Healer?" I sneer. "Why don't you shoot her in the head and save her the trouble of shooting herself."

  Dawn grows pale.

  Archer snaps his teeth at me, before saying to Dawn, "If anyone but the people in this room walk through the door, shoot first, ask questions later. And don't worry. You won't be causing anyone any kind of injury. If the prisoner threatens you, or hey, if he even breathes in your direction, shoot him, too."

  Though she's trembling, she nods.

  I swallow a curse, hating my helplessness. The urge to act, to rip those bars out of the way, bombards me. My hands twitch and my legs ready. But I remain seated, frustration mounting. I'll succeed only in entertaining the enemy.

  Archer casts me a smug glance, all game, set, match.

  Rage...so much rage burns and bubbles inside me. A volcano set to erupt. But I tamp it down, and smile. A cold unveiling of my teeth. His time will come; I have only to bide mine.

  "Dear ladies, genitalmen and assorted faunae of Troika," I say, my tone smug enough to annoy, well, anyone.

  "Did you say genitalmen?" Archer demands.

  "Oh, good. Your ears are working." I continue just as breezily. "If you Daze me, you Daze Ten. Have you already forgotten we're bonded, and what happens to one happens to both?" As I speak, I rub at the brand on my wrist. The horse Tenley spent a good few seconds staring at.

  She bears a similar mark. Meaning we have matching tattoos. Stab me, please. I must have convinced myself we'd last forever. Idiot. Nothing lasts forever. Not even truth, apparently. If Tenley is right and Fusion is a lie, my mother is trapped in Many Ends. My father, too. But who cares? My Secondking lied to me...like I once lied to so many others.