Everlife

From: V_P_5/20.16.18

To: Z_C_4/23.43.2

Subject: Get your facts straight

He’s not my Secondking, he’s my father.

As for Sloan Aubuchon—yes. I delivered her to Hans. (You know him by the name General Schmidt. I know him on a more personal level.) By the way, his plan for her is spectacular. Just wait.

You’ll be happy to know Leonard Lockwood hates his daughter with every fiber of his being. He blames her for his early Firstdeath, and he’s eager to settle the score. He’ll help us any way he can.

Here’s the thing, though. I want to be the one to end her.

Might Equals Right!

ML, Victor Prince

From: Z_C_4/23.43.2

To: V_P_5/20.16.18

Subject: Be patient

Once Mr. Flynn has served his purpose, Miss Lockwood—Mrs. Flynn now?—will have served hers. I’m sure your father will be amenable to giving the pair to you as a gift. They can die right along with Troika.

Might Equals Right!

Sir Zhi Chen

“Wise counsel is an invaluable treasure.”

—Troika

Ten

Electric impulses race through my comm, jolting me. One second I’m in the scorched manna field, the next I’m in a private room at the Baths of Restoration, standing in the middle of a pool.

The change of scenery is startling, and I struggle to catch my breath as I orient myself. Four stone walls surround me. Above, there’s no ceiling, allowing me to peer up at the beautiful crimson sky, so peaceful it taunts me.

“It freaking worked.” Clay Anders steps into view. He’s flanked by three others: Reed Haynesworth, Raanan Aarons and Clementine Vickers.

Happiness overtakes me. My friends are here. I met Clay in the Prynne Asylum. He’s the kind of friend others dream of having. Rock solid, loyal and 100 percent dependable.

Reed, I rescued from Many Ends. Raanan and Clementine experienced Firstdeath on the same day as me, so we went through Troikan initiation together. We haven’t always gotten along, but we’ve been through hell and back. Bonds formed. Trust was forged.

Everyone but me is wearing a ceremonial robe. White with green trim = Laborer-in-training.

While Clay is my age, both Reed and Raanan are a year older. All three boys are tall with black hair, but that is where their similarities end. Clay is lean and tanned with wavy locks that frame a classically handsome face, and navy blue eyes. Reed is wider, more striking, with lighter skin, hair that is straight as a board and brown eyes with a beautiful uptilt. Raanan is dark from head to toe and packed with muscle, with midnight eyes filled with the smoldering heat of a desert sun.

Clementine is the youngest, her pale skin covered in adorable freckles. She has pink hair, big hazel eyes and charming features. To me, she looks like a living doll.

Normally my friend Kayla Brooks would be here, too, but she’s currently recovering from a bullet to the face. My hands fist. The shooter? Victor Prince. He convinced her to betray Troika, told her they would bring about the end of the war and when that happened, they could be together. A lie, all a lie. Victor hadn’t wanted the war to end; he’d wanted Troika laid to waste.

He is responsible for the most recent attack. When he failed to win me over to his cause, he tried to assassinate me.

Truth is, even if Kayla were recovered, I doubt she’d be here. Her actions hurt innocent people. A lot of innocent people. Yes, she realized her mistake, and she’s been forgiven by the majority, but no one trusts her. Including me. I love her dearly, but even I have limits.

The muscles in my shoulders bunch into hard knots. I’m the worst kind of person in the world right now—I’m a freaking hypocrite. Again and again, I’ve sided with Killian. How easily my situation could have been like Kayla’s.

If ever Killian had used me...

But he hadn’t. He won’t. There’s a big difference between our boyfriends: Victor sees no value in life other than his own, and Killian does. Or he used to. I don’t know the man he’s become.

I need my old Killian back. Killian 1.0. There’s no beating the original.

With my friends at my sides, I can do anything. Even bring Killian 2.0 into the Light.

The knots unwind, and my tension fades. “How am I here?” I ask. “Better yet, why am I here? And where are your guardian animals?” Dang it, where’s mine? Gimme!

“One question at a time,” Raanan says. “We heard you’d returned from a secret meeting and the first thing you did was visit the Eye. We needed to speak with you, so we had Clem retrace your steps. And I’m still waiting to meet my guardian.”

“Me, too,” the others say in unison.

“Tell us about the secret meeting,” Clay says.

What to admit, and what to hold back? “I’ll tell you, but can we backtrack a minute? Did you say Clementine worked the Eye?” Only Leaders train at the Eye. Last I heard, Clementine was a Laborer.

Grinning, she fluffs her hair. “Didn’t you hear? Lots of people got a promotion, and I’m one of them. Thanks to the Grid, skills were downloaded straight into my brain.”

“While you were gone, announcements were made.” Reed sits at the edge of the pool, and draws one knee up to his chest. “The bombings killed so many, massive restructuring had to be done. Clementine, Rebel, Winifred, Hoshi and Sawyer are to become Leaders.”

“What about you? What about Nico and Fatima?” They are the other newbies who experienced Firstdeath on the same day as me. Fatima is the youngest at six years old.

Reed rubs two fingers over his jaw. “I turned down a Leader position, and Fatima’s training has been delayed. She’s not coping well with all the disasters. As for Nico, I don’t know. No one’s heard from him since the bombings.”

Zero! What if he’s trapped underneath the rubble?

“I got a promotion, too, only information wasn’t downloaded into my Grid.” Raanan levels a hard gaze on me. “Probably because you’re the one who promoted me.”

Frowning, unsure I heard him correctly, I thump my chest. “Me?”

Nod. “What did you do to me?”

“Nothing?” I honestly have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Wrong.” He points a finger at me. “After the bombs were set off inside the realm, you touched me. Lightning arced between us. Ever since, I’ve been burning up with fever, though I’m not sick. I’m stronger. And I know, I know. I was hot already. Now I’m scorching.” He winked.

As suspicions dance through my mind, I chew on my bottom lip. Is it possible...? “Has the Grid expanded inside your mind?”

His eyes widen. “Yes. New doors keep popping up.”

I chew harder. Somehow I must have turned him into a Conduit, the way Myriadian Generals can turn humans into Abrogates. Except, he’s not as radiant as before, and Conduits glow. Or maybe the problem with that is, well, me? Maybe I can’t see Light the way I once did, my mind too clouded by shadows. “I have an idea, but I’m not sure I’m right. Let me do a little digging before I—”

“Tell me,” he demands.

Oookay. How can I deny him? I’d want to know, too. “I think you may or may not—maybe, probably, hopefully—be...a Conduit.” Before he has a chance to respond, I rush to add, “I don’t know how, and I don’t know why. Like I said, I don’t even know if I’m right.”

At first, he has no reaction. Then excitement pulses from him, and the corners of his mouth quirk up. “I’ve always known I was special. This proves it.”

“All right. Enough of that.” Clay gives Raanan a little shove before jumping into the water. Cool droplets splash my face. He closes the distance and gives me a hug. “Do you know what’s odd?” he asks.

“You mean there’s more?” I sigh. “Tell me,” I demand, just like Raanan. See? I have to know.

“Every other number,” Clay says.

I snort, taking comfort in the familiar. Whenever we’re together, he tells me a number joke.

Now he tweaks my nose. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you kind of look like the grim reaper without a cape.”

Seriously? “There’s a right way to take that?”

Raanan rakes his gaze over me and shrugs. “He’s wrong. You don’t look like the grim reaper. You look like his evil twin.”

Great! I absolutely refuse to lie to my friends, or anyone. I’m not weak. “I’m...” Just say it. “That secret meeting I attended? It was with Killian. We...bonded.”

To my amazement, no one is surprised.

Raanan slaps Reed on the shoulder. “Knew it. Pay up.”

Grumbling under his breath, Reed digs into the pocket of his robe and hands over a small vial of manna.

“Flavored with whiskey,” Raanan says while wiggling his brows. “A rare mannskey.”

I do a little glaring. “You guys bet on my relationship?”

“We experienced a ripple of absolute darkness through the Grid.” He shrugs, all, What else were we supposed to do? “I figured you had something to do with it. And if you’re involved in something, the Myriadian is involved.”

Well. He isn’t wrong.

“So you’re married?” Clementine asks, and claps.

“I am.” Happily...almost. Maybe. Hopefully!

Grinning, she jumps up and down. “Have you guys had sex yet?”

My cheeks heat, and I nearly choke on my tongue. “Um...”

“Hey. You aren’t supposed to ask a girl that kind of question. You’re far too young.” Raanan flattens his hands over her ears. “Well?” he asks me. “Have you? And has anything bad happened because of the bond? Besides you looking like Death’s evil twin, I mean. We’re told to stay away from Myriadians, so...huh huh have you? Has it?”

I roll my eyes, and say, “I plead the fifth on both counts.”

“You also suck.” His hands fall away from Clem.

We haven’t had sex, no, but I kinda feel like I acquired an STD anyway. Shadows Too Dark. How can I get rid of them permanently?

“Two of our Generals hid Killian inside Troika.” I dunk into the crystal-clear water, ripples brushing against me, cleansing me from the inside out. Even my breath is freshened.

What the water doesn’t do? What its name promises. My strength is not restored. I think I’m more tired than before. My limbs are shaky, and my stomach is a mess. What if I fight the Generals and lose? My frustration mounts. “They’re blackmailing me, trying to control my vote for the Resurrection. That means finding Killian is priority one. Freeing him is priority two.”

“Let me guess,” Reed says. “You’re supposed to vote for Levi.”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “Orion.”

Clay thinks, frowns. “Why? Levi is the one we need, no doubt about it.”

Everyone else nods. And I get it. I do. Levi trained us. He’s smart, kind and determined. But...I’m not sold. Does no one see the merits to having Meredith or Archer returned to our midst? Meredith is a Leader and open to peace between realms. Archer is a Laborer with the heart of a lion. He’s willing to die for his loved ones—and has!

How much am I willing to sacrifice for my realm...for peace?

How far am I willing to go for Killian...for love?

If we are truly to be one body—the chosen—the members of our body matter more than ever.

“We have an hour until the vote,” Clementine begins. “I can return to the Eye and—”

A vibration rides across the Grid, arresting me. Arresting all of us. In unison, we go still.

“The Secondking has issued a summons,” Raanan says, decoding the message that accompanies the vibration. “Due to murmurs of discontent, the Resurrection ceremony has been moved up. We’re to head to the Garden of Exchange now.”

Zero! What about Killian?

Deep breath in, out. Right now, he’s safe. So I’ll go to the Garden of Exchange. I’ll cast my vote. As long as the Generals need me, he’s going to be fine. Afterward, I’ll find him. Perhaps with the help of the person who is Resurrected.

In a blink, my To Do list changes. Decide who will come back from the dead. Find and save Killian.

No pressure.

As Raanan helps me out of the water, Clay taps his wrist and a bright Light appears directly over it. He type, type, types. A towel appears in one hand, and a purple robe in the other. Purple = royalty. I gulp.

Definite pressure...

Argh! When there is pressure, do not panic—sow and reap. Life is a garden. Plant a seed, and grow a blessing...or a curse. The harvest depends on your seed, for like gives life to like. If I want love, I must sow love. If I want to help my goals, I must help my realm.

Which of the slain will help my realm if Resurrected?

Clay tosses me the towel. After I dry off, I hand the towel to Clementine, and she uses it to shield me as I change into the purple robe. Then I braid my wet hair.

“Drink up. You’re a Conduit, special and we need you well. I’m sure you could use a boost.” She places a vial of manna in one of my hands, and heads for the exit.

I follow her, and everyone else follows me.

“I’m not special,” I mutter, and drain the vial.

“You saved us during the invasion,” Clay says. “Trust me. You’re special.”

The manna is sweet on my tongue, but for the first time, it burns going down. Sharp pains shoot through me, but thankfully they fade in a hurry.

Do I now need a mix of manna and ambrosia?

I’ll figure it out. Later. Ahead is a Gate, an archway that looks to be made entirely of diamonds. Our group enters two at a time, the diamonds vanishing as fireworks explode around us. We remain on our feet, even continue walking, while we’re shot to a new location.

There, we enter a Stairwell. Then we enter two more Gates before reaching our destination. The Garden of Exchange. Thank the Firstking, this city is untouched by the bomb blasts, its hanging wisteria, honeysuckle and ivy vines as lush as ever. Fruit trees are in full bloom, branches heavy with peaches, oranges, apples and every other kind of treat you can name. Wild strawberries and blackberries intermix with a maze of colorful flowers, sweetly scenting the air while leading to the heart of the city, where millions of citizens have already congregated, everyone decked out in some kind of robe.

There are children, teenagers and adults, though no one looks older than thirty-five. That’s to be expected. When a spirit reaches the Age of Perfection, the outward appearance freeze-frames, no matter how old a physical body becomes or used to be.

Different animals are present, as well. Dogs. Cats. Deer. Wolves. A handful of zebras. Horses. Birds fly overhead. Despite the number of living beings amassed here, not a single conversation is taking place. Not a roar, growl or purr can be heard. Silence reigns, and it’s eerie.

As we approach, the crowd parts down the center for the one who will be rendering the only vote. My heart thuds against my ribs. We motor forward, sweat dotting my palms. I catch sight of Nico and breathe a sigh of relief. Until his eyes narrow and fill with hate.

Hate? I stumble. Does he know I married Killian?

Someone steps in front of him, blocking him from view before I can speak with him. My gaze lands on my great-grandmother Hazel, and my mind trips along after it. Such a precious woman! Beside her is my great-grandfather Steven. If I fail to vote for Meredith, their daughter, they’ll be hurt.

I swallow the lump growing in my throat. Next I see Millicent, my little brother’s nanny, and Jeremy. My heart squeezes. As he wiggles and giggles, I pause to caress his soft cheekbone.

—Ten!—

His voice drifts along the Grid, filling my mind. This isn’t the first time he’s spoken to me this way, but I’m still startled. —Hey, baby bro. I love you so much.—

—Love, too.—

“Get him out of here,” I whisper to Millicent. “Keep him safe.” If there’s a riot after I render my vote, I don’t want an infant caught in the chaos.

Her jaw drops, and she blinks rapidly. Then she nods and works her way through the crowd, heading in the opposite direction.

Keep moving. Get this done. A royal palace is ahead, with walls made of diamond, sapphire and ruby, emerald, topaz, and beryl, onyx and jasper. Every gem is flawless, breathtaking.

Before the palace is a bridge. Before the bridge is a dais.

Tremors flood me. On the dais stands the Secondking. The majestic Eron, Prince of Doves, is wearing a spectacular violet robe with gold seams and a hem that glitters as if it’s been soaked in Lifeblood. He’s tall and leanly muscular, with dark skin and eyes bluer than a morning sky, brighter than a sapphire and lovelier than a blue jay.

Despite the majesty of those eyes, his face is plain. A fact that always astounds me. He should be a showstopper.

Who am I kidding? He is a showstopper. Appearance means nothing. Heart, everything. Love and power radiate from him. So much power. Too much for one person to bear. Well, an ordinary person. Eron is far from ordinary. Light shines from his pores, radiant and pure, warming me.

In the back of my mind, the shadows shudder with fear. I grin.

Behind the Secondking stands each of our thirteen Generals. They represent a mix of nationalities and hail from all over the Land of the Harvest. Today they are dressed in turquoise robes with metal links sewn into the shoulders to denote their exalted station.

My grin fades. Do the other Generals know that Luciana and Shamus are holding Killian hostage?

The shadows seize upon the rage that sparks inside me, and dip their toes in the waters of my mind...ripples flow along the Grid. Threatening to invade other doors?

Careful. In an effort to control the emotions, I breathe deeply and turn my focus to the others. The handsome Alejandro gives me a nod of greeting. I’ve always liked him, and I hope beyond hope that I have an ally in him—no matter what. Jane and Spike give me a nod of greeting, as well, while the others implore me with their gazes.

I can almost hear the chant inside their heads. Choose Orion. Please.

Tremors shake me. With my head high, I ascend the steps, the pitter-patter of my feet almost as loud as a scream. I walk onto the dais, stop a few feet from Eron and kneel, at the same time crossing my arms over my chest to form an X. As I raise my arms, they uncross to form a V. A show of my fealty.

Just like that. The rest of the world vanishes. I’m alone with Eron, surrounded by Light and fluffy white clouds.

“Rise,” he tells me, his voice like music and thunder and rain all at once.

I obey, my mind whirling. “Where are we? Why are we here?” Whoa. Bring it down a notch. This is my king. Be respectful or be quiet.

“Consider this today’s briefing.”

Great. Wonderful. Hesitant, I say, “You know about my bond with Killian.”

“I do.”

He offers no protests. “You support us?” I suspected, but confirmation will—

“I do,” he repeats. “Love never fails.”

Confirmation will thrill me. I stand taller. “Some would argue I don’t know real love.”

“Some are deceived.”

He says no more, and I don’t press my luck.

“Would you like to know why I gave you the sole vote in this Resurrection?” he asks.

“Yes.” The word leaves me so quickly, it’s almost a hiss.

“After the bombing I realized a startling truth. You, Tenley Lockwood, are not a Conduit.”

I gape at him, certain I misheard. “I’m not?”

“You are the first of your kind. A Conduit and an Architect.”

“A what now?” I’ve never heard the term in association to a position here.

“You possess the amazing ability to make Conduits.”

Part of me wants to argue with him. The other part of me accepts the knowledge without reservation. Look at Raanan. I suspected this. And really, in Troika, nothing is impossible.

“How?” I ask. And, wow. Wow, wow, wow. Being one of only two Conduits capable of cleansing Penumbra had come with tremendous responsibility and pressure.

Without pressure, there would be no diamonds.

Now there is another, and there will be more.

The ferocity of Eron’s gaze intensifies, nearly drilling me to my knees. “Do you know what apocalypse means?”

I nod, even as my stomach churns. “The destruction of the world.”

“That is one meaning, yes. But the other? A revealing. The end of the war nears, and with it, change comes.” He motions to the horse branded on my wrist. “Change rides his—or her—warhorse. You are the first of many. There will be others, on both sides.”

My mouth goes dry. Killian bears a horse on his wrist, as well. Is he on our side—or Myriad’s?

“How do I make Conduits?” I’ve touched others. Killian. Clay. Luciana, even. Only Raanan has made the transition.

“When you find a candidate who is ready,” he says, “your Light will know, and do the work for you.”

That...makes sense. But I’ll have to ponder the pros and cons later. I’m not sure how long I’ll have Eron’s undivided attention. “I still don’t understand why you gave me the vote.”

“Don’t you?” He offers me an indulgent smile. “I value life. All life. Like you, I crave peace.”

Nice to know I’m on the same page with someone like Eron. He is a good king and a great man. I can’t—no, I won’t—let him down. And not just him, but everyone; even those who do not fully comprehend. My baby brother has to live in the world we create. I can fight to give him something better, or let him wade through whatever crapstorm we allow to rage.

“What if people are disappointed with my choice? Or infuriated?” I ask. “Will you stand with me?”

The look he gives me can be described only as indulgent. “I’m always with you, even during the most trying times. Especially during the most trying times. Just because you can’t see me, doesn’t mean I’m not there. Just because things go badly one day, doesn’t mean I’m not working to make them better the next.”

That’s fair.

“You’ve read the Book of the Law,” he says. “My mission statement has never changed, never will. Trust that we are working together for the good of all. While I am the head, you—the people—are my body. Trust that I want what is best for everyone, no matter their allegiance. I believe my actions have proven this, again and again, even if some of my people have strayed.”

The clouds vanish as quickly as they appeared, the rest of the world coming back into view. We’re back on the dais, the crowd overflowing the Garden of Exchange.

“Have you decided who will rejoin our fight?” Eron’s voice booms for one and all.

Here it is, the moment of truth. What am I going to do? Is the right choice for Troika the right choice for Killian? What about the right choice for facilitating the end of the war?

Half of the crowd begins to chant. “Orion. Orion. Orion.”

The other half chants, “Levi. Levi. Levi.”

Well. The masses want a General, no doubt about it.

But I cannot forget—these people are stuck in negative flow. A rushing river pulls us one way, and too many are content to be swept along. I’m fighting my way upstream, even though I’m tired, unsure and plagued by darkness. I can’t stop. The second I do, the very second, I’ll drift down the river alongside everyone else—and I’ll suffer the same end.

Gotta get them in a different body of water.

My gaze meets Hazel’s, then Steven’s. This time, they silently plead with me. Vote for Meredith, the woman who gave her life to save yours.

My heart squeezes in my chest. I love Meredith. I want her back. I really do.

“Tell us, Ten.” The Secondking waves in my direction. “Speak the name, and I will do the rest.”

Shadows writhe with more force. People chant. Animals call out. The Generals stare daggers into my back. My nerves fry. Inside me, pressure builds.