Everlife (Everlife #3)

“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 gots 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.