Everlife (Everlife #3)

Not ready… Haven’t truly lived.

A deluge of fury, fear and determination vibrates along the Grid, and for a moment, I’m afraid she’s going to try to talk some “sense” into herself and then the boy. Foolish girl. There’s no time. When death comes for you, you don’t try to reason with him. You fight hard, and you fight fast.

With a cry from the depths of her soul, she swings out her arm, hurling the shard. Her aim is true. The tip slices through Nico’s neck, skin splitting open, Lifeblood spurting out.

His eyes widen with shock. He struggles to breathe as he reaches for the wound he will never be able to close. His knees give out, and he topples. The grenade falls from his grip.

The hawk swoops down to catch the grenade before it hits the ground.

Tenley rushes forward, too, her heart a riotous storm. When she realizes the hawk succeeded, she stills, unsure what to do, but the bird gently sets the weapon in her palm.

She expels a sigh of relief. Then she kneels beside Nico and whispers, “I’m sorry.” Hands trembling, she sets the grenade aside, pushes the man to his back, and rips a vial of manna from his neck. “It didn’t have to be the way. I wished you’d listened to me.”

—What’re you doin’? Doona waste yer manna on him. You might need—Argh!—

The foolish lass dispenses much-needed liquid directly into Nico’s wound, wasting every precious drop. Because it’s too late. He breathes his last as Second-death claims him.

Her shoulders roll in, and her head bows.

Now she mourns for him? I ground my teeth. Mourns the loss of the man who tried to kill her. How can her heart be so…soft? I’d like to kill the male all over again.

Perhaps she absorbs my determination through the bond. She straightens, and returns to Biscuit, swiping up the extra vial of manna along the way. The dog watches her with dark eyes filled with adoration.

She takes a drink. Only a sip, not nearly enough, and only for the boost of strength needed to push and shove the slab from Biscuit’s leg.

The moment he’s free, she empties the remaining liquid down his throat.

I loathe being a voice in her head, unable to force her movements, to ensure she does what’s necessary to ensure her own survival. How can she help an enemy at a time like this? How can she take so little for herself when a battle looms, and give so much to a dog?

Frustration burns as deeply as my rage. Does she not understand weakness is her enemy? With every drop of Lifeblood she loses, failure moves from a possibility to a guarantee.

Part of me wants to shake her, and rattle her brain against her skull. Come on, help yourself. If she won’t do it, I’ll do it for her. Somehow, some way. She must be protected, whatever the cost. She needs me, and I think… I think I need her.

In the back of my mind, a memory arises. Just after our bond, she looked at me with absolute, utter acceptance. To her, I was family.

I’d never really had a family. The something from before…the something I couldn’t identify but suspected was longing—it strikes again, pricking my hollow heart.

For the first time, that hollowness bothers me.

Like the big bad wolf, I huff and I puff with indignation. Family is an illusion. Never forget. Even if I forsook my realm to be with this girl, giving up my home, my job and the accolades I’ve earned in favor of the rancor I’ll receive from Troikans, one day Tenley will leave me.

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?”