Everlife (Everlife #3)

“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.”