Everlife (Everlife #3)

My words push him over the edge. With a war cry, he hurls his big body at me. We bang together and fall. I take the brunt of impact as we slam against a table, shattering its legs. Pain sears me. As I sprawl over the remains, Shamus’s heavy weight shoves the air from my lungs. Empty.

Stars wink before my eyes. Fear mixes with anger and congeals, becoming a hard lump I can’t swallow. I’ve lost the fight before it ever really began? Unacceptable!

In one seemingly fluid movement, he maneuvers to his knees, straddling me and cocking his fist, ready to whale. I hold up my arms, blocking him. At the same time, I anchor a finger through each of the metal hooks on my wrist cuffs and stretch the two wires across the open space between us. His fist tangles in the wires, momentum shredding skin and muscle. Glittering Lifeblood pours and splatters over my face as Shamus bellows with agony.

Guilt makes a play, trying to overwhelm me, but I resist. How can I hurt a General? Easily.

Before he can try to land another blow, I jerk upright and slam the heel of my palm into his nose. Cartilage snaps, and a new bellow assaults my ears. More Lifeblood pours down his chin.

Determined, knowing I have a very small advantage, I work my legs out from under him, flatten my feet on his chest and push. I expect him to soar backward, but he’s too strong and merely tilts.

Frustration mounts. Think, Ten. Think!

No time. He snaps upright and throws a punch. I kick up my leg, his fist meeting my thigh rather than my face. A saving grace. When he draws back his elbow to throw yet another punch, I react on instinct, wrapping both my legs around his neck and squeezing with all my might.

Threat… Must kill…

Guilt and remorse return, redoubled, reminding me of my choices. Find another way or deal with the consequences.

Is there another way?

He strains and pulls at me, but cannot free himself, and I force him to the ground. Momentum lifts my upper body and, with a screech of aggravation, I release him at last, spinning away while on my knees. I kick out my leg, my boot slamming into his jaw.

Killian is silent, providing no distractions for me. Appreciate it.

Fast as lightning, Shamus grabs my ankle and yanks, planting me on my back, the short swords clinking. In seconds, he has my legs tied together. Once again, I jolt upright, but this time he’s ready and punches me in the jaw. Pain! The bone snaps out of place, annihilating the joint.

There’s a slight ringing in my ears, but I think I hear Killian roar. Again, the desire to kill bombards me.

Must resist!

As panic knocks on the door of my mind, I fall back, punting Shamus in the face with my bound feet. Hissing, bleeding, he reaches for my arms, probably intending to bind my wrists, too. But I kick up my legs again, blocking him, before contorting my body. I swipe the space between my ankles over the tip of a short sword, and the rope is rendered useless.

A cool tide of relief propels me to my feet. Problem: Shamus palms a gun. Not a Dazer, meant to stun me, but a revolver, meant to maim. He aims, fires. The bullet whizzes through my hand, cracking bones and tearing muscles, and a cry leaves me. The newest wound throbs. Other sore spots make themselves known. Warm Lifeblood pours from the wound, weakening me, and I drop the sword.

My relief is gone, wiped away as if extinct. Helplessness hurries to launch a coup.

—Ten!— Killian is a commanding presence in my head, and he refuses to be ignored. —Kill him. Kill him now. Before it’s too late.—

I can see Biscuit prowling behind the lasers, as if he’s considering risking his life to enter the room.

“No,” I shout, my heart galloping at warp speed. “Don’t. Please.”

Shamus takes aim a second time. Target: right between my eyes. Decided he’s better off with me dead?

Cold fingers of dread creep down my spine as shadows flicker inside his eyes. Because of me. Because I welcomed the darkness. He was right about that, at least. Or maybe he’s always had shadows, like me, and they’re just now coming to light.

Maybe we all have shadows.

“You doona yet understand the price of betrayal.” He radiates fury. Letting his emotions get the better of him. “But I’m going to teach you. As a General, it’s my job to teach you.”

An eye for an eye, a hurt for a hurt. This is a recipe for disaster.

But even faced with defeat, I will not buckle. I will fight for what I believe is right.

“How can I learn anything if I’m dead?” Every word is agony, my jaw unhinged. I hold up my hands, palms out. Pretend innocence. “But go ahead. Do what you think you must.” Just as I will.

Killian protests, loudly. —What are you doin’? No! Accept nothin’ but survival. Fight this. Fight him.—

“Trying to spur me into killing you?” Shamus stalks toward me. “Too bad, little girl. You’re going to face a jury of your peers and answer for your crimes.”

—If you doona take him down, Tenley Lockwood, I’ll find a way tae survive without you and tear this realm apart.—

My eyes narrow, my lids heavy with fury of my own. —Isn’t that your plan, anyway?—

A pause. Then, —Tenley. Ten.—

His tone beseeches me. Seduction is his default, after all. I ignore it—ignore him. I must.

The second Shamus is within reach, with every intention of binding me, I swing my arm. I’ve learned from my mistakes. With Nico, I hesitated and second-guessed myself. Too bad for Shamus I’m all systems go now. Full steam ahead.

He doesn’t see the shard hidden between my fingers. Then, he doesn’t see anything. The tip jabs into one of his eyes, then the other. With a scream, he drops the gun to reach for his face. Cold as ice, I act swiftly, hooking my leg behind his and sending him to his knees. He hits the ground, and I press my boot into his back, holding him down.

Kill him. My darker side. Again, I ignore it.

What will I do for my realm? For Killian? Anything.

“I meant what I said.” Shamus is panting, and there’s Lifeblood on his teeth. “I won’t leave with you.”

“That’s okay. You can stay.” I clasp the hilt of my other sword and raise my arm. Then, not giving myself time to second-guess my actions, I swing the weapon down, down, and remove one of his hands.





TROIKA



From: R_A_5/40.5.16 To:

T_L_2/23.43.2

Subject: Bad news/worse news Check it. I’m outside the warehouse with Pop Tart, and we’re peeking into the windows. We count roughly 100 humans. But there’s no telling how many are inside the rooms without windows. Everyone is snoozing, and strapped to gurneys. Here’s the thing that’s got my Spidey senses tingling. There’s no Myriadian Buckler up. Nothing to keep me from storming inside and going crazy on potential Abrogates.

Why aren’t they protected to the max? Why aren’t MLs here, acting as guards?

The only answer that makes sense: Myriad wants us to break in. This is a trap. I mean, they know we’ll be desperate to sneak inside to pull the plugs before any of the humans wake up and spread Penumbra.

Okay, here’s the worse news.

I know, I know. You thought you’d already heard it. Nope. Brace yourself.

Sloan Aubuchon is trapped inside. (I’ve never met her, but the Grid filled me in.) She’s nailed to a pole, as if she’s a Myriadian scarecrow. She’s awake, and when she spotted us through the window, her eyes went wide and she flashed the number 6 (3 fingers from each hand, flashed 3 times, like Morse code or something). There’s a gag in her mouth, so she can’t call for help—or warn us about a trap.

Tell me what you think is the best plan of action. If I agree, we’ll do it.

Light Brings Sight!

Conduit-in-training,

Raanan Aarons





TROIKA



From: T_L_2/23.43.2

To: R_A_5/40.5.16

Subject: 6…6…6