Everlife (Everlife #3)

“What did you do?” Deacon’s emerald gaze finds me and narrows.

For once I can honestly say, “Blame someone else. He went outside, and he got plugged. Now forget him. He’ll recover. Probably. One of you needs to track down Ten. Now. Shamus injured her. As you can see.” I motion to my body. My jaw is out of place, and there are cuts all over my torso and limbs.

As Clay pets his zebra, he looks me over and pales. “You could have hurt yourself just to hurt her.”

Ignore the pain. And the accusation. “She has no manna, and no way to get manna without being spotted by angry mobs determined to punish her for choosing to bring Archy-boy back to life.”

His stride long and strong, Clay closes the distance. Scowling, he shakes the bars of my cage. “If she’s hurt because of you…”

“You’ll what?” I ask. “Tell me I’ve been a bad boy?”

Deacon stands and places a hand on his shoulder, quieting him. “Don’t listen to him. We can’t trust a single word from his mouth. So, if he wants us to leave, we’ll stay put.”

No, they can’t. I can’t even trust myself anymore. And yet, still anger burns inside me. Their inaction hurts Ten.

Fools! If they won’t go after her, I will. Even if I have to break every bone in my body in order to slip through the bars. Or, maybe I can claw through the metal. Either way, nothing will stop me.

This is my fault, not theirs. I’ve sown dissention. Now I reap it.

Argh! I’m 100 percent certain now. I loathe my Troikan side.

Deacon crouches to pat Archer’s cheek once, twice, a gentle wake-up call. My former best friend moans as his eyelids flutter open.

“Hey, man.” Smiling with relief, Deacon helps Archer ease to a sitting position. “You okay?”

Before he can respond, the house shakes, the foundation rattling. I tense. Another bomb blast? No, couldn’t be. There wasn’t an initial blast or ensuing boom.

“The soldiers managed to override our Buckler with one of their own,” Clay says. “I bet they just lowered it.”

Yes. Makes sense. Now that General John has his bargaining chip, he doesn’t need to force his opposition to remain inside the house. They’ll stay of their own accord in hopes of saving Reed.

This. This is why having friends…or a bonded mate… makes you vulnerable. When you stand alone, no one can be used against you.

“Take posts at each of the windows,” Deacon instructs the animals. They rush to obey.

In the center of the room, a flash of Light arcs from the ceiling to the floor. I tense all over again, expecting John to appear, ready to deliver his terms: Reed’s life in exchange for everyone’s cooperation. But it is Ten and Biscuit who appear.

My heart slams against my ribs; I’m hit by shock, delight and fear all at once. She’s pale and trembling, but her jaw isn’t out of place. Her clothes are soaked in Lifeblood. In her hand is Shamus’s hand.

I jump to my feet, propelled by a surge of adrenaline; it’s like rocket fuel has been poured into my veins. “Ten.”

Her wild, mismatched gaze finds me. We share a stolen moment of relief: she’s here, we’re together again, and all will be well. Then she collapses, hitting the ground with a thud.

My own knees begin to quake. The manna I consumed did, in fact, aid her, but not enough. “Help her,” I shout. “Or my new mission in life will be killin’ every single one of you.”

“She needs manna,” Biscuit barks. “Get some, like, now, or get bit.”

“I have more,” Dawn says, her voice hoarse once again.

I curse my helplessness as the Healer removes the last syringe from the first aid kit. The rest of the group swarms her, crouching and blocking Ten from my view. Even Archer. With a moan, he lumbers to his knees and crawls to her.

My hands fist, and my teeth grind, but I say nothing. Must keep my cool. Perception is reality. To protest is to reveal my thoughts and emotions to my enemies, and that I will not do. Knowledge is power.

That phrase. It’s familiar to me. I think… I think Ten has said it to me.

Are more of my memories returning?

I back away from the action and sit down, leaning against the wall, keeping my expression blank. No one who glances my way will suspect my heart is galloping as if I’m in the middle of a race. Who cares about my memories right now? I need to know if Ten will pull through.

She must. What’s the worst that can happen? She dies, causing me to die? So what? I’ll be reborn.

Doubt immediately flickers. What if Ten is right? What if I’m not reborn, but a prisoner of Many Ends?

Why do Myriadians go to Many Ends and Troikans enter into the Rest?

The shadows sink their claws deeper into my mind… hiding the answer from me? With a snarl, I slam my fists into my temples, attempting to dislodge the block—failing. The throbbing pain in my hands eases, at least, and my jaw aligns.

“She’s responding,” Dawn says, her tone now as bubbly as champagne. “She’s going to be okay.”

Cheers ring out. Everyone hugs everyone else.

I’m Ten’s husband, but I’m not her family. Nor am I a part of this celebration. As always, I’m an outsider looking in. And that’s the way I like it. Can’t forget—I’m better off on my own.

So why do I feel like a fire poker is being shoved through my rib cage?

Easy answer: The manna must not have healed the bulk of Ten’s wounds.

“Where’s Reed?” she asks as she sits up.

Silence. The others look at themselves, clearly trying to decide what to tell her.

I strain my eyes to look past other people’s limbs…think I see her profile. She appears strong, steady.

“Where is Reed?” she asks again. “Tell me.”

“General John took him,” I say. She deserves the truth.

Deacon slants me a death glare.

What? Rip the bandage, TL, before she rips you apart. “John hasn’t listed his demands yet, but we can guess what he wants. Control over me, and therefore you.”

Her shoulders droop. “You guys aren’t the only ones with bad news. Nico is… Well, there’s no easy way to tell you. He’s dead. He attacked me, desperate to violate his covenant so he could defect to Myriad without the hassle of a trial. He wanted to be with Victor and I… I just… I’m sorry.”

Archer scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I should have seen my brother’s evil heart. I know him better than most. Or thought I did. I should have stopped him before I died.”

I’ve lost track of Ten, the others’ movements keeping her well hidden, until she reaches out to twine her fingers with Archer’s, offering comfort. Hell, no.

If realm covenants can be broken without court, marriage covenants can be broken without court.

Has she decided Archer is the better man for her?

—Look at me.— My heart projects the command directly at Ten, without permission from my mind. My Troikan side needs her within sight now.

To my relief, she stands and pushes through the crowd, leaving the severed hand on the floor—out of my reach. Her gaze seeks mine. Everyone’s gaze seeks mine. The color has returned to her cheeks, her skin luminous. My hands itch to hold her, almost as if they remember her softness even though I do not.

My Myriadian side says, Reveal nothing. I force a yawn.

She takes a step toward me, stops. Head high, she asks, “Have I starred in any new memories?”

In an effort to drag a reaction from her, I pucker my lips as if I just tasted a lemon. She’s taken a page from my book, her tone neutral, disguising her emotions. Tables, turned. It sucks.

The pulse in her neck pounds—with nervousness at what I might have recalled? Success! “Only our tattoos,” I reply. “One. Four. Three. Ten.” I love you, Ten. “The tattoos, and the reason for them, change nothing.”

Hurt sizzles the bond, and my guilt flares.

Biscuit trots to her and shoves his nose where the sun doesn’t shine, probably hoping to lighten the mood. Yelping, she jumps away. The dog grins and licks her hand.