Everlife (Everlife #3)

“—to Killian?” a male voice says, catching my attention.

“He took out sixteen of my men before we were able to subdue him. He should be headed for the Kennels, and soon he will be. After our interrogation of the girl.”

There are sixteen ounces in a pound.

Abraham Lincoln was the sixteenth president of the United States, and he led during the Civil War.

Sixteen is the atomic number of sulfur.

Why did Killian fight his own countrymen? To safeguard me?

A trick. Only a trick.

Or my seduction worked, and Killian is beginning to trust me.

Too late.

“She’s to be interrogated? Nothing more?” the male asks.

“Of course there’s something more. We’ve never had a Troikan inside Myriad. We’ll be running tests on both of the Flynns. Ah, but I love the sounds of screaming. Music to my ears.” A chuckle of genuine amusement.

“She’s only half Troikan, and we have run tests on others like her.”

“Wrong. While we’ve run tests on Amalgams, we’ve never before had a Conduit in our midst. Which is why our new Abrogate is going to try to push our darkness through Miss Lockwood’s Grid. If the darkness is able to invade Troika, the citizens will be weakened. If the darkness spreads and surrounds the realm, even better. We’ll be able to enter just as Killian did.”

Information hits me one bomb at a time.

Amalgams. Is that what inter-realm bonded couples are called?

New Abrogate. Definitely Javier Diez.

I can’t let him do what is planned. Interrogation, torture, sure, I can endure. I have before. But not the destruction of my home.

The two sides of me war, just like the realms.

The people of Troika do not love you. The Generals blackmailed you. Face it. You are hated, and now that your Light is partially extinguished, you are no longer needed or wanted. Why defend them?

You don’t need to be loved by others to do what’s right for them. Resist, and the darkness will flee. It must.

Then Killian’s voice joins the deluge. —I’m sorry.—

—Sorry doesn’t change our current circumstances. You aren’t the man I thought you were.— The words slip from me, unbidden, my dark side striking out.

He flinches. —I’m better.—

—Hardly. You lied to me.—

He cuts me off. —I know I’m nothin’ like your precious Archer.—

Jealousy? Now of all times?

Doesn’t matter. Through sheer grit and determination, I listen to my Troikan side and resist the darkness. Anger, hurt and worry will only strengthen the shadows. Deep breath in, out. Happy thoughts. The end of the war. A peaceful future for Jeremy. No more friends dying too soon.

Good, that’s good. I begin to calm, and the darkness begins to fade.

I suspect I haven’t seen the last of anger, hurt and worry, but for now, they’re hiding again, and I’m centered. Learn from misfortune and move on.

I focus on Killian. —I’ve never desired Archer. He’s my brother, and you’re my…— What?

Doesn’t matter. Logic over emotion. Escape with Killian. Enter Many Ends. Save…everyone.

I’m tossed on to a cold, hard floor. Impact knocks my brain against my skull. Next, a storm of ice water splashes over me, and I gasp, sputter. My eyelids break apart, and I meet the gaze of the man I know is Zhi Chen. He is dark from head to toe, with a lean body barely strong enough to carry me however far we traveled.

Beside him stands a Shell. Masculine, rugged. Blond with the same nearly translucent skin of the Secondking and glittering green eyes. A face so beautiful that both females and males, young and old, have fallen for him. And killed for him.

I know those eyes. Here is Victor Prince, Archer’s younger brother.

He likes to pretend he’s some kind of angel. I know he’s fallen.

Though he’s not pretending today, is he? He’s too busy glaring daggers at me.

I don’t have to wonder why he’s in a Shell. During our last encounter, he tried to force me to bond with him the way I willingly bonded with Killian, and when I refused, he then attempted to kill me. I cut off his hands, and they have not yet grown back. In the Shell, he can at least pretend to be whole.

“Oh, but the mighty have toppled,” he says, his tone smug.

I’m barely able to move, my strength depleted, my Light gone, but still I blow him a kiss, taunting him. Take your anger out on me, not Killian. Although, hello, we’re bonded. What happens to me happens to him. Double zero. “At least…you know…I’m mighty.”

Victor decides to humor me. With a hiss of rage, he moves toward me. The guy beside him holds out an arm, stopping him.

That guy—Javier Diez. The enemy. He is an Abrogate, my total opposite. I supercharge in the Light while he supercharges in the dark. I can push Light into others; he can tamp it out and create shadows from nothing but air.

Although, with my dual citizenship, I wonder if I can transition from Conduit…to Abrogate. Scratch that. I’m certain I can. The knowledge rises up inside me, temptation wrapped in persuasion and sprinkled with enticement. I have only to embrace the shadows hiding in my mind. Then I can use Javier’s powers against him. Shadow versus shadow.

Will be so easy…

Steel fuses to my spine, squaring my shoulders and lifting my head; the position of a soldier who refuses to back down. Easy doesn’t mean right. How can I utilize darkness, then turn around and condemn Ambrosine and his followers for doing the same? How can I create darkness, stealing Light from my friends? Hurting my friends?

No! There’s another way. A better way. The Light way.

What do I know about Javier? Kayla once called him the quintessential dreamboat. He’s tall, with a golden tan, and handsome. But to me, he’s the embodiment of evil. He gets off on the misery he inflicts. Death and destruction are his constant companions, and selfish is the name of his game. So, dreamboat or not, I’m not a fan.

Before Javier’s Firstdeath, I received a small taste of his powers. He might as well have been a needle, and me a balloon. One moment I was strong, the next I was weak. Now that he’s a spirit, we’re on equal ground.

He’s cocky, and he’ll underestimate me.

I can take full advantage.

Determination tramples any lingering fear, but not by word or deed do I betray my newfound fight. Let him see me as weak. Let him act accordingly.

Javier extends one finger, only one, and not the middle one. Surprise surprise. I think he’s creating shadows. Yes. Oh, yes. Dread attempts an invasion as shadows seep from the ceiling and floor; they slither toward me and wrap around my wrists and ankles. Ice-cold. I gasp.

A second later, I’m yanked upright, my limbs stretched out as if I’m on a rack. My gaze is suddenly eye level with Javier’s. He’s smiling a smile as frigid as his shadows.

“As you might have deduced,” he says, his tone even smugger than before, “I’m learning to use my gifts.”

He expects me to cower. Keep dreaming. “Aw. You’re going to make such a good puppet for your realm.” Speaking while panting proves a challenge, but I manage it.

Rage contorts his features.

To prove he means nothing to me—less than nothing—I mentally dismiss him and scan the room. Between Zhi and Victor is a large dog crate—

Horror slaps me. Killian is locked inside the crate. He’s on his knees, the diameters of the walls not allowing him to stand, and he’s wearing an expression of pure boredom.

This is where betrayal leads you. Happy?

“I’m sure you remember when you cleansed Dior Nichols of Penumbra.” Zhi is as smug and superior as a king. “Now Javier is going to cleanse you of Light, and you’re going to help him. Let him into your Grid. Anytime you resist, Mr. Flynn will be… Well, there’s no kind way to say this. He’ll be deep-fried. Meaning you, too, will be deep-fried.”

Deep breath in, out. I need help, can’t do this on my own.

Desperate, I reach out to Archer through the Grid. Considering Raanan is an Architect, I reach out to him, as well. And the Conduits. The princess. And Biscuit. Clay. Deacon. Reed. Clementine. Kayla. Someone has to hear me, despite the distance between us.