Everlife (Everlife #3)

The moment his skin touches mine, a scene flashes inside my head, and I gasp. I’m not bonded to this man—or perhaps I am, through Killian. Or perhaps Zhi’s actions against me formed some kind of twisted tie between us. Perhaps my new status as Architect comes with perks.

Again I see a dark-haired little boy, but this time, the image has nothing to do with Killian. This boy is no more than ten years old, perched at the edge of a bed, trembling. Like Zhi, he has dark eyes with a ring of ebony around the edge.

Realization: Not like Zhi at all—the boy is Zhi.

Tears slip down his cheeks, but he’s careful to swallow his whimpers so that he never makes a sound. There’s a cut on his lip, and drops of crimson blood drying on his chin, proving he’s human. There’s also a knot in his jaw.

His father paces in front of him, his fisted hands smeared with crimson. His blood, as well as his son’s. The last time he punched, Zhi’s teeth cut into his knuckles.

“We are Troikans,” his father snarls. “Your visit to the Myriadian center has shamed us. Our loyalty will be questioned now. How could you do this to us?”

“Because…because I don’t want to be like you,” Zhi whispers. Then he raises his head, emboldened by hatred and defiance.

“Ingrate! Fool!” His father backhands him. “You would be so lucky.”

Zhi withers under the new onslaught of pain, but as quickly as the scene manifested, it vanishes.

I stare at him now, at the adult he’s become. Knowledge is power. I understand his hatred for Troikans. It was beaten into him.

Words are either seeds or water. What is spoken is planted in the rich soil of a human heart. What is spoken again is poured over the seed, and in time, that seed sprouts. Roots grow. A trunk. Branches, leaves. Fruit. Like produces like. Speak evil, reap a harvest of evil. Can’t see the forest for the trees. Soon, if the tree isn’t uprooted, the fruit will be eaten…and shared.

We must break the cycle. Help create a better path for a better future.

Whatever Zhi sees in my expression unnerves him. The compassion I can’t help but feel? His hand falls away, and he steps back, widening the distance between us.

“There are good and bad Troikans.” Every word scrapes my raw throat. “Same with Myriad. Good and bad. Though I’m still waiting to meet a good one.” From the corner of my eye, I see Killian flinch, as if he’s been punched. Oops. Sorry. But truth is truth. “Want to know what’s similar between us? We all have baggage, even our enemies.”

I get it now. Even when I don’t understand why someone does what they do, or why they make the choices that they do, I must choose love.

Their actions cannot dictate my reaction. And that goes double for Killian.

“You, shut your mouth,” Zhi snaps. “And you,” he says to Javier, “let her down.”

Javier glares at me before holding up one arm. The shadows release my wrists and ankles, and I topple to the floor. What little oxygen I’ve managed to draw in leaves me in a single burst.

Victor stalks to me, leaving his Shell behind. He is pale and sickly thin, with tiny nubs growing at the ends of his arms. Hardly matters. He doesn’t need hands to hurt me. Now that I’m on the floor, too weak to stand, he kicks out his leg, his boot nailing me in the stomach. My already empty lungs deflate, and another shower of stars winks before my eyes.

Just like that. My resolve to love and not hate is put to the test.

He draws back his foot to deliver another kick—

He topples before contact, his face smashing into the ground. I peer beyond him to Killian, whose arm is sticking out of the cage, the wire from his wrist cuff extended and wrapped around Victor’s ankle. No time for Zhi or Javier to react. With another yank from Killian, the wire cuts through muscle, catching on bone, nearly removing Victor’s entire foot.

A scream of anguish rents the air.

Zhi unsheathes a blade and hacks the wire in two. Panting, sweating, Victor reaches for me. I spin around and punt him in the face. Yes, I’m determined to love my enemies. No, I won’t allow others to abuse me.

The muscles in my thigh quake and burn, the bones threatening to crack. Agony sears me, but I brace, ready to deliver another kick if necessary.

Snarling, he reaches for me again, but this time Zhi steps in the way.

“Enough,” the Leader says, and motions to Javier.

Though Javier is vibrating with rage, he remains quiet as he helps Victor stand and hobble back to his Shell.

“You just made the biggest mistake of your life, Flynn.” Victor smiles. “Did you forget? I own you now.”

Killian doesn’t pull his gaze from me, and through the bridge between us I feel a frisson of…strength? As if he’s returning the Light I gave him. “I am the fool, Victor. I deserve what you do tae me. I only wish you were more like yer brother. Archer is—”

“Dead,” Victor snarls. “In the grave where he belongs.”

“You don’t think he Fused with a human?” I ask, batting my lashes at him.

A slow smile curves Killian’s beautiful lips. “He experienced Resurrection. He’s alive and well.”

In a blink, Victor is as stiff as a statue. “No. There were two Generals. The people would not vote for a lowly Laborer.”

“The people didn’t,” I say, trying to stand. My legs are jelly and refuse to hold me, and I crash back to the floor. Zero! “The honor of the selection was given to me. And guess what? He’s a Conduit.”

Because of my predicament, the enormity of the development managed to escape me until just this moment. Now, I rejoice. Princess Mariée, Archer, Raanan, Clay, Reed, Clementine, Kayla, even Sloan—we are a team.

In a single day, Troika went from two Conduits to seven.

The rainbow has seven colors. Seven means completeness and perfection, both of the physical plane and the spiritual.

Now there is one Conduit for each city. Coincidence?

Coincidence shmincidence.

“Impossible.” Victor gives a violent shake of his head. “Even if it’s true.” Javier’s chest puffs up before he bends downs and hefts me into his arms. “I will destroy them all. No one is my match.”

I want to fight him, but don’t. I must pick my battles. Here, now, I’m well aware of the fact that I don’t have the strength to win. But. As soon as Javier leaves me in the town square, I can lower my shield to receive Light from my friends without reservation. A veritable torrent of Light.

I’ll strengthen. I’ll plot, plan.

Tomorrow, when—if—other Abrogates arrive, I’ll be ready.





chapter seventeen



“Corruption happens gradually, a slow fade of Light as darkness creeps in.”

—Troika

Killian

Once, I considered myself pain. Today I am rage. It fills me, consumes me and darkens every corridor of my mind. Most of it is self-directed. I’ve done many despicable things in my Everlife, but this is by far the worst.

My actions led to Ten’s capture and torture.

While Javier Diez attempted to gain access to the Troikan Grid, I could only lament my part in her pain. As I chastised myself for not trusting her, a new memory assailed me. Just one, not nearly enough. Ten stood before me, her back to my front. She was human and on the verge of becoming drunk. I was in a Shell. We were both prisoners inside of Prynne. Unwillingly on her part, willingly on mine. I’d signed up in order to spend time with her and convince her to make covenant with Myriad.

Erica was there, too, only she was in spirit form, so Ten couldn’t see her. Erica leaned over to whisper into the human’s ear, His towering height is a very good thing, there’s nothing to be afraid of, and maybe you should hold on to his shirt. For balance.

An effort to influence her. While Ten’s ears failed to hear the words, her spirit picked up everything. That’s how Flankers—a subdivision of Messengers—worked.

“Are you ready for me?” Ten asked me.

“Can anyone ever be ready for you, lass?” I replied, and even then, I’d been scared of the truth. I wasn’t ready for her. “But don’t worry. I won’t let you get hurt. You have my word.”

Finally she trusted me enough to fall into my arms. When I caught her, I spun her around. If Erica hadn’t been there, I would have kissed Ten then and there. Even then, I wanted her. Craved her like a drug.