Everlife (Everlife #3)

Dior Nichols in the flesh. Or rather, spirit.

I cleansed her of Penumbra, only to find her re-infected the next day, all because she refused to cut ties with Javier. Bad company will corrupt.

In the Everlife, she is more beautiful than ever, but she is still suffering from the effects of Penumbra, black lines branching under the surface of her skin. Her clothes are wrinkled and dirty, as if she hasn’t showered or changed since her Firstdeath.

Archer was right. Troikans are in danger. But so are Myriadians. The infection can turn an ordinary citizen into an Abrogate, but I’ve gone head-to-head with it, and I know what others don’t. Penumbra obliterates everything good and right inside a person, leaving only the things that thrive in absolute darkness. Hatred, misery, violence, despair.

As I gasp for breath she looks me over and squares her shoulders. “Where is the key to her cage? I’m letting her go.”

Do I love her?

She’s the reason Levi is dead. He went to court for her, acting as her Barrister, and died trying to save her. I want to hate her, but how can I? She made a mistake; she believed the lies Javier, her boyfriend, told her.

“Leave,” Javier snaps.

“Let her go or lock me up with her,” Dior states bluntly.

He goes stiff, ready to tell her off. Maybe because he’s embarrassed by her behavior. Maybe because he doesn’t want the crowd to turn on her. Either way, I brush a spider off my shoulder and tell her, “Don’t worry about me.” If I die and wind up in Many Ends, I can escape, free the spirits trapped there…and ambush Ambrosine. Win/win.

“I don’t want to lock you up.” Through gritted teeth, he adds, “But I will if you stay.”

“That’s fine,” she says. “I’m standing with her—and against you.”

His eyes widen. “You don’t mean—”

“I do. I’m done with you. I should have been done with you long before now. You’re a liar and a cheat. But I’m no better. I’ve been a fool. I let you play on my fears, convince me to stay with Myriad, despite the awful things they’d done to me, because I was afraid of being punished by Troikans. A good man died because of my decision.” Tears well in her eyes, and her chin trembles. “I punish myself more than anyone else could.”

“Dior.” He reaches for her, but she wrenches back.

“No. Don’t touch me. I hate you, and I hate myself.”

—Ten? Lass?— Killian’s voice drifts along the Grid, and my heart races with a mix of emotions I can’t name. —I’m comin’ for you. Almost there. You need tae know…—

The wall of my distrust shakes, but in the end holds steady, cutting off his words. Silence reigns.

No time to reach out. “I’m sorry, Ten,” Dior says, drawing me out of my head. “Your father…he’s on his way.”

My heart races faster. One, ten, twenty, fifty—counting the beats doesn’t do me any good.

Daddy loves me. Daddy loves me not. Loves me. Loves me not.

Yeah. That one. He loves me not.

“What’s worse,” she adds. There’s worse? “He’s got your mom.”

Javier laughs, overcome with glee at the first sign of my distress. Then, my dad is there, standing beside my tormentor. He’s alone, no sign of my mother. Like everyone else, Senator Leonard Lockwood is young and beautiful, and in his prime. He’s tall, as leanly muscled as pictures promised, with blue hair and mismatched eyes: one blue, one green.

How can we resemble each other so much but be so different?

He’s shirtless but wearing black leather pants. His feet are tucked into combat boots. Women eye him appreciatively, as do some of the men.

His gaze meets mine—and he smiles. “You destroyed my Firstlife. It’s nice to see you’re finally getting what you deserve.”

The words slice me to ribbons. Deep down, part of me has always yearned for his approval. His affection. Even when he paid Dr. Vans to torture me at Prynne Asylum.

A little girl is supposed to be her daddy’s princess, not his nightmare.

“How adorable,” I tell him, feigning nonchalance, acting as if I’m not sobbing inside. “You’re a fool. You haven’t realized you destroyed your own life. As for me, I wanted only what you’d already been given. A chance to make a decision about my future.”

“You thought of no one but yourself.”

“Hello, Pot. Meet Kettle.”

His eyes narrow to tiny slits. “Watch your mouth, young lady. Speak to me with respect.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll punish your mother for your crimes.”

When he jerks his arm forward, I notice a strip of leather in his hand. At the end of that strip? Grace Lockwood, my mother. A metal collar circles her throat. She’s on a leash, I realize, anger threatening to detonate inside me.

My love for this man withers.

My mom’s head is bowed, shoulder-length hair shielding her face. When she was human, the strands were auburn. Here in the Everlife, the strands are fire engine-red.

She sniffles, a glistening teardrop falling to the ground. “Let her go,” Dior says, stepping toward him, but Javier grabs hold of her, keeping her in place.

The anger bomb detonates. Fire seems to sear me. Debris rains. Shrapnel embeds, slicing my heart to ribbons.

“Let her go,” I scream, launching forward to rattle the door of my cage. “Now!”

“Or what?” my dad asks, mocking me.

Breathing becomes more difficult, every molecule of air an inferno in my lungs.

Kill him. Teach him the error of his ways. He deserves pain, and not even you, Goody Two-shoes that you are, can deny it.

Dread overtakes me. Not my dark side. No, no, no. Not now. My resistance is weak…

I shake my head, hoping to dislodge the terrible urges bombarding me. Or maybe I’m holding on to those urges. I want to hurt my dad the way he has hurt me. The moment I do, however, the darkness wins. It will own me; I know it. With every fiber of my being, I know it.

I will do everything I chastised my dad and Killian for doing.

You can’t preach the merits of love, then turn around and hate your enemy. Anyone can love a friend. It takes a warrior to love an enemy.

Deep breath in, out. “You won’t hurt her,” I croak.

“Won’t I? She attempted to defect to Troika, a terrible crime. As punishment, she was placed in the Kennels until early this morning, when she was gifted to me. I’m allowed to harm her however I wish.”

“Gifted to you? As if she’s a pair of shoes?” Does any life other than his own hold any meaning to him?

“Had she supported her realm, she would have been punished but forgiven, eventually permitted to rejoin society. But she continued to push for a court date, determined to defect.”

“Let her go. Please.” I swallow my pride. What good is pride, anyway? The opinion of others matters little. “This is between you and me. Face me like the man you never were in Firstlife.”

A new smile blooms, but it radiates fury. “Beg a little more. I like the sound of it.”

I don’t hesitate. “Please, Leonard. Dad. If you want to hurt someone, hurt me.” I want what she and I were denied as humans: more time together. I want her to defect to Troika, as planned, and raise Jeremy. This. This is a true desire of my heart. “Don’t deny your son the mother he so desperately needs.”

Now my dad stiffens. “You mean the son she tried to hide from me?”

Mom lifts her gaze, finally meeting mine. We have the same pale skin, freckles and eyes too big for our faces, though hers are dark and filled with a storm of tears. I inherited her high cheekbones, small but pert nose and heart-shaped lips, as well. Jeremy, too. He is her masculine counterpart.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“The past is the past,” I tell her. The bond between a parent and child is sacred, a gift as well as a responsibility. “Jeremy needs you, too, Dad. One day, there will be peace between the realms. We could be a—”

“Shut up!” His nostrils flare as he inhales sharply.