Everlife (Everlife #3)

While my parents failed me most of my teenage life, my mother more than made up for it the day of her Firstdeath, doing everything in her power to break me out of Prynne. She sent Jeremy to Troika, even though she would end up in Myriad. There’s still time for my dad.

“I love you,” she tells me softly. “Tell Jeremy I love him, too. You two made my life worth living. You are my greatest accomplishments, and I—”

“I told you to be quiet,” Dad snaps, yanking her leash.

I reach for her, intending to take her hand, but he wrenches her backward, out of range.

“Oh, daughter dearest,” he says, and tsks. “You’re supposed to be smart, but you haven’t yet grasped the gravity of the situation. Though enjoyable, no amount of begging is going to save your mother’s life. Either you let Javier do his job, or I kill her, right here, right now.”

I gulp. I can’t let Javier invade the Grid. I can’t save one woman while condemning an entire realm to death. Not even this woman.

“Momma,” I say, my chin trembling. Hot tears stream down my cheeks.

“I understand, my sweet girl.” She offers me a brave smile. “I want you to do something for me, okay? I want you to fight. Fight for what’s right and never stop. Never give in—”

Again my dad wrenches her leash, silencing her. Then he forces her to kneel in front of my cage. My tears pour faster.

“Perhaps you don’t think I’m serious.” He unsheathes a dagger—and presses the tip into her throat, where a bead of Lifeblood wells. “Last chance, Tenley.”

“Don’t do this.” Dior struggles against Javier’s grip to no avail. “Please, don’t.”

“I know you’re serious, Dad, but I won’t allow Myriad to poison my home. My family.” I grip the bars of my cage and shake. “If you do this, you poison yourself, and I will—”

“You’ll do nothing.” He jerks the blade across my mother’s neck. As I go still with shock and horror, he looks me straight in the eye, and says, “You have no one but yourself to blame.”





chapter nineteen



“The greatest expression of love is giving.”

—Troika

Killian

A woman’s scream rips through the City of Carnal Delights. Ten. I know it’s her.

Frantic and panicked, I pick up speed, rushing through a crowd, holding a bound Victor by the neck and dragging him behind me. As long as I keep my gaze downcast, no one will know we’ve switched places.

—Ten. Lass.— I shout her name, even though I no longer sense her along the Grid. If something has happened to her…

No. She isn’t hurt. If she were, I would know. Right?

Protests erupt as I continue to push through the masses. As soon as my identity registers, protests become mutters of awe. Apparently Victor Prince is a national hero.

Finally I reach the dais in the town square. I scan the cages for Ten…where is…there. She’s on the other side. I’d recognize that fall of azure hair anywhere.

Still dragging my cargo, I round the dais, then stop abruptly.

Ten’s father stands in front of her, Javier and Dior at his side. Dior struggles for freedom. At their feet, Ten’s mother. Lifeblood pools around the woman, her body motionless. A body that is disintegrating before my eyes, as slain spirits do. Before Ten’s eyes.

Ten is still as a statue, her gaze remaining on the pool of Lifeblood. Her arms are wrapped around her middle, as if she’s attempting to protect her vital organs.

My heart shudders and aches as I drop Victor. Rage returns, boiling inside me.

Calm. Steady. I can’t ask questions about what transpired. Victor might already know the answers.

Frustration joins the deluge inside me, only fueling the rage. Whatever the reasons, the cruelty of Grace Lockwood’s death leaves me floundering. How can a man do this to his wife? How can a father do this to his child?

Once, I would have justified the act, thinking Grace would be Fused to a human spirit and reborn. Why mourn her loss? But life is precious. Every stage of life should be cherished, savored.

If Ten is right and Myriadians appear in Many Ends after Second-death, Grace is now faced with an eternity of torture. Unless we save her.

Leonard points a Lifeblood-soaked dagger at Ten. “You won’t have to mourn your mother’s death long. You’ll join her soon enough, little girl.”

My hands fist, my biceps flexing; I’m ready to lash out. What would I do if Ten were killed?

I. Would. Unleash. Hell.

A bitter laugh congeals in my throat, but I swallow it. Actually, I’d do nothing. She would go to the Rest, maybe, probably, and I would go to Many Ends, maybe, probably, and be tortured just like every other Myriadian. Either way, our time would be cut short, and I’m not okay with that. I’m not okay with any of this.

But…isn’t a life without her better than the alternative? What if Ten winds up in Many Ends with me? She wants to go, plans to go, and she knows the way out, but I hate the thought of her in more danger. Worse danger.

I flip up my gaze, hoping to meet her eyes, to reassure her—I’m here, I’ll help—but she’s staring down at the spot her mother died, tears pouring down her cheeks, leaving track marks. My chest constricts.

This isn’t the first time she’s had to watch her mother fade away.

Bits and pieces of memory are coming more frequently now, the shadows losing their hold on me. At the end of her Firstlife, Grace was poisoned by Pearl Bennett, my former boss. The woman who adopted me only to return me when her daughter died. Ten had just escaped the Prynne Asylum and rushed home in time for her mother’s final breath. Only seconds later, Jeremy, Ten’s brother, took his final breath.

Ten cried that day, too.

I offered to take her brother’s spirit to Myriad, so that he could be with their mother, but Ten rejected me, giving the boy to Archer instead. At the time, the rejection had cut like a knife, reminding me of all the times I had been passed over at the Learning Center, never good enough, unwanted.

Then. That moment. A part of me had begun to resent her. The rest of me—the smarter part—never stopped loving her. Now, I understand her reasoning. See so clearly. Loving someone doesn’t mean agreeing with their bad ideas—and my idea was very, very bad. Absolutely terrible. Here, Jeremy would be used against Ten. In Troika, harming the infant brother in order to bring the sister into line isn’t an option, no matter the desperation of the need.

Without looking away from Ten, I toss “Killian” in Javier’s direction. Careful of my speech patterns, I say, “Put him in a cage.”

“Why?” Javier releases Dior and grabs hold of the prisoner. “I thought you were going to—”

“I don’t recall asking for your commentary. I gave you an order. Obey it.”

Dior steps up to Ten’s cage and wraps her fingers over Ten’s hands. “I’m so sorry.”

Ten remains silent.

Javier stiffens, and so do I. Is he going to challenge my authority?

After a slight hesitation, he obeys.

“Leave the traitor bound and blindfolded,” I tell him, and don’t bother offering an explanation. I’m Victor Prince, right? I do what I want, when I want, and the rest of the world can deal.

Leonard Lockwood bows in my direction. “Good to see you again, Mr. Prince.”

How easy it would be for me to rip the blade from his hand and slay him. But I cannot say all life is precious one moment and kill the next. If my actions do not align with my words, I am a liar, and I refuse to be a liar. Ten hates lies, and for the first time in my life, so do I.

“Everyone leave,” I shout. “Now.”

“I’ll stay,” Dior tells Ten. “I’ll stay and—”

“Go,” she croaks, finally speaking up. “Just go.”

Greater tension steals over Dior, but finally she nods and stalks off.

“You, too,” I tell Javier and Leonard. “Go.”

Javier stares at me, hard. “What are you going to do to her?”

“Whatever I want.” I step closer to him, my chest bumping up against his. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Now he bristles. “What’s wrong with you, man? Why are you acting this way?”