Everlife (Everlife #3)

“Please don’t attempt to stab me, Aunt Lina.” I’m not sure how I’ll react. I don’t want to hurt her.

She blinks, as if confused. When next she focuses on me, the confusion is gone, and her eyes are cloudy. “You’re here when you should be there,” she says, a new childlike tenor to her tone. Shivers of dismay move through me, and my stomach twists. “He’s there when he should be here. If you don’t work together, you’ll both die. If you don’t trust each other fully, you’ll both die. Blocking him will only hurt you both.”

Him…Killian? “You messaged me, Aunt Lina. Before this. You said you were going to kill him.” By killing me? “Why do you kill him? At the orders of your future husband?”

“Stop talking. Start listening.” She snarls, clearly furious, and shakes me. “Help me help you. The darkness has to be chased away, Ten. We will all do what we must, or we will all fall down. Forever bound to Ambrosine.”





chapter twenty-one



“It’s not what you know that changes you; it’s what you do.”

—Troika

Ten

As the crowd surges in the right direction, thanks to Biscuit, people bump into me, driving me farther away from Lina. Her ominous warning echoes in my head.

The darkness has to be chased away, Ten. We will all do what we must or we will all fall down. Forever bound to Ambrosine.

The Grid hums with agreement, and my thoughts whirl. Okay, let’s break this down. Darkness has to be chased away. By Light, only Light. Light was always the answer. Killian is bound to Ambrosine, the ultimate darkness. I’m bound to Killian, and my friends are bound to me. Other people are bound to them. Therefore, we’re all bound to Ambrosine.

The bond must be broken.

Ambrosine must die. I was right about that, too. Upon his death, his people will be freed from their need for darkness. They can remain in Myriad if they wish, living their Everlife on their terms, no longer forced to stay here because of an allergy to Light.

Flaws: Only Eron is strong enough to kill Ambrosine. Will he?

Do I want him to? I just cautioned my friends against killing.

Let’s be honest. There’s a big difference between Ambrosine and other citizens. Huge! Even if Ambrosine is defeated, he cannot be contained. He’s too powerful. Also, he’ll never abide by a truce. His words are never the same as his actions.

His end means a new beginning for millions. And really, his death won’t be in cold blood, but an action born of this war. Because he is the war.

So, yes. Despite my speech to Clay, I am willing to help Eron kill Ambrosine. I doubt I’ll walk away from the encounter, or even crawl. Ambrosine is evil incarnate, and his reign of terror must end. I’ll gladly give my life to get it done.

Second issue. How deep is my bond to my friends? Strong enough to get them inside Myriad, but when I was injured, they were not. If I’m killed, will my friends die, too? Surely not. If I die, will I go to the Rest or Many Ends? Where will Killian go? Where will our friends go?

There are too many unanswered questions. Too many things that can go wrong. But then, there are tons of things that can go right.

Pounding footsteps echo in the distance, catching my attention. The sound of marching? Yes, oh, yes. Multiple men and women in multiple rows. An army is on the way.

We’re being hunted.

I surge toward Clay and Raanan. We need to be at the head of the throng.

Pop, pop, pop.

The series of gunshots assails my ears just as I reach the others, and in unison, we duck. Chaos erupts. Panicked screams create a discordant chorus. However, one voice— Victor’s—rises above all the others. Someone must have fed him ambrosia.

“Move to the walls and kneel. Those who refuse will be shot.”

In unison, everyone stills. But it isn’t long before one person after another is lining up against the wall and kneeling, as ordered.

I share a look with the boys, a moment of silent communion. We can’t line up and kneel, and we can’t not line up and kneel. But if we remain standing, we’ll be easy targets.

We have to act.

Raanan takes the lead and throws a punch, nailing the Myriadian next to him. Clay pushes a group of guys, knocking them into each other.

“I’m sorry,” I say, then trip the girl to my right. She falls into another girl.

Just. Like. That. A fight breaks out among the masses.

No, these people weren’t being controlled. They were simply afraid of the speaker.

Fists fly. Legs kick. Obscenities darken the air, blending with grunts and growls. No one lines up, and no one kneels.

This is child’s play, really, and proof that giving in to emotion isn’t always wise.

Biscuit continues to urge the crowd onward…through a Stairwell, then another Stairwell, and there’s nothing the army can do to stop us. We leave them in our dust.

Anytime the fight begins to dissipate, my group ensures tempers are roused all over again.

I duck, avoiding punches thrown my way. I jump over the legs kicked at me, until finally I reach the front of the throng, Clay and Raanan right behind me. There’s no sign of Archer, Dior or Lina.

Biscuit leads us through another Stairwell and into a maze of twisting hallways. There are no patterns on the ceiling, walls or floor to help us navigate. Everything is the same. I don’t know if we’re going in circles or making progress. And I don’t think Biscuit knows, either. His tongue is hanging out as he pants, his gaze darting from left to right, little whimpering sounds leaving him.

Our drunken followers begin to laugh, thinking this is a fun game.

I purposely cut my finger on the end of my sword, and wipe a bead of Lifeblood on the wall. A few minutes later, we pass the smear of Lifeblood, and I know. We are going in circles.

New plan. “Let’s have a contest, guys. Sounds fun, right? Everyone stays where I put them. The person who stays put the longest, wins.” The prize? My gratitude. But I keep that little gem to myself.

Cheers. Every time we turn a corner, I direct two people to stay in each hallway. That way, we know our next turn needs to lead to a hallway without people. It works! Finally—thank the Firstking, finally—we exit the maze and enter the Kennels.

My relief is short-lived, replaced by horror. I remember the first time I saw this room. I’d wanted to vomit. This is my second sighting, and I still want to vomit. Bone torches light the cavernous room—flames dance at the ends of human remains. The floor is covered by pulled teeth and something akin to cat litter.

This is a nightmare come to life.

The scent of unwashed bodies, urine and filth pervades the air, stinging my nostrils. The walls are made up of cages, one cage stacked upon another. Inside every cage is a single person. Male, female. Young, oldish. Each captive has been stripped to their undergarments, just like I was. Whatever their crime, they are pallid, dirty and clearly starving, flesh hanging on bone. Their eyes are without hope. My heart utterly breaks for them and their plight.

Before my father bought and killed her, my mother spent time here. Killian has spent time here, too. His former Flanker, Erica, the one who tattooed him, is here still.

Behind us, gun blasts erupt. Screams of pain cut through the air. Bodies fall. Soldiers are mowing down their own people. Men and women, teen boys and girls, run in every direction, fear saturating the atmosphere.

Where is Archer?

Determined, I unsheathe my swords and work my way through the throng once again, this time in the opposite direction.

There. The moment I catch a glimpse of him, I’m stunned into immobility. He and Dior are holding hands, bright Light surrounding them both as he attempts to cleanse her of Penumbra. On his own. Without the princess’s help.

First, he’s turned himself into a beacon for Victor’s crew. They haven’t yet found us, but they will and soon. They weren’t too far behind.