Lifeblood (Everlife #2)

One corner of his mouth curves up. “Tomorrow morning, you and your teammates will visit the infected human. You will observe her, nothing more. Unless she threatens human life, you will not speak to her or interact with her in any way. Not yet. Understand?”


Finally! Progress! I mask my eagerness and give him a jaunty salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“Head to the Hall of Records in the Museum of Wisdom. Study our files on Dior Nichols.”

Whoa. Slam the breaks. “Did you say Dior Nichols?”

“Yes. She is the one infected with Penumbra.”

I reel, a girl stuck on a spinning carnival ride. Dior is the twenty-year-old med student Archer tried to win for Troika. He fell in love with her in the process and would have succeeded if Killian hadn’t stolen her away, convincing her to make covenant with Myriad and tricking her into agreeing to the worst terms of all time.

The old Killian, I mean.

“If you’ve never dealt with Penumbra,” I say, “how can you be sure she’s infected?”

“I personally entered the Land of the Harvest to observe Miss Nichols. I saw the darkness writhing underneath her skin, watched that darkness attempt to jump on one of her friends. I have no doubts we’re dealing with Penumbra.”

Dior Nichols, patient zero. This can’t be a coincidence.

Archer didn’t just love her; he adored her, and he despised Killian for ruining her future.

Killian hadn’t used his usual method—straight-up seduction—so I’m not sure how he won her over. I only know he’s expressed massive guilt.

According to Dior’s contract, she cannot help Troikan loyalists without earning a punishment. However, hospital policy states she can’t turn anyone away due to their realm affiliation. A terrible catch-22.

Twenty-two, the atomic number of titanium, which is harder than any rock. The number of players permitted on the field in American football. The number of letters in the Hebrew alphabet.

“Do I have time to take a shower?” I ask Levi.

He looks me over and winkles his nose. “No, but you’re going to make time.”

Funny. I head to the locker room only to pause to look at him over my shoulder. “Do you ever wish the war would end?”

“Yes. Of course,” he replies without hesitation. “But the day we stop fighting is the day we’re conquered.”

Didn’t Meredith say the same? “What if Myriad wants to stop fighting, too?”

“The citizens might crave peace, but their king will never allow it. He won’t stop until he’s dead—or every Troikan is.”





chapter eight



* * *



“When you cease seeking, you will find.”

—Myriad

After a quick scrubbing, I emerge from the stall to find Meredith standing guard at the door. She hands me a white robe with white trim, a combination I haven’t seen before, and exchanges the empty vial on my necklace for a full one.

“Thank you,” I say.

She nods, her expression grave. “During Elizabeth’s Firstlife, she lost her family at a young age and ended up bouncing from foster home to foster home. She wasn’t always treated well. In her last home, it was so bad she ran away and ended up in all kinds of trouble. Archer was her TL, and he changed her life. When she came here a little over a year ago, she fell hard for a boy named Claus. She felt for him what you feel for Killian. The day you died, Killian killed Claus.”

I want to cover my ears and shake my head, no, no, no. I’d known Killian had ended her boyfriend’s life. I hadn’t known the rest. I hadn’t known about the horrors of her Firstlife.

My grandmother is forcing me to see Elizabeth as a person rather than a villain. A person with hopes, dreams and hurts, just like me.

I want to snarl at her and tell her it will never work. I’ve been ridiculed, insulted and beaten by a heartless bitch.

I want to hug Elizabeth close and comfort her while she cries.

“Go on,” Meredith says in an act of compassion. “You have a job to do.”

I force Elizabeth to the back of my mind. I’ll figure out my feelings later. I kiss Meredith’s cheek. “I love you,” I say and haul butt to the Hall of Records.

I remain on alert for any sort of attack. Catch me by surprise once, shame on me. Catch me by surprise twice, experience my wrath.

When I reach my destination, I take a moment to appreciate the massive Victorian Gothic. Tall and sprawling, it is enclosed by a black brick-and-granite wall. A multitude of people rush in and out.

In total, there are ten stained-glass windows. The three biggest depict (1) the Firstking, (2) the Secondking and (3) Princess Mariée with doves rising over her shoulders, their lovely white wings extended. The other seven windows line up in a single row, divided only by larger windows with clear glass.

Between the Firstking and the Secondking are panels showing the Land of the Harvest, the sun and a tree in full bloom. Between the Prince of Doves and Princess Mariée are panels depicting the four seasons inside a single circle. A bird flies above it while a fish swims below it. The next panels feature a spirit on the upper half and a human on the lower half, the two reaching for each other. Finally, there’s a window without an image, a simple pane of a glass with different shades of blue.

Before me, an iron balustrade offers seven different openings that lead to a grand staircase in the center of the building. On each side is a picturesque bridge that climbs to the second floor, where seven columns create different archways. Between each arch is a roundel featuring a bronzed dove in various positions. On the ground, eating. On a bench. On a tree. In flight. Soaring through the clouds, soaring above the clouds and, finally, surrounded by a beam of amber Light.

So much symbolism here. Too much to decipher all at once.

I scale the steps, finding three granite panels between the columns attached to the wall, revealing carved friezes portraying fierce battle scenes. There are four pediment niches where flowers overflow, and between two are Reed and Kayla, who are holding stacks of books and vibrating with excitement.

“This way.” Kayla turns on a sandaled foot, the hem of her robe swaying with the movement. The material is light green with dark green trim, and labels her a Leader-in-training.

Reed trails her, and I trail Reed. He’s wearing a white robe with a green trim, signifying his status as a Laborer-in-training.

The deeper we go, the more awed I am, the inside of the Hall even more elaborate than the outside, with domed ceilings and life-size sculptures of Generals who have led our armies into battle throughout the centuries. There are multiple chandeliers, but they aren’t connected to the ceiling. The glowing teardrops are suspended in the air, dancing together to create different shapes and patterns.

I’m mesmerized and trip over my own feet—twice.

“Good going, graceful,” a male quips.

I turn, meeting Raanan’s hard gaze. He’s at a table, surrounded by books—and he just spoke to me, I realize. This is the first time I’ve ever heard his voice.

“I’m hot, I know,” he mutters. “No need to stare. Later, your fantasies will remind you of what I look like.”