Lifeblood (Everlife #2)

Well. Now I understand why my pals dressed me up like a good time girl. I’m supposed to be some kind of eye candy for the dangerous man-child.

I’m both offended and flattered. And okay, okay. I’m grateful. I need every edge I can get.

I’m going against Killian. He’s better with females, sure. There’s no one better at seducing the opposite sex to his side. But he’s also the kind of guy Javier appreciates most; a hard-core guy’s guy, rough and tough, mad and bad to the bone.

In the end, there will be a winner and a loser. We both hate to lose.

If I’m victorious, will he be sent to the Kennels?

If he’s victorious, will I resent him?

I shudder, wondering if this time—with us—love will be enough to keep us together. Lives hang in the balance.

“All right.” Enough wallowing about what could or might be. Fear will never be my friend. “I’ve got about forty minutes to spare before crashing Javier’s meeting with Killian. I’d like to visit Dior and Clay. Help me?”

And afterward... I’d like to visit with Aunt Lina.

I mean, I’m heading into dangerous territory. What if I’m killed? If I don’t see Lina today, I might not get another chance. More than that, I’m trusting Levi in every other area of my life. Why not this? If he thinks I can make a difference in Lina’s Everlife, I’ll set aside my grievances and speak with her.

“Of course.” Kayla squeezes my hand. “May your visit and your mission be enlightened.”

As I race to the Veil of Wings, Kayla heads to the Eye, where she’ll be watching my progress, warning me of incoming attacks and doing her best to anticipate my needs. A job Meredith should be doing.

The thought jolts me, and I lose my footing. This will be my first mission without my grandmother.

I wince as a hot poker of grief stabs into my chest.

Lockdown!

I message Levi, telling him my plan to spend half my time with Dior and the other half with my aunt. He grants his permission, even arranging for an escort to meet me at the Veil.

Sure enough, Deacon is there. Like me, he’s still in a Shell.

“Today I’m your Flanker,” he says.

A Flanker is sub-position of Laborer, meaning to guard and chronicle my exploits.

“Thank you.” He once flanked Archer, and he is the best of the best. “Feel free to ignore the troubadour aspects of your job.”

He snorts. “Already planned on it.”

“All right. First on the menu,” I say. “A visit with Dior and Clay.”

We pass through the portal—

Whoosh. We’re falling. A blaze of Lights erupts...then a solid foundation settles at our feet. The Lights fade. I experience a brief moment of dizziness before I steady.

I look around. The staff quarters at Prynne are homier than ever, with blankets and pillows, games, toys for Gingerbread and even a string of twinkling Christmas bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

We’re months away from the holiday, but pretty is pretty.

Clay and Dior sit at a small round table, playing cards and laughing. She’s lost a little weight, her cheeks now slightly hollowed. Her skin is dry and flaking, and there are bruises under her eyes. Her dark hair is limp and lifeless.

An alarm goes off in my head, and I know beyond any doubt. If left unchecked, Penumbra will destroy her.

Gingerbread, who is resting at her momma’s feet, notices us and barks. Clay jumps up, and Dior stiffens.

“Ten.” Clay relaxes.

“Good to see you again,” Dior says.

Deacon tells her about her upcoming court date, and she smiles with genuine relief. Meanwhile, dread blows through me, a cold, damaging wind.

I stuff my hands in my pockets and jut my hip, forcing my body to say, I’m not worried about a thing, nope, not me.

—How has she been?—I cast my voice through the Grid.

Clay’s grim gaze meets mine. —She tosses and turns all night. If she does manage to fall asleep, she has nightmares.—

—She hasn’t drained your Light?—If I placed him in a hazardous situation...

—Not even a little.—

Thank the Firstking! “You’ll be pleased to know I’ll be speaking with Javier in roughly forty minutes,” I say to Dior. “We’d like to offer him a covenant with Troika.”

She places a hand over her heart, and the action reminds me of a baby bird too weak to take flight. “Thank you. I know he can be difficult sometimes, but he can also be sweet and kind, and he’s always protective.” She nibbles on her bottom lip. “He’s been offered a covenant with Troika before but declined to accept. He believes equality is overrated. It has nothing to do with race,” she rushes to add. “He despises laziness. His father was a drunk and relied on Javier and his stepmom to pay the bills. Javier says he can never support a realm that rewards the lazy and hardworking alike.”

“We accept the lazy into our realm, yes, but the lazy are not rewarded.” Deacon’s tone is stiff.

“Something his TL has explained to him on several occasions,” she says with a sigh.

“Why hasn’t he signed with Myriad, then?” At the very least, I’d think he’d want to be with his girlfriend.

“They promote indulgence and, according to Javier, that’s just another form of laziness.”

Um, stealing cars from hardworking citizens to make easy money is another form of laziness, but I keep that little nugget to myself.

I make my way to the table and ease into the chair across from her. Up close, I can see the darkened veins branching out just under the surface of her skin; they are thicker, longer and active, like rushing rivers.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

Her gaze looks anywhere but my direction. “Tired, weak. A little achy.”

I lick my lips. “Things might get worse before they get better, but if you’ll refuse to give up, they will get better.” One day I’ll be able to cleanse her.

She white-knuckles the edge of the table. “Clay told me about Penumbra. How did Myriad infect me?”

My gaze darts to Clay.

“Levi wanted her to know,” he says with a shrug.

Information I should have received before my arrival. “We don’t know,” I tell Dior. A General visited her, then died in a supposed ambush. Dior became infected. Later a General visited Javier, then died in a supposed ambush. Javier became infected. Coincidence? No and no. But what is the actual connection?

Deacon’s comm glows. He checks the message and regards me with expectation. “I’m taking you to your aunt? The one who tried to kill you?”

So soon? “She didn’t try.” I look to Dior, who is crying into her hands. I reach over to pat her on the back but stop myself just before contact.

Frustration takes a big bite out of my calm.

“I’ll be back,” I tell her. “We’ll get through this together.”