Lifeblood (Everlife #2)

Deacon types into his comm, takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. Within seconds, we’re transported to the corner of a small room. To the right, there’s a comfortable-looking bed and a toilet with a privacy screen. To the left, there’s a panel of what I assume is two-way glass. A human with dark, graying hair paces from one side to the other.

“I’ll let you know when your time is up.” Deacon exits the room, the door closing behind him.

Lina doesn’t react to our presence. She continues to pace, the hem of her paper-thin hospital gown ripped and dragging across the floor.

“I cheered. I cheered,” she chants. “Then I cried.”

This is Loony Lina.

I don’t know why I’m surprised by the compassion wrapping me in a warm embrace. I’m Troikan. Sympathy is hardwired into my DNA.

This woman killed me, yes, but long before the madness drove her to strike, we shared a wealth of love and laughter. When my father refused to spend time with me, she played games with me. When my mother was too busy painting to listen to my childish babble, Lina sang songs to me. To the best of her ability, she warned me about the dangers I would face in the future.

Ten tears fall, and I call. Nine hundred trees, but only one is for me. Eight times eight times eight they fly, whatever you do, don’t stay dry. Seven ladies dancing, ignore their sweet romancing. Six seconds to hide, up, up, and you’ll survive. Five times four times three, and that is where he’ll be. Two I’ll save, I’ll be brave, brave, brave. The one I adore, I’ll come back for.

The silly song was a road map to salvation. It saved me. Saved Kayla and Reed, too, every line an instruction we’d desperately needed to navigate Many Ends and escape Myriad.

And...I haven’t completed the instructions, I realize. A tremor nearly rocks me off my feet. I left Killian behind, locked in the Kennels. He’s free now, but he might not be free later. I haven’t gone back for him.

One day I’ll go back for him!

The knowledge stirs something deep inside me. Hope, maybe. Or excitement. I will make it back inside Myriad, maybe even Many Ends, and I will leave with Killian at my side. Perhaps Marlowe, too.

A wide smile blooms. This. This has to be one of the reasons Levi asked me to seek out Lina. To be reminded of a future I’ve been promised. A goal I’ve had since before my Firstdeath.

Lina stops, her head snapping in my direction, her milky eyes locking on me. “I was ready. I was ready to die. Why didn’t you let me die?”

“Lina,” I say, and my chin quavers. She almost always speaks as if events have already happened, even when they haven’t. “I want you to live, and live well. And when you die, I want you to live with me in Troika. Would you like that?”

Silence.

I reach out to clasp her hand, but she rears back, as if she knows I’m a Shell. “It’s okay. You can touch me. I give you permission.”

I step closer, giving her time to get used to me but keeping my hands at my sides. Her eyes clear of milk, revealing blue irises that pierce as sharply as daggers.

“One fox in the henhouse,” she says. “In two days he’ll try to eat his mouse.”

Another rhyme. Another set of instructions? My jaw aches as I bite down to avoid asking questions. Through experience I know her answers will only confuse me more. “Lina, let me help you the way you helped me. Let me ensure your future is a good one.”

“I stayed.”

Okay. We’re back to speaking in past tense. “You stayed...here?”

“No, no. I was home. Home!”

Panic radiates from her, and I hold my hands palms out in a sign of surrender. Frightening her wasn’t my intention. “All right,” I say. “You stayed home.”

She backs farther away from me. “One fox in the henhouse. In two days, he’ll try to eat his mouse. Three, yes, three warnings will come. By four five six, you’ll be glum. Look, look, look, for the seven. Eight, nine, Ten is in heaven.”

It is another set of instructions, and my mind whirls. Who is the fox? And who is the mouse?

Why will I be glum? What does she mean by heaven?

“Sleep now,” she says, sitting...then lying down. I want to stroke her forehead, the way she used to do for me, but I don’t want to upset her.

“Lina,” I say, my heart constricting as if someone has reached inside my chest and squeezed the organ in their hands. “I want you to know I forgive you.” One of my number tattoos tingles and glows. At the same time, a weight lifts from my shoulders, a weight I hadn’t even known I’d been carrying. “I forgive you for everything.”

She yawns. “The Key...in your heart all along.”

I jolt. “The Key? It’s in my heart?” A second row of numbers tingles and glows.

“Written in blood.” Another yawn. She closes her eyes, her features softening, the strain fading. “Sleep now.”

I flatten a hand over my heart. For all intents and purposes, this woman is supposed to be my enemy. But she’s not. She’ll never be. I will love her always.

How have other families hated each other over the centuries? How have husbands and wives warred each other? How have mothers turned their backs on their children?

I don’t want to hurt Lina. I want to saturate her in Light.

Is her fragile mind capable of withstanding court? What if she buckles under pressure?

A soft knock sounds at the door. A courtesy knock, only. Deacon doesn’t wait for my response but strides into the room.

“It’s time for us to go.”

I push my grief and confusion to the back of my mind, along with the new riddle. Lockdown!

I know I need to deal with everything. I can’t continue to suppress my feelings. The lockbox is so full the hinges are threatening to bust.

Later. I’ll deal later.

Today, I have a mission to complete, and it deserves my all.

“I’ll be back,” I tell my aunt and move to Deacon’s side. In a matter of minutes, I’ll meet Javier Diez...and spar with Killian.

Ready or not, here I come.





chapter seventeen



* * *



“You cannot accept what’s right if you’re happy doing what’s wrong.”

—Troika

Deacon transports us to...a gym? Oookay. The location is a bit underwhelming considering I expected Killian and Javier to be inside a strip club. But no prob. I can roll.

There’s a boxing ring in the center, where six scantily clad women are hanging over the ropes, watching two muscular guys attempt to punch each other into pulp and powder.

Someone save me! One of those guys is Killian.

He’s inside a Shell, tall, cut and without flaws. His dark hair is slicked back, his beautiful body glistening with sweat.

Shells can be programmed to sweat as well as shiver; they can also be programmed not to sweat and shiver.

I’m glad Killian flipped the On switch.

Am I drooling? I think I’m drooling.

He’s teaching Javier how to box his way—no rules, no honor, anything for victory. Both boys are shirtless, wearing only boxing gloves and shorts. Both are brawny and defined with sinew—though Killian is far more ripped—and covered in tattoos.