Lifeblood (Everlife #2)

His eyes narrow, his fingers twitching on the triggers, but he doesn’t fire. “Or I will kill you. I’ve had multiple opportunities. I convinced Elizabeth to attack you. As she ran away, I could have beheaded you and no one would have known. The time I came over, I could have poisoned you. I let you live—I knew you could aid Myriad.”


Killian, yes. Myriad, never. “You can’t return to your precious realm without going to court. Will anyone sign on to be your Barrister?”

“I never planned to go back. I’ll be put to death here.” He lifts his chin. “A punishment to fit the crime, because I will never be remorseful. An end I’ll gladly endure for Myriad.”

Banging at my front door. “Ten!” Levi calls. “Ten!”

Time hasn’t started over, I realize; only we have. “Last chance,” I tell Victor.

“Ten!” Bang, bang, bang.

Victor’s teeth flash, a menacing growl leaving him. He hammers at the triggers. Boom! Boom! Boom! I rotate my swords to block the bullets. I force Victor to back out of the bedroom while avoiding my own traps. Too cramped in here, need more space.

This time, he trips over Elizabeth. As he falls, I strike, using the swords as scissors, slicing through his wrist. Thud. His severed hand lands on the floor, the gun within his useless grip.

He bellows, Lifeblood gushing from the wound. I slash, and he rolls. Rinse and repeat, until the tip of my sword wedges in a floorboard. I jerk to no avail. He aims the second gun and fires.

I swivel, but it’s too little, too late and a bullet burns through my hip. Agonized, I lose Lifeblood at a rapid pace. Adrenaline and determination become my only means of strength.

Victor fires another shot. I dive over the couch, pain wrecking me.

Midair, the Book of the Law appears. I pass through it, my arms stretched to catch me when I land; one of my number brands glows over the open page, and in that split second, a lightbulb goes off in my head, the cypher suddenly clear.

The first number of every sequence is a page number, and the others will correspond with either a letter or a word.

Excitement unfurls, every fiber of my being ready to decode.

Later!

The seven, Lina said. I need the seven if I’m going to survive this.

I land and roll, ending up under the coffee table. I’m about to crawl to the other side, intending to upend the table to use as a shield, when its legs catch my attention. They are wooden and, because of the way they are anchored underneath the tabletop, they are angled...creating the number seven.

Yes! I kick, kick, kick at a leg and...zero! It refuses to budge.

Victor grabs my ankle and drags me out from under the table. A mistake. I kick him. He’s weak and already winded, and as he doubles over, I deliver another swift kick to the table. Sweat trickles from my temples, and my muscles tremble. Finally the hinges bend, the metal loosening from the top, sticking out.

Not the miracle I needed. Victor drags me out a second time. I claw at the wooden leg, desperate to hold on, but he uses my momentum to flip me over and jam both knees into my shoulders, pinning me down.

The cold end of a gun presses into the back of my head.

No, no, no! I can’t lose. Not like this. Not to him.

Panting, he says, “Round one, Ten. Round two, Victor.”

Boom!

Victor falls off me. I jump up, confused. Elizabeth is leaning against the kitchen counter, a gun extended, smoke curling from the barrel.

No time to rejoice—she’s alive!—and no time to thank her. Victor lumbers to his feet and aims his gun at her.

“No!” I smack into him. We slam into the wall but remain on our feet.

With his good arm, he punches me once, twice, thrice, and I topple. He follows me down, lifting the gun he dropped earlier. I work my leg up and kick his arm, and the shot flies past me.

He puts all his weight into his heel, preparing a kick of his own, but I push to my knees and shove him with all my might. He stumbles, trips over a body and—stops. Just stops. The wooden table leg I dislodged has cut through his middle and now sticks out of his back.

He struggles for several seconds, Lifeblood gurgling from the corners of his mouth.

The seven. It’s done. He’s done.

More defeated than relieved, I fall to my face. My mind hazes, a sharp sting razing my cheek. Whatever. Too many other pains to worry about.

This can’t be heaven.

“Ten! Ten!” Levi’s voice. Fists pounding at my door. “You have to disable the shield.”

“How?” My lips form the word, but no sound leaves me. Black stars swell in my vision, and I’m tempted to use my necklace. To summon Killian. I want Killian. I want his arms around me, holding me. Want his breath fanning my skin, his scent in my nose. Want his words of comfort in my ears. He’ll tell me everything is going to be okay, and I’ll believe him.

But I can’t risk him. I won’t. Even if he made it through the Veil of Wings without burning to ash, he’d have to fight legions of Troikans to reach me.

“The fox will have some kind of device. Find the device, Ten!” More pounding, harder and faster.

I try to move, but fail. I think I see Elizabeth crawl to Victor and dig through his pockets.

She must have found the device, because the door bursts open and Levi leads an army into my apartment.

Knowing we’re safe—the fox conquered—I allow myself to drift into the darkness...

Hey. Maybe the darkness isn’t so bad, after all...

*

...I’m not sure how much time passes before an array of voices enters my awareness. I blink. I’m lying on a gurney. I’m sore and light-headed, and Levi is seated beside me.

The voices continue, but none are directed at me. They drift from other rooms, I realize. I’m in the Sanatorium.

Memories flood me. “Elizabeth,” I croak. “Deacon, Reed, Kayla.”

“Deacon, Reed and Kayla are recovering. Elizabeth...” He looks away for a moment, the only sign of his inner turmoil, before facing me head-on. “Coupled with the injuries she received this morning, she couldn’t be saved.”

“No.” Only a short while ago, she crawled to Victor, dug through his pocket...and that’s probably when she breathed her last. The realization hits me and a whimper escapes. She bled out saving us. “No” I whisper this time.

His expression firms. “Refusing to believe a truth doesn’t make it a lie, Miss Lockwood.”

I long to rant and rail at him. To shake him. I long to curl against him and sob. Because he’s right. I know he’s right. I know in my heart Elizabeth is gone. She’s gone, no longer a Light inside the Grid.

Troika lost a valuable soldier today. A girl loyal to the end. I lost a potential friend.

I won’t cry. I will be strong. I will honor her strength. “Why did you insist she guard me?”

“I didn’t.” He gives me a small smile. “She did.”

My grief sharpens to a razor point. I fight the tears desperate to spring free. “She will be missed,” I whisper.

If I’d just figured out Lina’s riddle sooner...if I’d suspected Victor’s treachery...