Lifeblood (Everlife #2)

“No!” I rush to him, but just before I reach him I’m propelled up, up by a force greater than myself—


Carried by a beam of Light, I blaze through the Myriadian Buckler as if it’s butter. I reach a plateau, where I hover, looking down at the raging battle. Violent. Brutal. Bloody. My stomach twists. Reed is nothing but a speck on the ground.

He is spirit. He can survive. He must.

Can’t lose another friend.

A dark dome surrounds a mile-long stretch in every direction. The hole I created is growing together, closing. I don’t know how or why this happened.

I need to go back. I can’t abandon my troops.

—Orion died with those same words on his lips.—

The feminine voice flows from a room in the Grid. Princess Mariée. She’s helping me. One day, I’ll be strong enough to do this.

“I’d rather die fighting than live safe,” I tell her.

—Without you, we’ll crumble.—

Loyalty. Passion. Liberty. “No. I don’t believe that. The heart of Troika will never stop beating.”

Suddenly I drop. Whoosh! My heart and stomach switch places as I blaze through the shield once again. Impact throws me but I roll and come up swinging, taking down three opponents in quick succession.

Necessary. Must save Reed, must save the humans.

Another ML rushes into my path. Ready, I raise my swords—Sloan trips him, clearing the way for Killian.

I shout with relief, battling a painful urge to throw my arms around him. He’s here, and he’s alive!

His dark hair is matted to his scalp, wet with Lifeblood. He has several gashes on his face, and the collar of his shirt is ripped and hanging low, revealing thick scars around his neck. His only remaining weapon? Meredith’s ring.

His gaze slides over my still-glowing arm, and he nods, as if satisfied I’m healthy and whole.

A TL sprints up behind him, sword raised, but I grab the tattered remains of Killian’s shirt and push him out of the way, shouting, “No!” No more.

Loyalty.

What if Killian had been killed today? What if Reed is already in the Rest? What if the humans got caught in the crosshairs?

My determination changes course. “Stop! Everyone—just—stop.” Passion.

A round, disc-like beam of Light explodes from me, shocking me as it swoops over the masses.

MLs drop to their knees, even Killian and Sloan, and TLs freeze, the battle suddenly on pause. Every eye finds me and widens.

Tensions remain high, peace a fragile thing, as delicate as a gossamer thread. Uncertainty floods me. What do I do now?

Killian lumbers to his feet, his arm extended toward his brethren, the ring-gun aimed and ready. “Hear her,” he tells them. “Dare you.”

Liberty. I can lead these people. I can see myself. See it, do it. My life is a book filled with blank pages, and my actions and words are the pen.

“We have fought and warred against each other, but we’ve only birthed misery and pain,” I call. My gaze finds two Troikan Generals. Mykhail and Luciana. Both are drenched in Lifeblood, their tense posture proclaiming a fierce desire to return to battle. Next my gaze catches on Reed. He’s clutching his side, but he’s breathing.

Relief is a cool tide. “Myriadians, you hate us for our Light, and we despise you for your darkness. The two cannot coexist. We know this. We all know this. But why must we war because of it?”

Hear me. Please.

Silence reigns, but I’m certain not everyone likes the story I’m writing. Soldiers on edge, gearing to fight.

“I’m willing to call a truce,” Sloan shouts, and I’m grateful to her.

“Die,” someone calls.

The starting bell. Cries ring out, warriors blazing back into motion.

The same TL sneaks up behind Killian, intent on harm. I have a split second to make a decision. Stop the TL and save Killian, betraying my people yet again, or let Killian take the blow and pray he recovers.

No contest. I spin in front of Killian, my swords lifted and ready. Come what may. I love him. Enemy or not, I will protect him. I will fight for him until my dying breath.

I will do what’s right even when others do me wrong. Saving him is right. Helping him—helping others like him—is right. If my people die, they will end up in the Rest. Happier. If Killian dies, we don’t know where he’ll go. I won’t risk a trip to Many Ends, where he’ll be trapped.

The TL pauses, unwilling to harm me.

“It’s okay, lass.” Killian pulls me to his side. “It’s okay.”

He is willing to take a killing blow simply to stop me from hurting one of my own people? An act he knows I’ll abhor.

My heart constricts. This boy...he is so precious to me. He is precious, period.

I haven’t forgotten my goal. Stop the war—save my enemies—one at a time.

In a show of unity, Sloan takes a post at my other side. I marvel. The girl who killed me is willing to die to save me.

The TL backs up, but others have spotted Killian the mighty Troikan-slayer, seducer of humans, a prize among prizes.

There’s no way we can block them all.

Two TLs leap at Killian. Guided by the Grid, I summon a beam of Light. It rockets in my direction and catches me around the torso and ankles, yanking me flat. I hover, horizontal, a block to both Killian and Sloan.

A sword cuts through my rib cage, another through my thigh. A deluge of pain. I gnash my teeth. At least Killian and Sloan are safe.

Realizing they’ve hurt their Conduit, both soldiers drop to their knees.

Killian bellows with horror and rage—rage he then focuses on those responsible for my injuries.

“I will murder you for this,” he hisses, taking aim.

“No,” I grate. “Don’t hurt them. Please.” The beam gently lowers me to the ground. “Don’t...hurt...stop...war...” Breathing is becoming more difficult, my lungs constricting, my throat burning. “Please.”

Concern for me must outweigh the need to avenge me, because Killian doesn’t shoot. He bends down to pick me up and clutches me close to his chest.

TLs reach for me, determined to wrench me from the arms of their enemy. Sloan beats them back, as fierce as a shark that has scented blood.

“She is mine.” Killian’s heart pounds against my temple, and it comforts me, lulls me. But we aren’t in Shells, and contact is painful.

I swallow a whimper. He hangs on to me, carrying me through the battle.

“Dior...” I say. “Javier.”

“Your team is winning the battle, lass, and mine are retreating. The humans will be left in the care of their TLs, perhaps even moved to a new location before I finish this sentence. But you...” Killian growls low in his throat.

“Love you, too...almost died before...” I mean to tell him I recovered then, and I’ll recover now. This? This is nothing. But my body shuts down, the frigid cold too much, icicles filling my throat.

Darkness blankets my mind.





chapter twenty-four



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“With violence, you ensure victory. With kindness, you welcome betrayal.”