Lifeblood (Everlife #2)

Victor is smart. He knew exactly where to draw me.

Did the armies put more soldiers above this area, knowing he would lead me to it? Knowing I would need only a single ray of Light to start a conflagration?

I lick my lips and toss the swords...but only a few feet away from me.

Scowling, he stomps over to kick the blades behind him. While he’s distracted, I reach up to rub my thumb against Killian’s necklace. I know he can’t get inside the realm, but maybe, just maybe, he can pinpoint my location and help clear the area above the Tower of Might.

I just have to keep Victor talking long enough for Killian to arrive.

“Why haven’t you killed me already?” I ask. “Didn’t you learn your lesson about letting me live?”

He smiles without humor. “I’ve decided to make covenant with you.”

I snort-laugh. “Are you kidding? Why would I ever agree? Why would you want me to?”

“Why else? Power. With you on my side, the Prince of Doves will have no choice but to surrender to Myriad. The war will end, as you claim to desire, and I will take my rightful place in Troika. The new Secondking.”

I would rather die. “You’ll never have enough power to become king.”

His comm glows, but he pays it no heed. “Choose, Ten. This is your only means of survival. And you want to survive, don’t you? You want to continue fighting me, at the very least. To ensure you save your friends from my wrath.”

Every decision matters. Every action has a consequence. What you sow, you will reap. As he deceived Kayla, he has deceived himself. “Love gives rather than takes. By saving myself, I would be condemning others. That, I won’t do.”

A minute beam of Light slips through the shadows above, shining a few feet in front of me. Killian is here!

Victor frowns and glances up at the sky.

Now! Heart hammering, I dive for the Light.





chapter twenty-seven



* * *



“A problem should never be the sole focus of your life.”

—Troika

I land in the center of the beam, going from cold to hot in an instant, suddenly jacked up as if I’ve just been plugged in to a generator. The brand on my arm flickers once, twice...glows...and the Grid begins to buzz in the back of my mind.

First up: disarming Victor.

He plans to destroy Troika from the inside. He must be stopped.

As I straighten, he realizes his mistake—never lose track of your enemy. He adjusts his aim and squeezes the trigger, but I’m on a roll, literally, and the shot soars over my shoulder.

I swipe up my swords and come up swinging.

Boom, boom. The bullets whizz past me. I strike at him. We move in tandem, one of us attacking, the other dodging. I manage to drive him backward.

“You’re not going to beat me.” I see my victory playing along the Grid, leading my every action.

“Wrong. You’re already beaten.”

A lie. Just another in a long line.

In a single, fluid motion, he reloads his gun. Another bullet heads my way. I duck, beginning to detect a pattern to his movements, as if he’s dancing to music I cannot hear. Step, step, duck left, duck right, fire. Step, step, duck.

Using my Light as fuel, I pick up the pace, changing the beat. I block and press my swords together. With a swipe of the staff, he falls to the side, but also fires another shot. He lands and leaps at me. I dart in the opposite direction, going low, as if I mean to knock his feet out from under him.

When he jumps, I jerk the staff up instead of down, hitting his calves to disrupt his balance. He falls again. I yank the staff apart and twirl a sword, cutting off his foot before he lands. Thud. He’s on the ground, reaching for his spurting stump. I cut off his hand, the gun still in his grip.

He screams. I pivot around him...and remove his other hand.

His next scream makes a mockery of his first, Lifeblood pouring from all three wounds.

Determined to end this, I relock the swords and press the tip of the staff against the pulse at the base of his neck. A flame burns him.

“Mercy, mercy,” he cries.

I’m panting, my heart pounding. This boy has caused me all kinds of problems. He has deceived me, hurt me, and killed my friends. If given the chance, he’ll do it all again.

My heart weeps. Allow him to live. Save the enemy, one at a time... As long as there’s breath, there’s hope.

...but I’m tempted, so tempted to finish him. Death is what he deserves.

A thick beam of Light spreads over us, bright and warm. I glance up and exhale a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. MLs are fleeing. Has Troika won?

“Mercy.” Victor’s voice weaker, his strength draining as quickly as his Lifeblood. “Mercy. Please, Ten.”

“If the situation was reversed and I asked you for mercy, you would strike me down with a smile on your smug face.”

But I am not him. My choice today defines who and what I am tomorrow.

He flinches, the truth of my words irrefutable.

I straighten, removing the tip of the staff from his pulse, adding, “I’m not going to kill you. I’m not your judge, and I’m not going to decide your punishment.”

Footsteps sound in the distance. I spin, ignoring an influx of dread as I lift my weapon, prepared to battle.

A Troikan army rushes through the Gate, Levi at the helm.

Relief opens a floodgate, and tears fill my eyes. I pull the staff apart and sheathe the swords as I rush over to Kayla. She’s unconscious, unmoving, but she has a pulse.

I push every bit of Light I can spare into her and shout, “Help her!” Victor is proof spirits are harder to kill than humans. I think...pray...she can recover from this.

Levi issues a series of orders. Three soldiers see to Kayla’s care while another two deal with Victor. As both individuals are carted to the Sanatorium, I begin to tremble.

“Kayla told me Jeremy is safe,” I say. If she lied...

“He is safe. I’ve seen him.”

My knees give out, and I topple. My tears spill over and rain down my cheeks. “According to intel, there are—were—nine Myriadian spies in our realm,” I tell Levi. “I killed two. Victor is the third.”

“The Secondking can do what we can’t, unearthing those who disabled their comms and locking them away until they can be questioned.” He closes the distance and, with a quiet hiss, eases beside me. There’s a wet spot on his rib cage, and it’s growing, his Lifeblood hemorrhaging.

“You need Light, but I have none left,” I say. “Why don’t you go to the Sanatorium with the others.”

“I’ll go. Eventually. You’ll be happy to hear we were also able to drive the enemy away...with Killian’s help.”

My heart skips a beat. He came through. After everything, he came through for me. He chose me, fighting his peers to save me.

I cry so hard I dry heave.

I want my arms wrapped around him. I want his heart beating against mine and his scent in my nose. I want his breath fanning my skin, branding me as effectively as the Troikan symbol. I want his lips pressed against mine.