Everlife

  This is true. "To be fair, my people might have tortured you if we hadn't been bonded."

  "Doona care. I'm choosing Light. I'm pulling a Tenley Lockwood and forgiving those who have wronged me."

  How much do I love this boy. "Thank you."

  "Even before my memory returned, I'd begun tae like the Light."

  I kiss his collarbone. "I'm sure the Light liked you, too. How could it not?"

  He snorts. "The last time I had tae choose a realm, I picked based on hatred. Hatred for Archer, and his rejection of me. Hatred for the people of Myriad, determined tae prove tae everyone I deserved a family. This time, I pick for love--for you."

  As I luxuriate in the beauty of his words, a new bond clicks into place. A stronger bond. I can feeeeel his love for me, more luminous than ever before, every shadow gone.

  "The Grid," I say, and gasp. "It's so much brighter now."

  "For me, too."

  Love has won.

  No matter what else happens, love has won!

  "Killian," I say, grinning ear to ear.

  He leans toward me, as if drawn to me, only to go still. We both go still.

  He frowns. "Did you hear that?" he whispers.

  In the distance, a twig snaps. For the second time.

  I scramble for my clothes--zero! We left every garment on the other side of the waterfall.

  Another twig snaps. The murmur of voices arises.

  Incoming!

  But will we find friend--or foe?

  TROIKA

  * * *

  From: M_V_3/54.5.8

  To: L_R_3/51.3.15, J_A_3/19.37.30, S_C_3/50.4.13, C_M_3/5.20.1, T_B_3/19.30.2, B_S_3/51.3.13, A_S_3/42.6.31, J_B_3/19.23.4, S_J_3/62.5.5, M_P_3/45.10.9

  Subject: RIP Tenley Lockwood I just received word. Tenley Lockwood has been slain inside Myriad, and she has not entered into the Rest. Because of her connection to Killian Flynn, she entered Many Ends.

  Before his disappearance, Alejandro posed the question: What if she's right, and we're wrong?

  I believe he was on the correct track. The girl needs our help. Let's offer our help.

  Light Brings Sight!

  General Mykhail Vasiliev

  TROIKA

  * * *

  From: S_C_3/50.4.13

  To: M_V_3/54.5.8

  Subject: Worse is on the way Forget Miss Lockwood. Penumbra is still spreading in the Land of the Harvest and Troika. Abrogates are loose. There's no way we can cleanse them all, even with our ever-increasing number of Conduits.

  Also, Miss Lockwood's guardian hunted me down. After biting me for "daring to hurt the best human born in, like, ever," he demanded an audience with you, Mykhail. Well, an audience with whoever thinks Miss Lockwood is "right about everything, always."

  I suggest you take the meeting. He claims we're all going to die if we fail to do everything he says.

  Light Brings Sight!

  General Shamus Campbell

  TROIKA

  * * *

  From: M_V_3/54.5.8

  To: S_C_3/50.4.13

  Subject: Stay the course I have a feeling the Abrogates are a distraction meant to divide our forces. You say forget Miss Lockwood; I say forget the Abrogates. More of our people are dead. Conduits we desperately needed. They are not in the Rest, but Many Ends.

  The source of the shadows must be negated. And from whom do Abrogates receive their power? Their king. Remove the king, and victory will follow.

  So, our first order of business is as simple as it is complex. Find a way to fill our trapped Conduits with Light. We can't take down a king of darkness without Light. They are Light. And before you argue, know that this instruction comes directly from Eron.

  So how can we get our Light into Many Ends?

  As for the dog, send him my way.

  Light Brings Sight!

  General Mykhail Vasiliev

  chapter twenty-five

  * * *

  "In the end, you will have what you say."

  --Troika

  Killian

  As quietly as possible, I crawl to the other rock to retrieve our clothing. I toss Ten her garments and dress in my own as quietly as possible. She does the same.

  I will protect this girl with my life.

  Of course, I should have known my Ten would climb from the rock, determined to protect my life. She's as fierce as she is beautiful, her loved ones always her top concern. And I am one of those loved ones. Me. Killian Flynn. She loves me with all her heart, soul and body. I'm still amazed, will probably be amazed for the rest of eternity. I'm not sure how it happened, only that it has; Ten told me so, and she never lies.

  For the second time in my life, I understand the importance of hearing the truth and telling the truth. Had Ten lied to me even once--about something, anything, large or small--I might doubt her word now. But she never has, never will. Despite the consequences, she always tells me straight. Her word is as good as gold, no, better than, and from this moment onward, mine will be better than gold, too. I want her to experience the same trust in me that I have in her.

  In trust, there's absolute peace and utter joy.

  Ten moves to my side, and together we inch forward. I kinda sorta want to murder our intruders in cold blood. Interrupt my time with Ten and suffer. But I'll resist the urge. Barely.

  I've never stuck around after sex, but this time I wanted to stick around more than I wanted to take my next breath. I wanted to hold my wife, enjoy her, bask in the pleasure we just shared. Pleasure unlike anything I've ever experienced.

  Watching her come alive under my touch proved to be the great accomplishment of my life. So what that I wasn't wanted as a child. I'm wanted as a man--Ten's man. She is the soothing balm to every hurt I suffered in my past.

  Muttering voices reach my ears, and I ball my fist, preparing to launch a sneak attack. Then the intruders come into view at last.

  Ten gasps and rushes forward. "No, no, no. What happened? Why--how--are you here?"

  Archer, Dior, Raanan and Reed swing around to face her. They are cut and bruised, their dirt-stained clothing torn. But Dior no longer appears sickly. I caught a glimpse of her as we fought our way to the Kennels, and shadows had filled her eyes and run through her veins.

  Seeing Ten, Archer sprints to meet her halfway. The two embrace, and shockingly enough, I experience no hint of jealousy. Or maybe it's not so shocking. Ten is mine. Willingly, happily. Always and forever.

  Archer looks up, and our gazes snag. We share a moment of silent communication: I'm still not sure I like you, but I'm glad you're here.

  "How are you here?" she asks him again.

  "After you died," Archer says, "our Grids got nailed by a total blackout. We were severely weakened, which allowed the Myriadians to slay us quickly."

  Her eyes go wide, and she presses a hand over her mouth. "My fault. I'm so sorry."

  Through our new bond, I offer words of comfort, and she casts me a thankful half smile.

  "Hey, hey now. No apologies." He grins at her, saving himself from a...chat with me. No one makes my girl feel guilty about anything without severe consequences. "We planned to enter Many Ends one way or another to help you save souls. This just sped up the process."

  "So you owe me your eternal thanks?" she asks, her tone now pure sass.

  He snorts.

  "Where's Clay?" She rises on her tiptoes to try and peek over Archer's shoulder.

  Sadness glitters in his eyes. "Minutes after we arrived, he was taken by a horde of the ugliest birds in creation."

  Tears well in her eyes and spill down Ten's cheeks. Tremors rock her. Then she lifts her chin and clears her throat. "Well. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters here. All will be well, everyone freed. We'll save him, along with everyone else. We will."

  "We will," I agree. Nothing will stop us.

  "Victor is here, too, but he was taken by a horrendous-looking monkey-spider thing," Archer says.

  "Victor?" I demand.

  Archer
's nod is wooden, his teeth clenched. "I killed him before I died."

  "What about Biscuit?" Ten asks, gazing around the garden as tension radiates from her. "Is he here?"

  "No," Archer says, and she expels a relieved breath. "He made it out of Myriad."

  "Thank the Firstking." She pulls from Archer's hold to hug Reed, Raanan and Dior, who she clings to longest.

  "I'm so sorry," Dior says.

  "I know," Ten replies.

  "I never meant for him to--"

  "I know," Ten repeats.

  Him. They must mean Levi Nanne, a Troikan General, now deceased. Both girls loved and respected him, maybe even considered him a father figure. But he died trying to save Dior from Myriad and the horrible covenant I tricked her into accepting.

  Guilt slithers through me, wraps around my neck like a boa constrictor, and squeezes. Our every action has a consequence. Not just for the people involved, but for innocents, as well.

  Perhaps we can save Levi, too, just like we're going to save the souls in Many Ends. The Unsigned can leave this sub-realm. Myriadians should be able to leave, as well; we'll soon find out, one way or another. Ten thinks so, or we wouldn't be here. Troikan spirits can exit the Rest, absolutely, no question. Archer is proof.

  In a perfect world, everyone escapes and becomes one big happy family.

  Hey, stranger things have happened.

  It's time I make amends with the family I already have. And these people are my family. They helped me when no one else would so much as spit on me if I was lit on fire.

  "I'm sorry, Dior," I say. "I have no excuse tae offer for my past actions."

  As her dark gaze finds me, shame claws at my mind. Because of me, this girl suffered greatly. She planned to make covenant with Troika and spend her eternity with Archer. Their love had been evident, even back then.

  When Dior's father had a heart attack, I seized the opportunity to defeat my former friend. I told Dior I would ensure good ole dad walked out of the hospital, but only if she made covenant with Myriad right then and there--and made no adjustments to the contract I offered.

  She agreed, and I did as promised, using shadows to convince the man he felt better. But the moment, the very second her father walked through those hospital doors, fulfilling my commitment, I took the shadows away. He died in an instant, the stress of his movements too much for his fragile body.

  By then, it was too late for Dior. She'd already signed the worst covenant imaginable.

  As a med student, she was supposed to help humans from both realms, and yet, her contract ensured she would face punishment every time she helped a Troikan.

  Horrible of me, yes. At the time, I told myself I was saving Dior from Ambrosine's wrath. He'd wanted the girl killed so that he could use her against his unfaithful son. I made sure there was a reason to keep her alive: her continued torment. But I'd lied to myself. Back then, jealousy had seethed inside me. Resentment, too. Archer had left me behind, scarring me for life, and yet he got to enjoy his future? No!

  Something in my chest tightens. I do not deserve Dior's forgiveness, but I lift my chin and repeat, "I'm sorry for everything I did to you. If it helps, I was banned from Ambrosine's presence for ensurin' yer torment rather than yer death, and placed under Madame Pearl Bennett's care."

  "It doesn't help."

  No, I don't suppose it does. My gaze moves to Archer. "I'm sorry." I mean the words with every fiber of my being.

  Dior continues to peer at me, her stare unwavering as tremors rack her. "I want to hold a grudge against you, I really, really do. You used my dream of becoming a doctor against me."

  "I understand," I tell her. Truth. Some mistakes you can't recover from.

  "But I need forgiveness, too." She pulls from Ten to lean into Archer's side. "How can I withhold from you what I seek from others?"

  Archer doesn't hesitate to wrap an arm around her waist. The two share a look so loaded with tension the air around them heats. The air around us all heats. Awareness crackles.

  "You're together together?" Ten asks, fanning her cheeks.

  Archer rolls his eyes. "We haven't had time to discuss all the details yet, Nosey, but thanks for inserting yourself into our relationship."

  Ten pretends to tip a hat. "Anytime."

  "If he'll have me," Dior says, "I'll stay with him always."

  Now Archer beams, as bright as the sun. "Oh, I'll have you all right. Again and again and again..."

  A rosy blush paints over her cheeks, and he chuckles.

  Just like that, a small fraction of my guilt eases. Archer deserves a happily-ever-after with the girl he loves. Finally he's on the right track.

  Reed and Raanan pretend to gag.

  "Enough making me sick. Time for medicine." Reed pulls leaves from the Tree of Life and passes them out to his crew.

  As everyone eats, gashes weaving back together, bruises fading, I twine my fingers with Ten's. Touching her isn't a compulsion but a necessity. To my delight, she melts against me and rests her head on my shoulder. The sweetness of her scent envelops me. But the best part? Her scent is mixed with mine.

  Satisfaction and contentment shimmer inside of me, new and wonderful. Why did I ever want to resist her? Why did I even try? With her, I've always been doomed to fail.

  "What's our next move?" Archer asks. His gaze moves from Ten to Reed, concern darkening his expression. "You guys are the only ones who have been here before."

  "Before Aunt Lina killed me," Ten says, "she told me to find the doorway, and I would save the day. Check. Killian and I took care of that just a little while ago. Then she said something about hills having eyes, so everyone will die, and if I wanted to win the fight, I would have to use Light."

  Reed pales. "The hills. With eyes."

  "Uh, I've seen that movie," Raanan says, and shudders. "Spoiler alert. We're all going to die."

  "I lived here for years, but never dared venture into the hills. For good reason." Reed rubs a fist over his heart, as if the organ is in the midst of a panic attack. "The screams you hear--they come from there."

  If the hills are where spirits are being kept, well, that's where we need to be. Wonderful. "We've got tae get our hands on weapons."

  "Weapons. Right." Nibbling on her bottom lip, Ten searches the ground. "Problem. There are no fallen branches here."

  No branches, no weapons. And venturing outside this fantastical haven to search for branches would be foolish. Everything outside this area is covered in bugs and poison.

  "No, there aren't. Nothing dies in this little paradise." Reed sighs. "And don't try to pull anything down. It doesn't work, only gets you slapped."

  Slapped? As if the tree is sentient?

  Sentient = aware. I scratch my jaw and say, "Why don't we ask the tree for limbs?" The idea wafts through my mind, as if whispered into my ear by an invisible friend. The Grid? Maybe, but not the Grid I'm used to dealing with. Something is different.

  Raanan laughs. "Aren't you adorable? Ask a tree? Afterward we can talk to the dirt."

  "Well, why not ask a tree?" Dior spreads her arms wide. "I'm sure we've all had worse conversations with people."

  Ten tilts her head to the side, thoughtful as she regards me. "Killian is right. The tree is alive, like all the others here. Hello, it even has a name. The Tree of Life. While the others do their best to harm us, this one willingly feeds us. I mean, we aren't bitten or poisoned when we take the leaves. So why wouldn't the tree give us more--if we ask nicely?"

  "Why don't we have to ask for the leaves, then?" Reed asks.

  "Because food is a necessity, and weapons are a luxury?" Ten hikes one shoulder in a shrug. "Because the Tree of Life doesn't want us using the limbs to hurt other spirits?"

  Facing one of the massive trunks, she brushes her palms over the bark. "Please. We want to help the people here, not hurt, and we could use--"

  Before she can finish her sentence, a branch lowers, reaching for her. The end curls around her fingers and turns
her arm before stroking the warhorse branded into her wrist.

  Limb after limb tumbles to the ground, and not a single one comes close to hitting us.

  Reed gasps. "All this time..."

  Our group goes silent, shock palpable. Then we begin whooping with happiness. The tree is alive and is aware and is willing to help us.

  "Thank you, thank you, a thousand times thank you," I say.

  Other thanks follow. "Thank you muchly."

  "You're the best."

  "Owe you."

  "Thanks so much."

  "Thanks."

  "You rock!"

  Raanan is the first to sober. "We're not going to get far with a bunch of clubs. And that's all these branches are good for, considering none of us has a dagger." A limb still attached to the tree swings in his direction and whacks him on the butt.

  Giggling, Dior flattens a hand over her mouth.

  "Could it be?" Ten stares at a branch for a several prolonged seconds. "I mean, it's possible. Even probable. Even though it makes no sense."

  She doesn't make any sense. "Could what be, lass?"

  "Light is always the answer," she says, ignoring my question. She lifts the biggest branch and sits down. "I have an idea." With her eyes closed, she draws in a deep breath...wraps a hand around each end. Deep breath out. Tension soon lines her face, a sign of deep concentration.

  "What is she--" Reed begins, and reaches for Ten.

  I grab his wrist, stopping him. "Let her work."

  His nod is stiff, but he drops his arms to his sides and presses his lips together.

  Soon pinpricks of Light flicker to life at the ends of Ten's fingers, muted at first, but growing in intensity. Light she is somehow channeling. Light = heat. Heat = fire. Fire = change.

  She rubs her fingers along the end of the branch and...yes! The heat creates a pointed tip. A spear. Or an arrow, if we can create a crossbow. I think that we can. My belt is metal, and we can unfasten each link to use as nails.

  By the time she opens her eyes, she's drenched in sweat and pale. I pick the most succulent leaves for her and do not relax until she's consumed each one, her color bright once again.

  "Never thought I'd see Killian Flynn playing nursemaid," Archer mutters.

  "I'm practicin' for later," I reply, deadpan. "When I'm naked with my lass."

  Ten elbows me in the sternum, and I throw her a grin, all, was it something I said?