Lifeblood

  "Ambrosine is the problem, then. Not the people." A captain decides the direction the ship travels. A leader feeds his people truth or lies, filling everyone with love or hate.

  How can I use this information to foster peace? Turn my sights to the death of Ambrosine?

  What if the bridge could be rebuilt...?

  Levi regards me curiously. "I suppose you're right. The Everlife Grids flow from their kings. Myriadians are connected to Ambrosine, and Troikans to Eron."

  Zero! One step forward, two steps back. "Kill one, kill all?"

  "I honestly don't know," he says on a sigh. "As you can guess, a prince has never been killed."

  We lapse into silence, lost in our own thoughts. I continue to pass the ball to Jeremy. By the time my brother's eyelids begin to droop, I'm at full strength, certain I'm darkness free. I pick him up, rock him to sleep in my arms, and carry him to the nursery--Levi shows me the way since we're in his house. I place my baby bro in his crib and kiss his temple.

  "Where's Victor now?" I whisper.

  "He's home, resting. Miss Brooks is with him, ensuring he has everything he needs."

  Good.

  We exit the nursery, and Levi pats me on the shoulder. "Go home. You could use some rest yourself. You've had a tough day. Forget about Lina's song for the night. My brilliant mind is on the task."

  Swept up by a wave of affection, I throw my arms around him. "Thank you. For everything."

  He gives me an awkward pat on the back. "Yes, well." He clears his throat. "You had better take off before I decide to make you run laps."

  I snort but I also beat feet to the nearest Stairwell. When I exit, I'm a few blocks from the cathedral.

  The streets are crowded today, families, friends and coworkers meandering through the different stalls, where linens, hand-carved furnishing and decorations are being sold. I guess everyone decided to visit the outdoor markets at once.

  There's a mix of robes and catsuits, a totally different fashion vibe than I'm used to seeing.

  "Hi, Ten!" Clementine calls.

  Winifred grins and waves. "Glad to see you're back on your feet. Want to shop with us?"

  Their warm reception is refreshing. "I'm tempted, but I've been commanded to rest."

  "Well, poop. Maybe next time."

  They blow me kisses before heading off.

  One of the merchants rushes over and places a piece of manna in my hand. "Please enjoy," he says, bowing to me. "My gift to you for all your hard work on our realm's behalf."

  "I--"

  He returns to his table before I can politely decline. Should I decline, though? A rejection would be rude. I mean, he wanted to do something special for me. The least I can do is appreciate the gesture. "Thank you," I call, and he beams.

  As I enter the cathedral, a message from Kayla comes in. You free? I could really use a friend.

  Even though I told the newbies no, I can't bring myself to abandon my friend in a time of need. I would love to meet up, but I have to rest. Levi's orders. Come to my apartment!

  A pause, then: Let's meet at the Baths of Restoration. Levi would approve, promise. See in you 5!

  I switch directions.

  When I reach the baths, I take a moment to enjoy the scenery, an elaborate structure consisting of multiple bodies of water--both hot and cold springs--broken up by arched doorways and massive stone sculptures in the shapes of flowers, birds, horses and winged warriors.

  Light falls over me, and I soak it up, buzzing with a sudden influx of energy. My body guzzles the rays as if I've been dying of thirst.

  The pressure on my lockbox eases. Just like that. I'm stunned.

  Kayla exits the Gate, her expression troubled. She gives me a hug and leads me to one of the hot springs. We sit at the edge and dip our toes into the warm, violet-colored water. I gasp as liquid fizzes against my skin.

  "What's going on with you?" I ask. "Did something happen with Victor?"

  She stiffens, saying, "Another girl showed up at his apartment, and he asked me to leave. Her name is Martha, and she's one of the Leaders under General Bahari. They're in charge of communications. The smart ones. How can I compete with that? He said she's a friend, and she needed a shoulder to cry on. But it looked to me like she wanted a guy to ride." She cringes. "Sorry. That was crude. It's just...this place...the rules. Do you ever feel like it's all too much? Like maybe you would have been better off choosing--" She presses her lips together, shakes her head. "Never mind."

  "Better off choosing Myriad?" I ask gently. "Where the party never stops?"

  She looks left, right, making sure no one is listening. Then she nods.

  "Not really," I answer honestly. "I like structure. But this isn't about the realm or the rules, is it? It's about the boy."

  Her chin trembles. She wipes at her eyes with the back of her wrist. "If Victor cares for me, he should want to give me his attention, right? He shouldn't want to spend time with other girls. Hurting me should hurt him."

  Well. I can't argue with that. "Have you talked to him about your feelings? Sadly, boys aren't mind readers."

  "No, but..."

  But? "Are you two dating?" I ask.

  "I thought we were. Before his abduction, he told me he liked me. He also told me we had to keep things quiet since our relationship wasn't Grid-approved. But it shouldn't matter, you know? He has free will. Now I'm wondering if his free will is telling him to see other girls."

  Ouch. "Maybe ask him about his long-term intentions?" In this area, I have little experience. I've only ever dated James--who lied to me the entire time, and I never suspected--and Killian.

  "I've done that, at least," she grumbles. "He says I'm the only one. He says he wants to take the next step with me, to...you know, but every time I push for a legit commitment, he balks."

  You know. Sex. I remember a time when I'd been so shy, the S-word had made me blush, too. But I'm not that girl anymore. Prynne changed me.

  "I know our rules are in place for a reason, that we're supposed to follow the directions of the Grid because forever is a long, long time, and we don't always see the whole picture like the Grid," she continues, sounding miserable, "but maybe I should just go ahead and sleep with Victor? He'll leave me if I don't. And it's just sex, right?"

  "Uh, you do not sleep with a guy just to keep him. If your body is more important to him than your mind, he's not worth keeping." My tone is stern. I may not have experience in this area, but I know she's a treasure worth fighting for. "Sex isn't a relationship cure-all."

  Killian and I aren't having sex--we can't. And yet he's doing everything in his power to help me. He wants the best for me, no matter what. He prizes me.

  Just as I prize him. He's strong, smart and witty. He's fun. He's protective and possessive. He's determined. To those he loves, he's kind. He's giving.

  He's willing to die for me. Can I really do less for him?

  To me, Killian is worth any hardship. He's worth any pain I'll have to face. Besides, if I won't fight for what I want, I can't cry when I don't get it.

  "What should I do?" she asks.

  "Listen to your instincts. Follow your heart." Good advice. Advice I need to follow. "Never compromise what's right."

  chapter nineteen

  * * *

  "Every mind needs a bouncer at the door."

  --Troika

  That night, sleep eludes me. My mind returns to Lina, possible ways to convince her to go to court--and win!--and the meaning of her song. By morning, I'm exhausted and still clueless.

  Levi surprises me with a visit. "We're doing things differently today," he says in lieu of a greeting. "Rather than training, you're going out on assignment."

  My stomach twists with sudden nervousness. "Why?"

  "Two birds, one stone."

  "Am I supposed to know what that means?" I grumble. "You know, General Nanne, you have a gift. You can make me like and dislike you simultaneously."

  Oh, who am I kidding? I love
the man. In many ways, he's become a father figure to me. A father figure my own wasn't. Levi supports me. He encourages me.

  I might even be used to those annoying life lessons.

  Might! I said might!

  "You wanted my help with Killian," he says, "and I want your help with a possible recruit."

  "I'm listening."

  "Remember the woman who begged you to save her daughter Brigitte the day you arrived in Troika? Brigitte is a distant relative on your father's side. She's Unsigned, and Mr. Flynn has been assigned to her."

  Myriad clearly believes the more of my family they have, the less I'll fight the realm.

  Diabolical fiends!

  Their choice--their consequences.

  What they don't yet realize? We're all connected. If not by blood, then emotion, experience or pain. One person's life will always lead to another's.

  "If you accept the mission--" he says.

  "I accept," I rush out.

  He chuckles. "I'll station TLs in the area. I'll erect a Buckler, keeping other MLs out, minimizing the level of danger you face. Keep in mind Brigitte has a tracker."

  Anger gives me a swift kick. I know all about trackers. Dr. Vans surgically implanted one in my side. As my aunt removed it--in one of her rare moments of lucidity--I begged her to leave it inside me. There's a mind-altering drug in it, and it made me think I wanted, no, needed the very object of my downfall.

  "By the way," I add. "Did your brilliant mind figure out Lina's song?"

  One fox in the henhouse. In two days, he'll try to eat his mouse.

  Time is running out.

  "It...didn't." He drums his fingertips against his chin. "But I'm not worried. We'll figure it out. Go on now. A Shell is waiting for you. By the way, you won't be monitored. The Eye will not record the mission."

  "Why?"

  "Less questions. More actions."

  Suspicious, I ask, "Are you going to get in trouble for this?" To be technical, I've been cleared to work only with humans infected with Penumbra.

  He rolls his eyes. "Do you really think I'd send you out without clearance?"

  Answering a question with a question. A way to mislead?

  No, not Levi. He wouldn't. He's too straightforward.

  I race off and sure enough, I find my Shell waiting at the Veil of Wings, the pimples brighter than ever. Whells are strapped under a leather coat with slits under the arms for easier weapon removal. On one finger is a Whell for Meredith's ring-gun.

  I anchor my spirit inside, fly through the lovely rush of crimson water--such peace--and zoom to...a dark alley, where I'm standing in the only ray of moonlight. In front of me, at the entrance of the alley, humans stroll along a lamplit sidewalk. My sudden appearance has gone unnoticed. Perfect!

  I exit, my gaze scanning...scanning...there! My heart leaps with excitement and love. Killian is seated at a table at an outdoor cafe.

  The woman across from him is plump and lovely, with rosy cheeks and a wealth of freckles.

  Two birds, one stone.

  The streets are cobbled, the buildings around me rich in history and detail. Ancient trees consume the cityscape, adding a delightful country charm.

  The hostess asks me if I'd like a table. In French. I understand her, just as I understand the people in Troika, even though I've never learned the language.

  I open my mouth to respond in kind, but English slips out. I close my eyes and concentrate on the Grid, where a stream of knowledge flows. Like a thought, but softer. A gossamer thread.

  "Mademoiselle?" A hand on my shoulder. "Est-ce que tout va bien?"

  Is everything all right?

  I focus on her. She's human, and she's Troikan. As her hand falls away from me, I see the brand in the center of her palm.

  "Oui." In fluent French, I tell her I'm here to meet guests who have already been seated and try not to jump up and down. Too cool!

  I don't wait for her reply, but maneuver through the tables. As I sit between Killian and Brigitte, the ground shakes. The people around me huff and puff with confusion and fear, but I know a Buckler has just been set in place.

  Killian, who is far from surprised by my sudden appearance, arches a brow, anger darkening his beautiful eyes. He hasn't forgiven me for taking Javier, I see. Tough. I blow him a kiss.

  "Sorry I'm late," I say, again in perfect French.

  Brigitte frowns, puzzled by the interruption.

  Win her. Win him. Try not to alienate.

  I hear the ghost of Levi's voice in my head. Don't try, Miss Lockwood. Do.

  Right. Brigitte doesn't know I'm a Shell. She thinks I'm human. Probably thinks Killian is, too.

  "I'm his girlfriend," I say and hike my thumb in Killian's direction.

  "Ah. She's the one you were telling me about," she says to him.

  He talked about me? To a human? What the heck did he tell her?

  "She is," he says, his tone brusque.

  At least he didn't deny it. I pat his hand and wink. "We're working through our problems, aren't we, sugar bear? I'll never give up on our love, and I'll never give up on you, no matter how naughtily you behave."

  His jaw drops, and he sputters. "You continue to endanger yourself, so I will be spanking you at my earliest convenience."

  I swallow a laugh. "Not that. Anything but that." I bat my lashes at him.

  Brigitte looks between us, a little dazed.

  All right. Let's get down to business, shall we? I decide on a course of action and say, "Killian is a Myriad loyalist, but we're working on that. He's probably been promising you the world, and hopefully you're skeptical because you've heard the horror stories about the girl who signed with Myriad without reading the fine print. She was a med student, and her contract stated she couldn't help a Troikan supporter without severe punishment." I wave my hand through the air for emphasis, and I know I'm coming across as a whirlwind, but time isn't exactly my friend. "But again, you've probably heard this, so there's no need for me to repeat it."

  Her mouth flounders open and closed. "I haven't." She leans away from Killian, saying, "Tell me about the fine print."

  "There will be no fine print in your contract." Killian crosses his arms over his chest, and though he directs the words to her, his gaze remains hot on me.

  "Are you sure about that?" In an effort to maintain my "human" facade, I pick up his mug and drink--and fight to hide a shiver. I taste the bitterness of coffee, the sweetness of sugar and feel the warmth of the liquid as it settles in the Shell's version of a stomach. "With Troika, the contract is the same for everyone."

  "I'm sure. And a boilerplate isn't a reason to brag," he says, his gaze now locked on my lips. His pupils expand, black swelling over blue-gold.

  "How are you sure?" Tingling now, I shift in my seat. "And a boilerplate removes any hint of favoritism."

  "Myriadians aren't governed by a strict set of rules meant to control our behavior. If we want something, we take it. We follow our heart wherever it leads us. And favoritism isn't necessarily a bad thing."

  "It is when you're not the favored one," I say, and I swear he regards me with pride. "In Troika, anyone who asks receives help. We love. We forgive. We feed you when you're hungry. We help you pay your bills. We are the family you always wished you had."

  "A family without fame or accolades," Killian says with no real enthusiasm.

  He's not even trying, is he? "Accolades." I wrap my arms around myself and pretend I'm being cuddled. "They keep you so warm at night."

  He covers his mouth--to stop a laugh?

  "You want to know what Troika doesn't do? Surgically insert a tracker inside a human." I meet Brigitte's confused gaze. "You should find yourself a Troikan doctor, get yourself checked."

  She begins to shake, the color draining from her cheeks, leaving her waxen. In a burst of movement, she stands, her chair skidding behind her. She backs away from us. "I don't want to hear any more. I've never liked discussing the Unending, and you two are only making i
t worse. As realm representatives, you are lacking. Besides, you obviously have a lot to work out. Among yourselves! I'm not needed."

  I don't try to stop her, because I've said everything I know to say. I've given her things to think about. I've planted seeds, as Levi would say.

  To my surprise, Killian doesn't try to stop her, either. As she races off, we stare at each other, trapped by an ever-thickening tension.

  "Alone at last." His tone gives nothing away. "Just the way Myriad wanted. You're happy, but you shouldn't be."

  "You mean you hope I'm happy, sarcastically speaking."

  "Not sarcastically. The Greek root for hope is elpis, which means an unwavering assurance of an expected outcome."

  Oh. "Then no. I'm not happy. Not yet. But I hope I will be."

  I stand, lean over and cup the back of Killian's neck, yanking him toward me.

  chapter twenty

  * * *

  "Every thought has merit."

  --Myriad

  Killian doesn't accept my kiss--he returns it. His fingers tangle in my hair, fisting the strands at my nape. It's not a power move meant to dominate me, but a possessive one, as if he fears I'll be snatched away at any moment. The same possessiveness roars inside me.

  I burn with desire, despite the muted physical sensations caused by my Shell. I'm being branded deep in my soul, and I'm desperate to hold on to him...to hold on and never let go.

  He was my last kiss. I want him to be my only kiss.

  His lips are soft and silken as his tongue thrusts and rolls against mine, his sweet taste stripping away my defenses one by one, leaving me vulnerable and raw; I love it. I love him.

  Different sensations pour through me. Sultry heat. Electricity in my veins, pulsing through muscle and bone. Inside my Shell, my skin grows sensitive. Every move I make, every breath I take, creates an irresistible friction that only makes the heat and electricity worse--or better. Yes, definitely better.

  My stomach quivers, delicious pressure throbbing in different parts of me. The first pressure I've ever enjoyed. I'm caught up in a whirlwind of sensation, every cell in my body coming alive. I'm a girl with a purpose--to love the boy who loves me. And this kiss...the kiss is wild, heady. It makes up for every moment we've spent apart, every fight we've ever had, and grounds me in a reality I cannot deny: I'm willing to die for this boy.