Lifeblood Page 20

  "The boy is this way." A shadow moves behind her, a soldier gunning for her. "Look out!"

  She doesn't hesitate. She dives out of the way--

  But the tip of a Glacier grazes her, cold and sharp enough to slice through her armor and into her leg. I wince as glittering Lifeblood gushes from her.

  My sympathy quickly morphs into rage. Hurt my grandbaby? Die badly.

  The soldier makes another play for her. Thank the Firstking she's strong enough to block. I'm there a second later, blocking a blow cast my way. But splitting his focus costs him, as I knew it would. Instincts well-honed, I kick him--and then I remove his head.

  I release the Pyre and help her stand. I want so badly to tell her it's never a crime to protect yourself from evil, but conversation will only distract us. With my axes in hand, I lead her through the masses standing between us and the infected human.

  Years of training allow me to focus, to kill without hesitation, and continue on. With only weeks of training, Ten is well able to keep up with me. Soon she's able to free herself from a defensive position and go on the offensive.

  No wonder she's going to lead us to victory!

  Deciding we'll get further if we work in tandem, I push an ML in her direction, getting him out of my way so I can take down the next one.

  Ten for the win! She does what's necessary to remove his head.

  The next soldier she...allows to walk away?

  Only takes a moment for comprehension to dawn. I recognize the ML. A girl named Sloan. Having watched over Ten throughout her life, I know this is the one who betrayed her after escaping the asylum.

  Her heart is so soft. We should...nurture that?

  I push another ML at her instead. Survive now. Nurture later. She's ready, but she's weakening, her motions slowing.

  I finish off the two MLs in front of me and take a post at her side. More and more soldiers are converging on us. No matter how many we slay, their numbers only multiply.

  "They're closing in on us!" I shout. But I'm wrong. We're already enclosed.

  Fellow Troikans will have to perform a miracle to reach us--but even still, they won't succeed in time. The circle is simply too thick, every ML peering at us with murderous glee.

  Unacceptable! I will not fail my precious granddaughter.

  When I notice a soldier aiming a gun at Ten, a scream leaves me unbidden, and I jump in front of her.

  Boom!

  A bullet cuts through my chest. I crash-land, and I'm quickly hit with three daggers. Agonizing pain rips through me, a wrecking ball to my calm. I'm utterly consumed, barely able to breathe. My veins fill with poison. A special concoction Myriadians use to dull Light.

  Ten shouts in denial, leaping in front of me in an effort to protect me.

  No, sweet girl. No. I open my mouth to voice my protest, to tell her to run...to run and never look back, but only a whimper escapes me.

  To my horror, an arrow embeds in her shoulder. Even still, my brave girl continues to fight.

  The boy behind her goes low, severing her Achilles tendons without her seeing. With a grunt, she falls. She loses her grip on her swords.

  Shadows...shadows all around her, cast by the swarm of MLs.

  As a Troikan--as a Conduit--she needs Light if she's going to survive this. I have to give her Light...where is Light...there's no Light here...

  I gasp as the answer strikes me. There is Light...it's just trapped inside me.

  I can give it to her--through Torchlight. In doing so, I'll die, and there will be nothing left of me to save. But that's okay. I've lived a good life. Now she can live hers.

  My body jolts once, twice, a third time, and the poison surges through my veins with renewed strength. I'm running out of time...she's running out of time...

  Soon I won't have any Light to give.

  Resolved, I turn my head. My gaze connects with hers. Her eyes--those lovely mismatched eyes--are filled with pain, guilt and remorse. I want to tell her goodbye. This is it. The end. I want to tell her this isn't her fault. My decision, my consequences. I've heard her say those words. She'll understand. I want to tell her I'm sorry. I'm sorry I won't get to spend more time with her. I'm sorry I couldn't get her out of this mess. I'm sorry I'm going to miss the amazing life she's going to lead. I'm sorry I won't be there to see the boy she marries, the family she raises. I'm sorry...

  But the only word that leaves me is, "Live."

  Live well, my Ten. Live well.

  I close my eyes and send my conscious mind along the Grid, gathering every ray of Light I've stored and hidden in case of an emergency. I draw the Light up, up until every ray bumps against the undersurface of my skin. Warmth bathes me. Such beautiful warmth.

  More Light. Too hot now. I'm burning up.

  Still more. The rays...there are too many, and they're too strong. I'm not a Conduit, and my body isn't equipped to handle such a massive upwelling. Any second now, I'm going to--

  I gasp.

  I'm Ten once again, the Exchange over, and I'm crying. I'm crying so hard my nose is running, my chest heaving. I choke on a sob.

  The Secondking's grip keeps me upright. He squeezes my hands. "She loved you, and my hope is that you will heed her desire to live well, Ten. Live well."

  chapter fifteen

  * * *

  "You can't fight fire with fire. You must fight fire with water."

  --Troika

  The next morning, a memorial service is held in Meredith's honor. The courtyard of the Temple of Temples fills with people. I'd rather mourn alone, but Levi tells me attendance is part of my training, so I go. At my side, Hazel squeezes my hand and sobs. Steven reaches up to wipe away the tear tracks on his cheek.

  Behind me, Kayla snot-cries.

  "This is my fault," she says between sniffles.

  She blames herself, not me? What a pair we make.

  Grief is a fire in my chest, burning and agonizing me. Sorrow is a bitter pill lodged in the back of my throat. My already broken heart is torn in two once again, one half in the Rest with Meredith. But I have my memories of her I will forever cherish. She loved me all the days of my life. She fought for me, and believed in me.

  For her, I will live. I will live well.

  I put my emotions on lockdown and stand back, watching the congregation. Surprisingly the other newbies are here. Raanan, Fatima, Winifred, Nico, Hoshi, Rebel, Sawyer and Clementine. If they'd spent any time with Meredith, I wasn't aware of it.

  Or maybe they're here to support me? They take turns hugging me. Raanan even says, "I'm sorry for your loss."

  I'm touched, I really am, and it threatens to raze my defenses, but I somehow find the strength to remain stoic. I won't break down. Not here, not now.

  Meredith touched so many lives, but most of the crowd laughs as funny stories are shared about her.

  Death ends a life, but it doesn't end a love.

  Mightier than a sword

  Eager to bless those around her

  Radiant, a Light for the world

  Eternally loving and loved

  Devoted to the end, she

  Illuminated my life

  Thankful, humble, true

  Hopeful till the end...

  After the service, after my training session, I spend a few hours in the Museum of Wisdom, searching for information about cyphers: secret or disguised ways of writing; codes. To put a message into secret writing; to encode. I look up each specific number branded in my arm...to no avail.

  Clay keeps me updated on Dior. She's doing well. And so is he. I expected tears when he learned about Meredith's death, but he remained unaffected. "I'll see her again," he told me. "This isn't goodbye."

  As the days pass, strangers in the street stop me to ask me who I want to win the Resurrection. Every time I answer with an uninspiring, "I don't know." I can't think about me, me, me anymore; I have to think about my realm. What's best for the people who so loved my grandmother?

  When another battle breaks out i
n the Land of the Harvest--again over Dior's boyfriend--I'm told to stay behind. I obey.

  We experience a crushing defeat, more of our brave soldiers killed and Javier taken away from us.

  Elizabeth returns from the battle injured.

  Victor doesn't return at all.

  We search among the dead but find no trace of him. Leaders and Headhunters use the Eye to search for a signal from his comm, but again, there's no trace of him. Has he been forcibly unhooked from the Grid? Where is he? Is he okay?

  I hate that I can't do more for him. For anyone!

  "I don't understand how he can just disappear," Kayla says, her worry feeding my own.

  I try to remain positive. "We'll find him." We must. He's a valued member of our team.

  "How?" she demands.

  "I don't know, but we won't stop until we succeed." I've also studied how to unhook from the Grid and/or vanish from the Eye. There are only three known ways. 1) Shove a hot poker through the comm. Without manna, it won't heal. While it's damaged, you're off the Grid. 2) Surround yourself with a Buckler. Apparently there are degrees of thickness, and some stop all forms of communication and tracking. 3) Go to court and defect to Myriad.

  My guess? Victor is a prisoner of war, and his comm has been purposely damaged. He's probably being starved and tortured for information.

  This newest defeat... I burn with helplessness.

  Lockdown.

  My dreams remain the same. I'm saved from a horde of skeleton birds when I concentrate on Killian, and a mass of people surround me, begging for help. Last night I began to recognize their faces. All the Troikans who have died in battle. Archer. Meredith. So many others. They are joined by all the Troikans who could die in battle if I remain static.

  Frustrated, I head to the coliseum for my next training session. Levi is preoccupied and commands me to run--and run and run--as if I'm part of a marathon. By the third hour, I'm pretty sure he's forgotten I'm nearby. I'm drenched in sweat, every muscle in my body burning and trembling. But I don't stop. I push myself until I collapse right there in the sand.

  Finally he closes the distance. He stands at my side, my swords clutched in his hands.

  I look away from them. "You broke into my apartment, I see." I'd hidden the weapons under my coffee table, not wanting to be reminded of the deeds I'd committed with them.

  "Yes. You're welcome."

  "What are they, exactly? They turned a spirit into stone and sprayed flaming metal into crowds of people."

  "No, they sprayed pure light, not metal. The swords are known as the Blessing and Cursing. One offers a second chance. The other offers instant judgment. Both offer protection to the one who wields them."

  Um... "How do you tell which is which? How does a weapon offer a second chance or judgment? Are they sentient? For that matter, how did Archer acquire them?"

  "The Secondking gifted the swords to Archer for successfully completing a mission. They aren't sentient but an extension of you. Everything you need to know about the Blessing and Cursing can be found on the Grid, in a special room only their owner can unlock. Even without decoding her Key."

  Really?

  "Go ahead. Give it a try."

  I do. I close my eyes and concentrate on the Grid, just as Meredith did when she searched for all the places she'd hidden her Light.

  My chin trembles.

  Lockdown!

  A glowing crimson river flows in the back of my mind, reminding me of the waterfall in front of the Veil of Wings...and the water flowing from the second throne. That water rushes toward me, rising up, up, and finally sweeping me away.

  I'm carried to a door and placed on my feet as the water drains. The door glows, beckoning me closer. Excitement sparks as I twist the knob...in an instant, a stream of data floods my mind. A vast sea. I cringe. Too much! But suddenly I understand why I have to work to decode my Key. I have to be ready for what I learn.

  I concentrate on the barest facts.

  The Blessing offers a do-over. A second chance, wiping away one set of deeds to make way for a new choice.

  The Cursing causes the condition of the heart to manifest in the body. If a heart is as hard as stone--figuratively speaking--the body turns to stone. If a heart is an inferno of hate, the body burns to ash.

  "All right. You've been buried inside your head for over an hour," Levi says, pulling me from my thoughts. "Time to practice with the swords."

  Over an hour? He's got to be kidding.

  He wasn't kidding. My knees are the consistency of pudding as I rise.

  He hands me the swords and shows me how to twirl my wrists. At first, I drop the weapons more than I twirl them, but I continue until I can smoothly swing the two in opposite directions.

  "Good," he says. "You also need to learn how to connect the pair. A staff doesn't get trapped in bone, and it has a much longer range. You can take out more people at once."

  Right. I slide the swords together, and the center locks. As I twirl the staff--far more clumsily--the outer casing grows hot...almost too hot. Definitely too hot. Literal flames crackle at the ends. My eyes widen. Despite the heat, my hands remain uninjured...until I shift my thumb out of the handhold. One of the flames licks over my skin, blistering me.

  Hissing, I drop the staff. The flames vanish.

  Levi grins. "I've got to get me one of those."

  I snatch up the weapon, surprised to find the metal is already cool. "Mine." My sore muscles protest the action, but not by word or deed do I reveal my pain. The moment I do, I suspect Levi will call a halt to the session.

  Teach me more! Teach me everything!

  He snickers at me. "What of generosity, Miss Lockwood?"

  "I'll think about saving your life with my weapon. Can't get more generous than that."

  As he chuckles, a shadow falls over us. I spin and spot--

  Deacon. A smiling Deacon.

  Have I entered Bizzaro world? Last time we were together, he gave me the stinky boot.

  "I hear you killed an entire contingent of Myriad soldiers," he says to me. "Good job."

  I bite my tongue until I taste the sweetness of my Lifeblood. Cannot talk about Killian. Cannot admit the truth. I change the subject. "Where have you been?"

  His smile slips. "I was part of a select group guarding Javier. During the last battle, I had a chance to escort him to a new safe house, but he refused. At that point, I could do nothing to help him without violating his free will."

  "How is he?" Levi asks.

  "The disease is stronger in him than in Dior. He rages out, and nothing calms him."

  For once, I lament free will. If a human doesn't want us near, we cannot go near. The only exceptions? When a family or friend inside the realm asks on behalf of the human. Like Meredith so often did for me.

  Lockdown!

  Even with a family member's interference, there are codes of conduct all TLs must respect.

  "I received word before you arrived at the coliseum," Levi says. "One of the reasons we lost the battle is Javier himself. Our soldiers were weakened in his presence. We believe he's begun the transition. He will become an Abrogate."

  A sound I don't recognize slips from my lips. If Javier becomes an Abrogate... "Could he cleansed and become a Conduit for Troika?"

  "It's...possible."

  A chance is better than nothing.

  Javier could be the one, then. He could save Troika and win the war. Because Javier Diez is--

  In my mind, the Grid translates the word Diez. In Spanish, diez means ten.

  He is Javier Ten.

  The knowledge comes with a strange mix of dismay and hope. And pressure. A whole lot of pressure. If he signs with Myriad, he'll become a General. Before the deaths of Rosalind and Abdul, he would have been the tenth. The complete set.

  Myriadians have always favored the numbers one and zero. They have ten cities within their realm. Ten festivals of celebration. Ten points on their brand.

  The day of my birth, ni
ne of their Generals were killed. Their Leaders believe the spirits of those Generals immediately Fused with humans. Beginning with me.

  With the loss of Rosalind and Abdul, Myriad desperately needs two new Generals. Javier is a nice start. Do they believe Javier is the one they've been searching for, instead of me? After all, ten is ten, and there are always different ways to say the same thing:

  2 x 5 = 10

  1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10

  Greater than 9 but less than 11.

  . . . . . . . . . .

  X

  11-1 = 10

  A dime.

  A decade.

  Decem.

  Dix.

  An insidious monster with fangs and claws prowls through me--his name is Envy. I actually envy Javier. He might be the one my realms need. Him, not me.

  I've bewailed my status for weeks and now, when it might be taken from me, I want it back? Wow. I suck.

  "I wonder if our s--" Remembering our audience, I press my lips together.

  "It's okay. Deacon knows there's a spy in our midst," Levi says, understanding the direction my mind had traveled. "We've checked out everyone who knew where we were keeping Javier, but have come up with no concrete evidence any information was leaked. But all that means is he or she is very, very good at hiding his or her activities."

  "Maybe Myriad is fighting so hard to keep Dior on their side because she influences Javier." Once Levi told me I wasn't seeing the full picture. He was right. But my eyes are beginning to open.

  "They aren't fighting to keep her anymore," Deacon says. "This morning they voided their petition to stop her trial. A court date has been set for two weeks from today."

  Unease prickles at the back of my neck, but I say, "That's wonderful." She'll be pleased. And I did promise to help her. But I can't help remembering Killian's warning...

  Deacon rubs the back of his neck as if he feels the same sense of unease. "I don't think she's ready."

  "Why? I still don't understand the in and outs of court," I admit.

  He looks to Levi.

  Levi thinks for a moment, sighs. "It'll be better if you show her. Do you have time?"

  "I'll make time. But first things first. We're stopping by your apartment, Ten." Deacon wrinkles his nose. "You have to shower and change into a ceremonial robe."