Lifeblood Page 28

His family. Meaning his father? The one responsible for the rift between realms, the destruction of the bridge. The one who fans the flames of hate.

  I lift my chin. "I love Archer, and I don't want to hurt his brother. Or worse! I'm begging you not to do this. If you have any love for Archer, you'll--"

  "I have no love for him. He was a traitor to our realm. And you...you were only as good as the intel you provided. I'm not sure if the handler at the end of your leash is leading you or his boss, but I'll find out."

  Handler... Killian?

  I fight a new wave of panic, the pi necklace nearly burning a hole between my breasts.

  "So? Are we doing this the easy or hard way?" Victor asks.

  "Hard." I'm wearing my armor, and I have weapons strapped all over my body. I won't go down easily.

  "Very well."

  I step backward. He steps closer--and triggers the traps I set. An arrow shoots from the crossbow anchored on my wall. He manages to duck and even picks up speed. He dodges when he accidentally activates my second trap, a Dazer, his finger hammering at his gun's trigger.

  The bullets meet my swords.

  Time seems to slow to a crawl as he dives at me. I lunge, thrusting my swords up and out. But he twists before he lands and rolls to his feet, missing my weapons while remaining trained on me. I am a whirlwind of motion as I walk backward...over the bed...

  He pins me against the wall and hammers at the trigger. The swords act as my shield. I kick out my leg, and Victor stumbles backward. I dive over the bed and skid to the door, then rush out of the room, my ponytail slapping my cheeks.

  I need to find the number seven. Where is the seven? What is the seven?

  Footsteps behind me.

  Turn! Now!

  The command whispers from the Grid. Not another person, but the Grid itself. I spin, and manage to block another blast.

  My boot catches on something solid. Zero! I trip and crash-land on an unconscious, hemorrhaging Elizabeth, who shouldn't have been assigned to me in the first place, considering her previous injuries.

  Victor reloads and fires. At me. At Elizabeth. I guard her as best I can. A bullet grazes my arm. I hiss as my flesh splits open and Lifeblood pours out like a molten, glittering river.

  My strength wanes, and I tremble. My head fogs. I'm panting, struggling for every labored breath.

  No time to apply pressure to the wound. He fires off another round. I'm sluggish, every action igniting searing, burning agony, but I block.

  When he's forced to pause to reload, I swing my swords at him, and shards of pure Light once again fly from the tips. He dances out of the way--but not fast enough. One of the shards nails him in the chest and pitches him across the room.

  He smacks into the wall. I seize the opportunity to both attack and cauterize my wound, slamming the swords together. The staff flames. With a roar, I swipe one end at Victor while pressing the other against my injured shoulder.

  The pain! My vision darkens, and I scream; a black crust forms over the top of my wound, ending the flow of Lifeblood.

  Victor bellows and wrenches away.

  I knock the staff into one of his wrists, then the other, and he drops the guns.

  We circle each other, two predators unwilling to bend. Around us, Deacon, Kayla and Reed remain unmoving, each surrounded by a pool of Lifeblood.

  Can't react, can't react. "How did you take them out?"

  "Easily. You're all so gullible."

  Son of a Myriad troll! "Why wasn't I affected?"

  "Why else? You're a Conduit."

  The flicker of Light. Had he somehow hit everyone with a bomb of darkness?

  Enough stalling. I swing. He spins to the right, and I yank the staff apart. I toss a sword, end hurling over end. The blade slices through his chest and comes out the other side. He wobbles on his feet and stares at me with confusion.

  I close in on him, intending to stab him with the other sword.

  Suddenly, I'm in my bedroom, and Victor is standing in my doorway. I'm holding my swords, and he's holding his guns. We're both uninjured.

  Shock puts me in a choke hold, my brain whirling with--

  The answer slams into me. This is a blessing. A second chance. A chance to start fresh with full knowledge of what will happen if we fight.

  "How did you do that?" he demands.

  "I didn't do anything. The sword did. It's giving you a chance to walk away. I suggest you take it. Otherwise I will kill you."

  His eyes narrow, his fingers twitching on the triggers, but he doesn't fire. "Or I will kill you. I've had multiple opportunities. I convinced Elizabeth to attack you. As she ran away, I could have beheaded you and no one would have known. The time I came over, I could have poisoned you. I let you live--I knew you could aid Myriad."

  Killian, yes. Myriad, never. "You can't return to your precious realm without going to court. Will anyone sign on to be your Barrister?"

  "I never planned to go back. I'll be put to death here." He lifts his chin. "A punishment to fit the crime, because I will never be remorseful. An end I'll gladly endure for Myriad."

  Banging at my front door. "Ten!" Levi calls. "Ten!"

  Time hasn't started over, I realize; only we have. "Last chance," I tell Victor.

  "Ten!" Bang, bang, bang.

  Victor's teeth flash, a menacing growl leaving him. He hammers at the triggers. Boom! Boom! Boom! I rotate my swords to block the bullets. I force Victor to back out of the bedroom while avoiding my own traps. Too cramped in here, need more space.

  This time, he trips over Elizabeth. As he falls, I strike, using the swords as scissors, slicing through his wrist. Thud. His severed hand lands on the floor, the gun within his useless grip.

  He bellows, Lifeblood gushing from the wound. I slash, and he rolls. Rinse and repeat, until the tip of my sword wedges in a floorboard. I jerk to no avail. He aims the second gun and fires.

  I swivel, but it's too little, too late and a bullet burns through my hip. Agonized, I lose Lifeblood at a rapid pace. Adrenaline and determination become my only means of strength.

  Victor fires another shot. I dive over the couch, pain wrecking me.

  Midair, the Book of the Law appears. I pass through it, my arms stretched to catch me when I land; one of my number brands glows over the open page, and in that split second, a lightbulb goes off in my head, the cypher suddenly clear.

  The first number of every sequence is a page number, and the others will correspond with either a letter or a word.

  Excitement unfurls, every fiber of my being ready to decode.

  Later!

  The seven, Lina said. I need the seven if I'm going to survive this.

  I land and roll, ending up under the coffee table. I'm about to crawl to the other side, intending to upend the table to use as a shield, when its legs catch my attention. They are wooden and, because of the way they are anchored underneath the tabletop, they are angled...creating the number seven.

  Yes! I kick, kick, kick at a leg and...zero! It refuses to budge.

  Victor grabs my ankle and drags me out from under the table. A mistake. I kick him. He's weak and already winded, and as he doubles over, I deliver another swift kick to the table. Sweat trickles from my temples, and my muscles tremble. Finally the hinges bend, the metal loosening from the top, sticking out.

  Not the miracle I needed. Victor drags me out a second time. I claw at the wooden leg, desperate to hold on, but he uses my momentum to flip me over and jam both knees into my shoulders, pinning me down.

  The cold end of a gun presses into the back of my head.

  No, no, no! I can't lose. Not like this. Not to him.

  Panting, he says, "Round one, Ten. Round two, Victor."

  Boom!

  Victor falls off me. I jump up, confused. Elizabeth is leaning against the kitchen counter, a gun extended, smoke curling from the barrel.

  No time to rejoice--she's alive!--and no time to thank her. Victor lumbers to his feet and aims his gun
at her.

  "No!" I smack into him. We slam into the wall but remain on our feet.

  With his good arm, he punches me once, twice, thrice, and I topple. He follows me down, lifting the gun he dropped earlier. I work my leg up and kick his arm, and the shot flies past me.

  He puts all his weight into his heel, preparing a kick of his own, but I push to my knees and shove him with all my might. He stumbles, trips over a body and--stops. Just stops. The wooden table leg I dislodged has cut through his middle and now sticks out of his back.

  He struggles for several seconds, Lifeblood gurgling from the corners of his mouth.

  The seven. It's done. He's done.

  More defeated than relieved, I fall to my face. My mind hazes, a sharp sting razing my cheek. Whatever. Too many other pains to worry about.

  This can't be heaven.

  "Ten! Ten!" Levi's voice. Fists pounding at my door. "You have to disable the shield."

  "How?" My lips form the word, but no sound leaves me. Black stars swell in my vision, and I'm tempted to use my necklace. To summon Killian. I want Killian. I want his arms around me, holding me. Want his breath fanning my skin, his scent in my nose. Want his words of comfort in my ears. He'll tell me everything is going to be okay, and I'll believe him.

  But I can't risk him. I won't. Even if he made it through the Veil of Wings without burning to ash, he'd have to fight legions of Troikans to reach me.

  "The fox will have some kind of device. Find the device, Ten!" More pounding, harder and faster.

  I try to move, but fail. I think I see Elizabeth crawl to Victor and dig through his pockets.

  She must have found the device, because the door bursts open and Levi leads an army into my apartment.

  Knowing we're safe--the fox conquered--I allow myself to drift into the darkness...

  Hey. Maybe the darkness isn't so bad, after all...

  *

  ...I'm not sure how much time passes before an array of voices enters my awareness. I blink. I'm lying on a gurney. I'm sore and light-headed, and Levi is seated beside me.

  The voices continue, but none are directed at me. They drift from other rooms, I realize. I'm in the Sanatorium.

  Memories flood me. "Elizabeth," I croak. "Deacon, Reed, Kayla."

  "Deacon, Reed and Kayla are recovering. Elizabeth..." He looks away for a moment, the only sign of his inner turmoil, before facing me head-on. "Coupled with the injuries she received this morning, she couldn't be saved."

  "No." Only a short while ago, she crawled to Victor, dug through his pocket...and that's probably when she breathed her last. The realization hits me and a whimper escapes. She bled out saving us. "No" I whisper this time.

  His expression firms. "Refusing to believe a truth doesn't make it a lie, Miss Lockwood."

  I long to rant and rail at him. To shake him. I long to curl against him and sob. Because he's right. I know he's right. I know in my heart Elizabeth is gone. She's gone, no longer a Light inside the Grid.

  Troika lost a valuable soldier today. A girl loyal to the end. I lost a potential friend.

  I won't cry. I will be strong. I will honor her strength. "Why did you insist she guard me?"

  "I didn't." He gives me a small smile. "She did."

  My grief sharpens to a razor point. I fight the tears desperate to spring free. "She will be missed," I whisper.

  If I'd just figured out Lina's riddle sooner...if I'd suspected Victor's treachery...

  Levi takes my hand, squeezes. "The blame doesn't rest at your door, Miss Lockwood. It rests at Mr. Prince's."

  I know that, but knowing doesn't negate feeling. "Did he survive?" My chin trembles. A funny thought takes center stage: during the frenzied attempt to enter my apartment, Levi had called me Ten.

  "Yes, but he had help. Someone put our prison guards to sleep the same way Mr. Prince put my team to sleep. A flash of all-encompassing darkness. Then someone opened his cell."

  I hate that Victor is out there--with a partner! "What about his contract? Hasn't it been voided? Shouldn't he lose his connection to Troika?"

  "Even people like Mr. Prince are given a grace period. We do not favor one over the other." Levi gives my hand another squeeze. "Don't worry about him. We'll be talking with his friends and every girl he's dated. We'll find him and whoever's working with him. Rest up, Miss Lockwood. You have begun to unlock the Grid. I can feel it. You have work to do."

  "Don't I always?"

  He ignores me. "The moment you succeed--and you will--the war will heat up. Everything will change."

  MYRIAD

  * * *

  From: Z_C_4/23.43.2

  To: K_F_5/23.53.6

  Subject: What am I to do with you?

  You failed to sign the French girl, and this morning one of your former proteges was caught hiding Miss Lockwood's mother.

  I hope you're pleased to learn both citizens have been placed in the Kennels.

  As for Miss Lockwood, she's learned of Victor's allegiance to Myriad, and she's close to using her Key. The Generals have decided she's more trouble than she's worth, a true threat to our freedom. You are to draw her out and kill her.

  Another failure will not be tolerated, Killian.

  Might Equals Right!

  Sir Zhi Chen

  chapter twenty-three

  * * *

  "With kindness, you brighten the world. With cruelty, you darken yourself."

  --Troika

  The next day, I'm released from the Sanatorium. I return to my apartment, which has been cleaned, the broken furniture replaced, Victor's recording devices found and removed. I consider asking for new digs; the furniture may be different, but my memories are vivid.

  Death came to visit and left his mark. Shadows have moved in, and they are named Sorrow and Sadness.

  During Firstlife, death is expected. We are human, and no matter our station, our bodies age. A fact as certain as the passage of time. Here in the Everlife, we are spirits with the potential to live forever.

  Tired, I place the Blessing and Cursing on my brand-new coffee table.

  When Levi whisked me to the Sanatorium, he brought the swords with us. He'd known what I hadn't. I would never want to be parted from them again. I must always remain alert. I must be ready for battle, even during times of seeming peace.

  Looking back, the signs of Victor's treachery are vivid. His deceitful method of campaigning for Archer. An attempt to prevent the Resurrection of a Conduit, I'm sure. The pressure he placed on Kayla. Killian's innate distrust of him.

  I flop onto the couch, determined. The Book of the Law opens in front of me. Enough wallowing. What's done is done and cannot be changed. It's time to move forward, to work and find answers.

  I brace as I follow the cypher and flip to page 10.

  The second number can only be a letter within a word or the word itself, and it doesn't take long to figure out it's the word. Excitement blooms.

  The meaning clicks, and I laugh. Loyalty. Passion. Liberty. Three things I need more than any weapon. They will get me through any hardship.

  Doors in the Grid begin to open for me, Light pouring through me. Light is knowledge. Darkness is confusion. Light is strength, like being connected to a battery. Light is love, the reason we live. It is hope. No matter how magnificent or how bleak our situation, we can have better. Light is truth. There are no shadows where secrets can hide.

  I must fight for what I believe. I must be loyal to my heart. I must fight with passion. In the end, I can free the people trapped in Many Ends. I must shine my Light in a very dark world. I must do what's right even when others do me wrong.

  My number brands move on my skin, elongating, bleeding together to form a Troikan symbol. I laugh.

  The Light streaming in from the window is drawn to me, ray after ray wrapping around me, sinking inside me, warming me. Filling and consuming me. Goose bumps cover me.

  More doors open. A torrent of images crystallizes in my mind, and I gasp. I close
my eyes and concentrate on my favorite. A sea of unimaginable colors.

  In the distance, lightning strikes. Clouds dipped in diamond dust twirl together, dancing in Light and luminance, yet still stars shine bright enough to be discerned.

  Someone is floating toward me...someone with hair the color of spun gold and an impossibly handsome face.

  My heart leaps as he smiles at me.

  "Archer!" I feel myself rushing toward him. This. This is joy, pure and unadulterated.

  He catches me and, with a laugh, spins me around.

  "I've missed you so much." When he sets me on my feet, I can't bring myself to let him go. I cup his face. "How am I seeing you?"

  He kisses both of my eyes. "You're a Conduit. You're able to open doors others can't."

  Whoa. "I can open a door into the Rest? I can visit anytime I want?" I'll be able to see Meredith and Elizabeth and even meet with the other Conduit? I squeal.

  His smile brightens. "You surely can."

  I bear-hug him. "Where are the others? What do you do up here? Are you happy?"

  "One question at a time," he says, tweaking my nose. "The others are in the Viewing Room. After entering the Rest, we're shown a playback of our lives. For the first time, we see the whole story, know the mind-set of those we interacted with and find out what would have happened if we'd made different choices. The longer the life, the more memories there are to watch."

  "So why aren't you in the Viewing Room? Shouldn't a playback take nineteen years?"

  "Time passes differently here, a day like a thousand years and a thousand years like a day. And yes. I'm happy. But if anyone can ruin a good Rest, it's Ten Lockwood."

  "Hey!" I poke his chest.

  He snickers at me.

  Treading carefully, I say, "Are you aware of the happenings in Troika?" Do I need to tell him about his brother? Or Dior?

  He sobers in a snap. "Yes, I know." He winds an arm around my shoulders, and I rest my head against him. "Before entering the Viewing Room, Elizabeth told me."

  "I'm so, so sorry, Archer."

  "My brother..." He releases me to walk to the edge of the cliff. "He signed with Troika, but his heart has always belonged to Myriad."

  I join him. "Do you know where he is?" I'm willing to bet Victor stayed inside the realm, fearing he would lose the bond, no longer able to pass through the Veil of Wings. "Where he might go?"

  "He had a plan B, I'm sure. A safe house." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Thank you for helping Dior."