Firstlife (Everlife #1) Read online

  She did this. And she will pay.

  “N-no,” Archer says.

  One word, but I realize I’m allowing hatred for Pearl to pull my strings—allowing her to pull my strings. That’s Myriad’s way. Not my way. A road leading to an end I don’t want.

  Forget her. I squeeze Archer’s hand. He’s more important. I’ll guard him from another attack, even at the cost of my own life.

  Pearl reaches back and slides an arrow from the pouch now hanging over her shoulder, but she doesn’t have time to aim. A sword of fire cleaves her head from her body, killing her.

  I feel nothing. Not even relief. As her head soars down the steps, her body topples, revealing a panting Deacon behind her.

  “Archer needs Lifeblood,” I tell him. “Now!”

  He takes a step forward, but Myriad soldiers are so enraged by the death of their Leader, they release their human shields to race up the steps and attack Deacon en masse. He herds them to the bottom of the steps, away from Archer.

  How am I supposed to save him?

  Sloan is free on the other side of the plateau, at least, leaning against a column and crying. She can’t help me, either.

  I focus on Archer and the arrows, accidentally jarring him, and the hum of a motor erupts. He arches his back, bellowing in agony.

  “Can’t move arrows...blades in shaft...drip poison...every time you pull.” Killian’s voice! He rolls to his side, facing us. He’d been drinking Lifeblood from one of the fallen soldiers, his mouth glittering. His tongue is already growing back, his skin weaving back together. “He needs Lifeblood.”

  “I know! But no one has any to spare and—” Wait! I do. I have Lifeblood. I’m not just a body. I’m a spirit. “Killian, how do I get my spirit out of my body without dying and going to Many Ends?”

  “You don’t.” His voice is stronger now. “You can’t.”

  “I must! If I don’t share my Lifeblood with Archer, he’ll die.”

  Killian inhales sharply, his features tortured. “I’ll give you ten seconds, no more. The moment your spirit leaves your body, your body will die. It won’t revive until your spirit returns, and the longer you’re separated, the less chance there is it has the strength to accept your spirit when you attempt to return unless you’re flooded with Lifeblood, but as you can see, it’s in short supply right now.”

  I don’t understand how he thinks he can give me ten seconds. Then his Shell goes still, the eyes clearing. He’s gone? But—

  An invisible hand clutches my heart in a vise grip. I’m yanked forward—no, not my body, I realize a second later, but my spirit. Suddenly I’m crouched before Killian. The real Killian.

  Only a split second passes as I look at him, though it seems like an eternity. So beautiful... Muted sunlight shines over him, chasing away the dark shadows trying desperately to cling to him, and my breath catches. His hair is jet-black silk, the locks long enough to hang over his brow, the perfect frame for features that have been chiseled by a master. His eyebrows are just as black and the perfect thickness. His eyes, those golden eyes with the crystalline flecks, are pure male aggression, intense...perfect. His perfect blade of a nose leads to the perfect shadow of stubble. His top lip is the same plumpness as his bottom lip, the two a perfect pair. His skin is a perfect bronze, as if it’s been painted on by perfect brushstrokes.

  Perfect. Yes. That’s what he is. Perfection made flesh. Or spirit.

  Scars wrap around his neck like a boa, but there are tattoos strategically placed to mask them. More lines and stars. They are raised, seemingly alive. I reach for him, and see that parts of me are glowing. The beams are muted, but there, as if I’m shedding the same shadows clinging to Killian.

  “One,” he says. He has hold of my shoulder, but slides his grip to my wrist. He’s the one keeping me from returning to Many Ends, isn’t he? “Two.”

  Zero! The countdown.

  I turn to Archer—who is aglow, even through the Shell, so bright my eyes tear. One by one, I rip out the arrows. He flops around like a gutted fish, too weak to bellow again. I look around for a weapon, realize I couldn’t touch one anyway. Like to like. I’m spirit right now, not tangible to the Land of the Harvest.

  I bite into my wrist, actually tearing into my flesh like a dog with a bone.

  “Six,” Killian says, his grip on me tightening.

  “Just a little longer!” I place my wrist over Archer’s mouth. My Lifeblood pours into him, slides down his throat as strength drains from me. I glance up, at the battle, and what I see takes my breath away.

  I see Shells, and I see spirits. It’s the battle between the spirits that is the most brutal. Spirits aren’t just on the ground; they’re in the air, hovering as they fight. Swords of blue fire against swords of red fire. I don’t have to wonder who is Troikan and who is Myriadian. The Troikans seem to absorb sunlight while a dark film covers the Myriadians.

  These men and women...they aren’t just sun against moon but truly light versus dark. I tried to have the best of both worlds, while doing to others what I hated others for doing to me. Pushing my own agenda. I wanted peace. They didn’t. My choice versus theirs, when I only had half the story. Even now I realize there’s so much about the realms I don’t know.

  “Nine.”

  “Wait!” I say. “Please. Just a little longer. He needs more—”

  “Ten.” Killian is merciless, yanking me backward and basically stuffing my spirit back into my body, and I’m too weak to stop him.

  I gasp as spirit and body connect, my first thought of Archer. I scan his Shell. Despite my Lifeblood, his flesh isn’t yet repairing itself.

  “Archer,” I say, my chin trembling.

  “Okay. It’s okay.”

  No! There has to be something else I can do. There just has to be. “Deacon!” I shout.

  Archer gasps in a breath, blinks open his eyes. He blindly reaches for my hand, and his fingers curl weakly around mine.

  Our gazes meet, and tears refill my eyes, only to splash upon his cheek.

  “The Rest,” he says and gives me a smile I will never forget. Satisfied. Content. He’s lived a good life. “Finally.”

  “No,” I say with a hard shake of my head. “You stay here, and you stay with me. I need you. You have more to do.”

  “You will be...fine without me. Take care... Deacon, Killian...and yourself...don’t forget yourself. The law.”

  “Stop talking like we’re saying goodbye.” My tears fall faster. “Deacon,” I shout again, scanning the battlefield, seeing no faces I recognize. “Someone! Help Archer! He needs more Lifeblood.”

  The battle continues to rage. I can no longer see the one raging between the spirits, and I wonder who is winning.

  Archer’s smile slips a little, now both sad and eager. “Not much time...tell me poem. Happy. Rhyme.”

  As my insides are ripped to shreds, I close my eyes. He isn’t going to make it, is he? My Lifeblood just isn’t strong enough. Maybe because I’m Unsigned. Maybe because I’m still recovering from my own injuries. Maybe because of a thousand other reasons. I might never know the truth, but one thing is suddenly clear: his death is because of choice. Pearl’s choice to fight me. My choice to save Killian and Sloan.

  And now, Archer will pay the price. My decisions—my indecisions—have never affected me alone, as I so confidently told myself what seems a lifetime ago. They affect everyone I love, everyone in my life. Even those I will someday meet. Even those I will never meet.

  I mocked Pearl’s pride, but look where my own brought me. Look where my own brought my friends.

  The knowledge washes through me, horrifying me, utterly destroying me, but I fight past the overwhelming influx of regret and sorrow. For now. I have to. Archer needs me. This wonderful guy needs me to be strong for him, to ease him into the Rest. After everything he’s done for me, I can do this for him. I will do this for him.

  I will mourn tomorrow.

  “A poem. One just for you.” I smooth a shak
y hand over his brow, like a mother soothing her child before bed. “Year after year I hated my life. No matter where I looked, I only saw strife. Oh, poor me, I had no one to live for...until you arrived and taught me to soar.”

  His lashes flutter shut, the sadness vanishing from his smile, leaving only happiness. So much happiness, despite the battle raging around us. Thankfully, Troikans have taken up posts around the dais, preventing Myriadian soldiers from closing in. “More. Please.”

  I continue. “You saved me from the worst kind of death, as if you breathed into me my very first breath. You, Archer Prince, oh, how you shine. Now and forever, you’ll always be mine. I’ll miss you, dear Bow, for the short time we’re apart.” My chin trembles as I say, “Take care of this gift...for I give you my heart. You are loved, I love you. Because of you, I’ve been made new.”

  “Yesss,” he says again, the drawn out s tapering off as he expels his last breath.

  His head lolls to the side, and his grip on me goes lax. I imagine his bright, bright glow fading completely.

  He’s gone. He’s really gone.

  I collapse onto his chest, sobs racking me. He deserved so much better than this.

  “Ten,” Killian shouts, horror in his voice.

  I straighten and turn to him. He’s sitting up, diving in front of me.

  “No,” he cries, but it’s too late.

  Something sharp cuts through his back, comes out his chest, enters mine and rips through my back, pinning us together. The pain is incredible, and it spreads through every cell in my body in seconds until I’m wholly consumed.

  She stabs you in the back, Lina said.

  I expected the attack to come from Pearl, but she’s dead. I gaze up in horror—and discover Sloan.

  Tears glisten in her lashes. “I’m sorry,” she cries. “I’m so sorry, but they offered me something I couldn’t refuse.”

  The only thing she’d wanted was revenge against Vans, despite his death. Either Pearl lied to her or she has—had—a way to get to Vans, something Killian and Archer were unable to do.

  “I hate him more than I love you. I’m sorry,” she repeats with a sob of her own.

  A sense of betrayal nearly chokes me.

  “Ten.” As Killian tries to pull himself from the spear, the motor hums, cutting at him, cutting at me, leaking poison. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

  With a roar, he yanks backward, freeing himself from the spear. When he rights himself, he repeats, “I’m sorry,” then grabs on to the shaft and jerks with all his might.

  I scream as blades cut, cut, cut at me. Finally, though, the spear leaves me.

  As blood rushes up my throat and chokes me, I manage to turn my head and watch as Killian swings the spear. Blood-soaked metal glints from the shaft—as it slices through Sloan’s stomach. Her eyes go wide, and her knees collapse.

  She’s not going to survive the day, either.

  I want to hate her, but as one second ticks into another, I realize I’m just sad for her. Her decisions, like my own, brought her here.

  Killian crawls to me. I’m panting and wheezing. The death rattle. This is it, isn’t it? The end. I’m going to die. I’m going to die today. Only minutes...seconds?...remain.

  I once told my life story in a nutshell, but some of my numbers have changed.

  Seventeen—the number of years I’ve lived. Existed is no longer a strong-enough word.

  Two—the number of boys I’ve grown to adore since my escape from Prynne. Archer, the family I’ve craved for so long, and Killian, who took a shattered heart and put the pieces back together.

  Three—the number of friends I’ve lost in my quest for the truth.

  One—the number of lives I have left.

  Three—the number of choices remaining for my eternal future.

  “Ten, you won’t survive this.” There’s a tremor in Killian’s voice. “The poison...it’s in my system, too. My Lifeblood won’t help you.”

  Baiser de la mort, the kiss of death, even now rushing through me.

  He frames my face with his hands. He’s trembling.

  “Go,” I manage. “Get...help...for...you.” Don’t die with me! I have a Secondlife. He doesn’t have a third.

  “I was wrong about so many things.” He gives my lips a soft kiss. “The victor isn’t always adored and the failure isn’t always abhorred. I failed to sign you... I lost...and I’m glad for it. Sign with Troika, Ten. It’s where you belong.”

  Another flood of tears streams down my cheeks. This boy hates losing, and yet he’s letting me go.

  “We’ll be...enemies,” I whisper, my body going numb. “You’ll be...killed.”

  “Better you’re my enemy and happy than my friend and miserable. And don’t worry about me, lass. They can try to kill me. They have before. I always come out okay.”

  I won’t be happy while he’s trapped in Myriad, perhaps placed in the Kennel for good. But I won’t be happy in Myriad, even with this boy at my side.

  Only one other option. I remain Unsigned and return to Many Ends...where I may or may not be able to save the spirits trapped inside. Without Archer, I never would have revived after the last visit.

  Archer once asked me to trust him. He said we’d figure out a way into Many Ends, a way to save the spirits. And if I can get inside Many Ends, I can get inside Myriad. I can save Killian. Maybe he can go to court.

  New plan, new goal.

  He presses my hand against his chest, where the wound from the spear still gaps open, his beautiful Lifeblood making his skin glitter. If he doesn’t leave the Shell soon, he could very well die inside it. But I know him, and I know he won’t leave it—or me—until I’ve made my final decision.

  I squeeze his hand with as much strength I can muster. “I’m coming...for you, Killian. Again.”

  “Ten—”

  I smile at him. “I pledge my life to...” I suck in a breath, knowing deep down it’s my last, and as I release it, I whisper, “Troika.”

  * * * * *

  There are worse things than death,

  as the next part of Ten’s journey will prove.

  Don’t miss

  LIFEBLOOD,

  book 2 of the EVERLIFE series.

  Only from Gena Showalter and Harlequin TEEN.

  A CHAT WITH GENA SHOWALTER

  Q & A

  Q: Starting a new series sounds daunting and exhilarating. What was your inspiration for Firstlife and how do you feel about this brand-new series?

  A: I love scripture, and there are numerous scriptures about a kingdom not of this earth, kingdom vs. kingdom—a war between spiritual forces—and the power of choice. Life and death. Blessing and cursing. Light and dark. Those themes combined, and the idea to write a book where life as we know it is just a dress rehearsal and real life actually began after death—where two realms are in power—was born. The idea was a fire inside of me. It burned, and it consumed. I had to tell the story of Firstlife.

  Q: How hard was it to create two such different realms and make the choice between them difficult for Ten? How did you handle that?

  A: As my editor can tell you, this wasn’t just hard for me—this was Horrible Agonizing Rough Demanding. (HARD) I wrote many drafts of this book, adding layers to each realm, doing my best to build two vastly different societies with equal appeal.

  Q: You write stories for both teens and adults. What is different about the way you approach writing for each age group, and what is the same?

  A: This might come as a surprise, but I approach every book in the same manner. I don’t consider my audience while writing a first draft, because I know I’ll never be able to please everyone. I write for an audience of one. It is the characters that set the tone for the book. Teenagers and adults have different mind-sets, different experiences and pasts, different expectations, and they stop me from pushing when it isn’t time to push.

  Q: Who is your favorite character in Firstlife and why?

  A: My romance reader/writer root
s are about to show. I favored the guys. Archer and Killian. Why? Because I’m a cougar! Meow! (I mean, Roar!) I adore those sexy bad boys and their golden hearts. And muscled bodies. But most of all, I adored watching Killian realize he couldn’t win Ten with his seductive charm. He actually had to expose his true self to interest her—and by doing so, he gained her appreciation and ultimately her love at no tangible cost. It changed him.

  Q: Truth now. Which realm would you sign with and why?

  A: I’m a Troika girl, through and through. I like me some light. I like the value they place on human life. I like that they will fight for someone’s right to choose, even if that someone chooses their enemy. But mostly, I like the unwavering justice. There are no favorites. There are no exceptions. Truth never changes.

  Q: Where did you get the idea for Ten’s obsession with numbers? How much fun was it to incorporate all the number facts into the book? Will numbers remain important to the Everlife novels?

  A: Ten’s obsession with numbers wasn’t something I planned—despite her name!—but as I wrote that first draft, the obsession grew organically from her character. I had so much fun hunting down numerical facts as well as numerical possibilities. And yes, the numbers will remain important throughout the Everlife novels...will be even more important!

  Q: Without giving away spoilers, can you give us a hint as to what’s next for Ten and crew?

  A: Ten’s welcoming to Troika, Killian’s punishment for his actions, dealing with the loss of Archer, Ten being trained for every job in the realm—a Conduit without knowledge has no light to share—and the war between the realms heats up with worldwide repercussions. And that’s just to kick things off!

  Thank you, Gena!

  QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

  If humanity discovered beyond doubt that there was life after death, how do you think people would react? How would or wouldn’t the value of human life change?

  Ten believes Firstlife matters and Killian at first does not. Who is right, and why does Killian’s perspective change? Discuss elements in the book that support your answers.

  Killian and Archer were friends before they became deadly enemies. What turns the tide in their relationship and motivates them to form a new relationship? Point to specific scenes in the book to inform your answer.