Everlife. Gena Showalter
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look like the grim reaper without a cape.”
Seriously? “There’s a right way to take that?”
Raanan rakes his gaze over me and shrugs. “He’s wrong. You don’t look like the grim reaper. You look like his evil twin.”
Great! I absolutely refuse to lie to my friends, or anyone. I’m not weak. “I’m...” Just say it. “That secret meeting I attended? It was with Killian. We...bonded.”
To my amazement, no one is surprised.
Raanan slaps Reed on the shoulder. “Knew it. Pay up.”
Grumbling under his breath, Reed digs into the pocket of his robe and hands over a small vial of manna.
“Flavored with whiskey,” Raanan says while wiggling his brows. “A rare mannskey.”
I do a little glaring. “You guys bet on my relationship?”
“We experienced a ripple of absolute darkness through the Grid.” He shrugs, all, What else were we supposed to do? “I figured you had something to do with it. And if you’re involved in something, the Myriadian is involved.”
Well. He isn’t wrong.
“So you’re married?” Clementine asks, and claps.
“I am.” Happily...almost. Maybe. Hopefully!
Grinning, she jumps up and down. “Have you guys had sex yet?”
My cheeks heat, and I nearly choke on my tongue. “Um...”
“Hey. You aren’t supposed to ask a girl that kind of question. You’re far too young.” Raanan flattens his hands over her ears. “Well?” he asks me. “Have you? And has anything bad happened because of the bond? Besides you looking like Death’s evil twin, I mean. We’re told to stay away from Myriadians, so...huh huh have you? Has it?”
I roll my eyes, and say, “I plead the fifth on both counts.”
“You also suck.” His hands fall away from Clem.
We haven’t had sex, no, but I kinda feel like I acquired an STD anyway. Shadows Too Dark. How can I get rid of them permanently?
“Two of our Generals hid Killian inside Troika.” I dunk into the crystal-clear water, ripples brushing against me, cleansing me from the inside out. Even my breath is freshened.
What the water doesn’t do? What its name promises. My strength is not restored. I think I’m more tired than before. My limbs are shaky, and my stomach is a mess. What if I fight the Generals and lose? My frustration mounts. “They’re blackmailing me, trying to control my vote for the Resurrection. That means finding Killian is priority one. Freeing him is priority two.”
“Let me guess,” Reed says. “You’re supposed to vote for Levi.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Orion.”
Clay thinks, frowns. “Why? Levi is the one we need, no doubt about it.”
Everyone else nods. And I get it. I do. Levi trained us. He’s smart, kind and determined. But...I’m not sold. Does no one see the merits to having Meredith or Archer returned to our midst? Meredith is a Leader and open to peace between realms. Archer is a Laborer with the heart of a lion. He’s willing to die for his loved ones—and has!
How much am I willing to sacrifice for my realm...for peace?
How far am I willing to go for Killian...for love?
If we are truly to be one body—the chosen—the members of our body matter more than ever.
“We have an hour until the vote,” Clementine begins. “I can return to the Eye and—”
A vibration rides across the Grid, arresting me. Arresting all of us. In unison, we go still.
“The Secondking has issued a summons,” Raanan says, decoding the message that accompanies the vibration. “Due to murmurs of discontent, the Resurrection ceremony has been moved up. We’re to head to the Garden of Exchange now.”
Zero! What about Killian?
Deep breath in, out. Right now, he’s safe. So I’ll go to the Garden of Exchange. I’ll cast my vote. As long as the Generals need me, he’s going to be fine. Afterward, I’ll find him. Perhaps with the help of the person who is Resurrected.
In a blink, my To Do list changes. Decide who will come back from the dead. Find and save Killian.
No pressure.
As Raanan helps me out of the water, Clay taps his wrist and a bright Light appears directly over it. He type, type, types. A towel appears in one hand, and a purple robe in the other. Purple = royalty. I gulp.
Definite pressure...
Argh! When there is pressure, do not panic—sow and reap. Life is a garden. Plant a seed, and grow a blessing...or a curse. The harvest depends on your seed, for like gives life to like. If I want love, I must sow love. If I want to help my goals, I must help my realm.
Which of the slain will help my realm if Resurrected?
Clay tosses me the towel. After I dry off, I hand the towel to Clementine, and she uses it to shield me as I change into the purple robe. Then I braid my wet hair.
“Drink up. You’re a Conduit, special and we need you well. I’m sure you could use a boost.” She places a vial of manna in one of my hands, and heads for the exit.
I follow her, and everyone else follows me.
“I’m not special,” I mutter, and drain the vial.
“You saved us during the invasion,” Clay says. “Trust me. You’re special.”
The manna is sweet on my tongue, but for the first time, it burns going down. Sharp pains shoot through me, but thankfully they fade in a hurry.
Do I now need a mix of manna and ambrosia?
I’ll figure it out. Later. Ahead is a Gate, an archway that looks to be made entirely of diamonds. Our group enters two at a time, the diamonds vanishing as fireworks explode around us. We remain on our feet, even continue walking, while we’re shot to a new location.
There, we enter a Stairwell. Then we enter two more Gates before reaching our destination. The Garden of Exchange. Thank the Firstking, this city is untouched by the bomb blasts, its hanging wisteria, honeysuckle and ivy vines as lush as ever. Fruit trees are in full bloom, branches heavy with peaches, oranges, apples and every other kind of treat you can name. Wild strawberries and blackberries intermix with a maze of colorful flowers, sweetly scenting the air while leading to the heart of the city, where millions of citizens have already congregated, everyone decked out in some kind of robe.
There are children, teenagers and adults, though no one looks older than thirty-five. That’s to be expected. When a spirit reaches the Age of Perfection, the outward appearance freeze-frames, no matter how old a physical body becomes or used to be.
Different animals are present, as well. Dogs. Cats. Deer. Wolves. A handful of zebras. Horses. Birds fly overhead. Despite the number of living beings amassed here, not a single conversation is taking place. Not a roar, growl or purr can be heard. Silence reigns, and it’s eerie.
As we approach, the crowd parts down the center for the one who will be rendering the only vote. My heart thuds against my ribs. We motor forward, sweat dotting my palms. I catch sight of Nico and breathe a sigh of relief. Until his eyes narrow and fill with hate.
Hate? I stumble. Does he know I married Killian?
Someone steps in front of him, blocking him from view before I can speak with him. My gaze lands on my great-grandmother Hazel, and my mind trips along after it. Such a precious woman! Beside her is my great-grandfather Steven. If I fail to vote for Meredith, their daughter, they’ll be hurt.
I swallow the lump growing in my throat.