I disappointed him. Zero! "What if this is another trap?"
"It's not." He pivots on his heel and strides under the water.
I follow him, entering Troika, and breathe deeply of the sweetened air, better able to center my thoughts...to focus on who and what I am. The brave and mighty Ten Lockwood. The Secondking said so. Twice!
The only way to fail is to quit. I can help Javier and Dior. I can and I must.
"How do you know?" I insist.
"You're just going to have to trust me."
"All right. I'll go," I say. "But what about Javier's free will? He refused our aid."
"His three-greats grandfather petitioned for a second chance."
I spot Reed and Kayla standing under a tree. He's holding a bundle of clothes, and she's clutching three Whells and two weapons. Wait. Those are my weapons. My staff and my ring.
"Why?" I ask.
"We stopped by your apartment, picked up a few things." Kayla shoves the weapons at Deacon and tugs at my robe. In unison, the boys turn, presenting me with their backs while also providing a shield from any nearby observers. "Hope you don't mind."
"Hey!" I exclaim as the robe hits the floor. "The wardrobe change can wait."
"Would it have killed you to wear matching underwear?" she mutters, taking the bundle of clothes from Reed.
"Maybe. If I ever did laundry and the machine fell on top of me," I retort.
Smiling, she helps me dress in one of my black catsuits. One of the scantier catsuits. I knock her hands out of the way to finish the chore myself, and as I work, she brushes and twines my hair into... I don't even know what kind of style.
Kayla straps a double-sided pouch to my back, and stores two Whells. Then she breaks the staff in two and hands me the pieces. "You're up, Reed."
"Here." He turns and slips a small round Whell on the Shell's finger and Meredith's ring on mine. "Just don't go getting any ideas," he mutters.
"Dream on, buddy. Or don't. Yeah, probably don't dream about me. I'd have to smack you."
I slide the swords into the Whells.
Kayla slaps her hands together in a job well done gesture. "You're ready."
"So, what do you want me to do with Javier?" I ask Levi.
"Succeed," he commands. "Help him. Show him Troikan love. Prove our realm is home." He taps his palm, types in the glowing keyboard. "You've been practicing hard, and your stamina is almost mediocre. You can do this."
"Wow. I sound ah-maz-ing," I quip, my tone as dry as the desert. "Practically indestructible."
"Stay in the Light and allow the Grid to guide you."
Right.
"You're probably curious about the reason Mr. Diez is meeting with Mr. Flynn," Levi says, his eyes gleaming. "Mr. Flynn is now Mr. Diez's ML. That means you will be competing with your old flame for Mr. Diez's Everlife."
My nerve endings buzz with a potent mix of anxiety and excitement. "Way to bury the lead, sir."
Kayla takes me by the shoulders and peers deep into my eyes. "Ask Killian about Victor. Please. He'll tell you whatever you want to know. He's putty in your hands. Just...bring Victor home, okay?"
I'd argue the word putty. And such vehemence is rare for her. Does she like like Victor? I thought she had a thing with Reed.
"I'll ask," I promise, wondering if Killian will be punished for answering. Before anyone can request any more favors that could prove detrimental to the boy I love, I return to our original subject. "Let's go to the Hall of Records so I can research Javier." I'm going to do this the right way.
Levi nods, and Kayla links her arm with mine.
We reach our destination. General Agape is waiting for us at a table in back. In the human realm, she might be classified as plain, but all I see is beautiful dark eyes filled with strength.
She stands and motions us over. I'm not as at ease with her as I am with Levi and in deference to her station, I bow my head.
"I've spoken with General Nanne about the situation. I've ensured you have a table and all necessary resources." She is regal in a metal dress, her innate strength on display. "I command the majority of spies who act as humans in the Land of the Living. I've personally compiled all the information we have on Javier Diez."
"Thank you, General," I say.
Kayla peers at her, slack-jawed and silent.
General Agape gives us a curt nod and strides off.
When Kayla recovers, she loads me with all the info the General provided. The highlights? Javier is twenty years old, and we share a birthday. October 10 at 10:10.
What are the odds?
Well, that's actually very easy to answer. The odds are 100 percent, since it actually happened.
I've been told my spirit glowed with incomparable Light the moment of my birth. I wonder if his spirit glowed, too.
Multiple Myriadian Generals died the day Javier was born. Multiple Myriadian Generals died the day I was born, too.
I wonder, again, if Javier is the one. The tipping factor in the war.
How many times have I postulated Troika made a huge mistake by selecting me? Now there might be proof to back up my claim.
Zero! I'm wheezing.
What the heck is wrong with me? I should be glad about this. The pressure to win--to save--will be his. If he chooses Troika. Will he? He remains Unsigned.
His mother is Myriadian, but his Troikan father raised him after the divorce; surely the father has more influence over him.
Over the years, Javier grew into a hard-core guy's guy, sleeping around, drinking as if alcohol poisoning was a myth to be challenged and making money by stealing cars.
Well. Now I understand why my pals dressed me up like a good time girl. I'm supposed to be some kind of eye candy for the dangerous man-child.
I'm both offended and flattered. And okay, okay. I'm grateful. I need every edge I can get.
I'm going against Killian. He's better with females, sure. There's no one better at seducing the opposite sex to his side. But he's also the kind of guy Javier appreciates most; a hard-core guy's guy, rough and tough, mad and bad to the bone.
In the end, there will be a winner and a loser. We both hate to lose.
If I'm victorious, will he be sent to the Kennels?
If he's victorious, will I resent him?
I shudder, wondering if this time--with us--love will be enough to keep us together. Lives hang in the balance.
"All right." Enough wallowing about what could or might be. Fear will never be my friend. "I've got about forty minutes to spare before crashing Javier's meeting with Killian. I'd like to visit Dior and Clay. Help me?"
And afterward... I'd like to visit with Aunt Lina.
I mean, I'm heading into dangerous territory. What if I'm killed? If I don't see Lina today, I might not get another chance. More than that, I'm trusting Levi in every other area of my life. Why not this? If he thinks I can make a difference in Lina's Everlife, I'll set aside my grievances and speak with her.
"Of course." Kayla squeezes my hand. "May your visit and your mission be enlightened."
As I race to the Veil of Wings, Kayla heads to the Eye, where she'll be watching my progress, warning me of incoming attacks and doing her best to anticipate my needs. A job Meredith should be doing.
The thought jolts me, and I lose my footing. This will be my first mission without my grandmother.
I wince as a hot poker of grief stabs into my chest.
Lockdown!
I message Levi, telling him my plan to spend half my time with Dior and the other half with my aunt. He grants his permission, even arranging for an escort to meet me at the Veil.
Sure enough, Deacon is there. Like me, he's still in a Shell.
"Today I'm your Flanker," he says.
A Flanker is sub-position of Laborer, meaning to guard and chronicle my exploits.
"Thank you." He once flanked Archer, and he is the best of the best. "Feel free to ignore the troubadour aspects of your job."
He snorts. "
Already planned on it."
"All right. First on the menu," I say. "A visit with Dior and Clay."
We pass through the portal--
Whoosh. We're falling. A blaze of Lights erupts...then a solid foundation settles at our feet. The Lights fade. I experience a brief moment of dizziness before I steady.
I look around. The staff quarters at Prynne are homier than ever, with blankets and pillows, games, toys for Gingerbread and even a string of twinkling Christmas bulbs hanging from the ceiling.
We're months away from the holiday, but pretty is pretty.
Clay and Dior sit at a small round table, playing cards and laughing. She's lost a little weight, her cheeks now slightly hollowed. Her skin is dry and flaking, and there are bruises under her eyes. Her dark hair is limp and lifeless.
An alarm goes off in my head, and I know beyond any doubt. If left unchecked, Penumbra will destroy her.
Gingerbread, who is resting at her momma's feet, notices us and barks. Clay jumps up, and Dior stiffens.
"Ten." Clay relaxes.
"Good to see you again," Dior says.
Deacon tells her about her upcoming court date, and she smiles with genuine relief. Meanwhile, dread blows through me, a cold, damaging wind.
I stuff my hands in my pockets and jut my hip, forcing my body to say, I'm not worried about a thing, nope, not me.
--How has she been?--I cast my voice through the Grid.
Clay's grim gaze meets mine. --She tosses and turns all night. If she does manage to fall asleep, she has nightmares.--
--She hasn't drained your Light?--If I placed him in a hazardous situation...
--Not even a little.--
Thank the Firstking! "You'll be pleased to know I'll be speaking with Javier in roughly forty minutes," I say to Dior. "We'd like to offer him a covenant with Troika."
She places a hand over her heart, and the action reminds me of a baby bird too weak to take flight. "Thank you. I know he can be difficult sometimes, but he can also be sweet and kind, and he's always protective." She nibbles on her bottom lip. "He's been offered a covenant with Troika before but declined to accept. He believes equality is overrated. It has nothing to do with race," she rushes to add. "He despises laziness. His father was a drunk and relied on Javier and his stepmom to pay the bills. Javier says he can never support a realm that rewards the lazy and hardworking alike."
"We accept the lazy into our realm, yes, but the lazy are not rewarded." Deacon's tone is stiff.
"Something his TL has explained to him on several occasions," she says with a sigh.
"Why hasn't he signed with Myriad, then?" At the very least, I'd think he'd want to be with his girlfriend.
"They promote indulgence and, according to Javier, that's just another form of laziness."
Um, stealing cars from hardworking citizens to make easy money is another form of laziness, but I keep that little nugget to myself.
I make my way to the table and ease into the chair across from her. Up close, I can see the darkened veins branching out just under the surface of her skin; they are thicker, longer and active, like rushing rivers.
"How are you feeling?" I ask.
Her gaze looks anywhere but my direction. "Tired, weak. A little achy."
I lick my lips. "Things might get worse before they get better, but if you'll refuse to give up, they will get better." One day I'll be able to cleanse her.
She white-knuckles the edge of the table. "Clay told me about Penumbra. How did Myriad infect me?"
My gaze darts to Clay.
"Levi wanted her to know," he says with a shrug.
Information I should have received before my arrival. "We don't know," I tell Dior. A General visited her, then died in a supposed ambush. Dior became infected. Later a General visited Javier, then died in a supposed ambush. Javier became infected. Coincidence? No and no. But what is the actual connection?
Deacon's comm glows. He checks the message and regards me with expectation. "I'm taking you to your aunt? The one who tried to kill you?"
So soon? "She didn't try." I look to Dior, who is crying into her hands. I reach over to pat her on the back but stop myself just before contact.
Frustration takes a big bite out of my calm.
"I'll be back," I tell her. "We'll get through this together."
Deacon types into his comm, takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. Within seconds, we're transported to the corner of a small room. To the right, there's a comfortable-looking bed and a toilet with a privacy screen. To the left, there's a panel of what I assume is two-way glass. A human with dark, graying hair paces from one side to the other.
"I'll let you know when your time is up." Deacon exits the room, the door closing behind him.
Lina doesn't react to our presence. She continues to pace, the hem of her paper-thin hospital gown ripped and dragging across the floor.
"I cheered. I cheered," she chants. "Then I cried."
This is Loony Lina.
I don't know why I'm surprised by the compassion wrapping me in a warm embrace. I'm Troikan. Sympathy is hardwired into my DNA.
This woman killed me, yes, but long before the madness drove her to strike, we shared a wealth of love and laughter. When my father refused to spend time with me, she played games with me. When my mother was too busy painting to listen to my childish babble, Lina sang songs to me. To the best of her ability, she warned me about the dangers I would face in the future.
Ten tears fall, and I call. Nine hundred trees, but only one is for me. Eight times eight times eight they fly, whatever you do, don't stay dry. Seven ladies dancing, ignore their sweet romancing. Six seconds to hide, up, up, and you'll survive. Five times four times three, and that is where he'll be. Two I'll save, I'll be brave, brave, brave. The one I adore, I'll come back for.
The silly song was a road map to salvation. It saved me. Saved Kayla and Reed, too, every line an instruction we'd desperately needed to navigate Many Ends and escape Myriad.
And...I haven't completed the instructions, I realize. A tremor nearly rocks me off my feet. I left Killian behind, locked in the Kennels. He's free now, but he might not be free later. I haven't gone back for him.
One day I'll go back for him!
The knowledge stirs something deep inside me. Hope, maybe. Or excitement. I will make it back inside Myriad, maybe even Many Ends, and I will leave with Killian at my side. Perhaps Marlowe, too.
A wide smile blooms. This. This has to be one of the reasons Levi asked me to seek out Lina. To be reminded of a future I've been promised. A goal I've had since before my Firstdeath.
Lina stops, her head snapping in my direction, her milky eyes locking on me. "I was ready. I was ready to die. Why didn't you let me die?"
"Lina," I say, and my chin quavers. She almost always speaks as if events have already happened, even when they haven't. "I want you to live, and live well. And when you die, I want you to live with me in Troika. Would you like that?"
Silence.
I reach out to clasp her hand, but she rears back, as if she knows I'm a Shell. "It's okay. You can touch me. I give you permission."
I step closer, giving her time to get used to me but keeping my hands at my sides. Her eyes clear of milk, revealing blue irises that pierce as sharply as daggers.
"One fox in the henhouse," she says. "In two days he'll try to eat his mouse."
Another rhyme. Another set of instructions? My jaw aches as I bite down to avoid asking questions. Through experience I know her answers will only confuse me more. "Lina, let me help you the way you helped me. Let me ensure your future is a good one."
"I stayed."
Okay. We're back to speaking in past tense. "You stayed...here?"
"No, no. I was home. Home!"
Panic radiates from her, and I hold my hands palms out in a sign of surrender. Frightening her wasn't my intention. "All right," I say. "You stayed home."
She backs farther away from me. "One fox in the henhouse. In
two days, he'll try to eat his mouse. Three, yes, three warnings will come. By four five six, you'll be glum. Look, look, look, for the seven. Eight, nine, Ten is in heaven."
It is another set of instructions, and my mind whirls. Who is the fox? And who is the mouse?
Why will I be glum? What does she mean by heaven?
"Sleep now," she says, sitting...then lying down. I want to stroke her forehead, the way she used to do for me, but I don't want to upset her.
"Lina," I say, my heart constricting as if someone has reached inside my chest and squeezed the organ in their hands. "I want you to know I forgive you." One of my number tattoos tingles and glows. At the same time, a weight lifts from my shoulders, a weight I hadn't even known I'd been carrying. "I forgive you for everything."
She yawns. "The Key...in your heart all along."
I jolt. "The Key? It's in my heart?" A second row of numbers tingles and glows.
"Written in blood." Another yawn. She closes her eyes, her features softening, the strain fading. "Sleep now."
I flatten a hand over my heart. For all intents and purposes, this woman is supposed to be my enemy. But she's not. She'll never be. I will love her always.
How have other families hated each other over the centuries? How have husbands and wives warred each other? How have mothers turned their backs on their children?
I don't want to hurt Lina. I want to saturate her in Light.
Is her fragile mind capable of withstanding court? What if she buckles under pressure?
A soft knock sounds at the door. A courtesy knock, only. Deacon doesn't wait for my response but strides into the room.
"It's time for us to go."
I push my grief and confusion to the back of my mind, along with the new riddle. Lockdown!
I know I need to deal with everything. I can't continue to suppress my feelings. The lockbox is so full the hinges are threatening to bust.
Later. I'll deal later.
Today, I have a mission to complete, and it deserves my all.
"I'll be back," I tell my aunt and move to Deacon's side. In a matter of minutes, I'll meet Javier Diez...and spar with Killian.
Ready or not, here I come.
chapter seventeen
* * *
"You cannot accept what's right if you're happy doing what's wrong."
--Troika
Deacon transports us to...a gym? Oookay. The location is a bit underwhelming considering I expected Killian and Javier to be inside a strip club. But no prob. I can roll.