“Love is the only wasted emotion. It removes focus from your realm—and yourself!”
—Myriad
Ten
So much to process…
My mother is dead. My father murdered her. Killian begged me to forgive him. I don’t…
Thoughts begin to fragment, different emotions surging through me. At the forefront: horror. My mother is now inside Many Ends. At least, I think she is. My theory hasn’t yet been proven.
But let’s say I’m right. How long until the monsters capture and torture her?
I love you. Made my life worth living. Fight for what’s right and never stop.
My forced calm is shattered as tears burn the backs of my eyes.
“Lass,” Killian says, hanging back.
“Go,” I say. “Do what you need to do.” I rub my fingers over the words tattooed on my forearm. Loyalty. Passion. Liberty.
My fingers stray to the shadow of the horse, and I frown. The image is fading. Because my bond to Killian is fading?
Is that what I want?
The tears burn hotter. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know anything anymore.
With a last, lingering look, he rushes out of sight. Will he return? I don’t know. He’s acting like my Killian 1.0, but what is truth and what is lie?
Doesn’t matter. I can rely only on myself, and I won’t be a damsel in distress. No, oh, no.
I’m sniffling as I wipe the tears away with the back of my wrist. There will be no mourning. Not now. There’s too much to do, too much at stake. I can fall apart later.
Determined, I stuff the pain of my mother’s death deep inside my heart. Next I stuff the fury directed at my father. Maybe hatred, too. Then I stuff the hurt Killian caused. Using distrust and disappointment as brick and mortar, I erect a wall. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. Good, that’s good.
Feeling somewhat sane again, I lift my head. If my mother is trapped in Many Ends, I’ll save her when I save everyone else. This? This isn’t the last I’ve seen of her.
Now to get free. I reach through the bars of the cage to try and jimmy the lock, but it holds.
In the distance, I catch a glimmer of color. A man is peeking around a corner. Looking for someone specific? As soon as he deduces no one is nearby, he rushes my way. A woman follows behind him, a basket clutched to her chest.
“Here. Ambrosia.” She shoves a small bottle in my direction. “Drink.”
She’s just like the others. She can’t be trusted.
I realize I’m nodding, and I gnash my teeth.
How quickly circumstances can change. How quickly feelings can change.
Maybe she means to hurt me, or maybe she does intend to help me. Either way, Myriadian ambrosia—if that’s what this is—will do me more harm than good, strengthening my dark side while weakening my Light side. After my tangle with the Veil of Midnight, I’m sure of it.
I return the bottle to the woman’s waiting grip. She frowns but accepts, and hurries on to the next prisoner, who eagerly drinks. Color and tone returns to his pallid, sagging flesh. How long has he been locked up?
So, she is helping. Her willingness to put herself in danger reminds me that there are good people in this realm, the same way there are bad people in my realm.
“Hurry,” her companion calls. He’s keeping watch a few yards away.
“Can you open the cage?” I ask her as she feeds yet another prisoner. “Do you have a key?”
Her mournful gaze slips over me. “No, I’m sorry. I wish I could do more, but…”
She can’t. I get it. She reaches through the bars of Victor’s crate and tugs at the binding over his mouth.
Panic infuses me, and I shout, “You gotta go.” I can’t let her succeed. “Go now. Before the authorities arrive.”
Panic infuses them, too, and the couple rushes away, desperate to avoid detection.
I must escape. And soon. No telling when Zhi and Javier will realize Victor isn’t Victor and return.
Again, there’s a glimmer of color in the distance. I turn my head to study the newcomer more thoroughly, and my heart slams against my ribs. A familiar face barrels toward me.
This is Lina. My heart soars; I guess it recognizes what my eyes do not. This is the woman who played with me when my parents were too busy. The one who helped me survive Many Ends the first three times.
I love her, I do. Despite the fact that she once stabbed me with the end of a paintbrush.
“This is for you.” She tosses a vial of liquid in my direction. Manna. “Bottoms up.”
“How did you die?” A lump grows in my throat as her message reverberates inside my mind. Did I tell you I died? I’m sorry I killed Killian. I cried. You cried. I cried some more. I’m glad my husband made it up to you. Light was the answer. Light was always the answer.
“Walked across the street at just the right time. Boom. Crash.”
A crash was “just the right time”? I drain the contents of the vial. Strength plumps my muscles, fortifies my bones. The darkness wanes, the fog of dismay clearing from my head.
“I’m here to help you get into Many Ends.”
Whoa. She’s speaking in complete sentences, and present tense. “If you’re here to hurt Killian—”
“I would never hurt your boyfriend,” she says, adamant.
And yet you’re going to kill him. Uh, how will that help him, Auntie dearest?
A group of people rushes behind her, startling me— astounding me. Surely my eyes deceive me. Archer, Raanan, Clay, Reed and Biscuit cannot be here, in Myriad. Cannot be perfectly alive.
“I don’t understand.” I shake my head, thinking the image will fade. Lo and behold, it remains, and elation consumes me. This is real. This is happening.
“Guess what, guess what, guess what.” The words burst from Biscuit, as if he can hold them back no longer. “Lina contacted Archer, and we met her at the Veil of Midnight, and she snuck us inside. We’re the rescue crew!”
Are you freaking kidding me? “Guys, you could have burned to ash. The Veil of Midnight is a death trap for Troikans.”
“True,” Lina says, “but that was a chance I was willing to take. You’re connected to Killian, and the Troikans are connected to you. I figured they’d make it through just fine.”
A chance she had been willing to take. Because she figured. Because my friends mean nothing to her.
Fury and gratitude mix and mingle inside me, leaving me reeling.
“Killian took the chance and entered Troika,” Archer says.
“He was forced,” I remind him.
“Well, you took the chance. How could we do any less?”
Lina steps aside, and Archer presses a severed thumb into the lock. Click. “Took a page from your book. Courtesy of a Magister,” he says with a grin. “Had to hunt one down before coming to see you. Totally worth the hassle.”
The lock opens without further ado, and my cage door swings out of the way. At that moment, I’m just appreciative. I climb out of my prison, my legs trembling, and straighten. I don’t care that I’m in nothing but a shirt and undergarments.
Archer winds an arm around my waist to hold me steady, then places a second vial of manna at my lips. I drain the contents; sweet liquid manna pours down my throat. Fresh strength. Steady legs. In seconds, I can stand on my own.
“I don’t know what to say.” I scratch Biscuit behind his ears. “I want to yell at you for risking your lives, but thank-you for saving mine.”
“These are for you.” Lina hands me a pair of jeans and a pair of boots, both in my size. Guess it helps to know the future before it happens, and everything your team is going to need.
As I dress, I say to Archer, “You defected, and your face is recognizable. Why weren’t you stopped as soon as you entered the realm?”
“I’m no longer part of their Grid. No one ever thought I’d be able to return to Myriad. And I did my best to keep out of view.” Sadness creeps over his expression as he scans the City of Carnal Delights. “I could have made a difference here, wanted to, but my efforts were always in vain.”
Sometimes I forget he grew up here, a vital part of Myriadian society, at one with the darkness. Oh, how he’s changed. Now he is the essence of Light.
“Killian,” he says now, and motions to the cage across from mine. “We should—”
“That isn’t Killian. It’s Victor.” And he’s still trying to fight through his bonds.
“Deacon, Clementine and Kayla remained in Troika,” he adds. “Kayla made the change. She’s now a Conduit like the rest of us. They are all working with the princess, helping her cleanse the Abrogates. And our friends aren’t the only ones who have made the change. There are others. Many others. Those who used to be everyday average citizens. The number grows by the hour.”
Shock punches me. “More than seven?”
He nods. “Twenty-six at last count.”
Shock! Asteroid number 26, Proserpina, was named after the Queen of the Underworld.
I’m pretty sure I’m headed to the underworld myself.
“Any other Architects?” I ask.
“Yes.” Clay grins and spreads his arms, revealing a horse branded into his wrist. “Us.”
My chest constricts with joy. The war will come to an end, and we will win.
“Soooo. How happy are you to see me?” Biscuit bounds in front of me, grinning and panting and vibrating with eagerness.
“The happiest.”
He has a full arsenal hanging at his sides, weapons stuffed into sheathes. I claim a Sunray, street name Light’erup. The gun shoots beams of Light, and—happiness unfurls inside me. My short swords are here. I tremble as I shove my arms through their harness, anchoring the weapons against my back. The familiar weight comforts me.
A furious male bellow suddenly pierces the air. “Sound the alarm. Someone! Anyone! Ten Lockwood is free.”
Victor. He’s unbound.
Hate, love? Let him live, kill him?
Clay unsheathes a Sunray of his own and aims at Victor. “Be quiet or die.”
Still the traitor shouts. “Help! I’m Victor Prince, and I’m trapped in Killian Flynn’s Shell!”
“Time to go, go, go,” Lina says. “Got to get the belle to the ball, so I can rescue my husband.”
Yes, she mentioned a husband before, but I’m shocked all over again. “You’re married?”
“Yes. Of course. Or I will be? I’ve forgotten.”
Okay. We’re dealing with future tense again. “To whom will you be wedding?”
“Who else? My husband. The General.”
Ugh! Can she not— Wait, what? She’s wedding a Myriadian General?
Can I really trust her?
As Victor continues to shout, I place my hand on Clay’s shoulder. Tension radiates from him. “Daze him, but let him live,” I say, my tone soft. Light equals love. Love is always the answer. “Murder is his forte, not ours.”
“His death will save us a lot of trouble.”
“His death will cause us trouble. Trust me on this. I’ve killed before. You haven’t. Some actions you can’t ever take back, and guilt follows you around like a boulder chained to your ankle. Are you ready to condemn someone to an eternity of torture?”
“Grace, grace,” he mutters before exchanging the gun for a Dazer. One shot. He nails his target.
Victor goes still, and quiet.
Clay is a good guy, exceptional actually, and violence is never his first choice. I don’t want that part of him tainted.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Enough chitchat. Let’s go,” Lina says.
As we follow her through the darkness, Biscuit remains beside me. Killian will have no idea where I’ve gone, but that’s okay. I don’t want him and Lina near each other. I still don’t trust him, but I don’t want him dead, either. And not just because his death would cause mine.
We run, race, sprint for hours, or what seems to be. We skirt around skyscrapers, fly through alleys, and maneuver through a throng of people dancing in the streets. Above us, a group of boys bungee jump from the surrounding buildings to grab purses, hats and other items from the crowd. Shirtless muscle men swing from ropes. Half-naked women twirl from ribbons that are hanging from an overhead canopy.
Drunk people call out, “Is that a dog?”
“It is. It’s a dog!”
“Dude. Are you hallucinating, too? I think I see a dog.”
“Don’t be fooled. It’s a costume,” someone else shouts. “So lame.”
Is this Killian’s party? The one that will get us inside the Kennels?
“Wait,” I call, grabbing Archer’s hand.
He stops and orders the others in our group to do the same.
I haven’t believed in Fate for years. And I still don’t. But some part of me is beginning to see divine intervention at work. I had nearly given up all hope, only to be surrounded by friends. We rushed to escape capture, only to stumble upon the very party that can lead me where I want to go? A party Killian planned, even though he’d betrayed me and never expected to enter Many Ends.
Some part of him must have been on my side.
Lina’s visions… No matter which way I slice it, she is the reason we’re here, together. But where do her visions come from? The Troikan Grid?
She must have had access all her life. But to whom was— is—she connected?
Only one person would have the power…
Eron, I realize. Eron is helping us through Lina, and others. Through his body.
My heart races toward an invisible finish line. How else has he helped? And there are other ways, I know it. Even if I can’t see them. He’s been teaching us, preparing us for our futures. We’ve learned to work together, to rely on each other. To see our enemies as people like us, with hopes and dreams, rather than insects in need of extermination.
“Your costume sucks,” someone sneers to Biscuit. Then adds, “Hey, want to give me a ride?”
Biscuit chomps his teeth in irritation.
Around us, laughter and cheers blend together. Bodies bump and grind to a fast pulse of music. Anyone who accidentally touches my group hisses in pain. Archer pulls me out of the mob, using his big body to shield me from slapping hands and kicking feet as couples grind together. Clay and Raanan herd Lina to my side and take up posts beside Archer.
I should be shielding them. They are bright, too bright, like night-lights. But booze and drugs are flowing freely— from one kiss to another—and everyone seems too inebriated to understand what’s truly happening.
“What are we doing here?” Archer asks. “We won’t be able to blend in for long.”
“We’re not blending in now,” Raanan says, his tone dry.
“We need a plan.” I explain Killian’s idea to use the party to get inside the Kennels.
“Very well. We’ll head for the Kennels. But first, we’re disguising you. You’re the one they’re looking for.” Archer steals a hat from a guy standing nearby. When the guy growls in protest, Archer puffs his chest, ready to throw down.
The guy rushes off. A grinning Archer tucks my telltale hair under the hat. This boy is a priceless treasure. Brave. Strong. Fierce. And weird as heck.
“A hat won’t hide me for long,” I tell him.
Biscuit rubs against my leg. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of anyone who thinks to out you. Tongue is a sweet treat.”
Nice. “Good boy.”
“We don’t need it to hide you for long, just long enough.” Archer’s head tilts to the side as he scours the sea of faces, and squeezes my hand. “Victor is famous for these types of parties. You sure this is Killian’s handiwork?”
“I am.”
Archer’s eyes—so lovely, like freshly polished pennies— radiate anger as his smile evaporates. “Killian isn’t going to come through for you. He’s going to hurt you, again, and I’m going to have a hard time not killing him.”
No. No more killing. “You were friends once. You know he’s endured rejection, humiliation and loneliness.”
Whoa. I’m defending him?
“I also know he plotted against me even after we called a truce,” Archer says.
“Of course he did,” I say, and Archer’s brow furrows with confusion. Yep, I’m definitely defending Killian. “He’s connected to Ambrosine, which means he’s connected to an endless pit of paranoia, rage, envy, hatred, bitterness. I’ve gotten a taste of it myself. It’s a miracle Killian didn’t stab you in the back literally.”
Realization dawns. With me, Killian did what he thought was right and turned to the person he once trusted most. The male he saw as a father figure and longed to impress. At the time, I was an unknown entity.
I have to forgive him for his betrayal, don’t I? Face it. My distrust stemmed from hurt and anger that he chose Ambrosine over me, nothing more, nothing less.
Sow, reap. My harvest finally came in.
“I’ll take care of Killian. You take care of Dior,” I say. “I spoke with her right before you arrived, but she took off and I don’t know where she was headed. When Killian searched the database for her home address, it was blocked. I’m sorry.”
Determination and anticipation flare in those copper eyes, no hint of dread. This boy will not be giving up. Ever. “No worries. I’ll find her.”
I’m certain he will. “While you’re doing your thing, we’ll be herding the party into the Kennels.” I give him a little push. “Join us when you can.”
Biscuit brushes against my leg. “Leave the herding to me. Plus, I’ll clear a path for you, Arch.”
“You don’t know your way—never mind.” Who am I kidding? This super-dog can find any place, any time. “Thank you.”
Biscuit takes a step forward, only to pause. He sniffs the air, frowns. “I scent two heavily armed guards coming this way. I’ll take care of them and herd. I’m an excellent multitasker.” Off he goes, his howl cutting through the cacophony of laughter.
Again, drunk people cry out, surprised to see a dog in their midst. Others complain about his “costume.”
“Dior?” Archer gasps out. “Ten, I see her.”
What? She’s here? “Go.”
“I’ll cleanse her and meet you in the Kennels.” He leaps forward and disappears in the crowd.
“Tenley.” Lina’s hand gloves mine. With a hard yank, she pins me to the wall.
I don’t fight back. Yet. I remain aware of her other hand, hanging at her side, clutching a dagger.
“Please don’t attempt to stab me, Aunt Lina.” I’m not sure how I’ll react. I don’t want to hurt her.
She blinks, as if confused. When next she focuses on me, the confusion is gone, and her eyes are cloudy. “You’re here when you should be there,” she says, a new childlike tenor to her tone. Shivers of dismay move through me, and my stomach twists. “He’s there when he should be here. If you don’t work together, you’ll both die. If you don’t trust each other fully, you’ll both die. Blocking him will only hurt you both.”
Him…Killian? “You messaged me, Aunt Lina. Before this. You said you were going to kill him.” By killing me? “Why do you kill him? At the orders of your future husband?”
“Stop talking. Start listening.” She snarls, clearly furious, and shakes me. “Help me help you. The darkness has to be chased away, Ten. We will all do what we must, or we will all fall down. Forever bound to Ambrosine.”