Lifeblood (Everlife #2)(39)
He gently bounces the ball off my nose. “Because you girls are a lot of work.”
I twist my fists under my eyes, mimicking tears. “Poor baby. So who’s the girl?”
“None of your business, Miss Lockwood.”
“So you’re protecting her identity. The relationship must be serious, then.” The Book of the Law says it’s best to date a person selected for us by the Grid. 1) It’s supposed to keep the peace between, well, everyone. No more fighting over a mate, or thinking you belong with someone who would be better off with someone else. 2) It’s supposed to keep our focus where it belongs. On the war. And 3) it’s supposed to prevent messy breakups.
Is Victor’s date not Grid-approved? Because of free will, we can date whomever we want. Grid-approved or not. Either way, he has nothing to hide.
I wonder if my recurring dream about Killian is the Grid’s version of permission.
Wishful thinking? I mean, why choose Killian, a Myriadian? Why not select a Troikan for me?
“Just...think about what I said, okay?” He stands. “Help me with this, and I’ll help you with something you really, really want...finding a way to stop the war.”
I purse my lips. “How do you know I want to stop the war?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” He hikes his shoulders. “Face it. You’re not exactly subtle.”
He takes off before I can lob a million questions at him. How would he help me? Why hasn’t he helped me already? Can he list at least three ways I’ve been less than subtle? Gotta work on my game.
I remain in the living room, playing catch with his ball. There’s really no need to think about his offer, I decide. I’m not going to help him with his plan. I’m not going to feed other people’s fears. Archer would rage if I did. There has to be another way to win everyone over.
As for stopping the war...my chat with Victor has helped me in that regard. I’ve been thinking on too large a scale. Because he’s right about one thing. Want to reach a thousand people? Start with one. That one will help you reach others. Those others will reach others, and so on and so forth.
A whisper can become a roar.
Excitement sparks, hotter than before. One by one.
My first—Dior.
I can help her. I must. The fate of Troika depends on it.
*
I head to the Veil of Wings, my spirit tucked securely inside my Shell, Whells strapped all over me. Just in case. My hold is secure. I’m not going to be kicked out by anyone or anything; in fact, I’ll die before I let go. I stayed up all night, practicing with my Shell and reviewing information about Dior, as if I was cramming for a test.
Before being taken to the safe house, Dior Nichols lived in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. She was a resident at Baptist Hospital, assigned to triage in the ER. On her days off, she played with her dog, Gingerbread, and volunteered at a Myriadian homeless shelter.
She has a kind heart, almost too good to be true, but her life is far from perfect. Every time she’s helped a Troikan loyalist, Myriad has taken away something precious to her—a right she gave them when she made covenant.
The once-happy girl is now miserable. Court is her only chance.
She’s considered killing herself, a notion that cuts deep into my compassion. I want to shake her and say, “Never give up! If you’re breathing, there’s hope!” The only reason Dior hasn’t ended her life is a clause in her contract. Fine print states she’ll have to spend one hundred years locked inside the Kennels if ever she commits suicide.
One hundred years trapped in a tiny cage.
Did she not read her contract before signing? Or did she just not care at the time?
I know how Killian won her over, at least. He approached her when she was at her most vulnerable, after her father, her only guardian, had broken his spine in a car accident. After multiple surgeries, his health had declined and death seemed imminent.
Archer told her: Trust us to make it right.
And she had. For a little while. But the situation had grown worse instead of better. At least in Dior’s eyes. As a human, she hadn’t seen the things happening in the spirit realm. The small fixes for big changes being set into motion.
Killian told her: No more waiting. Your father will walk out of the hospital, and he’ll go home today. Just sign here.
Patience is a virtue for a reason.
Impatient, she’d done it, and her father had walked out of the hospital, as promised. Only, he’d collapsed right outside the doors, his heart bursting from strain. He’d died right there on the dirty concrete.
He’d gone home, again as promised, but he’d gone home to Myriad, his realm of choice. Another reason she’d agreed to their terms. She’d wanted to spend her Everlife with her beloved father.
What Killian did to her...it was ugly. So very ugly. To hurt Archer, he distorted the truth in the worst possible way. A despicable act from a despicable boy who’d laughed in Archer’s face immediately after Dior made covenant—laughed at the heartache he’d caused.
I know deep in my heart he isn’t that boy anymore, but I’m still sickened by his actions—which makes me angry with myself. Who am I to judge anyone for anything? I’ve made mistakes. Many, many mistakes. I’ve hurt people, unintentionally and intentionally. I’ve killed people. I’ve ruined lives and broken up families.