Lifeblood (Everlife #2)(43)

Her eyes widen. “He worked with Killian? Seriously?”

I nod. “You define Killian by the worst of his actions. Actions that are part of his past. Mistakes he made and now regrets. By the end, Archer defined him by his current actions, which proved how much he’d changed. He’s different, Dior. He feels remorse for what he did to you. He even searched your contract for a way to free you from your punishments.”

“But he couldn’t find one.” She slumps a little. “He wrote the contract, and he’s very good with fine print.” She presses her palm against her neck. “Despite the contract, I decided to continue on with the life I’d planned. I accepted a residency and dedicated myself to saving others. Which I can do. But only if my patients are Myriadian. And I know, I know. I’m told I shouldn’t have any problem turning Troikans away. They’ll only hurt my realm later, right? But people I like and admire are Troikan. If they scream in agony and I turn away, I’m a monster.”

“I’m sorry.” I am. Her struggle is agonizing.

“My contract states I’ll be a Laborer in the Unending, not a Healer. I’ve only ever wanted to be a Healer.” She shudders, and finally, she breaks down, her knees crumbling. She lands on the floor with a hard thud, sobbing into her hands.

I’m angry on her behalf. Her choices led her down a terrible road filled with bumps and potholes. She’s bruised and broken, clinging to the only life raft she’s been thrown. A court date.

Compassion overtakes me. This girl doesn’t know me, but I know her. I can help her. I know I can!

I crouch beside her and comb my fingers through her hair. She hisses and scrambles away from me. I hiss, sharp pain exploding at the ends of my fingertips, shooting through the rest of me.

“What was that?” she demands.

I rub my arms, feeling as if lightning is now striking on the underside of my Shell. “I don’t—” But I do. I do know, and I look to Elizabeth, my jaw clenched.

Penumbra.

How am I supposed to cleanse her?

I cast my voice to Elizabeth. —Is that a sign she’s becoming an Abrogate?—

—No. I’m guessing that is Penumbra’s defense against a Conduit. That is why you weren’t supposed to touch her.—

Right. Rules are rules for reasons. Whether I know the reasons or not. “I’m sorry, Dior. I’ll be more careful in the future.” I stand. “And I will help you, even if I have to work myself to the bone.” I will act like the woman Archer expected me to be.

“Ten,” Elizabeth snaps, reminding me I’ve overstepped my bounds yet again.

I don’t care. This girl needs me. And I get it now. I understand why Troika will go to so much trouble to save a single soul. Everyone is precious. Everyone is someone’s child or loved one. Everyone has potential.

“When is the last time you spoke with someone from Myriad?” I ask.

Dior calms enough to say, “Three days ago.”

I run my bottom lip between my teeth. “Killian?”

“No. Rosalind Oriana and Zhi Chen.”

Instant relief; Killian wasn’t involved. “Did they say or do anything unusual?”

“Like what?” She wipes away her tears.

“You tell me.”

Now she frowns. “They came to my house and chatted about nothing for what seemed an eternity. Then they left.”

I consider the timing and ask, “Why did you contact Troika afterward?”

She bristles, as if I’ve insulted her. If I did insult her, it was unintentional. I only want answers.

“Is this necessary?” Elizabeth demands.

“Yes,” I reply without looking away from Dior.

“I’d had enough,” she says. “I’d reached the boiling point. I remembered Archer told me to contact Elizabeth if ever I needed anything, so I called her.”

But how did Rosalind and Zhi—assuming they did it—infect her? “Who else have you spoken with? Any strangers? Did you notice any odd behavior from your patients?”

“No. I haven’t been to the hospital in a week. The only other person I’ve spoken to is my boyfriend, Javier Diez.”

“Is he Myriadian?”

“He’s Unsigned. Why?”

I look to Elizabeth. —Does she know she’s sick?—

—No. And we’re not to tell her.—

Because she would freak out? Who wouldn’t? “Where’s Gingerbread?” Dior could use a special friend right now.

Dior starts sobbing all over again.

Zero! What’d I do wrong this time?

“The dog was taken by her ML.” Steam practically curls from Elizabeth’s nostrils. Either I’ve pushed her too far or—“By Killian, in case you require clarification.”

That.

I flinch. “How long does it take to set a court date?” We’ve got to get Dior out from under Myriad’s control. Once she’s made covenant with Troika, we can safeguard her until she’s been cleansed, ensuring she doesn’t enter the Everlife with Penumbra, potentially harming the Grid.

“Could take months, depending on how hard Myriad continues to fight us,” Elizabeth replies.

“Well. You take care of that, and I’ll take care of the dog. And you,” I say to Dior, remembering tidbits I read about her. “You’ve been dealt a raw deal, there’s no question about that, but self-pity isn’t your friend. See past it and fight for what you want, like Elizabeth said.”