Lifeblood (Everlife #2)(50)

Right.

The house shakes. Furniture scoots across the floor and knickknacks clink together.

Will the battle never end? “I’m ready to move Dior and Gingerbread to another safe house.”

“You?” Elizabeth scowls at me.

“Yes, me. I know where I want to take her.” To a secret place. To borrow Killian’s words: the fewer people who know, the better.

I send Meredith a message, asking if my chosen location is sound. Her response is instantaneous.

Yes. I’ve had it cleaned.

I ask her to hide the coordinates from everyone else, even those tracking me through the Eye.

Done.

Love her! “Clay will come with me as my personal Messenger,” I tell the group. I trust him more than I trust the others.

“Levi isn’t going to like this,” Elizabeth mutters.

“Ten....buddy. Pal,” Clay says. “Are you sure this is wise? We’re both so green.”

“Why don’t I act as your Messenger,” Victor says.

“No. I’m sorry. Not this time.” Instinct demands I take Clay.

I don’t wait for another chorus but move to Dior’s side. She hasn’t stopped hugging her dog. A treasured friend, given new life.

I smile at her. “The change of scenery might be jarring.”

She wipes away the happy tears and stands, Gingerbread dancing at her feet. “I’ll adjust.”

Elizabeth comes up behind me. “Let’s hope you arrive in one piece. Ten,” she says, patting my shoulders, “has never traveled at the speed of Light with a human in tow.”

Dang her! Free will matters, even in times of danger. She’s hoping Dior will protest and force me to abandon my plan. “Like it’s hard,” I snap.

Chalk white, Dior says, “You loved Archer, and he loved you. What you tell me to do, I’ll do. If you think this is best, I’ll do it. If you think you can do this, I’ll believe you.”

Her confidence empowers me. “I’m not even the one who will be doing the work. Someone in Troika will. All I have to do? Hold your hand. So easy even Elizabeth can do it.” Zing!

Elizabeth flips me off.

“Such a fine representative of your realm,” I tell her, earning another scowl.

I offer my hand to Dior, remember our reaction to the Penumbra, and drop my arm to my side. “Does anyone have a glove?”

Of course, the answer is no. I stride into the kitchen and select a pink oven mitt. Good enough. Before I put it on, I send another message to Meredith, asking her to send us to my location of choice in sixty seconds. She agrees.

One. I take Clay’s hand, counting the seconds in my head. Ten...

I offer Dior the hand with the oven mitt. Fifteen... “Don’t let go of me, okay? Also, maintain a tight hold on Gingerbread’s leash.” Twenty...

“The leash is enough?” Straight white teeth worry on her bottom lip. “Are you sure?” Thirty...

“I’m positive.” Right? Right! “Anything connected to you in any way goes with us.” Forty...

“Where are we going?” Clay asks, only to press his mouth shut. “Never mind. I’ll know soon enough.”

Fifty... “Ready?” I ask Dior.

A tremor rocks her, but she nods.

Sixty!

Meredith can’t track Dior, specifically; she can only base her measurements on the girl’s proximity to me and Clay, and she nails it. In unison, a beam of Light hits the three of us and the dog, surrounding us with a Buckler to stabilize Dior’s fragile human body while sucking us up and carrying us away.

Dior screams and tries to wrench from my hold.

She’s in pain? How? We’re not touching.

The oven mitt allows a slippery grip, and I almost panic. If we’re separated, she’ll be flung from the jellyair, and she’ll die. I yank Clay against me and spin toward her, using him as a shield between us.

“Grab her,” I shout.

He obeys, and we land in the Urals...in Prynne Asylum. Together. Success!

Dior collapses, and Gingerbread licks her face, offering comfort. She whimpers, Penumbra writhing under her skin. I suck in a breath. Penumbra. Of course! It reacted to the Light used to transport us.

The same Light inside of me.

“I’m so sorry.” I wonder if manna will help her or make her worse. After the way she reacted to me? Probably worse. “Penum—you had a bad reaction to the Light.” If we have to move her again, we’ll knock her out first.

“Are you all right?” Clay pats her back.

“I’m fine,” she rasps. “I’ll be fine. The pain is fading.”

He straightens and looks around. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Ten.”

“No one will ever believe we’d come back here.” Too many people avoid their fears. I face them. Only by looking fear in the eye do we see it for what it really is: a coward afraid of us. When we fight back, fear flees.

“What is this place? It’s creepy.” Dior eases up. “And freezing.”

The fortress once used to torture kids into doing whatever their guardians desired is now a skeleton of its former self. The walls are cracked, the floors bloodstained.

“It’ll warm up once we get you settled in the staff’s quarters, where you’ll have all the comforts of home. As for what it is...it’s a nut house. Or a whack shack, according to Killian. Happiness once came here to die.”