Lifeblood (Everlife #2)(82)

He doesn’t give me a chance to respond but launches a surprise attack, lunging at me, pushing me to my back and pinning me to the mattress. I’m not afraid, but I won’t be manhandled, either. I work my legs between us and shove with enough force to send him flying onto the other bed.

I hop to my feet, my knees close to buckling. Zero! Weakened again. I study him and realize he’s trembling, too. He’s not immune to my Light.

We face off. His gaze spits fire at me.

“If you’ve harmed a single hair on Dior’s head—”

Oh, now he cares about having a girlfriend? “I would never harm her.” But, uh, considering I’ve done so—twice—I rush to add, “Not purposely.”

He pops his jaw. “I’ve been told your realm is encouraging her go to court. If that’s true, you’re not saving her, you’re endangering her. According to my ML, most people lose.”

Well played, Killian. Well played. He erected roadblocks just in case I got my hands on Javier.

He’s not done. “Dior’s Firstlife and Everlife will be worse when she loses.”

When, he said. Not if. “Great risk, great reward. She’s sick, and so are you. You’ve both been infected with Penumbra, a disease—”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No. I’m healthy.”

“You might feel that way now, but—”

“I’m healthy,” he insists. “So is she.”

And the award for most stubborn guy in the Land of the Harvest goes to...

Is this how I came across to Archer? How I come across to Killian and Levi? Yeah, probably. So frustrating! It’s a miracle I haven’t been stabbed.

Okay. I can handle this one of two ways. The hard way, trying to reason with him, or the harder way, touching him and proving he’s filled with darkness.

What the heck? I’ll take my own advice. Great risk, great reward.

I close in on him. He stiffens, as if he expects me to throw a punch. Not giving myself time to change my mind—and gearing for a kick of pain—I reach out and flatten my hand on his check. Skin-to-skin contact.

Boom!

A violent current of air throws me across the room. I slam into a wall, cracking the plaster before sliding onto the floor. Something pops in my ears. A high-pitched ring fills my head. I blink, trying to clear the sudden haze from my eyes, but the world remains black-and-white, as if I’ve lost all sense of color, and Javier—

He’s on the other side of the room, slumped over. Crimson leaks from his eyes, nose and ears.

What have I done?

Warm liquid trickles from the corners of my mouth. My lungs refuse to work; they’ve deflated. Wheezing sounds rise from my chest.

The door bursts open, and Reed rushes into the room. He takes in the situation with a single glance, just as he’s been trained.

“Stay back,” I croak. If I’ve been drained of Light, I don’t want to accidentally draw from him.

Reed ignores me, crouching beside me. He rips the chain from my neck and pours the manna down my throat.

Other TLs rush in behind him. To take care of Javier, I assume. I’m losing focus, the black blending with the white until everything blurs...and disappears altogether.

*

“—going to heal?”

“Yes, sir. A full recovery. She should wake up any second.”

The first speaker I know well—Levi. The second I vaguely recognize. The Healer from the Sanatorium, maybe.

I blink open my eyes and fight a wave of dizziness. My temples throb.

Moaning, I rub my temples. “What happened? Where’s Javier?”

A pause. Then, “I’ll be going now,” the Healer says. “Thank you for entrusting me with our Conduit.”

A light patter of footsteps, the soft snick of a closing door. A heavier thump of footsteps. Then Levi is looming over me, concern etched in every line in his face.

I’m in a spacious bedroom with a three-tiered chandelier, two white columns at the foot of the bed and a white rug the same shape as my brands. This isn’t a closet at the Sanatorium.

“What do you remember?” Levi asks.

“I—” Memories flood me, and I gnash my teeth. “Everything. Javier and the explosion. What happened?”

He helps me sit up. “You have no control over your Light, and he has no control over his darkness. Light protected you, darkness protected him, and both lashed out at the other. The two forces collided...”

I moan as a new tide of dizziness sweeps through me. “Is he okay?”

“He’s recovering. He agreed to stay in our care as long as he’s with Dior. The situation isn’t ideal, but it’s workable. While they’re together, I suspect they’ll worsen, Penumbra growing stronger. We’ll have to be more careful around them.”

The reluctance I experienced with Javier suddenly makes sense. The Grid is becoming an intricate part of me, an ever-present help in times of trouble.

“Do I need to attend a debriefing?” I ask.

“Consider this chat your debriefing. Let’s start with Lina.”

I repeat her song and we discuss possible meanings—to no avail. He’s as lost as I am.

A soft knock sounds at the door.

“Enter,” Levi calls.