Lifel1k3 (Lifelike #1)(27)

Eve screamed. Wasting the last of her air. Stupid. Childish. But it was like something from a fairy tale. Some titanic beast, too big to see the edges of, swelling up out of the crushing fathoms. Legions of barnacles and scars thick upon its vast shell. Arms as long as buildings rippling about it. Bottomless black holes in horror-show faces.

Three great mouths, open wide.

Don’t breathe.

A great rushing current, dragging her in.

Breathe.

And the darkness swallowed her whole.



They’re beautiful.

That’s the first thought that strikes me as I look down the row. People, but not. Alive, but not. Skin tones from dark brown to pale white. Eyes from old-sky blue to midnight black. But every one of them is astonishingly, impossibly beautiful. They’re like poetry. The way they move. The way they smile.

Perfection.

“Children,” Father says. “Meet my children.”

Looking at these figures in their pretty row, I don’t know what to feel. Marie squeezes my fingers, just as unsure as me. But as ever, my little brother is unafraid. He walks up to the closest of them and extends his hand and says with a smile, “My name is Alex Monrova.”

But our surname is Carpenter… .

The one he speaks to (I can’t truly call him a boy because, astonishing as he is, I know he’s not truly that) extends his hand. He’s far taller than Alex. Thick blond hair, tousled into a perfect mess above his sculpted brow. So beautiful it makes my heart hurt. His skin is marble and his eyes gleam like green glass.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Alex,” he smiles. “My name is Gabriel.”

Alex beams up at the almost-boy. There are scientists gathered around us, toasting with glasses full of sparkling ethanol. The angel made of light watches from another plinth, her face beautiful and blank. I’ve never seen her smile.

Father introduces us to the others. All of them are around my age, perhaps a little older. A dark-haired one called Faith hugs me tight and promises we’ll be the best of friends. Another with long flame-red curls and dazzling emerald eyes tells me her name is Hope. I know they’re not real people—they’re the “lifelikes” Father has spoken of. But as Hope kisses my cheek, her lips are warm and soft and I can’t help but be amazed at how like us they are. I’ve seen androids before, certainly. Puppet people with synthetic skin. But these are like nothing I’ve ever known.

“What do you think, Princess?” Father asks me.

The truth is, I don’t know what to think.

I’m introduced to other lifelikes with the names of angels and virtues. Uriel. Patience. Verity. A tall one named Raphael, who smiles as if he knows a secret no one else can. Another one, named Grace, with hair as long and golden as mine. She stands close to the one called Gabriel and smiles as he speaks. I can’t remember ever seeing anyone so beautiful.

But then I see him.

His hair is dark and curled, his skin a deep olive. His eyes are the kind of blue you only see in old pictures of the pre-Fall sky, his lashes long and black. His lips are a perfect bow, and his smile is crooked, as if only part of him finds things funny. He looks at me and I feel the floor fall away from beneath my feet. He smiles at me and a single dimple creases his cheek and all the world shudders to a halt. He shakes my hand and I can’t feel my fingers, can’t feel a thing save for the thunder of my heart.

“I’m Ezekiel,” he says with a voice like warm honey.

“I’m Ana,” I reply.

… But my name is Eve.



Everything was black. Utterly lightless. Eve still clung to Lemon’s collar, holding on to her bestest with death-grip hands. There was a rhythm, pulsing, both heard and felt. Some great thudding beat, pressing on her chest and behind her eyes.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

She was flipped end over end in the darkness. Water rushing and softness pressing in all around. Salt in her mouth. In her eyes. Tumbling, fumbling, fingers clawing the walls about her, slick and wet. Her head broke the surface and she drew in a shuddering breath. Gasping as she was sucked under again.

Some kind of tunnel …

The space contracted. Crushing. Spongy tendrils pawing at her. Slurping along her skin, into her ears and eyes. Slick and viscous, the walls closing in, pushing her farther down into the dark as she realized at last …

No, not a tunnel.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

A throat …

She was spewed out into a wider space, falling head over heels, arms pinwheeling as she wailed. Tucking her head, she crashed into a pool of warm slime. A sharp stab of pain surged through her Memdrive. A tumble of images flooded her head.

Her father, home late from work, kissing her brow as he tucked her into bed.

Her mother, reading by the window and teaching her about the old world.

Her brother, dressed all in white. Sitting in a patch of sunlight. Mechanical butterflies on his fingertips as he beckoned her.

“Come see, Ana.”

Eve kicked back up out of the slime, breaking the surface, slinging her sodden hair out of her eyes. She could see; the blackness replaced by a dull, pulsing phosphorescence, curious shades of blue and green. She dragged her hand out of the sludge, fist still curled tight in Lemon’s collar. But her stomach sank as she realized the jacket wasn’t wearing its owner. That Lemon had slipped out somewhere along the way.