if to take the offered hand only to kick out my leg.
He falls and I somersault on top of him, my knees pinning his shoulders, but he’s wily and more agile than I’m expecting. He swings his legs up and under my arms, pushing me to my back. When he crosses his ankles above my head, his calves pressing against my face, I’m effectively caged. He can smother me but opts to bend his knees at my sides and sit up.
The moment I have the smallest bit of freedom, I sit up, too. He’s straddling my waist, which means he keeps the advantage.
Time to up my game. “Killian.” I smile at him, running my hands slowly up his chest.
He closes his eyes for a moment. “This isn’t going to end well for me, is it?” he says, his tone dry.
“No. It’s not.” I lock my hands at his nape and use all my weight to fall backward, bringing him with me, bucking my hips midway down to roll him, placing my body on top of his.
Fingers suddenly fist in my hair and yank me backward. As I fall, I catch a glimpse of black hair and furious features. By the time I land, Elena has a gun aimed at my chest.
With a roar, Killian launches at her, slamming into her and knocking her to the floor beside me. The gun goes off, but he has a firm hold of her wrist, ensuring the bullet tears through the roof of the tent rather than my flesh.
He rips the gun from her grip, stands. “You don’t touch the girl. Ever.”
“She was attacking you.” Elena jumps to her feet. “She could have damaged your Shell.”
“Which sounds like a me problem. She’s mine. Mine to deal with. Not yours. Never yours.”
She raises her chin. “She may be yours, but you are mine.”
Killian stares at her for a long while before he laughs. A scary laugh. Then he goes quiet, and that’s even scarier. “I’m not. And now I’ll prove it.”
He raises the gun and—
Boom!
chapter sixteen
“With us, all things are possible.”
—Troika
Elena collapses, the bullet striking her between the eyes. No blood spews or leaks from the wound, and by the time she hits the floor, she’s self-destructed, nothing but ash floating up, up through the new lunar panel in the tent.
“How could you...” I begin.
“She isn’t dead. I simply decommissioned the Shell, hit it in a spot that doesn’t damage the spirit inside. It’s a safety measure for the times a Laborer doesn’t have the strength to leave the Shell but must.” With barely a pause, he cups my cheeks and adds, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” And I am. The cold-blooded murder of a Shell isn’t really a big deal in the scheme of things. “I guess she got what she deserved for eating my cake, huh?”
“The cake. That’s your main concern? I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.” He empties the chamber of the gun, tosses the weapon aside and walks a circle around me. A slow prowl. He’s a predator who’s spotted his next meal. “You could have died tonight. Elena could have pulled the trigger. At this rate, you will die, and soon. Death clearly stalks you. How many signs do you need? Choose Myriad, Ten. Now.”
“What I need is time.”
“You’ve had time. It’s done you no good.”
Dang him! “Have you ever regretted your decision to stay with Myriad?”
He stops in front of me, saying, “Only once. When I lost Archer.” He pinches my chin and lifts, forcing my attention to remain on him. “What do you want, Ten? What can Myriad give you? A purpose? A place to call your own? Vengeance against your parents?”
“I can have each of those things in this life, on my own.”
“So. You want what you can’t find here.” He releases me. “You want a guarantee.”
Yes! “I want to not regret my decision forever.” Pressure...
“No one can give you a guarantee.”
“I know!” Growing... “Here, at least, I can tell myself that what happens is temporary. In the Everlife, I can’t do that. It’s permanent.”
“Until Second-death.”
“Well, I gather it’s much, much harder to kill a spirit than a human.”
“Maybe I’ll be killed if I fail to sign you.”
Pressure...exploding. Another manipulation. The last one I’ll tolerate.
With a screech, I take a swing at him. He ducks and my arm glides through air. But I’m already drawing back my other arm, already swinging it. This time, I make contact. My knuckles drive into his cheekbone. Pain