by Adam Silvera
“What?!” I shoot out of bed. “Did you heal her?”
“I can handle most wounds and some internal bleeding, but healing hearts is not within my range.”
“Then why isn’t she in the hospital?”
“Enforcers are on the lookout for your entire family, Brighton. I promise we are doing our very best around here.”
“It’s not good enough.”
“I’m sorry that my power isn’t more miraculous,” Eva snaps.
I’m not going to apologize again. I get to be upset that my mother’s life is in the hands of people who can’t do anything about it. Then again, people can surprise you. “Where’s Emil?” I stand and move for the door. I’m going to see how long he’s known about Prudencia’s power. Eva stares at the wall like she tuned me out. “Okay, I’m sorry, Eva.”
“I wasn’t waiting for a fake apology. I just didn’t want to be the one to tell you that Emil was taken hostage by the Blood Casters.”
It feels like I’m captive again, trying to survive Stanton’s heavy fists. Luna said that she would chain Emil if he was there, and his powers aren’t going to be enough to protect him. “How did they let that happen? Where the hell was everyone? Did Wes and Iris have something better to do?”
“You should talk it out with them,” Eva says.
“Happily.”
Even if I weren’t fully healed, I have no doubt adrenaline would drive me forward. I pass a celestial who rolls his eyes at me, and I almost want to shove him into a locker. At least I’m out there fighting while he hides. I barge into the boardroom and find Maribelle, Atlas, Wesley, and Iris all seated at the table.
“You’re better,” Atlas says.
I ignore him and go straight for Wesley and Iris. “Where were you? Tell me to my face right now that I wasn’t worth saving. Was it because I messed up with the video? Was it because I wasn’t reborn into this life with powers worth your time? After everything I’ve done for you, not showing up to rescue me is the worst way to say thank you.”
Iris pulls her face out of her hands. “It wasn’t personal. But we have to do what’s right for the entire community of celestials within our care and in the country. If it was my own brother on the line, I would’ve done the same.”
“But you don’t have a brother. Would you risk Eva?”
Iris is teary and shakes it off. She points at Maribelle and Atlas. “Go be pissed at them too. They’re the ones who ran out of here half-cocked and not only lost your brother but returned Ness and the urn to the Blood Casters.”
Maribelle glares at Iris. “Stop turning this on us when we’re the ones who tried. Emil was going to go whether we backed him up or not, so I’m not going to apologize for trying to save Brighton’s life. Maybe we could’ve kept the urn if you showed up to fight.”
Wesley stands before Maribelle and Iris can get another word in. “Brighton, man, we have a lot of respect for you, but our hands were tied. We can’t justify a single life over the world’s fate. That’s not how wars are won.”
I can’t believe one of my heroes is telling me that I wasn’t worth saving. “Let’s not pretend you’re not about to make an exception for Emil. The one everyone is rooting for.”
“We have to be more strategic,” Atlas says. “We all should’ve been more united before, but the stakes are higher now. We don’t know what purpose Emil could even serve to them. So we can’t plan a rescue mission unless we know . . . you know.”
“That there’s someone to rescue.”
“Our best hope now is cutting the Blood Casters off before they can get their hands on the phoenix Luna needs to complete her elixir.”
I’ve never felt more hopeless about the people I’ve been cheering on for years. They couldn’t be bothered to save me or even back up Emil. “Whenever you head out, I’ll be there too.” I turn to Wesley and Iris. “I’ll prove to you why no one messes with my brother.”
I storm out. They better not try to leave without me.
I go to Ma’s room, where she’s eating with Prudencia. They both look like they haven’t slept the past several nights. I don’t know the last time anyone has had a full night’s sleep. Prudencia tries to hug me, but I take a step back and look at Ma.
“My shining star,” Ma says. Her bottom lip trembles. “You’re okay.”
“But now Emil isn’t. I’m going to get him back.”
“No, please, you have to stay here. Let the Spell Walkers handle this,” Ma says.
“They didn’t even back him up the first time!”
“You can’t risk yourself the way Emil could,” Prudencia says. “I know that’s the last thing you want to hear, and I know you want to be the one with powers, but you aren’t, and you have no business being out on the battlefield again. Look what you and Emil are putting your mother through!”
I look her dead in the eye. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
Prudencia comes around the bed and gets in my face. “You don’t get to be upset because I didn’t tell you I’m a celestial.”
“Yes I do! What, all those times you were looking over the journal with Emil, were those actually meetings to talk about how amazing it is to have powers? What a shame that I’m not in on the fun? Laughing behind my back, I bet.”
I will never tell anyone about my Brew experience. How powerful and victorious I felt when I believed I killed Luna and Dione and that acolyte. I’m a big enough fool without anyone knowing all that.
“Brighton, I had no intention of ever using my powers again. I would’ve loved to have trusted you with that secret, but I didn’t want you to pressure me into doing some piece for your series or shame me for not nurturing my telekinesis. I care enough about you and Emil that I broke my own promise to myself to look after you both on missions.”
“Some good that did.”
Prudencia’s eyes fill with tears, and then they fill with rapidly moving stars. The deep breaths she takes are probably the only reason I’m not flying through that window.
“You’re not being fair, Brighton,” Ma says.
“What do you both know? You’re both liars.”
Ma inhales deeply, and I regret what I’ve said, but I’m too pissed to take it back, and if I stay here any longer I might make it worse.
“I’ve got work to do,” I say, and leave.
I’m exhausted and starving and want to shower, but I can’t stop thinking about if Emil is still alive.
I get back to my room, pop open my laptop, and go straight to YouTube, that reflex of mine that’s as strong as breathing. There aren’t any trending videos of Emil’s captivity. I search his name online, and nothing new pops up beyond the standard praise and hate. I check out the stats on the video where Stanton beat me around. Over two million views since Stanton forced me to upload it early this morning. The comments range: Lore keeping me in their prayers; Silver Star Slayer and his followers claiming this is staged; I apparently shouldn’t have stuck my nose in any of this and left everything to the authorities, as if the enforcers were rushing to save my life; people speculating on where the meet-up was, like it was going to be some opportunity to get photos with Emil; and the last one I read is someone trying to get a bet going on how long it takes for Emil to save my life. How little they know.
The door opens, and Maribelle comes in.
“We messed up trusting that shape-shifter,” she says. “We followed his lead, but we should’ve known better.”
“Emil would trust Luna if she promised to turn over a new leaf. His heart is too good.”
“You’ve got fire in you.” She crosses her arms. “Taking that shot at Luna took a lot of guts. Come train with me so we make sure you don’t miss next time.”
I put down the laptop and rise.
I’m going to be my brother’s hero. No matter what.
Thirty-Three
Infinity-Ender
EMIL
I wake up to find four acolytes aiming wands at me like a firing squad. My wrists are chain
ed above my head, and my arms are sore. This migraine eclipses the one I had after my first casting. I cannot believe I trusted Ness—that two-faced bastard who played to my fears of escaping war. Dude straight seduced me.
I have no idea where I am, but in the silence, I hear the golden-strand hydra’s howls. Another life that’s going to be lost.
Maybe I screwed up this war even more. If I’d never agreed to fight and just hung around Nova minding my own damn business, then Brighton would’ve never found himself doing fieldwork, and I wouldn’t have bothered connecting with someone who has committed crimes for the city’s greatest queenpin. I don’t know what went down after Ness laid me out with that urn, but I hope Brighton and Prudencia and the Spell Walkers are all good. I’m shaking hard thinking about what comes next, but better me than my brother. I suck at saving lives, but sacrifice is heroic too.
The door creaks open, and Luna and Ness enter.
“How far you’ve fallen, my little wonder,” Luna says while twirling the infinity-ender she thinks will extinguish me and my phoenix fire for good. “Keon was a mastermind, the first of many specters. Despite Bautista betraying me because he was enthralled by an even greater traitor, he still managed to establish a movement that has impeded me plenty. But what have you done? All this power and no fire in your heart.”
“Maybe my next life will impress you,” I say.
“You weren’t supposed to be reborn, but it was a valuable lesson for my purposes. When I struck Bautista down with the infinity-ender, it wasn’t somewhere fatal. I didn’t believe it would matter, since all phoenixes die once struck with the blade, even a nick in the belly. Since a specter’s body is still human, he bled out, but I didn’t end his line. Ness has informed me you possess no memories of Keon’s or Bautista’s lives, and I’m positive I at least fractured that ability.”
So it wasn’t because Bautista experimented with all those power-binding and power-expelling potions. Which means that I can die for good if struck by the infinity-ender.
“You serve a purpose,” Luna says. “You’ve shown me the reaches of power that a specter can experience. How lovely it will be to fly with those glorious wings and live on forever.” She holds out the infinity-ender, and Ness clasps the bone handle. “Luckily for you, you’re more valuable to a client of mine alive than you are to me dead, as tempting as it is to snuff out your line once and for all. Still, the weaker you are, the better for everyone.”
Ness approaches me.
The fire bursts across my arms, but I can’t hurl any fire-darts at him. If Luna wants to see impressive, I’ll show her someone who won’t go down without a fight. I fly as high as I can, my neck craned against the ceiling. The chains prevent me from escaping, but I can relax my arms enough to let fire-darts rain down on the room. The acolytes scatter, and I nearly catch Luna, but Ness hops up and slices the exposed skin above my ankle. Scorching pain surges up to my waist, a metallic silver light flashing so brightly through my dark jeans. My wings vanish. I crash onto the foot where my ankle’s been cut and the chain pops my left arm from my shoulder.
“Get up,” Ness says.
“Please kill me,” I say. If he has any mercy, he’ll end me quickly and claim it was an accident. If someone reborn after me manages to carry Keon’s memories, they could be tempted to continue his work, and I want this entire conflict to die with Luna when the Spell Walkers take her down.
“Get up,” Ness repeats.
“I can’t.” My leg is in agony, like it’s being stabbed over and over.
Luna instructs an acolyte to help me, but Ness waves them off. He drops the dagger and roughly picks me up, slamming me against the wall. His eyes are red, and I like to think there’s an apology in his stare, but trusting him is what got me here. He bites his lip, and I brace myself. He cuts across my rib cage, and I scream in his face, crying and spitting as my insides run so hot they feel like they’re melting. He cuts the other side too; twin wounds that burn so fiercely I should black out from the pain, but the pain igniting within every few seconds keeps me awake.
“Marvelous, my pure miracle,” Luna says, taking the bloody dagger out of Ness’s hand. “You’ve made me very proud, as always.”
She instructs the acolytes to bind my feet in chains, even though she doesn’t expect my powers to recover soon.
Within minutes, I’m left alone.
Every time I get the sensation that I’m healing, my pain doubles, then triples, and I bite down on my lip so hard I taste blood. I’m drenched in sweat as these flames eat me alive, and I’m praying to the night skies that I die right here, right now. Blood soaks up my sleeves and the bottom of my shirt, dripping down my legs and to the floor. I cry for help, knowing damn well no one here cares. I remind myself that Brighton is okay because I was brave enough to stand up for him, how I will always suffer for his safety.
Times passes, and the agony doesn’t go away.
The faintest phoenix song begs me to survive, but I’m tired of the music and wish someone would put out my fire for good.
Thirty-Four
Many Faces
NESS
I’m shaking hard in front of the mirror and I grip the sink with bloody hands.
Gray light bathes me, and I’m Peter McCall when he was thirteen. Brown eyes that feared me whenever we crossed paths, thin lips that quivered whenever I cornered him. He was so small that only half of his face reflects back at me now. He was the first celestial I bullied after my mother was killed, and he transferred schools after his parents caught him trying to take his own life. Gray light. Fourteen-year-old Harry Gardner. Black eye and missing teeth courtesy of my fists. He was the first celestial I attacked. I went home pissed because he hadn’t used his power on me, which would’ve gotten him locked up. Gray light. Fifteen-year-old Rhys Stone. Blue eyes, immaculate smile, bright future ahead of him. We never met personally, but there’s no forgetting the face of the celestial who was killed because of my convention speech, because of words the Senator wrote for me. Words I once believed.
Gray light after gray light, the many faces of people I’ve hurt go on and on. Some personally, others indirectly. Some alive, others dead. A few murdered by my own hand.
But there’s one that strikes hardest.
Gray light. Taller than me, hazel eyes, curlier hair, a face that I’ve never seen smile but hope I will. Emil Rey. Firefly. But I got him all wrong. He’s too clean, too perfect. He’s been ruined tonight—I ruined him.
I don’t want to, but I add the scars to my glamour and stare.
I will forever be haunted by the tears that filled his hazel eyes, the spit building over his lips, his cheeks flushing as he screamed for death, and his blood on my hands.
Gray light.
I’m me again. I wish I wasn’t.
Thirty-Five
Gala
EMIL
I’ve lost all track of time without windows. Sleeping while strung up by chains has been near impossible, but my body continues to shut down until acolytes wake me up for meals of crackers and dirty faucet water. I begged an acolyte for a chair at one point, and he laughed at me. Could’ve been Ness in disguise again, getting off on his winning mind games. The only mercy I was shown was an acolyte bandaging me, but I’m sure Luna didn’t want me to bleed out.
I’m fading when Stanton enters the room and pulls the chain from the ceiling, making me drop. Stanton drags me across the concrete halls, my bandages coming undone. He carries me up a flight of stairs to a loading dock where he hurls me into the back of a van. Everything is blurry as I fade in and out, but I can clearly see Ness looking unaffected among acolytes. Wands are aimed at me even though I haven’t been able to cast any fire. Ness is holding the infinity-ender, and the blade hasn’t been cleaned. No point wiping it down when I’ve got more blood to spill.
The ride is bumpy, but at least my legs, which have been so numb, finally get a chance to rest. I want to sleep too. I always prided myself on being able to nap in noisy a
uditoriums at school and drift away on the train, but now fear keeps me awake. Not because of all the weapons that’ll kill me if I make a wrong move, but because of where I’m being taken to and why I’m more useful to Luna alive than dead.
The van stops, and I breathe in the fresh air, feeling pulses of strength under the Crowned Dreamer, so close to its final form in the night sky. I recognize the parking lot of the Museum of Natural Creatures immediately. I wish Kirk weren’t so stubborn and would cancel the entire thing, but maybe the Halo Knights will be enough to combat the Blood Casters and protect Gravesend. June phases through the back door and opens it from the inside, welcoming everyone in. I’ve never been through this hallway, but June leads the way with confidence. Smart money is on June having spent time in the museum, unseen and unheard, studying the ins and outs to become a walking map. I can’t believe I’m back, and I don’t know why, but I’m curious how long Kirk will wait until he updates the Sunroom to reflect my history as the gray sun specter who accomplished nothing but misery for his family.
There’s a flicker of hope. The Spell Walkers know the Blood Casters will be making a move on Gravesend’s egg, and I’m counting on them being here. Every corner we turn, I fantasize about Atlas popping out and pinning everyone down with his winds long enough for Wesley to zoom in and carry me to safety. Eva will have to go through hell if she wants to heal me, which pains me on a whole other level.
We lose some acolytes before we enter the staircase, where a lovely phoenix melody can be heard coming from the gala. Right as I think we’re heading up to the Sunroom, praying to every damn star in the sky that the Spell Walkers are fully united and in place to protect Gravesend and rescue me, we all go downstairs. The lights in the Hydra House are off for the night, and we approach a see-through vault that’s heavily guarded by five people.
Halo Knights.
The fiercest warriors are here to protect Gravesend. They’ll consider me a traitor for possessing phoenix powers, but it’s all good as long as they can stop the Blood Casters. They’re dressed in their clay masks with golden beaks, and sun-dust armor with feathered sleeves that are midnight blue and scarlet. Two are wielding iron crossbows while others are carrying axes and swords.