Infinity Son

by Adam Silvera

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Your power could be very valuable to me. Impersonate Congresswoman Sunstar and her committee and help me tank her support. Then, after I’ve secured the presidency, we can bring you back to life, but keep your powers discreet. There will be plenty of opportunities to use them during my terms.”

  “I’ll never help you,” I say.

  “Maybe some time in the Bounds will change your mind.”

  That’s where we’re headed. We’re crossing the river to get to the New York Bounds, where some of the toughest of celestials are locked up. Where they kill each other for survival and sport.

  “I’ll expose you! Word will get out that your entire campaign is a lie!”

  “You’ll tell your fellow prisoners that you’re the son of the man whose policies are the reasons they’re behind bars? Best of luck surviving that. Eduardo, your time to reveal your truth has long passed. But I’m being fair and giving you the option to either help me win this election or fight for your life in the Bounds.” The Senator has no false smiles for me. “I need an answer fast. Who are you going to be?”

  Forty-Three

  Shining Bright

  BRIGHTON

  I turn away from my laptop and stare at the Crowned Dreamer from outside my window.

  So much has changed since the constellation first returned to the sky. I was getting ready to leave for college. Emil and I were powerless together. But now the stars are shining their brightest before vanishing by morning, and Maribelle Lucero is sitting on my bed after the most game-changing month of my life. I’m famous; I have purpose. I’ve proven time and time again that Emil might be the one with powers, but I’m still powerful.

  Maribelle is honoring Atlas with Instagram posts—my idea. She had the password to his account and decided she wanted to post three photos: Atlas’s first day in New York, in front of a map that inspired his name; a selfie of Atlas and Maribelle during some rooftop date that was too hard for her to talk about; and the last of Atlas sleeping with a smile on his face. She doesn’t speak to me when writing out her last caption, or any before, but after this, we’re hitting the streets to find any leads on Luna’s whereabouts. Wherever Luna is, June won’t be far.

  “Done,” Maribelle says, pocketing her phone.

  She’s paying no mind to all the geeky Spell Walker stuff I have around the room, including the art print I have of her. Her eyes glow like sailing comets, but one is brighter than the other, as dark yellow flames burst between her palms. Maribelle’s fire sounds different from Emil’s—less of a screech and more of a roar. She has a greater handle on hers too. Let’s see how Emil likes that.

  “Let’s go kill June,” she says.

  “You got it, Infinity Daughter.”

  She’s not amused.

  I still can’t believe everything about Maribelle’s true lineage. I thought we covered this ground already with Emil, but of course his own story is so huge that it involves a Spell Walker I’ve admired for years.

  I’m about to close my laptop when a news notification pops up.

  “Nova was attacked,” I say. The school was infiltrated by enforcers, and celestials were taken into custody. There’s a warning for everyone to stay inside and wait out the constellation, as authorities believe the night will bring more chaos as celestials ride the high of the Crowned Dreamer. “Eight deaths have been confirmed. Give me your phone.”

  I lost mine in the cemetery. I don’t know anyone’s number but Emil’s and Ma’s—they were drilled into me when Dad was sick—and both their lines go straight to voicemail. But I can’t assume the worst. There’s a million reasons why they wouldn’t have their phones—they left them behind, they didn’t keep up with charging them since everyone they needed was under the same roof.

  “This has to be Luna,” Maribelle says. “She didn’t make her move until we had something of hers that she couldn’t get without help.”

  “What’s our move?”

  “We head for the church. Let’s count on Luna having the phoenix. She’ll have her entire gang backing her up too. We go hit them with everything we’ve got before they become unhittable.”

  “Emil is still alive,” I say. The blood-and-bones feeling won’t let me believe anything else. “He’ll be there too.”

  “If anyone gets in our way, we strike them down. Got it?”

  I nod. “I want to be a better soldier for you,” I say.

  “I’m listening.”

  Everything is a long shot—stopping Luna, killing June, getting out of the church alive, my big plan to put an end to all the insanity we’ve faced—but we leave the apartment with a dangerous amount of hope anyway, because the odds being unlikely don’t make them impossible.

  Forty-Four

  The Crowned Dreamer

  EMIL

  When will this end?

  Phoenixes endure endless cycles of life and death, but I’m done being the Infinity Son.

  I come home to an empty apartment that’s straight wrecked. Brighton isn’t here, and I’m out of ideas. If he decided to take off to Los Angeles and focus on school and start over and never talk to me again, I could make peace with that—as long as he’s alive. I go in our bedroom, which smells like someone lit a match, and I collapse onto his bed and cry into his pillow because he might be dead, and there’s no way Ma is going to survive her eldest dying, especially so soon after Dad.

  Why did I have to be reborn into this?

  When the pain becomes too much, I get out of bed. I go into Brighton’s drawer and grab one of his favorite shirts that he must’ve missed when packing. Brighton was always going to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, but I didn’t have to engage with this war. I drag myself to the bathroom to touch up my blazing wounds. I remove the baggy shirt in front of the mirror, and, to honor Ness, I keep my eyes on the body he claims is beautiful.

  I shouldn’t have involved him either.

  Everyone I touch burns.

  I press down hard with gauze, cleaning up the blood, and fix new bandages across my cuts. I pull on Brighton’s white shirt with the minimalistic camera design over the pocket. The shirt is fitted, way snugger than anything I’ve allowed myself to wear in years. I’m going to rock it like armor.

  The lock on the front door twists, but there are no keys jingling from outside.

  I fight past the pain to conjure a fire-orb, but it’s Prudencia entering with Iris and Wesley. I slam into her with a hug. Prudencia takes me to the couch and tells me everything. Ma and Eva are on their way to the shelter in Philadelphia where Ruth will watch over them. Other celestials have been spread out everywhere with short trips to New Jersey and longer journeys to Ohio. There’s no sign of Brighton or Maribelle, but I have hope that maybe they’re together when they tell me Maribelle recently uploaded some tributes to Atlas on his Instagram; that sounds like Brighton’s doing. I tell them about Ness being exposed and taken captive.

  Wesley stares at the constellation through the window. “We need to stop Luna. She’s the heart of all this pain.”

  “We don’t stand a chance,” I say. “Four against however many acolytes and Blood Casters will be there. And Pru and I didn’t grow up using our powers.”

  “Everyone gets a boost, but the Crowned Dreamer is on the side of celestials above all,” Iris says. “Wesley will be faster, and I will be stronger, and Prudencia will be more powerful. We’re not as outmatched as you think.”

  “Maybe it’s time we turn it over to the authorities,” I say. “Get the enforcers to take out Luna.”

  “They haven’t cared before, and I don’t see them starting now,” Iris says. “We don’t need to beat everyone. If we can get close enough to kill Luna or the phoenix, we can end this.”

  I shake my head. “No. Gravesend is a newborn. She needs to live long enough to grow that muscle. If anyone kills her now, she won’t ever resurrect.”

  “Luna won’t either,” Iris says. “If we can save the phoenix,
we will, but if we can’t, we must do what has to be done. You’re not calling the shots here, Emil. Especially not after you were ready to walk. But we do need you to fight alongside us.”

  It would be easier if I walked away from this battle. To spend tonight tracking my brother. “No lie, there have been times the past few days where I was hoping for a quick death. But what I want is a long life, and I know I can’t have that if Luna lives forever.”

  Wesley nods. “It’s what we all want, but I hear you. We got to grow into our roles, and you were pulled out of home suddenly. Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve stayed in for this long.”

  “This is the fight of our lives,” Iris says. “If we don’t move now, the sacrifices of everyone we’ve lost will have been for absolutely nothing.”

  If we lose, Luna can rise to power, and alchemists everywhere will stop at nothing to figure out her formula. And if they succeed, we’ll have a world that’s overrun with immortals fighting beyond the end of time.

  We leave home.

  During the ride over, we gear up in power-proof vests Iris had packed away. I wonder how much stronger I could be if I hadn’t been cut up by the infinity-ender, but I’ll take what I can get. During stoplights, Prudencia tests the elevated strength of her telekinesis out the window—lifting a parked motorcycle, knocking over a trash can. She’s proud and hopeful, and I wish I felt the same.

  We reach the Alpha Church of New Life. It isn’t massive, but it’s impressive. The bricks are dark gray with steeples as blue as Gravesend’s feathers. We’re spotted immediately when we get out of the car, and a sniper in the building next door fires a rapid bolt at me, which Prudencia sweeps away. Wesley takes the lead, faster than ever, and lays out acolytes left and right like a game of pinball, and he bursts through the front door. We run inside and there are murals of various creatures. It’s refreshing to see them illustrated so peacefully and living their lives out in nature instead of the usual, like three-headed hydras viciously attacking cities or basilisks swallowing children whole or shifters deceiving loved ones or phoenixes being drowned.

  I blast open a large door that leads us into the garden, and there they all are. Luna is in a ceremonial cape that drapes down to the floor, standing beside Anklin Prince. Stanton, June, and Dione are all dressed in gray jumpsuits with half a dozen acolytes surrounding them. Thankfully, there’s no shield like the one in the cemetery.

  Luna turns her back on us, muttering a prayer as she swings a massive scythe over the hydra’s neck. The hydra roars in pain, and Stanton holds it down as Luna hacks away, yellow blood spraying and pooling into a metallic cauldron. Gravesend is screeching in her cage. We all break. June appears behind me and wraps her arms around my chest, kneeing me in the back repeatedly. I cast my fiery wings and take flight, shaking June off, and she crashes to the floor. I fly straight to Anklin as he twists open the urn, but a bolt from an acolyte’s wand blasts me in the center of my vest. My world spins as I’m flipping toward the bronze spikes of the gate—suddenly I’m jerked in midair and fall into a cluster of bushes.

  “That was close,” Prudencia says as she helps me up. Before I can thank her, we see Iris being cornered by Dione and Stanton. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Be careful!” I shout as she runs off.

  I knock out an acolyte with a fire-dart and fight past others trying to reach Luna. The ghosts have been released from the urn, and even though their mouths are moving, no words are coming out. It’s the same howl as the night from the cemetery, except even more haunting and bone-chillingly empty. Everyone feels it too, but the battle keeps going. Luna isn’t looking to capture this time. She’s going to kill them with a dagger fully made of bone. I’m hurling a fire-orb when an acolyte tackles me, screwing up my aim.

  Luna is swift as she runs the oblivion dagger across the necks of her mother and father, their gray blood spilling into the cauldron before their ghostly bodies fall face-first into the grass and fade away. She mixes the bloods with powders and liquids I don’t know, and she turns to Gravesend’s cage.

  I finally wrestle the acolyte off me, and as Stanton charges me, a red bolt catches him in his side and he drops, his skin flaring as if being burned from the inside. I turn.

  Brighton is standing at the entrance of the garden with a wand in each hand, and Maribelle has orbs of dark yellow fire rolling around her palms. The fire-orbs fly like arrows, and Dione drops to the ground.

  I’m in shock, but I have to protect Gravesend. Anklin blocks my path, and I fight him like I’ve been doing this my entire life—punch to the gut, elbow to the chin, kick to the knee. I’m about to wind up a final blow when he quickly withdraws a dagger and slices my arm. Anklin holds the dagger above his head, and as he’s driving it down, he’s set ablaze.

  Roaring streams of dark yellow fire flow from Maribelle’s fists, and she doesn’t let up until Anklin Prince’s screams go quiet.

  There is no remorse on her face as she helps me up.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You killed him,” I say.

  “She’s next,” Maribelle says as she spots June across the garden and pursues her.

  Luna opens Gravesend’s cage, but I cast a fire-arrow into her shoulder, and she falls. I grab Gravesend out of her cage, holding her to my chest. Even with Brighton and Maribelle joining the battle, the tides are turning against us. Stanton and Dione have recovered and appear more vicious than ever. The potion is nearly done, and all it needs is Gravesend’s pure blood.

  I pick up the infinity-ender. “I’m sorry,” I say to Gravesend as she looks up at me with adoring eyes. I was the first person she saw when she was born, and I have to sacrifice her for a world she never got to see.

  This is wrong, I can’t—

  The blade is snatched out of my hand, and Luna drives it straight into Gravesend’s heart while she’s still in my arms. Gravesend’s brief cry sounds like all the pain in the world. I’m staring into her eyes as the fire goes out, and I’m completely frozen when Luna rips the blade out of Gravesend and stabs me in the stomach. The pain blazes as she twists the blade. She wrenches Gravesend out of my arms, and I slam on my back, staring up at the Crowned Dreamer, whose brilliant light fades from me as my eyes close.

  I hear screams all around me, and I’m hoping my people are all good. I want them to run and hide—this is all a done deal. I pull the infinity-ender out of my stomach and press down on my wound while trying to breathe. I look up to find Luna draining Gravesend’s dark blue blood over the cauldron. I’m too weak to call for help—every breath needs to be used to stay alive. Luna takes a step back from the cauldron and throws in a pouch of stardust, and it all erupts in see-through flames that smell of rainy evenings in the park and houses on fire. Luna is shaking as she scoops up enough potion to fill a round bottle that looks like an empty snow globe. The elixir looks like dirty seawater.

  Red bolts strike through the air, blowing apart the cauldron and flying through Luna’s stomach. Her eyes widen, and she falls to the floor, choking. Elixir splashes out of her bottle, but she’s protected most of it. I try crawling to her. I’ll spill it out myself and turn my back on Luna as she dies.

  Brighton and Maribelle run up to me.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Brighton says, kneeling beside me.

  “Stop her,” I say as Luna tries bringing the potion to her lips.

  Maribelle steps on Luna’s wrist and snatches the bottle. “So close,” she taunts.

  Brighton moves over to Luna, hovering over her face. “You thought I was nothing more than a pawn, and look who stopped you.” He holds out his hand and Maribelle passes him the potion. “Who’s the king now?”

  “Pour it out,” I say. But he doesn’t, and it feels like someone is squeezing my heart. There’s someone who wants power even more than Luna. “Brighton, don’t do this, that potion is untested. You could die like Dad did.”

  Brighton stares at the elixir. “Better than living powerless.�
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  My brother looks up at the Crowned Dreamer as he drinks every last drop of Reaper’s Blood.

  Acknowledgments

  Infinity Son destroyed me time and time again, but so many of my heroes pieced me back together.

  Andrew Eliopulos is a brilliant and magnificent editor, who lived in this world with me so completely that he easily pictured celestials flying outside his window. I wouldn’t have a book that I’m proud of without all his guidance, which helped me unlock this story that’s been with me for well over a decade. And his patience after I missed my deadline so I could rewrite the book. And that other deadline. And yup, that one too.

  Brooks Sherman got to geek out extra hard with me with this transition into the fantasy genre. We’ve talked about comics and superheroes for YEARS, and I’m so happy we’re adding the Spell Walkers and co. to the canon.

  My HarperCollins family: Rosemary Brosnan, Sari Murray, the epic Michael D’Angelo, Audrey Diestelkamp, Jane Lee, Tyler Breitfeller, Suzanne Murphy, indie queen Kathy Faber, Liz Byer, Caitlin Garing, and Bria Ragin. And so much love to my cover designer, Erin Fitzsimmons, who worked with artist Kevin Tong to give me a glorious and iconic cover that brought legit tears to my eyes. Thank you everyone for all you’ve done and all you do.

  Thanks to my international publishers for making my stories more accessible to readers across the world and to my agencies for being that bridge.

  Jodi Reamer was instantly charmed by my magical crew and flew right into this world with me as if she’d been here all along.

  Julianne Daly very generously managed my website and so many requests so I could focus on writing.

  My mom, Persida Rosa, never judged me as I cast spells with fake wands, drew demons in my Book of Shadows, and mixed potions with whatever we had in the fridge. And she always, always, always made sure I had notebooks and a computer to write my fan fiction so I wouldn’t burst into flames.

  Even though this is a work of fantasy, my contemporary crew helped me out so much along the way. Becky Albertalli’s insta-love for Emil and Brighton made sure I never lost their humanity within all the magic happenings. David Arnold continues to out-David himself, and I love him more than he loves using GIFs. Jasmine Warga is a blast of sunshine who reminds me to love my art and live my life. Nicola and David Yoon are the greatest neighbors ever, and they’re mine, all mine! Angie Thomas pushed me to write the book that Little Adam never had and would’ve loved, and I believe I did that. Corey Whaley believed in this story back when it was going to be a dark fairy tale for kids. And Court Stevens pushed me to “Go for it!” with my ending, and I’m so happy I listened.