Infinity Reaper

by Adam Silvera

  If not Sunstar, maybe someone else will end this cruelty.

  I’m not counting on it.

  The door behind me bangs open, and I quickly morph back into the man with the teardrop face. Two women are too distracted fighting to notice me. I hang around long enough to see one breathe ice onto the other’s swinging fists, freezing and shattering them with one slam into the wall. The woman’s agonized scream follows me out back into the hall, and if I live long enough, her face will haunt my nightmares.

  I run up the stairs, straight into more barbaric chaos.

  I keep changing, gray light after gray light after gray light.

  I round a corner and bump straight into someone with a firm back. I hope he doesn’t think I’m trying to start a fight. Then he turns and my heart races.

  Stanton.

  His dark green veins are popping more than usual through his pale skin. This is the weakest I’ve ever seen him—underfed, bruised, scarred across his face and arms. He shoves me to the floor, staring down at me with his furious yellow eyes. He sees nothing but a red-haired white man with a scar on his neck and I hope it stays that way.

  “Watch where you’re going,” Stanton says.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. A sign of weakness.

  He’s walking off, dismissing a pathetic soul who isn’t worth his time when he sniffs the air. He stares at me menacingly as people fight behind him. “You can change your face, Ness, but you can’t change your scent.”

  There’s no point denying the facts. But making some up could help. “The Spell Walkers got me thrown in here,” I lie. “Luna too. We got to find her; she can’t defend herself. I think she’s in solitary confinement.”

  “Your heart is racing,” Stanton says.

  “I have an entire prison hunting me. Didn’t you hear?”

  “Your heart is racing because you’re a liar,” Stanton says.

  The ice-breathing celestial from the holding room appears and I point at Stanton and shout, “That’s Eduardo Iron!” Her eyes immediately glow like snowflakes made of stars and her cold breath freezes Stanton’s feet to the floor.

  I get up and run, shoving people out of the way, knowing that won’t hold Stanton for long. I keep an eye out for anything that could mask my scent, willing to douse myself in gasoline if it could throw Stanton off. I time my morphs in the seconds between brawls I pass, and even if I’ve caught more attention from other inmates, I trust I can fool them quickly in the way I can’t this basilisk specter. That’s only if I have the will to keep changing. I’m nearly out of breath and my wound is bleeding, and if my life is almost over, then I should die as me.

  Fear drives me forward as I turn to find Stanton snapping the neck of someone in his way. He’s pursuing me like a basilisk set free from a cage. I don’t deserve the vicious end that he would give me. I look ahead and dark smoke is coming up from the balcony. I’m nervous running through it, thinking it might be some toxic power, but it gives me some great cover. I cough my way through, seeing a fire on the next level down.

  The flames are gold and gray.

  My heart races, so wild that I’m sure Stanton could detect me from the other side of the world. I only know one person whose fire are those colors.

  Then there he is, alongside a Halo Knight as they drag mattresses out of cells and throw them into the burning pile.

  Emil is stronger than he believes.

  His beautiful face is the last one I expected to find inside the Bounds.

  I make my way for the stairs, taking careful steps when I feel a foot on my back. I tumble down, banging my shoulder, my knees, my elbows, and my face slaps against the bottom step. I spit blood, surprised to be alive and wanting to be more than ever.

  I use every last ounce of my strength to shout, “Firefly!”

  Seventy-One

  Winner

  EMIL

  That stranger called me firefly.

  Before his gray glow finishes, I’m running toward him. The beautiful brown of his skin returns, the once-shaved sides of his head have grown out since I last saw him, and he looks like he’s been through hell with all these bruises and cuts and blood. I cradle his neck, and I suck in the biggest breath at being able to touch him again.

  “You’re alive, you’re alive,” I say, which is more important to me than I ever could’ve known.

  “Firefly,” Ness says. It’s my favorite word.

  Wyatt crouches, lifting Ness from under his arms. “Come on, champ, let’s get you out of here.”

  I want to stay here and hold Ness, but Wyatt’s right; we got to get out of here before he’s recognized.

  My chest tightens as someone steps out of the smoke—Stanton. I waste no time throwing fire-orbs, hoping to lay him out again just like back at Gleam Care. One catches him in the shoulder and he slams on his back. I grab my whistle, blowing on it over and over, praying to every damn star that my full squad will hear this over this chaos and come help us.

  Wyatt lifts Ness onto his shoulder and runs past the burning mattress, but not fast enough. Stanton recovers and dodges every fire-dart I throw over my shoulder. His footsteps pound the floor and it’s too late; he grabs me by the back of my neck and throws me against the wall. Stanton rips Ness off of Wyatt’s shoulder and slams him onto the ground like a sledgehammer. There’s fear in Wyatt’s eyes, which Stanton seems to be drinking in before throwing him back toward the fire.

  Stanton pounces on me and rages against my face with his fist.

  “You thought you were free of me?”

  Whenever I try to concentrate on setting my own fists on fire, he breaks my focus with another hit.

  It’s hard to keep my eyes open. . . .

  I don’t even feel the punches anymore. . . .

  It’s getting dark, even though my healing power tries to find the light. . . .

  Someone tackles Stanton off me, but it’s a blur.

  First I think it’s Ness being an idiot and saving me for the infinitieth time. He’s still on the floor, struggling to breathe. Same for Wyatt, who is groaning in pain.

  The person isn’t blurry anymore.

  It’s my brother, rescuing me like a hero who has fallen out of the sky.

  Seventy-Two

  Infinity Reaper

  BRIGHTON

  No one tries killing my brother.

  My physical strength is no match for Stanton, but that doesn’t stop me from punching him with flaming fists. His eyes burn like an eclipse as the green veins in his neck darken. I roll out of the way before he can spit his acid on me. Stanton lunges at me and I become intangible in time for him to phase through me and straight into the wall.

  He tried assassinating me before I had these powers. Now I’m the ultimate success story he can’t destroy. I’ve suffered so much abuse at the hands of Stanton: outside my apartment on the street, punched between the eyes at the cemetery, beat up while held captive, and then at the hospital when I was dying.

  “You don’t seem up for this rematch,” I tell him before dashing behind him and punching his head. “Different fight now that I’m not tied to a chair, right?”

  Stanton swings again, and I hit him with a fire-bolt.

  I feel like a character in a video game facing off against the final boss, underwhelmed by how easy it is. This is one of the deadliest specters the city has ever seen and he can’t even get a hit on me. But as I look around at Emil, Wyatt, and Ness, hurting on the floor, I’m reminded that Stanton is really strong. I’m just stronger.

  “Brighton!” Prudencia appears, finally catching up after encouraging me to follow the whistling. “The guards are firing down on people with their wand-turrets. It’s out of control. We— Behind you!”

  Stanton grabs me and lifts me up. I try phasing away, but then I remember how June also couldn’t use her ability whenever someone physically grabbed her. He races toward the balcony, hurling me over—I can’t fly, I can’t run on air, I can’t fade around like a ghost. I’m flipping forward and
glimpsing the four levels I’m about to fall down when I’m sucked up through the air, landing on my feet right beside Prudencia, whose eyes are still glowing.

  “You’re amazing,” I say.

  Prudencia telekinetically pins Stanton to the wall. “Go get everyone up!”

  I rush to Emil. His face seems to be healing; Stanton won’t be so lucky when I’m done with him. “Bro, we got to go.”

  “Ness,” he breathes.

  “You saved him, he’s here,” I say. I turn to Ness and spot three guards coming behind Prudencia. “Pru!”

  They aim their wands and cast spells.

  Prudencia spins, her hands up, and I dash-tackle her just before the spells can hit her.

  The guards continue firing at us, but I hold on to her, and the spells phase through us until they’ve unloaded all the charges in their wands. That’s the problem with those weapons—their power is limited. I blast them through the air with fire-bolts, proving how little control they could have over someone special like me.

  Stanton runs toward me, and I do what has to be done.

  I phase my hand through his chest, squeeze his heart, and rip it out.

  His snake-slit eyes widen and I kick him over the balcony, watching his body fall into darkness. His heart drips red and green blood and I set it ablaze in sapphire and silver flames.

  I smile over how I conquered a monster who tried to kill me, whose reign is over forever because I had the courage to end it once and for all. It feels incredible to not hold back my potential.

  Saviors defend lives. Reapers take them.

  Seventy-Three

  The Smile

  EMIL

  My brother’s face is lit up by the sapphire and silver flames burning our enemy’s heart. Brighton’s smile may as well be a promise to his powers that he’ll never bind them. He’s not throwing out human vibes. It’s like the phoenix, hydra, and ghost essences are fully converting him into someone—something else.

  What color is my brother’s blood?

  “Bright, what did you do?”

  “I killed Stanton.”

  “I know that! Why?”

  “He had to die,” Brighton says.

  “He’s already in prison, where he deserved to rot,” Prudencia says.

  Brighton throws the flaming heart over the balcony. “He will rot. His body will, at least.”

  “Bloody hell,” Wyatt says as he looks over the railing. “I strongly believe that we should bounce up out of here, as Emil would put it.”

  He’s right; I can’t get into some argument with Brighton right now. I help Ness up and he’s bleeding so much; I wish Eva had come along after all.

  If we phased through the wall right now, we would find ourselves underground or even underwater, so we’re climbing the steps with Brighton peeking out at every level to see when we’re safe to escape. Prudencia keeps blowing the whistle to attract Maribelle and Tala, and I have an ear out for them, but nothing.

  “I should search for them,” Wyatt says.

  “Please stay with us,” I say. I can’t start this all over again.

  “But—”

  “No, we’ll wait for them at the top.”

  I don’t know how much time we can offer with Ness bleeding out, but we’ll do our best.

  We go up the next level, and guards behind wand-turrets are rapidly firing spells down the path we need to go. Brighton’s eyes burn as he steps out and everything shoots right through him. He’s drawing all the attention on him long enough for Prudencia to telekinetically deflect the spells back into the turrets, damaging them all.

  “I’m slowing you down,” Ness breathes. “Just go.”

  Too many people are trying to play hero right now.

  I ignore him and notice across the tower that inmates are fighting guards who are blocking one of the entrances. One celestial casts funnels of water while another throws lightning, and they electrocute the guards right as one is setting up a gleam-shield; individually these celestials might be subdued, but united they’re a force. This revolt isn’t surprising given how abusive these guards are known to be, literally forcing them to fight each other.

  Every single Bound needs the full-blown investigation that Sunstar stands for—stood for?

  Then more horror strikes—the inmates bust down the door and run back into the world. How many are innocent and how many are guilty?

  Gas creeps out of the high ceiling vents, and I wrap my headband around Ness’s face and cover my nose.

  “We’re leaving,” Brighton says.

  “I’m not leaving without Tala,” Wyatt says.

  “You think you’re not,” Brighton says. He grabs Wyatt’s arm and drags him through the wall. He returns by himself. “Emil, you’re both next.”

  I shiver as my brother touches me, horrified by how heartless he seems. I take a deep breath on the other side of the wall, so relieved to have escaped the Bounds. Wyatt cursing Brighton’s name instantly reminds me that we’re leaving people behind. Brighton and Prudencia phase out. Brighton runs for the boat and Prudencia does me the great favor of telekinetically carrying Ness, who looks like he’s floating through the air.

  “Wyatt, Wyatt, we got to go,” I say, grabbing his wrist.

  “Tala is still in there!”

  “They might still escape, but I need your help now. I think we have to fly Ness back to the Sanctuary fast or he might die.”

  “Gleam Care can sort him out.”

  “Everyone thinks he’s a criminal, and being broken out of the Bounds isn’t going to make him look innocent. Please, I know this is so selfish, but I can’t let Ness bleed out on this island after everything.”

  Wyatt rests his hand on the wall as if he can feel his way through it before turning away and running toward our crew.

  I hate that he’s choosing me.

  I catch up, watching as one inmate flies into the air toward freedom as others run into the river and begin swimming. Some gleamcrafters are making a move for the boat, and Brighton dashes ahead, attacking them with fire-bolts until they are laid out or back away.

  I mount Nox as Prudencia telekinetically sits Ness between my legs, and I hold him exactly how I’m used to holding Wyatt. Ness groans, placing his hands over mine, and leans his head back on my shoulder. This is a moment of comfort I want to live in fully and appreciate, but as Nox begins our rapid ascent toward the stars, I look back at all the chaos caused by my selfishness—Roxana waiting for Tala, who may never come, abandoning Maribelle, and how many dangerous criminals have been unleashed on our city again so I can save one innocent.

  This will be the crime I’m remembered for in this lifetime.

  Seventy-Four

  Marnettes and Córdovas

  MARIBELLE

  I want to begin Luna’s end but I’m not sure where to start.

  My family has spent years fighting her, and it’s surreal to finally have her so vulnerable in front of me. This deserves more than instant arrows, no matter how much chaos is happening in these towers.

  “This is certainly a disappointing final chapter to my journey,” Luna says as she slowly sets herself down on the bed. There are blood smears around her lips and hand. “I have accomplished more in my life than most will in lifetimes, and yet I failed in my grandest ambitions. Time was not on my side, but dying now is more merciful than a slow death in this cell. I thank you both.”

  “You should’ve welcomed death after Brighton shot you,” I say.

  “Dying under the Cloaked Phantom would’ve been more poetic,” Luna says. “I’ll admit, I believed Brighton Rey would be the one to kill me with my own powers, to make this full circle. A Spell Walker and Halo Knight joining forces suffices too, if not a bit boring.” She turns to Tala. “Who exactly are you?”

  There is hate and heartbreak in Tala’s eyes as she finally comes face-to-face with the woman who ordered the murder of her parents. “Tala Castillo, Bronze Wing.”

  “Beautiful name, but I meant more
of why you’re here with your pretty crossbow.”

  “You killed my parents.”

  Luna studies her face. “I’m afraid I’ll need some more information. You Haloes haven’t exactly stayed out of my affairs over the years.”

  “The museum,” Tala says.

  “Ah, yes. Recent. That was a slaughter, though some of them fought bravely. We can pretend your parents were among them.” Luna turns to me. “The night of that gala was interesting. Upon losing your lover you cast fire and then burned my dear Anklin Prince alive. Neither Lestor nor Aurora Lucero possessed those abilities. Was this a latent power from generations ago?”

  She truly has no idea of our personal relation. “I’m only coming to understand more about my family since that night.”

  “Family secrets?”

  “Secrets kept to protect me from family—from you.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I’m the biological daughter of Sera and Bautista. They hid their pregnancy from you so that you couldn’t use my power the way you used Sera for hers.”

  Luna rises from the bed, closing the space between us. I don’t flinch. She’s already hurt me in the only ways she possibly can. Her green eyes stare at me in confusion, and she cocks her head. “This would be an odd lie. You said you’ve only come to discover this weeks ago?”

  “Word was passed on to me and I’ve been able to project myself through my bloodline and into the past to see Sera and Bautista. I saw how much they loved, how much they wanted to raise me. I felt her death as you slit her throat,” I say, pulling out the oblivion dagger and pressing it against her neck. “My entire life has been thrown off course because of you.”

  Unlike when I was retrocycling, I can’t feel Luna’s emotions anymore, though it’s clear she isn’t scared to have her life threatened. “You successfully retrocycled.”

  “You know about that?”

  “My parents—your great-grandparents—were professors. My mother studied phoenixes, my father hydras. A romance that developed over heated debates about the long-standing war between creatures. Growing up, my sister, Raine, and I were raised on stories of phoenixes and hydras. I brought a lot of this valuable information to Keon, but with the phoenix specters as a whole, retrocycling has seemed so beyond their capabilities when none of them could even resurrect as themselves. . . .” Luna steps away from the dagger, pacing the small span of her room. “But, my dear granddaughter, if you possess this power, then you may be the key I’ve needed all along to unlock treasured secrets buried in the past.”