by Adam Silvera
We’re too young to be thinking about this. But my parents died without me ever knowing what they wanted. Not that they had bodies to bury, ashes to spread.
“Noted,” I say. “Same for me, I guess.”
Maybe we’ll die together, sooner or later, and our ashes can be thrown into the same winds.
Someone’s watching us, I can feel it thrumming through me like the sixth sense that aids me in battle. I look up and there’s a girl in acolyte gear standing at the dock. When she sees me, she runs.
“Mari, wait!”
I get a running head start and jump into the air, gliding straight into her. I flip her over and see she’s small with long blond hair. Her big eyes are frightened as I pin her down, my forearm against her throat. “When I let you breathe you need to tell me where Luna is. Understand?”
The girl sucks in a deep breath. “I don’t know where she is. Luna is always moving around, and I go where I’m told. I snuck out of housing to see if my sister died in the attack.”
“Your sister?” Atlas asks.
“I followed in her footsteps and devoted my life to Luna so we could one day be given powers. But she didn’t return tonight, and . . .”
“Ease up, Mari,” Atlas says. “She’s a kid who doesn’t know better.”
I get off her and cross my arms. “What’s your name?”
“Hope.”
“Okay, Hope. I’m Atlas. Do you know anything about the mission? Why Luna wanted the hydra?”
“Not really, but she’s working us all double time to intercept that hydra from the traffickers. Since we failed here, all of the Blood Casters will have to bust into the Apollo Arena’s cage match tomorrow night to retrieve the hydra before it gets harmed.”
“Does that include a celestial girl who is untouchable?” I ask.
She tenses. “Yes.”
“Who is she?”
The acolyte looks around like someone might snipe her if she says another word. “I don’t know much, except that she’s an assassin named June who was contracted to kill the Spell Walkers. The ones before you.”
The Blackout.
I grab and shake her. “How did she pull it off? Was she working alone?”
“I don’t know! But Luna is very proud of her.”
“Anything else?” I ask.
Hope shakes her head. “Please take me in, I can’t go back,” she begs.
“Luna doesn’t even know who you are,” I say.
“We appreciate your help,” Atlas says, playing good celestial. “But we’re caught in the cross fire of this war, and if you truly want to escape the Blood Casters, your best bet is leaving town. Do you have any other family?”
Hope looks like she might cry.
I’m not dealing with her.
I walk to the edge of the dock and try to breathe. I shut my eyes and June’s face comes into the darkness.
She killed my parents.
I’ll snuff out her light.
Twenty-Two
Cage Match
EMIL
“Tell your mother how that makes you feel,” Eva says during our morning therapy session.
Talking about the big family secret is difficult, but I don’t want to keep shutting her out. “I can’t trust you,” I say to Ma with my eyes to the floor. “I mean, I trust you, but I feel stupid for doing so now. I know you love me and that you wanted the best for me, I get that. I always felt safe around you and Dad.”
Ma nods. “Do you think you would’ve been okay with us telling you as a child?”
The thought has crossed my head a lot. I probably wouldn’t have known better. The same way I didn’t treat my sexuality like a big deal. But I can see myself spiraling growing up too, and questioning every little thing. Did Brighton get a bigger cookie? Why did Brighton get kissed first before bedtime? Would Ma and Dad have expected better grades if I shared their DNA?
“I don’t know,” I say.
Eva is about to ask another question when the door opens and Maribelle enters. “We’re having a session. Why doesn’t anyone respect therapy?”
“I figured out who killed my parents,” Maribelle says. She looks like she hasn’t slept all night. “Emil, I know you’re wanting to sit some fights out, but the Blood Casters are going to be out in full force tonight, and we need you. Bonus perk: if you play your cards right, you’ll be able to save a phoenix’s life before it’s ripped apart by a hydra.”
So much for this session.
I’m pulled into a meeting with the rest of the group where Maribelle and Atlas give us the full rundown of their trip to the dock. Iris is hesitant to trust the acolyte who passed along this information, but Atlas really vouched for the fear in the girl’s eyes. We’re thrown straight into training, and my stomach is absolutely uneasy once we take off for Apollo Arena.
Cage matches between creatures are barbaric, and we’ve got the entire crew walking straight into one. I’m not trying to watch some phoenix and hydra battle it out, I don’t have the heart for that, but I can’t sit this out. I’m going to make good use of these powers I’m not supposed to have; the gray sun won’t have died in vain.
We park our cars in front of this run-down boxing arena. People are being carded at the door and checked off a list. Maribelle is ready to bust in the front door to get her hands on the Blood Caster who played a role in her parents’ death, but Atlas convinces her to practice some discretion for the greater mission. Wesley dashes out of sight and returns a minute later.
“Two armed guards at the back entrance,” he says.
“Go disarm them,” Maribelle says.
“I give the orders,” Iris says. Wesley awaits instruction. “Go disarm them.”
We make our way to the back, fanning out so we don’t draw as much attention. I keep close to Brighton and Prudencia, wishing they’d remained at Nova. I stay away from Maribelle, whose fierceness is dark tonight. There’s a dagger hidden in her boot and gem-grenades in her shoulder pouch, and I don’t want to be around when she makes her move on June. We regroup behind the arena, where Wesley is lounging across the hood of a truck away from a group of unconscious guards.
Maribelle charges inside with Brighton closely following, his camera light exposing stains of blood and deep scratches along the floors and walls. It reeks of sweat and beer and wet fur. A thunderous roar echoes. I bet spellwork could explode back here and no one would notice.
We split up. Brighton and Prudencia head to the balcony so they can film discreetly. I remain on the lower level, which can’t be farther from my people, but Atlas assures me he’ll stay up in the shadows above to keep an eye on them. Iris and Wesley blend into the crowd while Maribelle patrols.
It’s a safe bet that tons of people here tonight have decorated their homes with creature heads. Maybe even hunted them personally as trophies to brag about. None of them give a damn that these creatures were ripped away from their families, carted over in darkness so they can be unleashed against their natural enemies. For entertainment.
Screw them all.
The ring is shaped like a diamond, with puddles of blood in the sand. There are sheds of serpent skin stretched across the ring, and man, I hope there isn’t a basilisk slithering around tonight. An announcer in an oversized hoodie signals that the match is about to start. Four people appear from the low entrance, all wearing armor and helmets, and they’re each carrying a chain and dragging the hydra. The golden-strand hydra is a ferocious beauty with flesh that’s beige like the tropical beaches of its home. Its eyes are yellow and orange with cracks of red like the sun. The hydra struggles, dragging its clawed feet, scratching the path to the cage.
A low phoenix screech that sounds like a piercing firework taking flight pulls everyone’s attention back to the entrance. The sun swallower’s ankles are chained, and its bright orange feathers are shedding as it flaps its wings wildly. Its red beak is sealed shut with iron, preventing it from breathing fire before it’s time. I want to lay into the two people as th
ey pull the phoenix into its cage and unlock the muzzle and chains with the press of a button.
The hydra and phoenix are left alone in the cage and freeze as they lock eyes. The hydra roars, and the phoenix screeches, and I don’t need to speak their language to know they’re both frightened and prepared to fight for their lives. The hydra lunges, and the phoenix circles above, breathing fire. The crowd cheers as the hydra gallops around the cage, skidding across the sand and banging into the cell. The hydra bounces off the wall and smacks the phoenix out of the air with a tail that’s as thick as a garden tree. Right before the hydra can stomp out its opponent, fire blasts into its underbelly; the phoenix missed the heart by inches. I’m shaking as the hydra howls in agony, rolling around in the sand even after the fire is put out.
“EMIL! EMIL!”
Iris points at someone in the front row—Stanton.
I want to back out. This is the first time I’ve seen him since the day everything changed. Stanton jumps over the barricade. Three security guards come for him, and Stanton bangs two of their heads together, kicking the third into the cage. If Stanton is here, the other Blood Casters might be too. There’s no sign of June. I don’t know if the shape-shifter is here. He could be the woman sitting next to me or the furious man behind me. Anyone. Atlas comes down from the sky and binds Stanton to the outside of the cell with his winds. The cage rattles, and the hydra screeches, banging from within.
June appears and phases through the cage. She unlocks the door from within, and a muscular girl with curly red hair and bright sleeves of flowery tattoos follows her in. Dione, the Blood Caster with hydra blood—and Eva’s former best friend.
I hop over the barricade and into the cage. I hurl fire-darts at Dione, but she ducks and weaves with bursts of swift-speed, and no matter how prepared I thought I was after hitting Wesley during training, I barely have enough time to brace myself before Dione uppercuts me. The hydra is running wild as my fire blooms around the cage, and right as it’s about to tackle Dione, June grips her and they become untouchable. The hydra scratches at Dione and June, like an animal to its reflection, and then gives up.
The cage door rattles as Iris fights Stanton. She bangs him into the bars over and over, and then she swings at him, which he narrowly dodges. If he hadn’t moved, there would’ve been a hole in his face, no doubt. Iris’s punch snaps the bars out of place, and the roaring hydra leaps at the broken barrier and squeezes itself out.
Pandemonium strikes.
Everyone who’s been cheering on the creatures’ deaths is now running for their lives. The hydra barrels through people in the stands with no sense of direction. I don’t want to save any of them, but I can’t let the hydra hurt anyone. This is how I’ll help prove the Spell Walkers are innocent. I chase the hydra, not sure how to stop it without hurting it, when a jet of light shocks the hydra.
A white boy with brown hair is at the top of the steps with a wand. I don’t recognize him, but he clearly knows who I am when he fires off three more shots my way before the wand loses charge. I catch up to him, and the boy kicks me into a chair before dashing the other way. The hydra is breathing, so I pop up and hurl fire-dart after fire-dart at the boy, doing my best not to knock out innocent people. I strike him in the shoulder, and he tumbles down the steps, taking others down with him. There’s a muted gray light within the pile of bodies—it’s the shape-shifter. I rush down, but I can’t figure out who he became. I grab an older man’s wrist and he’s straight terrified, but this might be some act. I spot a woman running off, and she’s massaging her shoulder . . . that’s him. I bullet for him but stop in my tracks when someone screams.
Dione is pinned underneath Maribelle’s foot, and her hand is no longer attached to her wrist. Blood pools out from her stub. Maribelle holds an explosive gem-grenade over Dione.
“Make yourself solid,” Maribelle says to June. “Or she won’t have a body to regrow.”
“Don’t kill her,” I say.
“They’re all going to have to die one day,” Maribelle says.
The fierceness in her eyes is burning as June approaches. The soft glow around June fades away, and Maribelle lunges. June swings a killer kick into Maribelle and snatches the gem-grenade. Before June can drop it, I blast her with fire-darts and she flies into the cage. The gem-grenade rolls out of her hand.
“Grab her!” Maribelle shouts.
I’m quick, and I grab June’s arms, holding them behind her back. This doesn’t feel right. Dione is bleeding out, and I’ve got June bound, but winning shouldn’t feel this sickening. It’s hard to believe we’re going to come off as the good guys in Brighton’s video.
Maribelle picks up her dagger and saunters toward June. “Start talking about the Blackout.” June isn’t reacting. Not even fighting to break free. “Nothing? Fine.”
I look away as Maribelle unleashes punch after punch.
“You . . . killed . . . my . . . parents!”
Maribelle swings back her dagger, and I let go of June. June fades, and Maribelle catches herself just before she drives the blade through my heart.
“What the hell did you do?”
“I can’t kill, I’m sorry!”
“You just had to hold on to her!”
“I’m sorry, I just . . .”
“She’s a Blood Caster, Emil! She’s not innocent! If June kills anyone from here on out, that’s on your conscience!” Maribelle throws the dagger, crouches, and runs her hands through her hair.
I’m shaking and catching my breath, and my face is warm like I’m sitting in front of a fireplace.
Iris drags Dione out of the cage, but not with her usual ease. The fight against Stanton must’ve worn her out. I’m guessing we’ll bring Dione back to Nova for some questioning.
Then Iris rubs her shoulder.
Son of a . . .
Up in the seats, acolytes are wheeling away the chained hydra.
I’m going to get the shape-shifter before he can keep tricking us. The real Iris and Atlas are recovering. I hurl fire-darts at the shape-shifter and accidentally light up some seats. In no time, the fire is spreading. I brave through the gray and gold flames. Iris is running behind me, and Atlas flies above. I shout for Atlas to get Brighton and Prudencia out of here. I can’t believe I’m out here giving instructions, but time is wasting. The higher I get up the steps, the more my rib cage aches. I throw a fire-dart and catch the shape-shifter in the leg. He falls down, taking Dione with him, but Stanton catches her. I grab the shape-shifter as June fades in.
“Leave him,” Stanton says.
The shape-shifter looks up at me with Iris’s eyes, and he’s too weak to fight. The real Iris hoists him over her shoulder.
“Looks like we got a win of our own,” Iris says.
The arena is fully catching fire now. The smoke is suffocating, but we all manage to break free with my light guiding the way. Out in the parking lot, I turn around, and the destruction is blinding—a mountain of gray and orange fire, the flames licking away at the dark sky. The sun swallower emerges and flies into the night. Its freedom reminds me how happy I am to watch this building turn into ashes.
Iris drops the shape-shifter to the ground and kneels beside him. “Tell us why Luna needed that hydra.”
“And where I can find June,” Maribelle adds.
A laugh sneaks past the shape-shifter’s groaning. “You’re insane if you think I would sell out Luna.” He props himself against a car door. “You can kick me around all you want, but that’s nothing compared to what Luna will do.”
“I’m happy to step outside my comfort zone,” Maribelle says. “Pick your poison.”
She was ready to kill one Blood Caster. The odds aren’t looking great for him.
“You’re bluffing.”
“You’re underestimating how much I want to punch that face you’re wearing.” Maribelle clocks the shape-shifter in the jaw, and he falls over. She turns to Iris.
Iris rolls her eyes. “Was that necessary
?”
“Better him than you,” Maribelle says.
The dull gray light spreads across the shape-shifter and washes away Iris’s features. His Spell Walker gear fades, and he’s left in nothing but sweatpants, sneakers, and a tank top that reveals the kind of toned arms the world has always told me I should have too. He’s about my age with light brown skin, dark eyebrows, and even darker hair that’s curly on top and shaved down on the sides.
I know his face. The entire country knows his face.
It’s Senator Iron’s son, Eduardo.
The one who died in the Blackout.
Twenty-Three
Interrogation
EMIL
We’re discreet when we return to Nova. It’s wild that Eduardo is somehow alive, but that’s got to stay a secret until we know what’s what. Iris carries him into an old supplies closet, and Maribelle locks him up. I try telling Maribelle that chaining his ankle to a busted radiator isn’t necessary, but she’s not having it. Everyone is grouped together out in the hallway, in desperate need of showers and sleep, but they keep peeking into the closet like Eduardo is the wildest celebrity sighting ever.
Iris crosses her arms. “We can’t fit the entire team in there.”
Maribelle already has one foot back in the closet. “Don’t even try to stop me.”
“It’ll only be the two of us,” Iris says.
“I should record,” Brighton says.
“We’re not documenting this,” Iris says.
Brighton squints. “Why not? Iron has built his campaign on public fear and the death of his son—who isn’t dead! This could be the final push to get Sunstar in office.”
I wonder how much Brighton is dreaming about the Pulitzer he could get from uncovering this story.
Iris doesn’t offer another word as she and Maribelle step in, closing the door behind them.
My brother is fuming. I rest my hand on his shoulder, knowing I got to be gentle about this. “It’s one thing to film me, Bright, but we can’t put Eduardo on blast like that. You should go edit the video or something.”
