by Adam Silvera
“You have so many notifications,” Prudencia says.
“Day in the life,” I say, sitting up to kiss her, but she stops me.
“Brighton, this looks serious.”
I should’ve melted the damn phone when I had the chance. I take it from her and see everyone’s tagging me across all platforms. Everything is linking me to some new rant from the Silver Star Slayer. I can’t wait to see which conspiracy theory about me has everyone so riled up that it’s cut into time better spent having sex with Prudencia. The video title pisses me off: True Allies of New York.
I press play, and Prudencia and I are shocked to see the Silver Star Slayer sitting beside Eva. Prudencia immediately wants to check in with Iris, but we watch first. So Eva is being detained by enforcers. Does this mean Ma is too? I’m so tempted to skip ahead. Eva doesn’t share any of the big secrets revealed among the Spell Walkers, but she’s clearly beaten down by the weight of everything. Donating her blood sounds worthwhile, though I’m sure the government will be more interested in using it to heal their enforcers and military instead of actually researching it for everyday citizens. The interview ends and transitions straight to the next.
Ma is alive. She’s actually alive, like I’ve been saying this entire time! A rush shoots through me like when I drank the Reaper’s Blood, but just like when the elixir started turning on me, I crash really hard. Why is she with the Silver Star Slayer? She explains that she’s being detained too, though I hate that she’s cooperating with him.
The Silver Star Slayer finishes his rant about how the government is on our side; then he glares at Ma. “One last question. If you could send a message to your sons right now, what would you tell them?”
Ma looks so exhausted as she takes a deep breath. “Don’t be so high and mighty, and don’t get yourselves killed using powers you shouldn’t have. You’re all I have left.”
There goes those words again. High and mighty. Even after our last argument, this is what she decides to put out there. She may as well have just directly said how much I’ve disappointed her by drinking the Reaper’s Blood.
As for the Silver Star Slayer, he’s on my damn list of people who have horrible, burning hot things coming their way.
“This is great news,” Prudencia says.
“It’s a great start, but we have no idea where Ma and Eva are.”
“I’ll call Iris. Maybe she’ll have some ideas on where to begin the search.”
I fix myself up as I head for the door. “I’ll find Emil.”
I open the door and dash down the hall, bursting with so much power and life because our mother is alive. This is my most personal opportunity to show the world why I’m called the Infinity Savior—and why you don’t mess with my family.
Fifty-One
Sunrise
EMIL
I’ve had some chill mornings here at the Sanctuary, but this one is the best. Wyatt’s arms are wrapped around me, his body pressed against mine inside this sleeping bag. Sunlight and phoenix song are slowly filling the library. I’d definitely want some of my ashes dropped here.
I’m telling Wyatt more about my family, using the last ten percent of my phone’s battery to show him some memories from my camera’s album. There’s a photo of Ma hugging me and Brighton on the day we graduated, and Bright is holding a framed picture of all of us plus Dad.
“Brighton wanted to create one of those infinity series where you take a picture with the last one you took. The next one would’ve been after we graduated from college. Then landing jobs we love. Meeting people we love.” I’m pretty sure I’m not in love with Wyatt, though it’s possible my head is just going up against my heart right now, but I know for a damn fact that I’m straight blushing because talking about love with someone whose arms are wrapped around you feels big. “The ultimate plan was to have some huge family picture with my and Brighton’s partners and kids.”
“That’s bloody sweet. You can still do this,” Wyatt says.
“It feels like we would be jinxing ourselves by doing it without Ma. Like every time we take a picture we’re guaranteeing someone photographed won’t be around next time.”
“Rubbish, love. Keep finding time for your life as if you don’t have a lot of it left, but don’t forget that you’re fighting for your future too. Make sure you’re setting yourself up for greatness—becoming a Halo Knight, infinity pictures with your families, bonding with a phoenix. Perhaps including your phoenix in your family pictures and your phoenix’s family and the families of your phoenix’s family and the—”
I flip around and shut up a smiling Wyatt with a kiss. He slides his fingers through the collar of the shirt I borrowed from him last night, trailing my collarbone. Our bodies are reacting in some super-solid ways, especially since we didn’t have sex last night because I didn’t feel up to it. I think I’ve got some work to do on myself before I’m ready to take off all my clothes in front of another person, especially someone who’s put so much work into his own body. Nothing wrong with making out though; I can tell I’m really getting the hang of it by the way Wyatt moans into my mouth.
The library door slams open so suddenly that I gasp. Memories trigger of the enforcers busting into Nova, and I’m scared that they’ve found us again. I try crawling out of the sleeping bag, but it’s tough as Wyatt tries doing the same, and then Brighton rounds the corner and his eyes widen; I think I would’ve preferred enforcers.
“Whoa!” Brighton turns around. “Sorry.”
“Bright, go!”
“Bro, no! Get dressed. There’s something you need to see.”
“Fine, wait out on the balcony!”
Brighton listens, and I find my way out of the sleeping bag. I put on my pants, damp from the river, and tell Wyatt to stay put. I meet Brighton on the balcony, one hundred percent unable to look at him.
“Now I know why you never came back to the room,” Brighton says.
“We didn’t do anything,” I say.
“There’s no need to lie—”
“I know, which is why I’m not.”
“We’ll circle back to this later. More important matters anyway. Ma’s alive.”
All embarrassment forgotten, I turn to Brighton with tears already forming in my eyes. “For real?”
Brighton hands me his phone with a video loaded. I’m nervous that it’s going to be something horrible, like when Stanton beat up Brighton on camera, but it’s an interview that starts off with that Silver Star Slayer creep and Eva. I watch the whole thing with the heat of the rising sun on my neck, and I’m so relieved Ma and Eva are alive, but there’s something off about this.
“Ma would’ve called us,” I say.
“They’re not letting her.”
“But she has rights.”
“These are people who treat us like terrorists. The only way enforcers are giving Ma a call is if they believe it’ll lead them to us.” Brighton is so pissed that he looks like he might hurl some fire-bolts into the sky. “This has got to be some political move to stir up more trouble before the election.”
“Why wouldn’t they use an actual news network?”
“Probably because using the Silver Star Slayer is a middle finger to me.”
Too many mind games. “What’s our move?”
“I’ll grab Prudencia, and we can all figure it out together. I’ll be back in minutes, so you don’t have time for whatever it was you and your boyfriend were or weren’t doing,” Brighton says, and dashes away.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say to no one.
But I’m not against it.
A couple hours in the library and we haven’t come up with any leads.
Prudencia managed to get Iris on the phone right as she was on her way out with Wesley to hit the streets, even though there’s no guarantee Eva and Ma are even still in the city. Brighton has posted response videos online, running his mouth about the Silver Star Slayer and how Iron is messing with our heads and possibly harming our mo
ther. Strong words, but he’s not pulling any punches. Wyatt watched the interview once and confirmed our gut feelings that there’s nothing in that setting that we can use to determine where it was even filmed.
“I’m this close to knocking down Iron’s door and demanding to know where Ma is,” Brighton says.
“Don’t see how that will help with your image,” Wyatt says.
“I don’t care!” Brighton shouts.
The door opens, and Maribelle and Tala enter.
“This is the loudest library,” Maribelle says. “Do I want to know?”
“Big updates since you’ve been out,” Brighton says, and then fills them both in on everything that we know.
“It’s all happening,” Tala says, setting down a bag on the round table. “When it rains, it pours. We have the ingredients.”
I open the bag, laying out all the ingredients and admiring them like pieces to my new favorite puzzle. This is how we’ll create the Starstifler, a potion that has been hidden in time for decades, and we’ll change the fate of specters everywhere. I’ll bind my powers, I’ll work to become a Halo Knight, I’ll fight this war in a way that’s more me. For the first time since those gold and gray flames appeared, I actually believe there’s life beyond them.
Brighton stares at the ingredients too, but I don’t think he’s seeing what I’m seeing.
“It’s going to take three days to brew,” I say.
Prudencia packs up everything. “We better get started.”
“Enjoy that. I’m going to sleep,” Maribelle says.
“Same,” Tala says.
“Only wake me if we’ve tracked down literally anyone we’re looking for,” Maribelle adds.
I let them go, and Wyatt leads us to the on-site lab where he had prepared the Dayrose salve for me. The room is small, occupied by a Halo Knight who is using a poster on different alchemic elements to teach a child about brewing. We give them as much space as possible, setting up near two silver cauldrons. I run back for the journal and return just as Brighton and Prudencia finish rinsing the cauldrons. Wyatt goes into a cabinet and hands me a jar of crushed torch grains, a couple Dayrose roots, a vial of phoenix tears, and packets of a crowned elder’s soot.
“I’ll fetch the eggshell from one of the nests,” Wyatt says.
“Make sure it’s from a reborn phoenix, not a first-timer,” I say.
“On it, Hot Wings.” He winks as he leaves.
Brighton snickers. “England and Hot Wings here may have been on each other last night.”
I ignore him, crushing the blood-plumed basilisk’s dead skin as instructed in the journal. We slowly find a flow through our first potion, triple-checking every step to make sure we’re making good use of our limited ingredients. Prudencia sprinkles the soot and torch grains into the steaming cauldron, and telekinetically stirs while Brighton boils some phoenix tears with the ground-up basilisk skin.
“The end of specters is really beginning,” I say.
I’m a mix of pride and anxiety all weekend as we work on the Starstifler. There’s a schedule we’re supposed to stick to so that nothing goes wrong, but of course Brighton would rather train and enhance his “signature moves” instead of wake up in the middle of the night to check on the potion that will one day bind his powers. I don’t say it out loud, but I’d rather lose more sleep to see this through myself than risk Brighton sabotaging it.
By Monday, everything seems to be going smoothly, though spirits are still down since we haven’t gotten any concrete updates about Ma or Eva.
“Hosting a debate watch party in an hour,” Brighton says.
“Watching Sunstar demolish Iron will be a nice break,” Prudencia says.
“We should take a shot every time Iron lies.”
“We would die.”
“You might. Emil and I are the Infinity Kings.”
Brighton smiles and tries to get a fist bump out of me but I shake my head.
Prudencia and I sprinkle shavings from the phoenix eggshell into the potion and meet up with Brighton and Wyatt in the library. We gather around Brighton’s laptop, ready for Sunstar to show this country why she deserves to be the next president.
Fifty-Two
Eclipsing
NESS
Ask me anything about Nicolette Sunstar.
She was born in bright lights at the zenith of the Dazzling Compass constellation. She has a birthmark shaped like an hourglass above her left knee. She received her middle name, Penelope, from the aunt who first got her interested in justice. She loves traveling to cold climates, especially Alaska when the aurora borealis paints the sky. She’s the daughter to a marriage counselor and bookshop owner. She has always filled her home with the greenest of plants, which she nurtures without using her power. She met her husband during karaoke night in college and Ash Hyperion was drunkenly singing a love song. She begins her day making breakfast with their daughter, Proxima, usually blueberry pancakes, and preparing her for school.
She deserves to be the president of the United States.
For the past week, I’ve been reviewing all the materials given to me about her.
I’ve read the three-hundred-and-eighty-four-page paperback about her life, Our Country, Our Universe, twice. I’ve been glued to an internet-less tablet and watching over thirty hours of interviews and speeches. I’ve been given the debates too, which I’ve rewatched ten times because of how Sunstar embarrasses the Senator on national TV as she recounts all his failures.
But she’s going to lose this election because I’m going to lie to the country while looking like a carbon copy of her.
I’m in a limousine with the Senator, Bishop, and Roslyn in the back and Jax and Zenon up front. Dione is tailing us in a town car with Luna and June. Since leaving New York and arriving in Boston for the debate, I’ve been hoping that some natural catastrophe would swallow all of us into the pit of the earth so some of the country’s absolute worst can die already, but unfortunately it’s a lovely night.
We arrive at the host site of the debate, Doherty University. Even though the college has historically favored celestial rights, that might die tonight after I hit them with Sunstar’s new celestial supremacy stance. Attendees are filling the campus grounds as we drive to the rear of the building.
“Showtime,” the Senator says. “Get rid of your face, Eduardo.”
I glow gray and morph into a white bodyguard with pitch-black hair. I’m given shades so the media will have a harder time identifying me if any of them bother to investigate. This twenty feet between the car and the building is the first time I’ve been outside since being held at the manor. It’s impossible to enjoy the fresh air without feeling like I’m suffocating under the Senator’s control.
The young greeter escorts us to a green room, rambling to the Senator the entire time about what a big fan she is and how she’ll be applying for internships if he gets into office. The Senator claims he’s honored, but I know he can’t wait to be rid of her. Unlike Sunstar, who spends her time getting to know everyone in the community, the Senator mostly aligns himself with those in power; a young woman directing us to a room hardly fits that bill in his eyes.
“I’ll come and grab you in fifteen minutes,” she says.
“Much appreciated,” the Senator says, shaking her hand with both of his. The moment the door closes behind her, he turns to Zenon. “Status?”
Zenon’s eyes glow. “The person running surveillance in the camera room has no eyes on us.”
The Senator’s forced smile drops. “Fantastic. Roslyn, notify Luna. Zenon, locate Sunstar. Time is limited to execute the swap.”
Bishop looks pleased, as if all this corruption is some surprise party he’s been planning for ages.
Zenon continues vision-hopping. The Senator must be paying a fortune for this former soldier who survived in battle and led his squad to numerous victories because of his abilities to orient himself from the perspective of others in situations like this. “Sunstar
is in a room with her family and Senator Lu, though the senator appears to be on her way out . . . and she’s gone. Security is blocking the room number, but Lu has now passed the library. I would estimate twenty paces.”
“That will do,” the Senator says.
“Incoming,” Roslyn says while looking at her phone.
June and Dione appear out of nowhere. Jax looks as if he’d be ready to hurl her across the room if it weren’t for Roslyn’s warning.
The Senator stands tall, beaming with pride. “You all know your roles. Eduardo, you play yours wrong and Sunstar’s entire family will be killed. If I can’t be president, she won’t either.”
His ego will be the death of millions.
“Understood,” I say.
“I’m watching every move you make,” Zenon says.
“I said I understand.”
June is given instructions on how to find Sunstar before she holds on to me and Dione, and we disappear. As we all fade in and out of rooms, it feels like my body is coming apart every time, just like when June rescued me during the Blackout and then transported me to Luna. This trip is thankfully shorter, but still nauseating as all hell.
We appear inside Sunstar’s green room. They’re all holding hands as Sunstar leads them in prayer. Dione grows a third arm and grabs three wands from her belt and aims them at Sunstar, Ash, and Proxima. The family break into laughter at the end of their prayer, and then are stunned to find three uninvited guests in here with them.
“If anyone calls for security, you’re all dead,” Dione says.
Sunstar pushes her trembling twelve-year-old daughter behind her, and Proxima’s lips are quivering as she peeks around at us. She’s staring at us like we’re monsters, and she’s right. I’m just grateful she doesn’t see my actual face in this moment.
