by Adam Silvera
“No killing,” I remind everyone.
“No promises,” Maribelle says as she leads the way.
The house’s surroundings are hidden behind hedges. I peek through the front gate and notice a security guard with dark gray hair walking past a fountain; not going that way. Brighton dashes up the block, and we all keep to the shadows as we run after him. He returns with the good news that the south entrance doesn’t have any visible guard, so we rush there. Prudencia telekinetically pushes open the gate, slowing down when it creaks, and we all slide through before the doors close. The lights are off in the backyard, and I’m so nervous we’re going to set off sensors like I know some rich people have.
I freeze, as the same security guard from before rounds the corner. His eyes glow as he begins raising his hands, but Prudencia locks his arms at his side and clasps his jaw shut all in one move; all that time she spent practicing her power back at the cottage is already paying off. The guard struggles to break free, and Brighton dashes over and knocks him out with three punches.
“MVP so far,” Maribelle says, patting Prudencia’s shoulder.
Brighton removes the guard’s handcuffs from his belt and binds his arms behind his back in case he wakes up. We drag him behind a bush too, hoping this buys us even an extra minute if someone else is here.
Prudencia telekinetically opens the door and no alarm goes off. We’re all immediately in some sort of telepathic agreement to no longer speak as we step inside. We’re in a sunroom with blossoming plants and white wicker benches. I’m so nervous about this hardwood floor giving us away if someone else is here. Tala leads Maribelle and Prudencia through a dining room and away from us, and Prudencia and Brighton exchange a concerned look; I’m going to make sure they get back to each other.
I slowly make my way up the steps, and when one begins creaking I pull off my foot. We all skip it and find ourselves on the second floor with portraits outside an office. Brighton peeks inside and comes right back out. If this is one of those houses that has secret hideaways triggered by twisting some old high school trophy on a dusty shelf, we’re not going to have much luck tonight. The master bedroom and two bedrooms are empty, leaving one more room down the hall.
I open the door and find what has got to be Ness’s room. The green curtains are drawn, and he’s got this really interesting wall with black diamonds. He’s definitely alive, judging from the way this place has been lived in, with its empty glasses, potato chip wrappers, clothes thrown around. I always thought when someone I liked brought me home that they would actually be bringing me home—not dropping clues during a national debate for me to break in and rescue them. And not with my brother and some other guy who I’m catching feelings for at my side.
“He’s alive,” I whisper.
“And not in here,” Brighton says.
I can’t help myself as I go over to his bed. If Ness and I were normal, we could hang out here, play games, talk about books, keep getting to know each other. Maybe even throw back some kisses and fall asleep holding each other like I’ve gotten to do with Wyatt at the Sanctuary.
There’s a paperback about Sunstar on his pillow. I can’t believe we figured all of this out, all thanks to him giving me that one clue during the debate.
A phone rings from within our group, and Brighton quickly silences it with the guiltiest look on his face. “It’s Wesley calling,” he whispers.
Wyatt rolls his eyes. “Did you seriously not consider putting your phone on silent before breaking into a politician’s home? Quite frankly, I’d advise that for any future break-in of yours.”
“Shut up.”
“Is it too late for me to join the other team?” Wyatt asks.
“Bright, we’ll call Wesley back, but for now—”
There are footsteps, and for a second I dare to dream that it might be Ness, but when we all turn to the door, we see a bodyguard with glowing eyes and electricity crackling around his fists.
Fifty-Five
The Void
BRIGHTON
The bodyguard wastes no time hurling lightning at us.
I dash-tackle Emil and Wyatt out of harm’s way, and the desk behind us explodes. Celestials using their powers so aggressively for a candidate who hates them are among the dumbest people I know. From the floor, I throw a fire-bolt at the bodyguard and lay him out in the doorway.
I help up Emil while the bodyguard groans. “No point sneaking around anymore, so I’m going to run around the house. You two stay close.”
“Be careful,” Emil says.
I dash out of the room, feeling the bodyguard’s nose crunch under my foot, and I pay no mind to his anguished cries as I go up the next flight of steps and toward the attic. The door is locked—this could be where Ma is being held. I blow it open with a fire-bolt. No one is in here. It’s a massive attic that I would’ve loved for a bedroom if I’d been wealthy enough to grow up in a house like this, but the space only has a camera on a tripod, chairs, and a desk. Maybe for the Silver Star Slayer interviews?
I go to the desk, hoping to find some proof of Emil’s big theory in case we can’t find our people. There’s definitely been campaign work happening up here, with some Iron-Bishop pamphlets, tax statements, and rally receipts. I open a binder and find transcripts of a couple anti-gleam videos that were released recently. Right as I’m about to close it, I notice some of the pages have edits in red.
These aren’t transcripts. They’re actual scripts.
Iron’s team must have Ness putting out propaganda too.
For the first time in my life, I’m truly terrified of Iron. If this is all true, then we’re up against someone more dangerous than Luna and the Blood Casters.
I hold the binder close, turning to find that security guard with dark hair I triple-decked outside. “That wasn’t personal. Neither is this.”
I charge a fire-bolt, but the guard is faster. Heavy winds blast from his palms and extinguish my flames as easily as breathing on birthday candles. I try dashing forward, but it’s like trying to run through a tornado, and I’m thrown off balance. His winds carry me to the attic’s ceiling, and I lose hold of the binder. The guard extends one palm to keep me pinned with his winds, and with his other hand he gestures like he’s squeezing something. I don’t understand what’s happening at first until I’m suddenly wheezing over and over—he’s dragging the oxygen out of me.
This can’t be the end.
There’s no way in hell this is how I’m going out. If I’m ever going to die in battle, it’s going to be epic and at the hands of a worthier opponent. Not some Dark Side Atlas literally sucking the life out of me. Except I can’t break out of this hold. I can’t believe some nobody is going to kill the Infinity Savior.
I can’t breathe, and even as my temperature drops hard and fast, practically sub-zero, I can’t help thinking that I’m going out just like Dad, fighting for air. I’m dizzy and feel weightless as I fall from the ceiling. The lack of oxygen must be getting to me because the world loses all color, and shifting lights and shadows transform everything like some old-school photo negatives. This must be it for me. I’m about to slam against the floor when instead I sink through it, falling back into Ness’s room, where Emil casts fire against that celestial from earlier, and the flames are blinding me. The sounds of winds follow me as I fall through the floor again, even though that Dark Nobody is still up in the attic and I’m somehow crashing through the kitchen. No, I’m not crashing—I’m phasing through this house—and I go through one more fall before slamming down on a tiled floor and suck in the biggest breath.
My ghost powers saved my life before I could die.
I have all three sets of powers the Reaper’s Blood promised, which makes me more than the Infinity Savior, I’m the—
“Brighton!”
Ma.
I turn, and there’s a massive black box inside a yellow gleam-shield. This is one of those lofty panic rooms. I can’t see Ma through the door’s window, but she ke
eps yelling that she’s inside. I hear Eva too. They’re actually alive. The Senator is going to burn for this. For now, I have to rescue them.
“I’m going to get you out!”
“There’s a button on the wall!” Eva shouts.
I find the keypad with the emergency button and the gleam-shield switches off.
Upstairs, there’s an explosion, followed by people shouting and glass shattering. I hope my side is winning so I have more time to free Ma and Eva. The door won’t pull open. These panic rooms were built to keep out celestials, but what about specters with ghost powers?
There’s no one in my life who can be my phasing instructor the way I have Emil for my phoenix powers and Wesley for swift-speed. I’m all I have—and all I am is more than everyone else. If anyone can go inside a room designed to keep people out, it’s me.
I focus on the panic and determination that must’ve awakened my power, and I think about making myself weightless again until the world loses color again and the sound of howling winds rages inside my head. I’m nervous that I might fall through the earth as I take my first step forward, but that’s not the worst of it. It’s difficult and freezing like walking through a cold, furious ocean and I’m suffocating like I’m drowning in it.
Once I’m inside, the lights and shadows readjust, and I try to catch my breath but my crying mother pulls me into the tightest hug. I’m not complaining.
“I’m sorry for everything, Ma.”
“Me too, my shining star, me too.”
She takes a good look at me, and I hate how underfed she looks.
“Who else is here?” Eva asks. She has bruises around her body.
These monsters who harmed them will meet their ends. Even if I have to possess them all one by one and walk them off skyscrapers.
“We’ve got enough backup,” I say. There’s no time to break down why Iris and Wesley aren’t with us. “This power is new, so hopefully I can make it work with all of us.”
I grab their hands, and Ma squeezes like she never wants to let me go again. We step toward the door and begin phasing through. It’s even harder, like I’m a tiny boat with two anchors thrown overboard, and I’m ready to quit when we break through to the other side. I’m the only one gasping for air, and Ma and Eva don’t seem affected in the slightest.
We go up the stairs and Ma is shaking the entire time.
It’s absolute chaos up here.
Maribelle is fighting a guard on the steps, and she balances herself on the handrail as she kicks him so hard that he tumbles down. Tala and Wyatt are in a dizzying fight with a woman who keeps teleporting in and out, and she always lands a hit on one of them. Emil is rounding the corners of various big furniture pieces as he shoots fire-darts and dodges more lightning attacks from the same celestial as before. And Prudencia is battling the silver-haired bodyguard with a grandfather clock suspended in the air between them; his winds are beginning to overwhelm her and she might get crushed.
“Start moving for the door,” I say.
“No, don’t leave us,” Ma says, holding on to me.
I phase my hand out of hers and rush over to Prudencia. The bodyguard is getting the edge over her until I dash into him so hard that he flies through the windows of the sunroom; he should’ve stayed down when we handcuffed him outside. Prudencia telekinetically slams the grandfather clock down, and the chimes are so distracting that Maribelle surprises the teleporter with a fire-arrow and knocks her out too.
“Pru, get my mom outside!”
I don’t even wait for her reaction before dashing toward Emil, skidding to a halt as the bodyguard attacks. I grab Emil and hope to every star that my power doesn’t fail me now. The lightning phases through us, exploding in white-hot sparks against the fireplace. While Emil is shocked, I hurl a fire-bolt straight into the celestial’s chest and he lands in the ruins of the grandfather clock.
“I saved Ma and Eva; let’s go!”
We yell for everyone to follow us out of the house. We run past a statue and get to the front gate, which Prudencia has pushed open with her power. The Haloes whistle for their phoenixes and Emil runs straight into Ma’s arms. There are sirens in the distance, so I give Emil and Ma three whole seconds before we have to keep it moving. It’s such a rush as we make it back to the car and peel away, Emil and I sitting with our mother’s arms wrapped around us and crying together.
We did it. The Reys of Light, the Infinity Kings—mostly me—saved our family.
Fifty-Six
Changing the Narrative
NESS
I hide my smile as we walk through the wrecked manor.
This home that has belonged to our family for generations has been turned upside down. The bodyguards tasked with watching the grounds have been beat and bloodied, and Jax and Zenon are scolding them in the destroyed sunroom. Roslyn is outside speaking with authorities and reporters, keeping them away from the manor while Luna, Dione, and June hide out in the attic just in case.
The Senator is looking pale, like he’s seen a ghost. His fists have been clenched since getting the news that his captives have been freed by the Infinity Kings, Maribelle, Prudencia, and a couple Halo Knights. Carolina and Eva are going to expose everything.
I wish I could’ve been here to greet Emil. But reuniting him with his mother is my big win tonight. It’s given me some of my soul back.
Bishop steps over the cracked TV and rests a hand on the Senator’s shoulder. “They’ll all be locked away in no time, Edward.”
“I know.”
The Senator storms into the sunroom and we follow him, my face disguised as the same white bodyguard from when we arrived at the university. The Senator is known for being charming, but even he’s not bothering to hide his absolute disdain at all the four guards who failed him tonight. “I entrusted you all with my home. I have stood by you even though my supporters have warned me of the ways celestials may betray me.” He doesn’t bother acknowledging Jax’s and Zenon’s undying loyalty.
“I’m sorry, sir,” says one of the guards with silver hair.
“Your apologies won’t save my reputation. Spinning this story in my favor will. Politics is steered by narratives. It will certainly make sense to the American people that after I dominated my celestial opponent in tonight’s debate, Spell Walkers would attempt an assassination. My support skyrocketed after losing my wife and son, though the outpour when they hear this news will be monumental. The voters will see that I’m doing something right if these vigilantes were willing to have me killed instead of see me rise to power.” The Senator walks in a circle around the guards. “Death is political, even the senseless ones.”
He snaps his fingers.
Jax’s eyes glow and he telekinetically breaks the necks of all four guards.
They all drop dead, and I turn away before their faces can haunt me. I try to reason with myself that anyone working for the Senator can’t be good, and that Carolina’s and Eva’s lives are worth more than theirs. But I know all too well that people with good hearts get caught up in wrong situations. Sometimes even grow up in them.
“Burn their bodies,” the Senator says. “We’ll pin that on those Infinity Kings.”
I’m sure Brighton has already burned people alive for unfollowing him on Instagram, but Emil isn’t a murderer. I can’t even picture him killing in self-defense.
“Drop the face,” the Senator says to me.
The gray light washes over me to my great relief; holding all these morphs tonight, especially Sunstar’s, has been weighing on me.
“It’s no coincidence that this break-in, Eduardo, comes on the heels of the first time we let you out in public.”
“I did what you asked of me,” I say.
“Not completely. You went off script at the end.”
“Going on about butterflies,” Bishop says.
“Fireflies,” the Senator corrects as he gets in my face. “Was that some sort of code for your allies?”
I shrug. “
Or maybe the Spell Walkers have been waiting for the moment to attack since you filmed me impersonating their healer and Emil and Brighton’s mother. Did you really think you were going to get away with that? Do you really think no one is going to notice that Sunstar was behaving differently and is now missing?”
“I believe all of this. This is a country full of easily fooled people,” the Senator says.
I wish his voters could hear the way he talks about them.
“Edward,” Luna calls from the top of the stairs. “I’d like a word.”
“I’m in the middle of something,” he says.
“You’re interrogating your son over something you already know the answer to,” Luna says. “Your time is better spent punishing him for his crime and testing his loyalty. Once and for all.”
This is it.
Luna is finally going to tell the Senator about Emil’s past lives.
In saving his mother’s life, I just ruined his.
Fifty-Seven
Ghostly
BRIGHTON
The Halo Knights haven’t been welcoming since we returned to the Sanctuary.
They’ve been following the news and know about us breaking into Iron’s home. They see that chief enforcers are expanding their hunt for us. I get that our spotlight has only grown brighter and brighter since I became the Infinity Savior. I don’t want anyone storming these sacred grounds either, especially since Ma deserves some peace after everything she’s been through. If there’s danger, we’ll handle it.
Wyatt and Tala agree to take first watch for any sign of trouble.
The kitchens are closed, so I risk pissing everyone off some more by sneaking in. Ma and Eva need a substantial meal after living off soda, soup, and crackers for two weeks. I cook an entire pot of bow-tie pasta and broccoli with lemon while checking in on social media. I have a flood of comments from celestials trying to cancel me and calling me a traitor to the cause for using my powers to not only seem above the law, but to attack a man of the law’s home. The Silver Star Slayer is calling us dangerous instead of heroic, as if he understands the physical and psychological abuse my mother suffered. There’s no telling what I’ll do to him if I find out he knew. Celestial politicians are condemning our behavior too without knowing the full story. People turn on their allies too quickly these days.
