“We’ll take it,” Brighton says as he gazes out the window through a silver telescope.
“What’s the plan?” I ask. “Is Eva healing us too when she’s finished with Iris?”
Maribelle runs her hands through her dark hair and lets out a deep sigh before pulling out her phone. “Luckily for Eva, neither of you are in critical condition. She’s going to need a break.” Maribelle’s typing away while she heads for the door. “I need to keep digging online for that celestial girl, but I’ll send someone over with aspirin and snacks, and we can all circle back in a bit.”
Before I can ask for a game plan, she’s gone.
“Pretty cool setup,” Brighton says, inspecting more of the room. I’m sure that he’s itching to run around this building. “I wonder how long they’ve been hiding here.”
I sit on a rug shaped like a comet. “What do they want with me?”
Brighton joins me. “The Spell Walkers?”
“The Spell Walkers and the Blood Casters.”
“To join a side, I bet.”
When we were kids, we would draw ourselves in the power-proof vests Spell Walkers wear. In Brighton’s pictures, he was always flying from one mission to the next. In mine I was teleporting, but I wasn’t thinking about using the power to escape danger the way I do now. I dreamed of teleporting onto mountains and sleeping under the stars and sailing in the middle of nowhere with my family and preserving nests for phoenixes.
“I’ll never be a Blood Caster, but I don’t want to be a Spell Walker either,” I say with a crack in my voice. I’m exhausted and starving and scared. “And I don’t like the odds of hiding here as a rescue, since two of their havens have been exposed.”
“You heard Maribelle in the car—they’re learning from their mistakes,” Brighton says. “Someone would have to be self-destructive to charge into the spot where the Spell Walkers have home field advantage. We don’t even know about the other celestials here and what powers they’re packing. I wonder if we’ll get to meet them. . . .” He has this faraway look.
This isn’t how anyone should be living their lives. Hiding out in some school while being hunted down by enforcers and gangs. My panicked breaths increase, and a phoenix’s cry is roaring to life inside my head as I warm up. “I shouldn’t have these powers,” I say, shaking my head vigorously. “What’s to stop me from burning this place down?”
“I will,” Brighton says, grabbing my shoulder.
I can’t believe I tried running away alone.
Atlas pops in shortly after with bottles of water, protein bars, and a medical kit. I throw back aspirin while Brighton bandages my scraped arm.
The door opens, and I’m expecting Maribelle or Atlas again, but it’s Wesley. He’s a white dude about our age and height. He’s got strong curves, like a linebacker who takes no prisoners, and he’s rocking a football jersey that has the Spell Walker insignia—probably custom made but looks legit. In the poster Brighton has in our room, Wesley has a military buzz cut, but now his brown hair is grown out and pulled back into an absolutely hipster man bun that makes him even handsomer than I thought before.
“There you go!” Wesley says. He steps into the hallway and shouts, “They’re in here!” He smiles my way and reaches out a hand to shake, but Brighton pops up and beats me to it.
“Huge fan,” Brighton says. “I’ve lost count of how many times I watched that video where you ran up the plaza’s wall and stopped those jewel thieves.”
“That was supposed to be a personal shopping day,” Wesley says with a chuckle before returning his attention to me. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to back up my crew. I was on my way to Philadelphia to see my family, but I did manage to collect yours.”
Before I can say anything, Ma rushes in with Prudencia right behind her. After the ten thousand times it’s felt like my heart has fallen out of place today, I’m shocked at how good and secure it feels after seeing my people, like I’m not as fragile as I thought. Ma hugs me so hard that my entire body doubles down in pain, but I don’t care. She’s nonstop telling me how relieved she is that I’m alive without taking breaths.
“You came too?” Brighton asks Prudencia as he pulls her into a hug.
“I’m surprised you survived without me,” Prudencia says.
“But what about your aunt?” I ask.
“She’s someone else’s problem,” Prudencia says. “I’m here for you.”
I hug the hell out of her.
“You can’t run away like that, Emilio,” Ma says.
“I don’t belong at home,” I say. “Everyone thinks I’m a hero. What kind of hero puts his family’s life at risk? I had to get out of there and figure out why this is happening to me.”
“We are your home,” Ma says. “You belong with us.”
Brighton claps his hands. “Great. Now that everyone is here, we can figure out our next move. Iris has hinted at some deeper meaning behind Emil’s powers. Maybe this is some big chosen one destiny business where we can all help out.”
Ma shakes her head and squeezes my hand. “No. Brighton, you’re leaving for college tomorrow.”
“No I’m not! We can’t sweep Emil’s phoenix fire under the rug.”
“We also won’t run straight into the cross fire!” Ma’s face is red, and I don’t want her getting worked up like this.
There’s a hard knock on the door, and Iris lets herself in. She’s no longer in her power-proof vest. There’s a gaping hole in her shirt, but there’s only light scarring where her skin had been bubbling before. She greets Ma and Prudencia with a nod. “How’s everyone feeling?”
“We’re good!” Brighton says. “Good enough. You?”
“I’ll live, thanks to Eva,” Iris says. “Emil, it’s time to talk.”
“Talk about what?” Ma asks.
“How your son has powers he shouldn’t possess,” Iris says. She catches her breath. She’s not standing tall like she was when I met her. She’s battered and tired. I guess Eva can’t heal someone completely. “There have been a lot of moving pieces in this war, and we have theories and intel to support Emil shaping up to become a major player.”
“A soldier,” I say.
One stare says everything.
Fourteen
Infinity Son
EMIL
It’s time to connect the stars in my constellation.
Iris escorts us to what appears to be a brewing chamber converted into a boardroom. Steel cauldrons are stacked between two cabinets loaded with ingredients for potions. On a dry-erase board is my name in bright blue marker with arrows pointing to Brighton and my parents. The Spell Walkers have logged our social media accounts, colleges, my museum gig, and Brighton’s YouTube channel. Maribelle is seated at a glossy crescent table and flipping through the pages of a massive textbook. On the other end, Eva looks hungover as she finishes chugging a gallon of water before offering a quick wave. Atlas is typing away at a laptop with the speed of a hacker while Wesley watches on.