Luna’s laced gloves begin to glow. The ghosts step back as she stalks toward them like a predator. The Marnettes move their mouths, but no words come out, just that awful howling that makes me feel painfully empty, like I’m starving for crumbs of happiness. Unlike June, Stanton and Dione look to be suffering from this agony too, but they hold on to the ropes, locking the Marnettes in as they try escaping. They pound on the force field like it’s a door someone will open for them, and Mr. Marnette even goes so far as to bang into it with his shoulder. Mrs. Marnette howls in Dione’s face. Dione closes her eyes, but there’s no shutting out that ghost song.

Heroes aren’t supposed to feel so easily defeated, but I’m damn near down for the count. I don’t have the heart for this life. I can throw fire but it’ll get deflected. I may as well be powerless.

Luna corners her father while Anklin follows her with the urn. She doesn’t even say anything to him as she grabs him by the throat, her gloves sparking as she presses his face into the urn. He isn’t sucked in easily, so Luna keeps pressing down on him as if her father is simply a pair of shoes she’s trying to fit into a full suitcase. Within a minute, her father’s ghost is gone, trapped in the urn, to be vanquished later. Mrs. Marnette’s ghost howls even louder as she falls to her knees. Luna circles her like a vulture and shoves her into the urn too. Anklin seals the urn and hands it over to Luna.

Her grin sends chills down my spine. “Kill them,” she says in the silence.

The force field vanishes when Stanton, June, and Dione drop the rope.

Me and Maribelle are the only active Spell Walkers, with Iris tending to Wesley and Atlas a couple feet away. This is it; this is not only how we fail everyone, but where we’re going to die. Where we’re going to be killed.

Stanton charges me, and I’m quick with a fire-dart, but it only stalls him for a second. He races forward, grabs my neck, and flings me through the air. My world spins as I soar across the cemetery until I slam into the ground and bang into another headstone. I’m fading in and out, fighting to keep my eyes open. Maribelle is locked in hand-to-hand combat with Stanton. They’re anticipating each other’s punches, but Stanton speeds up, surprising her with a kick to her chin. Dione runs at me, screaming as two extra arms punch out of her sides, and she leaps. I’m not quick enough to attack back, but Iris jumps over me and catches Dione in midair, slamming her to the ground.

“Get the urn,” Iris commands as one of Dione’s new fists clocks her in the chin.

I get up, fighting past all limping and dizziness. Luna is watching the chaos and doesn’t flinch when I approach her.

“You don’t have the fire I thought you would,” Luna says.

“I’ve come this far,” I say.

“This is where you’ll end, my little wonder.” She slides a dagger out of a sheath. The handle is made of bone and charred black, and the serrated blade is yellow. “You’re familiar with the infinity-ender, yes?” Anklin joins her side, and she hands him the blade. “I made the grave error of not stabbing Bautista in the heart when I killed him, my dear Anklin, so be sure to pierce Emil properly so we can end this bloodline once and for all.”

Luna walks off with the urn, and Anklin barrels into me before I can make a move. He pins his knee deep into my stomach and drives the blade down on me. I catch his wrist and try wrestling the weapon out of his hand. The phoenix cries within me, guiding my reflexes like never before, like its essence is aware that our fire might be snuffed out for good. Anklin gains control, and the tip of the blade kisses my heart, and I pray Brighton isn’t watching and has the common sense to get the hell out of here. I don’t want to kill this man, but I have to fight for my life. I’m sweating and shouting as I ignite fire, burning Anklin’s hands. Gold and gray flames crawl up his sleeves. He drops the blade beside me as he tries to extinguish the fire.

I don’t bother with him. I charge after Luna. I’m beat, but I’m still fast enough to catch up with her. I jump into the air and tackle her to the ground. The urn rolls out of her grip. I cast a fire-dart, aim, and the second before I throw it, Luna redirects my wrist and it shoots into a plaque. Luna punches me, her ring cutting into my cheek, and man, if I survive this, Ma is going to give me hell for fighting an elderly woman, no matter how corrupt she is. I clock Luna in the chin, but it’s not enough to lay her out, and I wonder how many times she’s been hit during her journey that she knows how to take a punch so well.

I shoulder roll and grab the urn, running back in the direction of the car. I dodge recovering acolytes, holding on to the urn for dear life, and damn, I could’ve been a boss at football. Stanton steps in my path with a bloody nose. Maribelle is aiming a wand at June. It’s a distraction, and she’s falling for it. Dione and Anklin pop up behind me as Luna approaches too.

“You come closer and I’ll pour everything out,” I say, trying to twist open the urn’s cap. They grin and laugh at me like they knew this would go down. “Fine, fine. Stay the hell back or I’ll burn it.”

They all calm down.

“Hand it over,” Luna says.

Phoenix song screeches higher and higher within me, and my arms are set ablaze, bigger than ever before—true wings of gray and gold flames. I shoot into the air right as Stanton lunges at me. My legs are dangling and what-the-what, I’m actually flying. Flying isn’t as weightless as I thought it would be, it’s more like the worst pull-ups of my life, but I can’t sink with this urn in my possession, so I work harder and harder to rise high as a tree.

“Get him down!” Luna shouts.

I shift my body, holding one fist ahead of me, and I soar through the air with the wind and fire roaring in my eyes. The urn is tight in my grasp, and I fly out of the cemetery, happiness overpowering fear for once.

Twenty-Seven

Fall

BRIGHTON

Emil is blazing like a comet, gray and gold flames streaking against the night.

I lose focus on filming as my brother flies away with my favorite power. How long has Emil known he could do this? Was he keeping it a secret so he could bust it out in some blazing moment of glory? Unlike him, I’m not running away from battle. He can go back to Nova and play it safe with Ness; I don’t care. But this fight doesn’t end just because he got the urn.

Maribelle and Iris are struggling to hold their own against Stanton, Dione, and Anklin.

There’s a wand on the ground, and I drop the camera. Stanton spots me and is confused long enough for Iris to punch him so hard he hurtles into a trio of beat-down acolytes. I scoop up the wand, which feels as heavy as a steel bat even though it’s only as long as a cutting knife. My fingers are tight around this weapon, and I’m as powerful as I’ve always felt.

This isn’t some video game. This is the real deal.

I hold the wand like I’ve seen so many heroes and enforcers do on YouTube.

I may only get one shot, so I choose the most important target.

I squint at Luna and flick the wand.

The ember-orange bolt misses Luna by inches and sets a tree ablaze. The force of the spell knocks me on my back, and my arm is shaking so hard, like an earthquake in my wrist, and I drop the wand. Luna stares at me with a cocked head, grins, and points at me. Acolytes are on top of me in moments, and I reach for the wand, but they’re dragging me away. I dig my nails into the ground, shouting for the Spell Walkers to help me, but I’m flipped around by Stanton, who hovers over me with his bruised face. He pins me down with his viselike grip and punches me between the eyes.