Infinity Son (Infinity Cycle #1)(18)

The video is making serious numbers. Any outsider would assume Emil is extremely popular online and not someone with a near-dead Instagram with posts that never even get a thousand likes. I check out all of Emil’s social media accounts. His Twitter of two-hundred-plus followers who hang around for his random musings on video games, nonfiction, and phoenix activism has exploded into six thousand followers; in the same way I feel weird that hundreds of thousands people peripherally know who I am, I can only imagine how Emil will react when he wakes up to this. After staring at a GIF of Emil’s flaming fist, I switch over to Instagram, where his following has skyrocketed. Everyone is leaving comments on his latest photo that have nothing to do with his review of some graphic novel, like asking whether he’s flying solo or part of a squad.

This isn’t something he’s going to be able to keep to himself.

For all I know, Emil is near death, and still, I envy everything about my supernova superstar of a brother.





Nine


The Spell Walkers


MARIBELLE

I’m the most hated celestial alive today.

I’m holed up in my room at Nova Grace Elementary, which was once a low-income school for celestials and which we’ve taken over as a hidden haven for everyone we rescue. There are more people in this building who resent me than I can count, but they know better than to say it to my face as long as we’re giving them shelter. Everyone swears my parents are responsible for the Blackout, and even when I finally prove otherwise, the Lucero line will still be blamed for the recent surge of intolerance that marked many celestials as terrorists.

If the world doesn’t want to remember my parents as heroes, then maybe I’ll stop saving it.

I kill that thought.

When I was little, I was always threatening to run away every time I didn’t get my way, and Mama made me promise I would never make any decisions with rage in my heart. If I still wanted to leave whatever haven we were camping out in after I calmed down, she would help me pack my bags, kiss my forehead, and send me on my way.

Deep breaths bring me back to reality. I will continue to protect celestials because it’s how I honor my parents’ legacy best, even though it feels pointless on most days. Our movement isn’t ever going to be a big enough tide to wash out the world that’s so ready to set itself on fire. Especially under our team’s current leadership. But maybe we can take down Luna Marnette and her Blood Casters since the enforcers never seem to be knocking down their doors.

I’m in the zone on my laptop, reviewing security footage for the millionth time of everything that went down in the Nightlocke Conservatory nine months ago. The only camera in the room was aimed at the students and teachers visiting for their class trip, and on the screen, they’re all surrounding a massive bronze telescope. I continue scanning faces in the crowd for one particular girl, but when shards of glass begin raining from above, I brace myself and watch as Mama and Finola crash through the ceiling, my mother’s hands wrapped around Iris’s mother’s neck. Papa and Konrad arrive through the entrance, trying to pry their wives away from each other, but Finola breaks out of the grip with her powerhouse strength and sends all three of them into the air and collapsing around her.

There’s no point turning away as Finola pursues Mama. The memory is all burned into my head anyway: Mama slams Senator Iron’s son, Eduardo, to the floor, and she pulls out two ruby gem-grenades from inside her power-proof vest. Mama throws one gem-grenade high into the farthest corner of the room, and Papa jumps into flight and soars after it. Then Mama throws another over Finola’s head, and Finola and Konrad try to catch it.

Everyone fails.

The end begins with electric red lights flowing through the room like furious waves meeting in the middle, and with one last crash into the telescope, the conservatory becomes nothing but glass and blood and smoke and fire, all in the time it takes to inhale a single deep breath.

All that’s left standing is a girl peeking out from the smoke—big eyes, pale skin, tiny frame, and an eerie calmness about her despite the destruction. Then she turns away from the camera and sinks into smoke, vanishing like an illusion. Except I know she’s real. There are even message boards devoted to trying to figure out her identity. Is she responsible for the chaos? Was she a student whose power protected her? Does she have any information on what really happened? I need answers.

I could’ve prevented all of this if I trusted the dream of where I was underneath the stars and saying goodbye to Mama and Papa. I was used to my parents leaving to fight the good fight, but that morning when they were leaving to investigate a situation near the conservatory, I was unsettled and nervous and light-headed and thought about asking them to sit this one out, but I shrugged it off. That’s the last time I ignore my instincts.

There are three quick knocks at my door, and Atlas walks in.

“You decent? I got Wesley out here.”

“I’m good.”

Two words that are true, and two words that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Atlas comes over and kisses me on the top of my head as Wesley enters. They both reek and need showers. Atlas certainly isn’t helping the case when he kicks off his sneakers, but there’s something odd about how the smell of his sweaty socks brings me comfort. I’m transported back to our training sessions after the Blackout. I would be fine and focused for hours, but eventually I would snap over how much my life had changed. I would throw equipment because I was now an orphan. I would punch walls because Iris and I stopped being best friends. I would howl until Atlas could calm me down, bring me into bed where we would kick off our boots, and I would let him hold me.