Infinity Son (Infinity Cycle #1)(26)

“But you’re not, and everyone is thanking all the stars for that one.”

I don’t know a damn thing about the history between Maribelle and Iris, but I would’ve expected the daughters of Spell Walkers to be there for each other during their time of grief. Not going to lie, it’s hard holding hope in a team with this kind of energy.

We drive up a hill and park in front of a two-story building where there’s a dangling sign for Nova Grace Elementary School for Celestials. I’ve long outgrown expecting the Spell Walkers’ hiding spot to be a floating structure, but I still expected it to have a little more style, like some astronomy skyscraper with all the latest tech. It’s all good; a school where celestials are able to practice their gleamcraft a little more freely is going to be its own sight to behold.

Everyone gets out of the car, and as I enter Nova, I truly feel like a character straight out of a fantasy book who discovers he’s special and is now going to attend a school to hone his powers. Except there’s nothing remarkably fantastical such as moving staircases or glowing wells to greet me. The hallway appears to be like any other school with a little celestial flair: posters on mindfulness when it comes to using gleamcraft in public, reminders on when to wear half capes, sign-up sheets for after-school training with savants, and more of that nature.

A young woman with brown skin and shoulder-length black hair runs out of the auditorium aiming a wand that glistens with the same rose quartz gems found in her necklace. “Password.”

Atlas turns to Maribelle. “You have it, right?”

“No, we were all in a rush to save Emil,” Maribelle says. She points at Iris. “Your girlfriend is in pain, Eva. You might want to get to work.”

“Password,” Eva says again as the tip of the wand glows. Her hand is shaking, and she doesn’t take her teary eyes off Iris. “Give me the password. Come on, this is serious.”

“Feather of fire,” Iris breathes as she sinks to her knees.

Eva throws down her wand and is immediately at Iris’s side, inspecting her wound.

“Maybe take them to their room?” Atlas asks.

“Good call,” Maribelle says before instructing us to follow her, but we continue to stare in wonder. “Trust me. You don’t want to stick around. Healing isn’t pretty.”

We keep peeking over our shoulders and can only make out Eva leaning over Iris with her hands pressed against the wound. As we head up the steps, screams echo through the hall. It reminds me of Ma’s cries when she learned Abuelita passed; I’ve never been able to get that out of my head. “Is Iris okay?”

“Iris will be,” Maribelle says.

“What was the holdup with the passwords?” Brighton asks.

“Precaution. We’ve been betrayed a couple of times.”

As we walk down the hall, Maribelle tells us the story of how their West Harlem haven was infiltrated because of a trio of celestials who were in their care. They were so paranoid about getting caught and detained that they signed up to become enforcers instead who were rewarded with high salaries and health insurance. To prove their loyalty, they exposed the haven. I don’t understand celestials who become bodyguards for politicians who are campaigning against their existence.

Maribelle leads us into a room decorated with star charts and posters of children’s songs about prime constellations. Brass planets hang from a steel track in the ceiling, slowly orbiting and casting dizzying lights and shadows in the small space until she switches it off. “Tight squeeze, but it’s the best we can offer.”

“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.”