Infinity Son(57)

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.





Twenty-Eight


Hearts


EMIL

Minutes after taking flight I’m not strong enough to stay up, so I ground myself on a street far away from the cemetery. I don’t know if I’m having an easier time with powers than other specters would since my body was never fully human, but it’s still so much work, like how Wesley runs out of breath after minutes of speeding around or how Maribelle also feels weighed down when levitating.

Someone films me as I’m descending with my gold and gray wings of fire, and I jet around the corner when she asks for a picture. I go into an alley, dig through a dumpster, and fish out a Trader Joe’s paper bag to hide the urn. I don’t think I’m above the law as I melt a chain to steal a bike, but I can’t exactly get on the subway with trapped ghosts that our city’s greatest enemy needs to make herself indestructible.

I take off on the bike, the well-bagged urn hanging from the handlebars. No one is following me, and I stick to less traveled paths, turning a twenty-minute ride into an hour. I’m so banged up and drained, but when I pull in at Nova I’m ready to see everyone and hope that Wesley and Atlas are getting the healing attention they need. Eva, Prudencia, and Ma are waiting by the door.

“Password,” Eva says.

“Break Luna before we can’t,” I say, and we’re good.

I hug Ma and Prudencia, so surprised and grateful to be back in their arms.

“Why aren’t you with the others?” Eva asks.

“Turns out I can fly. They’re not back yet?”

“Should be any minute now.”

I show them the urn, which is depressing all over again. Luna was ready to bleed the ghosts of her parents so she could live forever. We have to find a way to free the Marnettes.