Page 70 of Infinity Son (Infinity Cycle 1)

Every time I get the sensation that I’m healing, my pain doubles, then triples, and I bite down on my lip so hard I taste blood. I’m drenched in sweat as these flames eat me alive, and I’m praying to the night skies that I die right here, right now. Blood soaks up my sleeves and the bottom of my shirt, dripping down my legs and to the floor. I cry for help, knowing damn well no one here cares. I remind myself that Brighton is okay because I was brave enough to stand up for him, how I will always suffer for his safety.

Times passes, and the agony doesn’t go away.

The faintest phoenix song begs me to survive, but I’m tired of the music and wish someone would put out my fire for good.

Thirty-Four

Many Faces

NESS

I’m shaking hard in front of the mirror and I grip the sink with bloody hands.

Gray light bathes me, and I’m Peter McCall when he was thirteen. Brown eyes that feared me whenever we crossed paths, thin lips that quivered whenever I cornered him. He was so small that only half of his face reflects back at me now. He was the first celestial I bullied after my mother was killed, and he transferred schools after his parents caught him trying to take his own life. Gray light. Fourteen-year-old Harry Gardner. Black eye and missing teeth courtesy of my fists. He was the first celestial I attacked. I went home pissed because he hadn’t used his power on me, which would’ve gotten him locked up. Gray light. Fifteen-year-old Rhys Stone. Blue eyes, immaculate smile, bright future ahead of him. We never met personally, but there’s no forgetting the face of the celestial who was killed because of my convention speech, because of words the Senator wrote for me. Words I once believed.

Gray light after gray light, the many faces of people I’ve hurt go on and on. Some personally, others indirectly. Some alive, others dead. A few murdered by my own hand.

But there’s one that strikes hardest.

Gray light. Taller than me, hazel eyes, curlier hair, a face that I’ve never seen smile but hope I will. Emil Rey. Firefly. But I got him all wrong. He’s too clean, too perfect. He’s been ruined tonight—I ruined him.

I don’t want to, but I add the scars to my glamour and stare.

I will forever be haunted by the tears that filled his hazel eyes, the spit building over his lips, his cheeks flushing as he screamed for death, and his blood on my hands.

Gray light.

I’m me again. I wish I wasn’t.

Thirty-Five

Gala

EMIL

I’ve lost all track of time without windows. Sleeping while strung up by chains has been near impossible, but my body continues to shut down until acolytes wake me up for meals of crackers and dirty faucet water. I begged an acolyte for a chair at one point, and he laughed at me. Could’ve been Ness in disguise again, getting off on his winning mind games. The only mercy I was shown was an acolyte bandaging me, but I’m sure Luna didn’t want me to bleed out.

I’m fading when Stanton enters the room and pulls the chain from the ceiling, making me drop. Stanton drags me across the concrete halls, my bandages coming undone. He carries me up a flight of stairs to a loading dock where he hurls me into the back of a van. Everything is blurry as I fade in and out, but I can clearly see Ness looking unaffected among acolytes. Wands are aimed at me even though I haven’t been able to cast any fire. Ness is holding the infinity-ender, and the blade hasn’t been cleaned. No point wiping it down when I’ve got more blood to spill.

The ride is bumpy, but at least my legs, which have been so numb, finally get a chance to rest. I want to sleep too. I always prided myself on being able to nap in noisy a

uditoriums at school and drift away on the train, but now fear keeps me awake. Not because of all the weapons that’ll kill me if I make a wrong move, but because of where I’m being taken to and why I’m more useful to Luna alive than dead.

The van stops, and I breathe in the fresh air, feeling pulses of strength under the Crowned Dreamer, so close to its final form in the night sky. I recognize the parking lot of the Museum of Natural Creatures immediately. I wish Kirk weren’t so stubborn and would cancel the entire thing, but maybe the Halo Knights will be enough to combat the Blood Casters and protect Gravesend. June phases through the back door and opens it from the inside, welcoming everyone in. I’ve never been through this hallway, but June leads the way with confidence. Smart money is on June having spent time in the museum, unseen and unheard, studying the ins and outs to become a walking map. I can’t believe I’m back, and I don’t know why, but I’m curious how long Kirk will wait until he updates the Sunroom to reflect my history as the gray sun specter who accomplished nothing but misery for his family.

There’s a flicker of hope. The Spell Walkers know the Blood Casters will be making a move on Gravesend’s egg, and I’m counting on them being here. Every corner we turn, I fantasize about Atlas popping out and pinning everyone down with his winds long enough for Wesley to zoom in and carry me to safety. Eva will have to go through hell if she wants to heal me, which pains me on a whole other level.

We lose some acolytes before we enter the staircase, where a lovely phoenix melody can be heard coming from the gala. Right as I think we’re heading up to the Sunroom, praying to every damn star in the sky that the Spell Walkers are fully united and in place to protect Gravesend and rescue me, we all go downstairs. The lights in the Hydra House are off for the night, and we approach a see-through vault that’s heavily guarded by five people.

Halo Knights.

The fiercest warriors are here to protect Gravesend. They’ll consider me a traitor for possessing phoenix powers, but it’s all good as long as they can stop the Blood Casters. They’re dressed in their clay masks with golden beaks, and sun-dust armor with feathered sleeves that are midnight blue and scarlet. Two are wielding iron crossbows while others are carrying axes and swords.

“Strike, my children,” Luna says.

June sinks through the floor while Stanton and Dione charge, using their advanced reflexes to dodge arrows with flips and slides. Ness squeezes my arm, like I have any chance of making a run for it. Dione snatches the ax and spins it into the gut of a man. Right as she swings at another, a short Halo with long dark hair jumps through the air with such epic distance that she could be flying and slices her bronze blade across Dione’s neck. Ness’s grip tightens, and I fight back every impulse to throw up, but my throat stings as Dione’s head rolls off her shoulders and her body crumples like an abandoned marionette.

The four Haloes pile on Stanton, and I relive my own pain as they cut him with their blades. Then June reappears and steps inside the body of a muscular knight with dark hair, using his sword to stab two of them in the back before the last catches on. It’s one thing to hear about possession, but a much greater horror to see it in action.

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