Page 38 of Infinity Son (Infinity Cycle 1)

Brighton fixes his camera on me as Prudencia walks over to Iris, who’s lacing up her boots while Maribelle is in the other corner stretching.

There’s gear laid out for me. The gloves are deceptively heavy, with fabric woven around brass knuckles for that extra damage. I haven’t seen the others in elbow pads, but I throw them on because I want as much protection as possible; I’d put on a damn helmet right now if one was lying around. My long white undershirt is made from sun-dust, which feels like wool woven with feathers; it’s the same fire-resistant fabric the Halo Knights wear into battle. I pull on the power-proof Spell Walker vest—midnight blue with the gold constellation spray-painted across the chest.

“You look badass,” Brighton says.

The whole outfit is heavy, and even though I get to keep my jeans and sneakers, I don’t feel like me.

“Get dressed,” Iris says, with Prudencia by her side.

“What? I am.”

Iris points at Brighton and Prudencia. “They’re coming along for a trial run.”

“For real?” Brighton asks.

“You and Prudencia have to stick close. You’ll each be given daggers, and if this goes well, I’ll be training you on how to use gem-grenades for future protection. We leave in three minutes. Suit up fast.”

Brighton spins around, and I can tell he’s expecting to find Spell Walker gear like mine. He puts on a black power-proof vest that has definitely seen some action; a tear from a blade, singed edges from fire, and three holes crossing the stomach from spellwork. I hope whoever wore this before my brother is okay. Once Brighton and Prudencia are dressed, we go down the hall. The whole time, Brighton is filming me as I march to my death.

Ma is shaking by the entrance, and Eva takes Iris into her arms.

“I don’t want you to go,” Ma says.

“Me either,” I say. But I’m only going to get my freedom by serving as a Spell Walker.

“Take care of Emil,” Ma says.

“We’re his sidekicks. We will,” Brighton says.

“As his brother and his best friend. All of you come home to me.”

One group hug and we’re out the door and back in the car that brought me here. We’re on the road, and I can’t believe I’ve gotten myself into this.

Maybe this is how every hero feels before they go into battle.

Eighteen

Burnout

EMIL

On the morning of Dad’s funeral, I refused to get off the train when we reached our stop. Brighton had to hold open the doors while Ma pleaded with me to take her hand, to be the strength she needed to get thro

ugh the ceremony. Passengers saw that we were dressed in black and crying, but their sympathy and patience didn’t last long before people started shouting at me. They didn’t care that I wasn’t ready to face my father in a casket.

I don’t want to get out of this car and fight Orton.

“I’m not ready,” I say to Brighton and Prudencia, who are in the backseat with me.

“We’ll be there with you,” Brighton says.

Maribelle turns around from the driver’s seat. “You’ll be keeping your distance.”

“I don’t have the power to stop Orton,” I say. “I got lucky the first time.”

“We’ve got the element of surprise again,” Iris says. “And you have us too.” Iris’s powerhouse strength and Maribelle’s levitation and agility are a boost, for sure. “The objective isn’t to kill. We need to lay him out so we can question him on Luna’s advancements in alchemy.”

“But if you have to defend yourself, defend yourself,” Maribelle says. “If it’s kill or be killed, light him up.”

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