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Brighton is watching TV on this cart that someone must have brought in for him. “Good timing. We made the news,” he says.
I stand by him and watch.
Senator Iron’s pick for vice president, General Bishop, is on site at the Alpha Church of New Life. His tie is loose, and his sleeves are rolled up, revealing the dark green arrow tattoos on his pale skin. He keeps trying to remind the public that he is one of them, that he’s gotten his hands dirty. People overlook that General Bishop was never working-class. His family lived luxuriously from all the riches his grandfather made by creating the Bounds.
“Am I surprised we’re here again?” General Bishop says to all the reporters. “Of course not. These gleam gangs only care about winning their war, not the well-being of your neighbors, your homes. These young acolytes, all aspiring to become specters, were slaughtered in this church last night. Let that sentence sit with you. . . . Is no life, is no place, sacred to these Spell Walkers?” His expression is furious, leaning into the tough-guy persona their supporters are cheering on. “It may not have been your child killed last night, but what’s to stop them from being seduced by power and ending up dead?”
Brighton looks down.
I turn off the TV.
“If there’s a bright side to all of this,” Brighton says, “I probably won’t be alive to see Iron and Bishop win this election.”
He’s right. Senator Iron and General Bishop will most likely take the White House. If they’re going to do everything in their power to take away ours, I’m going to make sure I don’t go down alone.
I’m dragging June into the grave with me.
I dig my thumb into my palm for the first time in months. It’s a technique Atlas passed on to me, one he taught himself after his parents were convicted for using their powers to rob a bank and sent to the San Diego Bounds. If I press my thumb into my palm, I’ll feel how real I am. It worked even when I was in the haze of grief from losing my parents.
“You would’ve been a great partner,” I say, taking a seat. “The Casters weren’t ready for the storm we were about to unleash on them.”
“Nice to know someone believed in me,” he says.
“That didn’t work out in your favor.”
“You gave me a chance. Emil, Prudencia, Ma, and the others didn’t.”
“Maybe not, but love gets in the way.”
“I’m not sure how much they love me,” Brighton says. “I said some really horrible things to Emil and Ma, and Prudencia hasn’t visited me once.”
“Prudencia cares. I see right through her act,” I say. It’s not my business. But Prudencia protecting her heart so Brighton can’t be used against her the way Atlas was killed because of me seems pointless. Brighton is already dying.
He tries to sit up. “What do you mean? I—”
Spellwork thunders outside, and I rush to the window to see what’s going on. There are a couple vans and four motorcycles blocking the entrance. I identify acolytes by their gray jumpsuits. They’re battling the hospital’s security guards, both sides firing spells out of their wands. It’s hard to make out any faces from the fourteenth floor, but there’s no mistaking the six-armed girl holding her own wands—Dione. If one Blood Caster is here, the others can’t be far off.
“What’s going on?” Brighton asks.
“Blood Casters,” I say. “Go find cover.”
I hit the gray button that opens the shuttered panel in the domed ceiling, designed to allow celestials to accelerate their healing by sleeping under the night sky. I need to get outside faster, so once the clearing is open wide enough, I levitate to the edge, slide down the side of the dome, and dive off the building. Wind roars in my ears as I keep my hands to my sides, and I must look like a missile. When I’m near the ground, I activate my power, thrust backward a few feet, and glide down in a circle. I drop into the parking lot, and when my psychic sense signals that there’s danger, I dive behind a car, catching myself in the air so I don’t slam on the concrete. More spells are being shot into the car, and I move away before it can explode and take me with it.
The front doors open and Iris and Wesley run out alongside three more security guards. Even though it’s clear that the acolytes are directly across from them, they keep looking around. Iris points—Eva and Ruth are here, and they’re helping Carolina out of a green van. None of them have the offensive powers needed to take on the acolytes. Iris yells at them to stay inside the car, but they don’t seem to hear her. She runs across the path as spells crash into her, simply slowing her down, until Dione charges across the lot and tackles her.
Acolytes fire spells at the green van as it begins to drive my way. Ruth is in the driver’s seat, but another Ruth is also still helping Eva and Carolina. It’s unclear which one is the clone until the one on foot vanishes in a purple glow. Four acolytes hop on their motorcycles and chase after the van. I knock down one acolyte with a fire-arrow before he gets too far, but everyone else vanishes from sight as they go out of the exit. Wind blasts past me; it’s Wesley chasing after them to protect his girlfriend, maybe even their daughter if Ruth brought Esther along.
I run for Atlas’s car, knowing my skin can’t resist the spells like Iris’s can. I grab my power-proof vest from the front seat and put it on, quickly like my parents trained me, and I grab the oblivion dagger.
I jump and glide into the battle, hurling fire-arrows at the acolytes. I land behind Dione, and before she can hammer Iris with her six fists, I slice her back with the dagger. Dione screams, whirls around, and punches me four times. Spit flies out of my mouth, and she snatches the dagger from me. Dione hooks one arm around my head, flips me over her shoulder, and slams me on my back. She hovers over me, pinning down my arms with two of hers and twirling the oblivion dagger with another. I try kicking at her head, but a fourth arm catches my foot. She drives the dagger down toward my throat, but Iris’s hand slides underneath, and the bone blade goes through her palm, her glistening blood spilling onto me. Iris punches Dione in the face with her other hand, and I can hear bones cracking as Dione flies backward.
Iris bites down on her lip as she slowly pulls the oblivion dagger out of her hand, the bone clattering as she drops it to the ground. We take cover behind a pillar. Iris examining the blood gushing out of the hole in her hand reminds me of when we were children in the park and she jumped on my back so she could experience what it was like to levitate. We ran toward the edge of the staircase and I carried us into the air, but I couldn’t hold her for very long. We fell, and she landed on a pile of broken glass that pierced her skin. At least Iris isn’t crying this time.
“Fly after Eva—she’s with Carolina, Ruth, and Esther.”
“Ruth drove off,” I say.
We peek around the pillar to see Eva and Carolina being pursued by acolytes.
