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Prudencia fakes the biggest gasp and clutches my wrist. “Aw, how was she? Was she amazing? I’m so happy for you!”
“No, don’t be happy, be jealous.”
“Did she make you feel like an Infinity Man?”
“You know I’ve always been excited to bring you home as more than a friend and you’re being a bully,” I say, turning away from her. Then I spin back against my control to find myself face-to-face with her and her glowing eyes. “That was hot.”
She’s about to kiss me when my bedroom door opens.
I’m expecting—hoping—it’ll be Ma because who else would possibly be in here. A stranger walks out of my room. He’s pale with shaggy brown hair, a torn white shirt, and eyes that look tired as if he was sleeping in my bed. This better not be some looter or superfan.
“Who are you?”
He answers with burning eyes and throws a white fire-orb at us.
We duck, and the fire-orb sails over our heads and explodes against the wall. I dash-tackle the specter into my bedroom.
“Why are you here?”
He head-butts me off of him and gets back to his feet. I dash again, this time shooting straight through him as if he isn’t there and crashing into my desk. He phased . . . one of the ghost powers that I don’t have. Then I realize the last specter I fought with white fire was Orton. He’s casting another fire-orb when my TV flies straight into him.
“He has knock-off Reaper’s Blood,” I say, remembering how Luna said she only experimented with the mixing of essences on some but saved the ultimate pure blood version for herself
I’m about to attack when the stranger vanishes from under the TV. I keep looking around, expecting him to pop up from behind me. This is my first real fight since getting my powers and I’m more than ready to make an example of this specter so the rest of the world will learn what happens when you cross me.
“Maybe he left,” Prudencia says, looking out the window.
We go into the living room.
“I’m guessing Luna sent him in case we came home.”
“He’s probably on his way back to Luna.”
I hear clicking coming from the kitchen. I gesture for Prudencia to be quiet as we creep up to find the specter standing over the oven with a fire-orb. My eyes widen as I grab Prudencia and dash through the living room right as there’s a thunderous explosion and storm of fire blasting out of the kitchen. Dark smoke fills the apartment immediately as the fire alarm goes off. Another explosion rockets from the apartment beneath us, and another, and another—the specter is taking us down with this entire building.
“Are you okay?” Prudencia asks.
I’m in shock as I turn to find the fire spreading toward us as if this home isn’t sacred to my family. Even if we had the money to start over after Dad died we never wanted to leave because this is where he and Ma raised us. But now all our furniture and pictures are being swallowed up by flames.
I should’ve been faster to kill that specter.
“Brighton!” Prudencia shakes me. “We have to go.” She grabs my hand, leading me toward the fire escape.
“Wait. My neighbors . . . I’ve got to make sure they all get out.”
She looks torn, but nods. “Where do we start?”
“You open every door and I’ll run into every apartment. But you get out of here as soon as you’re done.”
The sprinklers have been activated already and the wet floor is shaking beneath us. It might cave in if we’re not fast enough. Prudencia telekinetically slams open every apartment’s front door before moving to the next level, working her way down. Residents are already filling the halls and I’m trying hard not to slip as I dash in, shouting for everyone to evacuate. My lungs are sucking in this bad air, but I have to keep moving. So many lives are at stake. By the time I’ve reached the second floor, Prudencia is losing time as sh
e helps an elderly woman down the stairs. I bang on the few doors that haven’t been opened yet, relieved when the residents come out.
“You’ve been on the news,” one man says.
“You need to leave,” I say, dashing to the ground level to find every apartment cleared right as Prudencia vacates with the woman.
I breathe in fresh air, holding Prudencia’s hand as we cross the street to join the rest of my neighbors. We’re all watching flames eat up our building—our home. I stare at the huge hole in the wall where my kitchen used to be, and tear up.
