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“Physically? All healed up, but exhausted. Emotionally? Relieved to be here and terrified that someone will drag me back to the manor or the Bounds at any moment. Psychologically? Destroyed over how a father could try to have his son killed and then greet his resurrection by using his powers for political gain.”
“He tried to kill you?”
“The Blackout,” Ness says, and explains everything to me about how Iron and Luna tag-teamed that terrorist attack to gain support and sympathy for the presidential campaign. “I’ve only ever been a pawn in their games. Someone to carry out missions and then sacrificed for the greater good.”
I already wanted more for Ness when I thought his father was just abusing his powers, but to discover that Iron tried to blow up his son? There are no words.
“You’re probably thinking it can’t get worse, right? Luna turned the Senator into a specter with shifting powers of his own.”
I don’t give a shooting star what anyone says; this insanity feels like it’s ripped out of some dystopian novel, and I’m scared I might be one of the heroes expected to save the world.
“Okay, that’s absolutely wild, but we can stop him. This is the power-binding potion from Bautista’s journal. You just mix a specter’s blood into a vial of the Starstifler and their powers won’t work anymore.”
“Knowing our luck, it won’t work.”
“I’ve seen it work. I sort of went back in time.”
“You did what?”
There’s so much to catch him up on, all the way back to the Crowned Dreamer battle where Brighton stole the Reaper’s Blood, but I focus on what brought us here to the New Ember Sanctuary—our temporary split from the Spell Walkers, discovering Maribelle and I could retrocycle, going through Bautista’s and Sera’s lives, learning about Luna being Maribelle’s mother, and bringing back the ingredients to the Starstifler.
Ness is staring in awe. “I’ve just been grounded in my bedroom and impersonating a bunch of people.”
“That’s definitely a lot.”
He begins pacing around the lab. “This makes sense. Luna was telling me about having a child, which was news to me and . . . I never thought it was Sera Córdova. Being the Senator’s son ranks high in awfulness, but so does being Luna’s granddaughter.”
“No offense, but Maribelle pretty much only went to the Bounds to kill Luna.”
“None taken. I hope she gives her the death she deserves.” He stops pacing in front of the cauldron. “So this can disempower the Senator.”
“And us,” I say. I turn off the cauldron and the Starstifler smells like nature, which my city nose appreciates. “It’s ready.”
I let it cool down while reflecting on everything that had to happen to get to this point. My powers had to manifest, no matter how much pain they’ve put me through ever since, and now I’ll be able to protect so many people by disempowering the Blood Casters, Iron, and any other specter. But no matter how much Prudencia and I tried cracking Sera’s codes, we owe so much to Wyatt and his theories that got all the retrocycling in motion. Part of me feels like he should be here with me now as I’m using the steel baster to fill up the first vial of Starstifler that’s existed in my lifetime.
“That doesn’t look very drinkable,” Ness says.
“That Blood Caster downed it.” I fill up six vials and hand him one. “You can too. Enjoy your freedom.”
Ness eyes the potion. “So I drop some of my blood into this and then my powers are gone?”
“Bound, but yeah.”
“I’m looking forward to drinking this once I’m positive the Senator is no longer a threat,” Ness says, setting the potion down on the counter. “Once he realizes that I wasn’t killed in the Bounds, he’ll come looking for me again. This time he won’t even have to be discreet about it since everyone knows I’m alive. The media can circulate my face while not knowing that he can change his.”
I don’t want to know what it’s like to be hunted down by an entire country at that scale.
“But if you drink it now he can’t ever force you to use your powers again.”
“Then what, Emil? Do I become some honorary Spell Walker? Or am I going to get kicked to the curb because I might not be worth the trouble I attract?”
“Where I go, you go.”
“But why? I barely know you, but you’re also the only person alive who I trust. Why are we going through such great lengths for each other?”
I lift my shirt, only high enough to show him the scar in my side from where he stabbed me. “You did this to save me and I believe you. Trust goes two ways.”
“But even that . . . killing you would’ve been more merciful. Instead I keep protecting your life and you keep protecting mine. Why are we doing this? Are we friends? Or are we more?”
