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“She got away—they both got away!”
A spell narrowly misses her, and Maribelle turns to assess the danger. More enforcers trying to kill her. It’s clear she’s fed up when one eye glows like a sailing comet and the other burns like an eclipse. Dark yellow flames burst into life from her fists to her elbows, and she casts the fire toward the enforcers. She’s quick with a fire-arrow to the cauldron when Stanton, the basilisk specter, makes a move for the remaining elixir; all the Reaper’s Blood goes up in flames.
“Hurry!” Prudencia shouts at Iris. Her power isn’t trained enough to keep fending off all this spellwork, and more enforcers are arriving on the scene with fully charged wands.
Iris breaks the wall open with a mighty punch, creating a hole big enough for everyone to go through.
“Gravesend,” Emil says weakly.
“Gravesend is dead,” I say.
“Don’t leave her.”
Of course Emil cares about the corpse of a phoenix, like it really matters right now if someone takes Gravesend and makes a scarf out of her feathers. But as more spells fire our way, I take the lead and get Emil out of there. Iris sees me struggling and she carries Emil with ease straight into the back of her Jeep.
“Where’s Eva?” I ask. Eva is Iris’s girlfriend, and a powerful celestial in her own right. Emil needs her healing powers fast.
“Eva is Philadelphia-bound with your mother and others,” Iris says.
“I have a connection at the Lynx facility,” Wesley says from outside the door. “We should be able to get discreet care.”
Prudencia hops in the front passenger seat. “We need somewhere closer. He’s losing blood fast.”
Wesley racks his brain. “Aldebaran! There’s good people at Aldebaran.”
“Lead the way,” Iris says.
Wesley dashes ahead on foot and Iris hits the gas, peeling off. I look out the rearview window and see Maribelle is gliding behind. I don’t know when she’s planning on coming back for Atlas’s car, which we used to arrive here tonight, and I don’t care. Emil’s eyes are closing, and I slap him awake.
“Emil, come on. Bro, look at me.”
I was so busy using up each charge in the wand that I didn’t see Luna gut my brother with that infinity-ender. If I were my own wand, my own walking weapon, I would’ve had unlimited power to handle business. Blood rushes to my head seeing Emil in this state. He’s not going to die. This is not how this ends.
“I should’ve gotten here sooner.”
Prudencia turns from her front seat. “You should’ve never left Nova. We had no idea if you were even alive.”
“I was with Maribelle. She was cast out too.”
“No one kicked you out, Brighton.”
I look down at Emil.
Prudencia shakes her head. “You’re not actually blaming your brother while he’s bleeding. Be better than that.”
“But it’s true! He rejected me from joining the next mission. You too, Iris.”
Iris remains focused on the road, swerving around cars to keep up with Wesley. “Don’t come for me when I’m doing my damn best to save your brother’s life.”
“You should’ve taken the time to train me!”
“Too busy saving the rest of the city,” Iris says.
Life whizzes by out the window. People are on their porches and fire escapes staring up at the glorious Crowned Dreamer, even though authorities cautioned everyone to stay inside until it passed. Unlike basic constellations such as the Great Bear or the Hunter that only strengthen select powers, the Crowned Dreamer is a prime constellation that elevates all gleamcrafters, celestials, and specters alike. The media is making it sound like celestials are the problem tonight. It’s alchemists like Luna who need prime constellations like this one to turn people into specters.
“I promise you’re no longer superior to me,” I say.
“And I promise I’m not trying to win some pissing contest with you,” Iris says, steering left.
