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I swing the duffel bag onto my shoulder and pass the waiting area that’s closest to Brighton’s room, where he’s still unconscious. Iris is asleep on a bench, and Emil is resting his head on Prudencia’s shoulder. I’m not losing sleep over this, but Emil looking so broken does manage to stop me in my tracks. My parents and Atlas were killed. But Emil has to watch his brother waste away, so soon after going through the same thing with his father, and stars know what the Casters have done with his mother. Grieving before someone is dead is its own beast.
I make my way for the exit, planning on driving back into the city to hunt down any Brew dealers. Threatening to burn them alive, much like celestials have been punished for generations, should get them talking about where they get their supplies.
The doors open before I can reach them, but no one comes in. I stop, and even though my psychic sense isn’t alerting me to any danger, I don’t have a good feeling about this. Then I hear quiet footsteps—whoever is near me certainly has a light step, but Papa personally trained me to have a good ear. I pretend like I’m unaware, and as they pass me, I strike. My fist connects with someone’s forearm. The last time I fought someone invisible was with Atlas, and he had exposed them by creating a windstorm that swept all sorts of trash through the air, and a newspaper pressed against the celestial’s face. I’m all I have.
“Stop!” the invisible intruder—an older woman, I believe—says.
We’ve been found out again, because apparently we can’t trust anyone, not even a facility that is staffed by celestials who have been outspoken against Senator Iron. This invisible celestial has probably been hired to assassinate Brighton. I feel all the more validated about quitting the Spell Walkers; I’m tired of working so hard to save people who have no problem turning on us for money, favors, revenge.
“Prudencia, help!” I shout down the hall.
I back myself against the wall so the intruder can’t sneak behind me and I jump into a scissor kick but I don’t hit her. She tells me to stop again, even using my name, but I follow her voice and hit her with a jab in what feels like her shoulder. Prudencia, Emil, and a groggy Iris come running out of the waiting area, but none of them can make sense of the threat. I go for the crescent kick, aiming for where I’ve calculated her head would be judging by the height of the shoulder, but she catches my foot and shoves me to the floor. I stretch out my hands, dark yellow flames surrounding them.
“WAIT!”
A pale woman in her midthirties appears as quick as a blink—shoulder-length jet-black hair with a signature gold streak, a wrinkle-free white shirt underneath a blue plaid blazer, silver bracelets dangling from one wrist and an emerald watch clasped on the other, and light brown eyes that are frightened by my fire. It’s Congresswoman Sunstar’s running mate, Senator Shine Lu.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“We want to help,” Shine says.
“Who’s we?” Iris asks.
Shine releases my foot and speaks into her wristwatch. “I’ve made contact. Come in.”
The door opens and two women with power-proof vests underneath their black jackets enter. One keeps moving past all of us while the other guards the door after Nicolette Sunstar appears. Sunstar is in a white pantsuit that pops against her dark skin and hair. The click-clack of her yellow high heels infuriates me. Here we all are, beat and bloodied, and Sunstar and Lu are styled like th
ey’re going to a fashion show. We all have targets on our backs, but it’s very clear which of us have to hide out in defunct schools and senior citizen clubhouses and who gets to go home to gorgeous lofts with their own security.
“Hello, Spell Walkers,” Sunstar says.
“How did you find us?” Iris asks.
“You’re not exactly hidden. We’ll arrange for a crew of illusionists to conceal you during your stay here.”
“Fantastic,” I say dryly. “What are you doing here?”
Sunstar looks past us, and her bodyguard signals something with her fist. “How about we have some privacy?”
This better be good. I was finally freeing myself fully from the Spell Walkers, and suddenly I’m following everyone into an empty employee lounge. The bodyguard closes the door on her way out. Sunstar and Lu sit at a round table, and Emil and Prudencia are clearly sheepish about joining them. I don’t care if they’re running for president and vice president, they’re still two women who haven’t been there for us. They don’t get my respect. They shouldn’t get Iris’s either, but she sits down.
“Care to join us, Maribelle?” Sunstar asks.
The last open seat is beside Iris. I cross my arms and lean against the wall. “I’m good standing. What are you and Lu doing here?”
“You can call me Shine,” Lu says. “We’re pleased to meet you all.”
Her name is a very traditional one among celestials, the most popular being Star. I was almost stuck with Skye before Mama came to her senses; a celestial named Skye who can fly is already an annoying nursery rhyme. But I understand the very important branding that Shine is pushing here. Their campaign slogan—Shine Like a Star—is catchy and cute and I don’t care.
Prudencia taps Emil’s hand. “We’re newly eighteen. You’ve got our vote. We attended the Friday Dreamers Festival last month and loved everything you had to say.”
Emil nods. “Yeah, I’m really rooting for you.”
“Thank you both,” Sunstar says. “We never pretend to be perfect, but we know this victory is of great importance for celestials everywhere. And even for well-intentioned specters such as yourself, Emil. I don’t know if you’re one of those specters we’ve seen over the years who are trying to do the right thing like Bautista de León, but our administration wants to ban that practice.”
Emil is red in the face. “I want that too, I promise. I didn’t do this to myself.”
“Were you drugged?” Shine asks.
