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And that’s a promise.
Over a massive lunch where I finish devouring the last of my steamed potatoes, brown rice, and black bean burger, Emil discovers that the city has a special guest. A Halo Knight and her phoenix have been spotted around New York, and they’re causing rainstorms everywhere they fly. They were last seen at the Light Sky Tower last night, which she’d broken into, but there aren’t any details to support why. That’s her business and has nothing to do with us.
Emil is fascinated by the clips circulating online, but I return my attention to my own phone so I can rewatch the videos of me dashing. I realize now that when I was running toward that bonfire that Wesley should’ve followed me with the camera because the current footage is basically just me taking off and returning a few minutes later. It’s easy enough to edit out the dead space, but maybe I can layer it with some voice-overs with what was going through my head; I haven’t seen anyone else do that. The other videos of me chasing after Wesley are a good demonstration of my speed and these will be safe to share online.
The second I’m free from helping Emil and Prudencia clean up our plates, I bring my laptop to the backyard and review all the old footage of Atlas teaching Emil how to reach within and call for his power. There are so many reasons to miss Atlas, but right now I wish one of my favorite heroes were around to coach me the way he did Emil. This would be epic to share for an in memoriam piece.
I’m trying to center myself mentally when Emil and Prudencia join me outside.
“Studied up?” Prudencia asks.
“Ready to ace this,” I say. I feel confident like this is an exam.
I prop my phone against the fence, hit record, and confirm that I’m visible before trying to cast fire. In the video, Atlas tells Emil to visualize his power to cast it, but that’s easier said than done. I’m imagining the silver and sapphire flames in my possession, even the heat when it felt like I was burning alive, but that doesn’t instantly conjure them. Atlas had it easier. He got to grow up with his powers at the same time he was learning how to talk and string together sentences. It’s a lot harder for those of us learning later in life.
I can’t even get a flicker.
“Come on,” I say under my breath.
“What are you feeling?” Prudencia asks.
“Frustrated. I’m concentrating and visualizing everything like Atlas instructed.”
Prudencia takes my hand and settles me. “It’s more than that. Papí always said powers have to be powered. Frustration is holding you back. When I use my telekinesis, I’m giving myself control in a world where I don’t always feel like I have some. What do you feel, Emil?”
“It always starts as fear,” Emil says. “Like when Orton was trying to kill you, Bright. When I wanted to protect you more than anything, the fire came to life.”
Prudencia releases me. “Dig deeper, Brighton.”
“Don’t just try to drag fire out of you,” Emil adds.
I close my eyes.
I have my own fears. Emil’s powers activated because he wanted to protect me, but I went for the Reaper’s Blood because it meant that I wouldn’t ever have to fear death again. I don’t want to go through what Dad went through, I want the fullest life possible, and the phoenix fire gave me the second chance I desperately needed. Heat flushes over me and I don’t dare peek to see anything that’s happening; I keep stoking the flames. Emil and Prudencia are right; this is about more than me being able to cast fire and maybe one day fly. I might never be untouchable as a ghost, but with my hydra and phoenix powers I won’t have to fear an easy death and will be able to save so many lives. I’m hotter and hotter thinking about how this world will celebrate me—magazine covers, documentaries on my life, book signings for my sure-to-be ghostwritten memoir, statues erected in my honor, teams of celestials and specters uniting under my watch.
I will have infinite glory.
From somewhere deep within I hear a pained screech like a phoenix being killed, like Gravesend being stabbed. I open my eyes and silver and sapphire flames are spiraling around my fists like snakes on fire.
Emil and Prudencia are staring at me, caution in their eyes, as if they’re worried I’m going to be in tremendous pain again, but I’m fine. T
he weight of the flames isn’t even as heavy as Emil made it out to be—or maybe I’m simply stronger than him.
“What do I do with these now?” I ask about the flames with a laugh.
“You can pull them back in,” Emil says. “Think about grounding yourself and—”
Grounding myself is the last thing I want to do.
I thrust my fists toward the sky and bolts of silver and sapphire fire shoot into the air with a thunderous phoenix screech and explode above us like fireworks.
This power thrumming through me is the beginning.
The world will worship the Infinity Savior.
Twenty-Six
Brighton of New York
