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“With powers that aren’t ours,” Emil says. “I’m really hoping I can figure out that potion to disempower any specter. No more Blood Casters. No more us.”
I nod along even though that was not a talking point for this discussion. “Until that time comes, we have a lot of work to do making this country safer from the true terrorists—the Blood Casters. Emil and I have both been captured and abused by them. We’re lucky we’re alive. But we don’t know if that’s true for our mother who they kidnapped.”
“They took Eva Nafisi too. Some of you might remember her as the healer from Brighton’s Spell Walkers interviews,” Emil says like I forgot about her.
“Eva made me good as new. She’s an incredible healer and an even more remarkable human. Eva and our mother are strong women, but they don’t stand a chance against the Blood Casters. We need all of you to be our eyes around the city so we can bring them home safely,” I say.
As Emil describes everything about the fight at the Aldebaran Center, I read through the questions that are coming in so fast that I can hardly keep up. People want advice on how to become specters. Others are sharing their own personal struggles that require heroic hands. There are some good ones too I want to address.
“I think it’s time to answer some questions,” I say. It’s a safer move since Emil isn’t exactly sticking to the script anyway. “I see a lot of you asking if I’m planning a rebrand on the series since Emil and I aren’t celestials. Maybe I’ll change it to ‘Gleamcrafters of New York’ so it’s more inclusive. But honestly, I created Celestials of New York because it was my way of feeling close to the lives of those with powers. Keeping up this format of interviewing strangers feels tricky with everything going on that I might make it my own until things settle down. If they ever do.”
There’s immediate support and even a suggestion that I follow Atlas’s lead and how all his posts were dedicated to lives saved and lost. That could be a cool way to honor him.
“Let’s see. . . .” There’s one question that’s been popping up the most and it’s time to get it out of the way. “Okay, okay, okay! Am I a Spell Walker? The answer is . . . NOPE.” I’m tempted to reveal how badly the group’s ranks are fracturing, but I’m bigger than that. “I’m part of a more important unit—the Infinity Kings. Back when you all thought of Emil as Fire-Wing, I joked that he was the Infinity Son since he’s got these amazing powers from a firebird of infinity.”
Once again, my little twist saves the day. I don’t have to reveal why I really gave him that name.
“I’m cool with you all using my name too,” Emil says.
“And I’ll always be Brighton, especially for all of you epic Brightsiders. But once I got my powers I thought it’d be cool to add an edge to my identity too. I came up with the Infinity Savior. What do you all think?”
Engagement is key when growing your following. I might be the influencer but it’s important to let my followers think they have influence over me too. The Brightsiders are really taking to the name. One commenter suggests Infinity Brother and I wish I could block this person who would reduce me as if I’m still shadowing Emil on his missions and not my own individual person. Thankfully their comment gets buried by all the love and that’s when I notice we’ve crossed 1.3 million viewers.
“I’m so happy the name is a hit,” I say with a hand to my heart. “I’ll admit, being a specter with a bull’s-eye on my back is really terrifying. But I’ve got a great support system.” I glance over at Prudencia, wishing I could mention her. “I’ve always been able to turn to Emil and I’m lucky enough to have all of you out there cheering me on too.” I really want to stay and chat all night, but if I answer all these questions now, then my followers, old and new, won’t have any reason to keep hanging around. “Emil and I need to get some rest after an eventful day. I promise to do another chat soon.”
I elbow Emil’s side, waiting for him to initiate our send-off.
“Oh—uh. Before we were the Infinity Kings, we were the Reys of Light,”
Emil says.
“And now we’re shining brighter than ever,” I say and salute.
I end the livestream before I’ve lost my cool. To think last night I was dying and now I’m living my best life. I apologize to Emil over the shirt thing and get a fist bump and whistle out of him. My high only gets higher when Prudencia tells us that we did a great job and kisses me softly on the lips. I’m the luckiest human alive.
I spend the rest of the night in bed, scrolling through social media with Prudencia asleep on my chest. There’s already amazing fan art of me fighting every known Blood Caster with my flames and those criminal specters are so screwed when this becomes a reality. I got some haters too who don’t think I’m being real about everything. I go on their profiles and decide I’m not going to take abuse from jealous people with five hundred followers who want what I have, who wish they were me.
It’s a hard pill to swallow that even superhumans need sleep, but I don’t go willingly. I spend every last waking moment soaking up all the Infinity Savior love.
This is only the beginning.
Twenty-Seven
Bright Star
MARIBELLE
The smell of fresh rosemary wakes me up, and the Halo Knight is standing over me. I instinctively want to punch her, but my grogginess works in her favor—we don’t have to fight because we share the same enemy.
Without her mask it’s easy to see in her eyes that she isn’t eager to take me on either. Her leather jacket with the feathered sleeves is hanging off the back of an armchair, leaving her in a black tank top, which also means she can’t surprise me with any more daggers. She removed my power-proof vest and it’s nowhere in sight. She has a home field advantage wherever this is, and my psychic sense isn’t ringing around her.
The Halo Knight takes a seat in the armchair and rests the rosemary on a side table. “Did you enjoy your sleep?”
I’m regaining control of my muscles as I sit up from the plush couch. We’re in some minimalistic loft with high concrete ceilings and light bulbs strung around the round windows. The Cloaked Phantom isn’t outside. “How long was I unconscious?”
“Thirty-one hours.”
“What?!”
