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“The tranquilizer is intended for phoenixes the size of Roxana. You’re lucky you’re alive,” she says as she crosses her legs.
“Then you owe me an apology for almost killing me.”
Her amber eyes narrow. “Shouldn’t be a concern of yours given your stolen phoenix powers.”
She knows nothing about me.
“I was born with the powers, but they’re new to me.”
The Halo Knight scoffs. “Interesting. I didn’t realize you were a phoenix doing one hell of an impression of a specter.” She begins clapping and it’s infuriatingly sarcastic. “Brava.”
“I don’t know whether or not I can resurrect. But it’s possible since my biological father could. Bautista de León.”
There are a million questions resting on her lips. The one she asks catches me off guard: “Who are you?”
The truth is, I don’t know anymore.
I’m the daughter to four powerful parents, all dead. I’m a terrorist to some and a hero to others, even though I’m no longer a Spell Walker. I’m not Atlas’s girlfriend anymore because Atlas isn’t alive. I don’t have any idea who I’ll be if I even survive this fight.
“I’m someone born into chaos,” I answer.
“So, Maribelle de León, you’re a princess as far as specter royalty goes.”
“Lucero,” I correct. I feel strongly enough about that name. “Same question. Who are you?”
She hesitates, well aware that she has control over me as long as I’m on her turf, but she shares anyway. “Tala Castillo. All my life I’ve been taught that there is nothing more horrific than someone who kills a phoenix for their power. My parents told me all the stories about how your father was paraded as a champion, but we know that he was simply a thief dressed up as one.”
In some ways, Tala might have a better understanding of Bautista than I do. Whenever Mama and Papa spoke about Bautista, they always framed him as the kind of person who didn’t have the same greed for powers in his heart as other specters. But no matter what, the hero is always someone else’s villain, and for the Halo Knights, that would’ve been Bautista among every other specter with phoenix blood.
“I’m not defending Bautista. I don’t know him. The past few weeks have only brought so many revelations, including that I’m Bautista and Sera Córdova’s daughter and the true power of phoenix specters. I’m sure Emil Rey is on your radar.”
“Fire-Wing,” Tala says.
That nickname from the media didn’t exactly stick. “Well, Emil is Bautista reincarnated, and Bautista is the direct scion to Keon Máximo.”
There’s a world-shaking wonder in Tala’s eyes. “But . . .”
Halo Knights put their faith in the concept of resurrection, and Emil is now walking proof.
I walk Tala through everything I’ve discovered since Emil came into my life one month ago: the family secrets my own parents kept from me but that Iris’s parents shared with her; the ghost specters, in particular June; and the true intentions behind the Blood Casters pursuing Gravesend instead of an ordinary century phoenix.
Tala bites her lip. “So Luna is running around immortal.”
“She isn’t. No one is. Emil’s brother Brighton drank the Reaper’s Blood and he’s dying because of it.”
“Those powers were never his to have,” Tala says.
“He could’ve done good with them.”
Tala gets up and puts on her jacket. “If I only had a dollar for every time I heard that hollow-hearted sales pitch about a specter, I could afford a place like this instead of renting it from a true phoenix activist. Follow me upstairs.”
Upstairs?
I’m wobbly but find my footing as we walk across the loft with its walls covered in mirrors and black-and-white photos of a woman interacting with different phoenixes in the wild. She must be the activist. Around the corner there is a spiral staircase that takes us to this rooftop garden with stone benches and a bubbling hot tub big enough for Roxana to curl inside. The light howler is underwater and somehow hears us approaching, or maybe even senses our presence, and her drenched head comes out from under the steaming water and shakes it off. I get splashed and the water is as hot as it looks. Not a problem for a phoenix, I suppose.
Tala kisses Roxana between her lightning-blue eyes, which are as large as fists. “Phoenixes have existed before humans and yet the majority of us don’t respect their glory. It’s rare, but there are still some phoenixes alive today who have cycled through thousands of lives. If you want to talk about doing good by them, find other ways to honor them that don’t involve sacrificing them for human benefit.” She strokes the yellow feathers on her jacket’s sleeve. “These feathers come from Roxana. Some are from shedding, most of from when she’s died over the years.”
“Died how?”
