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We are one; we’re not even we.
Fire rages around me and my tongue is thick with blood. I’m tasting death. No, wrong again. I’m tasting life, I’m tasting the infinity cycle. There are explosions of pain throughout my body and I want to be comforted by my parents, but I don’t know the souls who parented Bautista. I’m slipping without this knowledge, like I should know those people as clearly as I know Carolina and Leonardo Rey. The fire and explosions grow tenfold, and staying in this space is as difficult as flying with weighted wings.
I’m falling, falling, falling back into my own life, and even though I trust that I’m safely sitting in the Sanctuary, the dizzying sensation and inferno within me feels like I’m an earthbound meteor.
And I no longer believe I can’t hurt those around me.
Thirty-Nine
The Weight of Nothing
BRIGHTON
I better not find Ma.
If I succeed at seeing her past, that means it’s too late. If so, it’s absolutely game over for Luna, every Blood Caster, every acolyte, every friend of a friend to the gang. It won’t be enough to disempower our enemies and have them locked up like Emil wants. If my mother is dead, I will send them all to their graves.
Anger is demolishing my focus while also making my silver and sapphire flames grow.
My instincts are practically shouting at me to convince myself that Ma is dead so I can test this retrocycling theory. It reminds me of childhood when Emil believed we could jinx our fortunes by talking about them too much, especially in regards to becoming celestials; one could argue that he was right on that one.
I’m leaning into thoughts of Ma’s fatality, searching for her throughout time. I’m not sure when I’m trying to go back to. It could be any time I guess. I decide on my birth. It could be good for me to understand that day for what it actually was. The day that I was born alone while Emil was reborn somewhere nearby. It also means I get to see Dad as he welcomes me into the world. I remember how Ma looks from all the pictures in our albums. Dark hair pulled back in a bun, no makeup, both me and Emil cradled in her arms as she smiled at Dad.
I’m waiting for some sign that this is working. A tingle, some dizziness. I stack more and more details about Ma to see if it will trigger something: Carolina Rey, only child; she took dancing classes as a kid but quit when her nerves got the best of her; she went to Comic Con while she was pregnant to get an autograph from her childhood crush; she never understood how her mother knew when she was sneaking up on her until Abuelita told Ma about the visions on her seventh birthday; she was devastated when her father died before he could walk her down the aisle like they always dreamed; she was never able to narrow down her favorite day because she said she was blessed with many.
Nothing.
On the one hand, there’s so much relief that Ma is alive and I can save her. On the other hand, if she’s alive, what conditions is she being put through?
Before I go racing out of here, I have to be sure that I actually have the power in me—that I can trust this proof that she’s alive. The flames are roaring around, drowning out Wyatt and Tala as they discuss someth
ing. Sweat is dripping down on me. I’m so hot I want to stand under Roxana’s rainstorm until I’m shaking cold. First things first: prove how extraordinary I am by retrocycling to Dad.
I once again try to return to the day I was born, except this time from Dad’s perspective. The memories come just as easy to fill out his history: Dad never missing episodes of Monday-night wrestling even though it’s staged, because he loved any sport with celestial competitors; the way he loved organizing our hardware cupboard, putting all loose screws and tools in labeled envelopes; how he used to talk so much as a kid that Grandpa would add a dollar to his allowance for every hour he didn’t utter a single word; his habit of falling asleep in front of the TV; how fondly he spoke of his friend Brighton, who apparently saved Dad from a lot of beatings on his block.
Nothing.
I open my eyes to check if anything has changed, but I see only Maribelle and Emil sitting in towers of fire as Wyatt, Tala, and Prudencia look on, concerned. I’m immediately right there with them. I swipe the sweat out of my eyes so I can see clearly. Emil and Maribelle have nosebleeds mixing in with the gallons of sweat cascading down their foreheads. Strangely, their teeth are chattering so hard they might crack if we don’t gag them with a shirt or something. In both of my attempts to retrocycle, it never felt as extreme as this looks.
They’ve pulled it off. They’re going back to Bautista’s and Sera’s lives.
“Brighton!” Prudencia grabs my hand. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”
“Nothing happened,” I say.
“So Carolina is alive. That’s a really good start. There’s hope for her.”
Prudencia is watching Emil, and I think we’re both questioning if there’s hope for him.
“This doesn’t look normal,” I say. The heat radiating off Emil and Maribelle is intense. “Should we wake them up?”
Wyatt walks circles around them. “Many tried waking up their phoenixes, but when most creatures and animals are hibernating, they only wake up when it’s their time.”
“My brother isn’t a phoenix! If we can’t wake him up, let’s get a fire extinguisher or buckets of water!”
I’m going to shake Emil awake. I surround my hand in silver and sapphire flames, hoping it’ll hurt less as I touch Emil’s fire, but if worse comes to worst and I lose a hand, I can grow a new one. I reach for him when Maribelle gasps, her dark yellow flames vanishing.
Maribelle frantically looks around the room. “I heard her.”
