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“So you’ll stay with me?”
“I’m here.”
“Will you record me?”
“This is still a sacred space I want to respect,” she says. “But I won’t fling your camera to the skies if you only use the footage for research.”
“Good compromise,” I say and kiss her. There’s one thing that could stop me from trying to retrocycle right now.
“What are you doing differently this time?”
This is the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do. “Maribelle found herself on the edge of Sera’s death. I think I have to go back to Dad’s. I have the unfortunate advantage of having been there.”
Tears are forming in Prudencia’s eyes. “Brighton, you don’t have to do that to yourself.”
“If it means saving Ma, I do.”
No one can contest that.
I prop my phone against the wall and ready the camera. I don’t repeat all of Tala’s breathing exercises, I trust I can get myself in the right headspace. I close my eyes, ignite my fire, and I paint the picture of my most traumatic day ever.
Dad and I were in the living room. There was standard city noise outside the window, nothing special. Dad was wearing the green bathrobe I got him as a welcome-home gift after some time spent in the hospital; his temperature frequently dictated whether it was on or off. He sat on the couch with his favorite book, The Last Great Earthling, telling me how, during his most recent reread in the hospital, he couldn’t stand the narrator, and how there was no chemistry between the couple. I’ve tried reading the book before, and I thought Dad was wrong on both counts, but it was fun watching him getting angry over a story he has cherished for so many years.
That’s when his death began.
The sickness turned on him so suddenly that he ripped the book’s cover, tearing the man standing on earth in half. I’m waiting for my heightened, nonsensical senses to take over, such as the glossy cover screaming in pain or feeling Dad’s lungs squeezing as if I was cutting off his air with my bare hands, but nothing comes. I’m fighting back all the tears and waiting for a nosebleed, but nothing. When the heat of my own fire becomes too much, I call it quits.
“Cut the camera.”
Forty
Power Couple
BRIGHTON
“I have an idea.”
I’m getting some air in the courtyard with Prudencia. She’s been watching this family of white phoenixes for the past few minutes even though they’re just being birds. I don’t expect much from pigeons, but phoenixes should always be doing something cooler than trailing each other.
“Is this about retrocycling again?” she asks.
“Sort of. For whatever reason I can’t access that power, but if Ma is alive, then we need to figure that out sooner. Let’s drive back into the city so I can pick up something of hers from home. Then Wyatt can track her.”
“Good point. Let’s do it.”
“Thank the stars, I was nervous you’d find some reason to say no.”
“I was considering waiting to make the trip with Emil, but I know you would just hijack someone’s phoenix and go yourself.”
“You know me well.”
We return inside the castle, wak
ing up Emil to tell him our plan. He’s so drained that I’m not sure he fully registers that we even spoke to him before he falls back to sleep. We leave the grounds, crossing the bridge back to the car. Prudencia is beautiful as she concentrates on the road and gets us out of the woods. On the road she blasts some music, tapping the wheel as she sings along. I pull out my phone to film her.
“Don’t post that anywhere!”
“Why not? You’ll get so many new followers.”
