Enforcers file through the church’s garden door, protected in their sea-green armor as they aim their wands at every single one of us—celestials, specters, the human acolytes who want to become more—and bombard us with spellwork of all colors. Now would be a spectacular time for my ghostly abilities to kick in so I can phase through the solid wall behind us, maybe even teleport us over, but when all I feel is some painful nausea and dizziness, I drop with Emil to the ground and spells fly over our heads. Iris leaps forward and shields us, her arms crossed over her chest; her dark brown skin is resistant to this spellwork. Prudencia uses her power to sweep other spells away, but she’s careful not to fire them back at the enforcers.
This past January, a terrorist attack known as the Blackout was blamed on the last four original Spell Walkers, but we all know now that the Blood Casters were actually responsible. Except the enforcers have never gotten that memo—they’ve been tasked with eliminating the new wave of Spell Walkers, even though it’s not their fault. Unlike the Spell Walkers, the Blood Casters don’t save innocent lives. Something is off as to why the enforcers don’t work harder to take them down and lock them up.
Wesley dashes to us, skidding to a halt. His height and curvy build remind me of one of my favorite childhood wrestlers, except that guy doesn’t have Wesley’s brown man bun. But the wrestler was definitely sporting bruises above his eye and cut lips like Wes does now. “Heads up, friends, we are very cornered right about now,” he says.
“Didn’t notice,” Iris says as she smacks a lightning spell away.
There are puddles of blue, yellow, gray, and red blood all across the garden. I wasn’t here when the massacre first started, but it’s still disturbing to see the hydra head facing skyward with its tongue hanging out of its massive mouth, and the dead blue phoenix lying on its side.
Sharp movements catch my attention, and Dione lunges into the squad of enforcers. Using her six arms, she chops one in the throat, snaps the neck of another, punches one between his eyes, and snatches the wands of two and blasts them dead.
This garden is becoming a graveyard.
“Prudencia, cover me,” Iris says as she runs to the gate, wrenches apart the spiked poles like they’re made of clay, and begins punching away at the brick wall behind it. “Wes, get Maribelle!”
I turn to find Maribelle slashing at the air with the oblivion dagger, constantly missing June as she teleports all around. Wesley dashes over, and immediately has to take a step back before he can get stabbed. He’s trying to drag Maribelle away, but she’s not having it, so he grabs her by the legs, lifts her onto his shoulder, and runs back to us.
“Put me down!” Maribelle shouts, trying to break out of his grip like a phoenix locked in a cage.
“We’re not leaving you behind,” Wesley says.
Maribelle hammers Wesley in the back with the dagger’s bone handle until he releases her. She scans around as June suddenly rises out of the ground and places her hands on Luna, protecting her leader. Maribelle hurls the dagger, and it flips through the air as quick as a blink, but June and Luna have faded faster into the night.
“She got away—they both got away!”
A spell narrowly misses her, and Maribelle turns to assess the danger. More enforcers trying to kill her. It’s clear she’s fed up when one eye glows like a sailing comet and the other burns like an eclipse. Dark yellow flames burst into life from her fists to her elbows, and she casts the fire toward the enforcers. She’s quick with a fire-arrow to the cauldron when Stanton, the basilisk specter, makes a move for the remaining elixir; all the Reaper’s Blood goes up in flames.
“Hurry!” Prudencia shouts at Iris. Her power isn’t trained enough to keep fending off all this spellwork, and more enforcers are arriving on the scene with fully charged wands.
Iris breaks the wall open with a mighty punch, creating a hole big enough for everyone to go through.
“Gravesend,” Emil says weakly.
“Gravesend is dead,” I say.
“Don’t leave her.”
Of course Emil cares about the corpse of a phoenix, like it really matters right now if someone takes Gravesend and makes a scarf out of her feathers. But as more spells fire our way, I take the lead and get Emil out of there. Iris sees me struggling and she carries Emil with ease straight into the back of her Jeep.
“Where’s Eva?” I ask. Eva is Iris’s girlfriend, and a powerful celestial in her own right. Emil needs her healing powers fast.
“Eva is Philadelphia-bound with your mother and others,” Iris says.
“I have a connection at the Lynx facility,” Wesley says from outside the door. “We should be able to get discreet care.”
Prudencia hops in the front passenger seat. “We need somewhere closer. He’s losing blood fast.”
Wesley racks his brain. “Aldebaran! There’s good people at Aldebaran.”
“Lead the way,” Iris says.
Wesley dashes ahead on foot and Iris hits the gas, peeling off. I look out the rearview window and see Maribelle is gliding behind. I don’t know when she’s planning on coming back for Atlas’s car, which we used to arrive here tonight, and I don’t care. Emil’s eyes are closing, and I slap him awake.
“Emil, come on. Bro, look at me.”
I was so busy using up each charge in the wand that I didn’t see Luna gut my brother with that infinity-ender. If I were my own wand, my own walking weapon, I would’ve had unlimited power to handle business. Blood rushes to my head seeing Emil in this state. He’s not going to die. This is not how this ends.
“I should’ve gotten here sooner.”
Prudencia turns from her front seat. “You should’ve never left Nova. We had no idea if you were even alive.”
“I was with Maribelle. She was cast out too.”
“No one kicked you out, Brighton.”
I look down at Emil.
Prudencia shakes her head. “You’re not actually blaming your brother while he’s bleeding. Be better than that.”
“But it’s true! He rejected me from joining the next mission. You too, Iris.”
Iris remains focused on the road, swerving around cars to keep up with Wesley. “Don’t come for me when I’m doing my damn best to save your brother’s life.”
“You should’ve taken the time to train me!”
“Too busy saving the rest of the city,” Iris says.
Life whizzes by out the window. People are on their porches and fire escapes staring up at the glorious Crowned Dreamer, even though authorities cautioned everyone to stay inside until it passed. Unlike basic constellations such as the Great Bear or the Hunter that only strengthen select powers, the Crowned Dreamer is a prime constellation that elevates all gleamcrafters, celestials, and specters alike. The media is making it sound like celestials are the problem tonight. It’s alchemists like Luna who need prime constellations like this one to turn people into specters.
“I promise you’re no longer superior to me,” I say.
“And I promise I’m not trying to win some pissing contest with you,” Iris says, steering left.
There’s a question forming on Prudencia’s lips as she begins inspecting mine in the flashes of streetlight. “You didn’t . . . Brighton, you didn’t . . .”