MARIBELLE
It doesn’t seem likely that Brighton will survive the night.
A practitioner at Aldebaran was able to inject an antidote, but all that did was slow down the venom. It was too risky to hang around, so we rushed Brighton to the Clayton Center for Recovery out on Long Island, a high-end private practice also run by celestials. If Aldebaran is a single star, this facility is a constellation in terms of how they can assist him. The bill won’t be pretty, but between Brighton’s infected arm and the blood poisoning, he’s going to need around-the-clock attention unless a miracle happens. What he doesn’t need is me here.
I have to go hunt.
I roam the halls. The walls are sterile-white, as if the facility opened this morning, and fixed onto them are bronze sconces shaped like hands to represent their healers. It’s creepy, and I can’t wait until I don’t have to look at them anymore. I finally track down a supplies room, empty some employee’s duffel bag, and load up. My newfound phoenix powers haven’t healed any of my bruising or the cut on my forehead from my fight with June, so I pack a few first-aid kits. I throw in water bottles, a blanket, and I hide the oblivion dagger between folds of gauze before leaving the room.
There’s an indoor garden, where the alchemists grow their own herbs. It’s really serene and inviting, but there’s no time for peace. Not when June and Luna are still alive. Not when they’ve taken Eva and Carolina.
It’s possible Luna has already had them executed. Brighton ruined her life’s work.
I don’t wish a single broken bone on Carolina, but Eva especially doesn’t deserve to be caught in this cross fire.
A couple years ago, Iris’s parents were using a clubhouse for celestial senior citizens as a haven. Mama and Papa had flown to Colombia for humanitarian work, and I’d hung back with the Simone-Chambers family so I wouldn’t fall behind on homeschooling. On the third day of my stay, Eva came into our care after a foster family doubted their abilities to protect her from traffickers. Eva and Iris were magnetized to each other immediately, but wires kept getting crossed. Eva thought Iris was only complimenting her neck scarf because she wanted one for herself, and Iris thought that there was no way that a pacifist like Eva could ever fall for a fighter with powerhouse strength. On the same night I finally convinced Iris to be direct and make a move, Eva surprised her with a swimming lesson in the clubhouse pool. Iris confessed her feelings, and they shared their first kiss while drying up poolside. One of my favorite moments is when we were all scrolling through Pinterest and Iris loved this model’s green hair so much that we locked ourselves in the bathroom to dye her hair the same shade, laughing so hard when we couldn’t scrub away the stains on the floor.
Eva was—no, is—a great friend. She’s loyal to Iris, naturally, but even after Iris and I drifted after the Blackout, Eva regularly checked in on my mental health. I’ll always appreciate how she didn’t take Iris’s side when we all found out that she kept my true lineage a secret from me.
It’s twisted that Eva has been taken by her former best friend, but if Dione harms her, Iris will be sure to rip off her arms, one by one, until they don’t grow back.
I swing the duffel bag onto my shoulder and pass the waiting area that’s closest to Brighton’s room, where he’s still unconscious. Iris is asleep on a bench, and Emil is resting his head on Prudencia’s shoulder. I’m not losing sleep over this, but Emil looking so broken does manage to stop me in my tracks. My parents and Atlas were killed. But Emil has to watch his brother waste away, so soon after going through the same thing with his father, and stars know what the Casters have done with his mother. Grieving before someone is dead is its own beast.
I make my way for the exit, planning on driving back into the city to hunt down any Brew dealers. Threatening to burn them alive, much like celestials have been punished for generations, should get them talking about where they get their supplies.
The doors open before I can reach them, but no one comes in. I stop, and even though my psychic sense isn’t alerting me to any danger, I don’t have a good feeling about this. Then I hear quiet footsteps—whoever is near me certainly has a light step, but Papa personally trained me to have a good ear. I pretend like I’m unaware, and as they pass me, I strike. My fist connects with someone’s forearm. The last time I fought someone invisible was with Atlas, and he had exposed them by creating a windstorm that swept all sorts of trash through the air, and a newspaper pressed against the celestial’s face. I’m all I have.
“Stop!” the invisible intruder—an older woman, I believe—says.
We’ve been found out again, because apparently we can’t trust anyone, not even a facility that is staffed by celestials who have been outspoken against Senator Iron. This invisible celestial has probably been hired to assassinate Brighton. I feel all the more validated about quitting the Spell Walkers; I’m tired of working so hard to save people who have no problem turning on us for money, favors, revenge.
“Prudencia, help!” I shout down the hall.
I back myself against the wall so the intruder can’t sneak behind me and I jump into a scissor kick but I don’t hit her. She tells me to stop again, even using my name, but I follow her voice and hit her with a jab in what feels like her shoulder. Prudencia, Emil, and a groggy Iris come running out of the waiting area, but none of them can make sense of the threat. I go for the crescent kick, aiming for where I’ve calculated her head would be judging by the height of the shoulder, but she catches my foot and shoves me to the floor. I stretch out my hands, dark yellow flames surrounding them.
“WAIT!”
A pale woman in her midthirties appears as quick as a blink—shoulder-length jet-black hair with a signature gold streak, a wrinkle-free white shirt underneath a blue plaid blazer, silver bracelets dangling from one wrist and an emerald watch clasped on the other, and light brown eyes that are frightened by my fire. It’s Congresswoman Sunstar’s running mate, Senator Shine Lu.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“We want to help,” Shine says.
“Who’s we?” Iris asks.
Shine releases my foot and speaks into her wristwatch. “I’ve made contact. Come in.”
The door opens and two women with power-proof vests underneath their black jackets enter. One keeps moving past all of us while the other guards the door after Nicolette Sunstar appears. Sunstar is in a white pantsuit that pops against her dark skin and hair. The click-clack of her yellow high heels infuriates me. Here we all are, beat and bloodied, and Sunstar and Lu are styled like they’re going to a fashion show. We all have targets on our backs, but it’s very clear which of us have to hide out in defunct schools and senior citizen clubhouses and who gets to go home to gorgeous lofts with their own security.
“Hello, Spell Walkers,” Sunstar says.
“How did you find us?” Iris asks.
“You’re not exactly hidden. We’ll arrange for a crew of illusionists to conceal you during your stay here.”
“Fantastic,” I say dryly. “What are you doing here?”
Sunstar looks past us, and her bodyguard signals something with her fist. “How about we have some privacy?”
This better be good. I was finally freeing myself fully from the Spell Walkers, and suddenly I’m following everyone into an empty employee lounge. The bodyguard closes the door on her way out. Sunstar and Lu sit at a round table, and Emil and Prudencia are clearly sheepish about joining them. I don’t care if they’re running for president and vice president, they’re still two women who haven’t been there for us. They don’t get my respect. They shouldn’t get Iris’s either, but she sits down.
“Care to join us, Maribelle?” Sunstar asks.
The last open seat is beside Iris. I cross my arms and lean against the wall. “I’m good standing. What are you and Lu doing here?”
“You can call me Shine,” Lu says. “We’re pleased to meet you all.”
Her name is a very traditional one among celestials, the most popular being Star. I was almost stuck with Skye before Mama came to her senses; a celestial named Skye who can fly is already an annoying nursery rhyme. But I understand the very important branding that Shine is pushing here. Their campaign slogan—Shine Like a Star—is catchy and cute and I don’t care.
Prudencia taps Emil’s hand. “We’re newly eighteen. You’ve got our vote. We attended the Friday Dreamers Festival last month and loved everything you had to say.”
Emil nods. “Yeah, I’m really rooting for you.”
“Thank you both,” Sunstar says. “We never pretend to be perfect, but we know this victory is of great importance for celestials everywhere. And even for well-intentioned specters such as yourself, Emil. I don’t know if you’re one of those specters we’ve seen over the years who are trying to do the right thing like Bautista de León, but our administration wants to ban that practice.”
Emil is red in the face. “I want that too, I promise. I didn’t do this to myself.”
“Were you drugged?” Shine asks.
He shakes his head. “It’s complicated.”
“And none of your business,” I say to Sunstar and Shine. “You don’t get to sneak your way in here and call for a meeting as if we’re in this together. Just because you haven’t condemned us doesn’t mean you support us. Now, my patience is running very thin, so make good use of this next minute and explain why you’re gracing us with your presence. Otherwise I’m leaving to hunt down every last Blood Caster myself.”
Sunstar folds her hands. “That ties beautifully with why we’re here. We’re very sorry for not publicly supporting you, but if we aren’t careful with this campaign, then everything will become worse for every celestial—and every innocent specter.” She eyes Emil, who blushes. “We don’t understand the cause of the Blackout, but we know something happened behind the curtains. I promise we support you and will make right on that soon by saying so publicly. I don’t want to mislead the American people. If we can secure the White House, we’ll be able to set a precedent for how gleamcrafters deserve to be treated globally.”
I’m tired of having to defend my humanity. My life shouldn’t be a debating point.
“How do you intend on doing that?” Iris asks.
“We want to abolish the Enforcer Program,” Sunstar says. “Every time an innocent celestial is brutalized and killed because of corrupt enforcers, the narrative increases that we’re all dangerous. That we must be stopped by the wands containing power sourced from our own blood. We need honest protectors who would devote themselves to detaining the Blood Casters and other rogues.”
“And who would that be?” I ask.
“You all,” Sunstar says.
“And the other vigilante factions born out of great intentions,” Shine adds.
Sunstar is beaming. “We’re calling it the Luminary Union, named so because this division will be a global guiding light in heroism, illuminating security practices that should’ve always been in place. Every Luminary will be vetted by a council of celestials who don’t operate with hate in their hearts. Every faction trying to do the right thing won’t have to be classified as vigilantes. Your work will be authorized and supported by the government.”
“Every faction that folds into the Luminary Union will be paid, of course,” Shine says. “We’ve discreetly donated to your campaigns for funds this past year. Our discretion will become unnecessary if we can build this division.”
This was always part of the dream for my parents—Iris’s too. They wanted their work more than trusted, but a welcomed service to make the world a better place. This world didn’t deserve them.
“First off, go easy on the light metaphors. We get it,” I say. “Secondly, why would we submit ourselves to the government? So you can control the way we save the world?”
Iris turns to me. “I seem to remember you quitting the group. You don’t get to be part of this decision.”
I can’t take her in hand-to-hand combat, but I want to throttle her anyway.
“You mean the group that my biological parents founded? I’m the true heir to the Spell Walkers. I’m the one who should be leading.”
“Then maybe you should act like it,” Iris says. Sunstar is trying to ask questions about my family, but Iris speaks over her. “We are protectors who need protecting too. My parents? Dead. Your parents? Dead. Atlas? Dead. Eva? Probably dead. And these are only the major deaths between the two of us. Our way clearly isn’t working, and I’m crumbling from all of these losses! I’m open to a change. You should be too.”
If that were true, she would patrol these streets with me and do everything it takes to end the source of our pain. “Eva’s fate is unclear, Iris. But Atlas’s isn’t. You get to be open to all the changes you want because there’s still a glimmer of hope that you’ll get to reap the benefits. I have no one, and I’m going to end every last person responsible for that.”
Sunstar rises and approaches me. I straighten up and her eyes clock my fists. “Maribelle, please. Whether or not you’re an active Spell Walker is irrelevant to the public. If the country is going to believe our vision, we need everyone’s cooperation.”
“Your vision. I’m not lying low so you can win your election. Why don’t you keep this big idea in your pocket for another few weeks?”
“Backdoor plans aren’t formulas for building trust. The Luminary Union will need years to build, and to accomplish this, I’ll need to be voted in for a second term as well. But this entire agenda is futile if you go rogue. Honor your parents by helping shape the country for the better.”
I could burn Sunstar right here, right now. She hasn’t offered a single condolence and yet she’s trying to use the memory of my parents against me. I shoulder-bump her out of my way, and Shine pops out of her seat as if she’s ready for another fight.
“Try me,” I warn her. “I’ve never seen an invisible woman on fire.”
Prudencia rushes between us with glowing eyes and her hand outstretched. The door swings open. “We are not each other’s enemies. But I know we can’t stop you, Maribelle. Take care.”
I cast one last look at the two women who are trying to claim the White House, the boy who isn’t cut out for this war, his best friend who has my respect, and the girl who used to be a sister to me. Then I leave, the one-woman army who won’t die fighting. I’ll live by doing what surely won’t be accepted in any Luminary Union guidelines—killing.