BRIGHTON
The Spell Walkers are honoring my wishes and packing up.
Iris dismissed the illusionists, which works out anyway since Sunstar is making her big announcement today and can use that extra protection. The doctors seem nervous without them, as if the Blood Casters have somehow tracked us here and have been waiting for the illusions to vanish so they can pounce. Dr. Swensen and Dr. Salinas have given me many reasons why I should stay, like how most times when I’m awake I can’t even keep my head up, and how my temperature shoots up and drops right back down without warning, and how I’ve been throwing up all my food. But I refuse, so they train Emil and Prudencia on how to mix a cooling gel and give them the ingredients for an herbal potion that may settle my stomach.
I meet Ruth and the baby briefly when we’re all gathered outside and she very generously offers to cook me whatever meal I want when we get to her place. She then takes Esther and rides in one car with Iris while Wesley drives the other with me, Emil, and Prudencia. Emil is the only one in the back with me, and I can keep to myself.
I’ve been having a lot of resets lately. There are some things I would’ve normally used my right hand for but now use my left, like brushing my teeth and scrolling through my phone. But then there are the major resets, like no longer planning different features for my online channels or expecting Ma to be around. No longer expecting myself to be around.
Until then, I wonder how long it’s going to take before I get used to using my left hand. I have to redo the fingerprint scanner on my phone since it doesn’t recognize my scaly index finger. I tap into Instagram and I have so many DMs, some from mutuals like genderqueer icon Lore asking me if I’m okay, but mostly from strangers who want to know if I was involved in the Alpha Church battle. Just like how I didn’t tell anyone I drank a potion to try and kill Luna, not realizing it was Brew, I’m not trying to get into the story of the Reaper’s Blood since it has an unhappy ending. I’m not one of those desperate souls on social media who needs attention so badly that they mistake basic sympathetic messages as true affection from their followers who are commenting while on the toilet. Part of me wants to put up a goodbye post so I can have the last word, but who cares?
I scroll through my feed. My favorite artist, Himalia Lim, has painted gold and gray wings across different buildings in the Bronx to celebrate Emil, and she’s sharing some pictures of fans posing in front of them; I don’t show Emil the posts. This celestial Reed Tyler cross-posts his clone dance challenge from TikTok using his actual clones, and it’s these little moments that build up within ordinary people that make them want to become specters. Lore is starting a book club, apparently, and their first choice is a fantasy novel about a nonbinary celestial who opens a portal that sends them into an alternate New York where powers aren’t real. If I lived in a gleam-free world, I would’ve been okay not having powers of my own. But that’s a fantasy world, and my reality has proven lethal.
No one talks during the ride. Prudencia turns on the radio and she quietly sings along with her favorite Mexican band. There are thick trees down this mostly empty road, and after getting deeper into the suburbs of New Suffolk, we pull into the cobbled driveway of a one-story cottage with dark green bricks and a maroon front door. The mailbox is marked with the house number, 149. Waves are crashing in the Great Peconic Bay, which is a quick walk away. If you were hanging up your power-proof vest, this is definitely a nice place to retire.
Wesley parks, and Emil races out of the car to help me out.
“I can open my own door,” I snap.
“I’m just trying to help,” Emil says quietly.
Prudencia looks like she might say something, but instead she locks her arm with Emil’s and they walk into the house.
I don’t care if they think I have a bad attitude. I get to be upset, for star’s sake.
I carry my own bag inside. There are pictures everywhere of Wesley, Ruth, and Esther from the walls to the table with the key bowl. Even the clock’s face is a photo of Esther as a newborn. There’s a piano by the sliding glass doors and a TV mounted above the fireplace. Emil, Prudencia, and Iris are awkwardly gathered around the cozy living room, unsure where to go.
“What’s the setup?” Iris asks.
“We have three bedrooms,” Wesley says in a hushed voice with Esther asleep in his arms. “I’m moving all of Esther’s stuff into our room. So Iris and Prudencia in one room and Emil and Brighton in the other? We have some air mattresses we can blow up.”
“I’ll take the couch,” Emil says.
“I’ll take the other,” Prudencia says and turns to Iris. “I want to give you some space if that’s okay.”
Iris gives the slightest nod. She checks her watch. “Sunstar’s announcement is in thirty minutes. Let’s meet out here then.”
The guest room is simple. Twin-sized bed, private bathroom, and a desk with a view of the bay. Emil would’ve been in a sleeping bag on the floor if he weren’t so frustrated with me. I charge my laptop, wanting to do some research on golden-strand hydras, but I spend the next twenty minutes propped up against the toilet, vomiting so much of this disgusting bile that my throat burns. Even though I’m tempted to stay in and rest, I wash up because I want to be with everyone else as they watch Sunstar’s announcement. I missed enough when I was asleep for days. I’m not part of the team anymore, but I’m still going to have a say as long as I’m here. Everyone is already situated, and Prudencia creates some space for me on the couch, but I drag a chair from the wooden dining table and sit next to Ruth.
We watch Sunstar take the stage in a town hall meeting with hundreds in the audience. She addresses that this country is indeed having an issue with gleamcrafters abusing their powers, especially with the rise of specters, but she has issues with how the enforcers have been operating. Enforcers have been trusted to defend citizens from gleam abusers, and instead, they have been abusing their authoritative power against innocent gleamcrafters. Thankfully she has a proposition—the Luminary Union, an official government task force comprised of some of the greatest protectors in every city. The True Lighters in Chicago. The First Sparrows in Omaha. The Arrowed Souls in Dallas. The Sunbeams in Phoenix. The Zoom Force in Lexington. The Shadow Belles in New Orleans. There’s a pause before she announces the Spell Walkers in New York and there’s an immediate mix of cheers and boos. She closes her statement by saying that in order to create a bright future, they need to rebuild the programs in place to protect this country, and that by uniting all of these groups under the watchful eye of the government, she believes we can all beat back the darkness.
“Do you think this is going to work?” Ruth asks as she turns off the TV.
“It’s a dream some may have been open to before the Blackout,” Wesley says. “Luna ruined all chances of people treating us with sympathy.”
“If we can’t make that dream come true, good luck enjoying this home you’re building for yourself,” Iris says as she gets up, pacing. “We wouldn’t be in this situation if we had a government that actually cared about us. I could have some help looking for Eva and Carolina. I wouldn’t have to ask for tips online or try to recruit trackers or hit the streets myself. But no, they are cut off from us because of a crime that we’re not even responsible for!” She slams her fist down on the dining table, snapping it in half. She’s the shortest person in the room and with one punch she proves herself the strongest. Esther begins crying from the other room. “Sorry,” Iris says as she goes out into the backyard.
“She apologizing for breaking our table or waking up Esther?” Wesley asks.
“Baby or friend?” Ruth asks, ignoring his joke.
“I’ll take Esther for a run,” he says. Off Ruth’s look, he adds, “A light jog.”
I’m left sitting there with Emil and Prudencia. Emil manually turns on the fireplace and watches the fire lick away at the logs. Prudencia stretches across the couch she’s claimed as her own. I go back into my room, even though I don’t really want to be alone right now. I bring my laptop into bed and try to distract myself with some YouTube videos, but all I really want to do is form some kind of plan that will get the Blood Casters to at least put us out of misery as to whether or not Ma is even alive.
I don’t exactly have that blood-and-bones feeling like usual, but I suspect I have another major reset in my life—both of my parents are dead.