Infinity Reaper (Infinity Cycle #2) - Adam Silvera Page 0,12

to us straight.

I hope Brighton lives, even if it means reliving all the heartache we went through watching Dad in pain.

“How much time do you think he has?”

“It’s too early to tell, but I would prepare for a few months if we can’t successfully purify his blood.”

Months—and that’s if we’re extremely lucky. “What if we could cancel out the essences? Do you think that will stop his sickness?”

“It’s a popular theory, but no one has ever been able to eradicate a specter’s powers. Once creature blood is fused into a person, those abilities become as permanent as a celestial’s. Enforcers have means to temporarily dampen powers, of course, but even that takes considerable resources. I’m afraid that there is no known cure for specters presently.”

Brighton always says that something being unlikely doesn’t make it impossible. I hope I get to hear him say it again.

I squeeze his hand. There are no stars in the sky right now to pray to, but the moment they’re back I’m counting on each and every one of them to guide him back to health.

“Dr. Bowes, can you make sure your son won’t say anything about us being here? I want Brighton to get as much assistance from you and your team as possible. I’m happy to, I don’t know, autograph something for your son if we can count on some privacy.”

Dr. Bowes shakes her head. “That’s not necessary . . . but if you don’t mind, I’m sure it’ll make his day. He dreams of becoming a Spell Walker when he grows up.”

There should be concern in her voice, not pride. I don’t know what powers Dr. Bowes or her son have, but I hope he grows out of his Spell Walker hype before he finds himself in a battle that can kill him. Everything can change so quickly. Check out Brighton. One moment he was saving my life, and in the next, he was doing the unthinkable because staying on the sidelines wasn’t enough.

Nightmares may be terrifying, but dreams are dangerous.

Five

Iron Manor

NESS

It’s been a while since I’ve been in a town car.

Luna wasn’t comfortable with the Blood Casters traveling in packs unless we were protecting her or there was a very urgent reason. That way, if one of us got caught, the others could complete the mission. Stanton travels through sewers. Dione leaps from rooftop to rooftop. June teleports short distances, usually only appearing long enough for someone to wonder if they’re seeing things. And I always blended in on public transportation, an experience I was denied growing up because my fame was growing in political circles. But the Senator keeps his team together. Jax is driving, and Zenon is vision-hopping through the eyes of other drivers to determine the safest path, as well as to make sure we’re not being followed. The partition is down as the Senator and Bishop discuss the news that’s just come in about a brawl between the Spell Walkers and Blood Casters at a church.

“Which church?” the Senator asks Bishop, who’s reading the update off his tablet.

“The Alpha Church of New Life,” I say with a smirk, even though I know this isn’t good news.

Bishop confirms with a nod.

“What do you know?” the Senator asks.

“That while you were busy with me, Luna was becoming the most powerful person on this planet,” I say.

The Senator taps the panel between us, a sign that he’s nervous, even though his expression won’t betray him. These are the details I pay attention to when I have to impersonate someone. I’m already plotting on when I can pose as him to stage my escape.

“Any casualties?” he asks.

“A dead hydra and a few idiot acolytes,” Bishop says.

No mention of the phoenix or Emil. Maybe they did get away. Luna has always sworn that the key to success was merging the three essences, but maybe she’s taking her chances on just the blood from the ghosts and hydra. It would still be tricky, but she’ll definitely be killable if we ever cross paths again.

“Very well,” the Senator says to Bishop. “You’ll make a statement in the morning while I meet with some donors.”

Business as usual. As if the son who is supposed to be dead because of a plan he engineered isn’t going to be alive and well in his home. I wonder if he’ll lock me up in the manor’s panic room.

We’re driving through my old neighborhood, Whitestone, which sits at the top of Queens, and it’s even more painfully residential than I