her eyes on the Cloaked Phantom. She clearly doesn’t want anything to change between us and that’s that.
I go inside. Wesley is in the kitchen giving Esther her bottle. His hipster bun is down and his brown hair rests behind his neck and he looks exhausted. He mentions something about the constellation being beautiful tonight but I go straight to my room, switch off the light, and lock the door. It’s like I told Emil earlier: Screw these constellations.
Screw the Cloaked Phantom for inspiring me to make a fool of myself.
Screw the Crowned Dreamer for killing me instead of making me immortal.
In bed, I feel fevered and itchy and nauseous as I think about how much stronger I’d be if I hadn’t failed so many times in my short life: I wouldn’t feel like such a runner-up if I’d gotten valedictorian instead of salutatorian; I would’ve felt more valued if my so-called fans bothered to come to my meet-up; I would’ve felt more powerful if I could’ve somehow stopped Dad from dying or had the means to avenge Ma or the Reaper’s Blood to protect myself eternally; I could’ve built something with Prudencia if I didn’t obsess over Celestials of New York; I could’ve been living my own life if I hadn’t followed Emil to save his.
Ultimately, I’m always the sidekick and never the hero.
I won’t have to be tired of that for much longer.
I grab my phone, its light harsh on my eyes until I lower the brightness. My Instagram feed is mostly pictures of people posting the Cloaked Phantom with captions about changes they want to make moving forward as if they ever honored their New Year’s resolutions. These pictures are pissing me off all over again.
Someone knocks on the door and I shout, “What?!”
I’m not in the mood for some check-in from Emil or Wesley.
“Can I come in?” Prudencia asks from the other side of the door.
“Yeah,” I say reluctantly. Here comes the I’m-sorry-you-took-so-long-to-get-this-right talk.
She tries to let herself in, but the door is still locked. A second later, she telekinetically unlocks it from the outside. Prudencia walks straight through the darkness, the constellation’s light filtering through the window, and she crawls on top of me in bed and kisses me. I’ve wanted this for years, wanted it like having powers of my own, and her lips feel better on mine than every cheek kiss she’s given me as a friend. This isn’t some quick kiss either, it has life to it. Her hands touch me all over and I give in and explore her too.
Everything about this kiss feels like she’s telling me that she’ll be sad to see me go.
When she starts taking off my shirt and telekinetically closes the door, it tells me something else.
Twenty-Two
Halo Knight
MARIBELLE
Hunting is finally paying off thanks to the Cloaked Phantom.
Working alchemy circuits such as pharmacies and hospitals hasn’t given me any intel except that some alchemists would rather burn by my phoenix fire than betray Luna’s honor. But thankfully there’s nothing like a ceremonial constellation that gets ordinary people itching for abilities of their own, because stars forbid celestials to have something that only belongs to us. Tonight is divided into two groups: those who will partner with alchemists to become specters and those who don’t want to open themselves up to persecution for having real powers, so they seek out imaginary ones.
I tracked down a youngish Brew dealer tonight in Alphabet City and I slam her against a black van in a parking lot. She seems to understand fear as my fire-orb illuminates her face. The same for her would-be client as he drives away. I couldn’t be happier about ruining his night and her payday.
The dealer releases her hold on the Brew. The vial shatters against the ground and gold liquid flows under my boot. “Please don’t hurt me,” she says.
The dark yellow fire-orb spins around my palm like a burning planet.
“Where is Luna?”
“Who?”
“My sources have already told me that Luna Marnette is heading up this operation,” I say. The dealer is sweating as I inch the fire closer to her face. “Tell me where to find her unless you want to spend the night as a pile of ashes.”
She’s crying as she looks away from me. “I’m not lying! I don’t even know who this Luna person is, okay? I got laid off and needed a job and my cousin knows someone who knows someone. I’ve only been doing this for a week, I swear!”
“Then who’s