“Hydra,” I call out, and my voice echoes within. I step out. “Luna must be creating another specter.”
Atlas is standing still and staring at the blood.
“What’s wrong?”
“So many deaths. Mari, if I die during battle—”
“We’re not having this talk.”
“—I want to be cremated. I don’t want some open casket funeral where my body is stitched back together from whatever takes me out and people remember me wrong. I want my ashes scattered somewhere . . . maybe even tons of places.”
We’re too young to be thinking about this. But my parents died without me ever knowing what they wanted. Not that they had bodies to bury, ashes to spread.
“Noted,” I say. “Same for me, I guess.”
Maybe we’ll die together, sooner or later, and our ashes can be thrown into the same winds.
Someone’s watching us, I can feel it thrumming through me like the sixth sense that aids me in battle. I look up and there’s a girl in acolyte gear standing at the dock. When she sees me, she runs.
“Mari, wait!”
I get a running head start and jump into the air, gliding straight into her. I flip her over and see she’s small with long blond hair. Her big eyes are frightened as I pin her down, my forearm against her throat. “When I let you breathe you need to tell me where Luna is. Understand?”
The girl sucks in a deep breath. “I don’t know where she is. Luna is always moving around, and I go where I’m told. I snuck out of housing to see if my sister died in the attack.”
“Your sister?” Atlas asks.
“I followed in her footsteps and devoted my life to Luna so we could one day be given powers. But she didn’t return tonight, and . . .”
“Ease up, Mari,” Atlas says. “She’s a kid who doesn’t know better.”
I get off her and cross my arms. “What’s your name?”
“Hope.”
“Okay, Hope. I’m Atlas. Do you know anything about the mission? Why Luna wanted the hydra?”
“Not really, but she’s working us all double time to intercept that hydra from the traffickers. Since we failed here, all of the Blood Casters will have to bust into the Apollo Arena’s cage match tomorrow night to retrieve the hydra before it gets harmed.”
“Does that include a celestial girl who is untouchable?” I ask.
She tenses. “Yes.”
“Who is she?”
The acolyte looks around like someone might snipe her if she says another word. “I don’t know much, except that she’s an assassin named June who was contracted to kill the Spell Walkers. The ones before you.”
The Blackout.
I grab and shake her. “How did she pull it off? Was she working alone?”
“I don’t know! But Luna is very proud of her.”
“Anything else?” I ask.
Hope shakes her head. “Please take me in, I can’t go back,” she begs.
“Luna doesn’t even know who you are,” I say.
“We appreciate your help,” Atlas says, playing good celestial. “But we’re caught in the cross fire of this war, and if you truly want to escape the Blood Casters, your best bet is leaving town. Do you have any other family?”
Hope looks like she might cry.
I’m not dealing with her.
I walk to the edge of the dock and try to breathe. I shut my eyes and June’s face comes into the darkness.
She killed my parents.
I’ll snuff out her light.
Twenty-Two
Cage Match
EMIL
“Tell your mother how that makes you feel,” Eva says during our morning therapy session.
Talking about the big family secret is difficult, but I don’t want to keep shutting her out. “I can’t trust you,” I say to Ma with my eyes to the floor. “I mean, I trust you, but I feel stupid for doing so now. I know you love me and that you wanted the best for me, I get that. I always felt safe around you and Dad.”
Ma nods. “Do you think you would’ve been okay with us telling you as a child?”
The thought has crossed my head a lot. I probably wouldn’t have known better. The same way I didn’t treat my sexuality like a big deal. But I can see myself spiraling growing up too, and questioning every little thing. Did Brighton get a bigger cookie? Why did Brighton get kissed first before bedtime? Would Ma and Dad have expected better grades if I shared their DNA?
“I don’t know,” I say.
Eva is about to ask another question when the door opens and Maribelle enters. “We’re having a session. Why doesn’t anyone respect therapy?”
“I figured out who killed my parents,” Maribelle says. She looks like she hasn’t slept all night. “Emil, I know you’re wanting to sit some fights out, but the Blood Casters are going to be out in full force tonight, and we need you. Bonus perk: if you play your cards right, you’ll be able to save a phoenix’s life before it’s ripped apart by a hydra.”
So much for this session.
I’m pulled into a meeting with the rest of the group where Maribelle and Atlas give us the full rundown of their trip to the dock. Iris is hesitant to trust the acolyte who passed along this information, but Atlas really vouched for the fear in the girl’s eyes. We’re thrown straight into training, and my stomach is absolutely uneasy once we take off for Apollo Arena.
Cage matches between creatures are barbaric, and we’ve got the entire crew walking straight into one. I’m not trying to watch some phoenix and hydra battle it out, I don’t have the heart for that, but I can’t sit this out. I’m going to make good use of these powers I’m not supposed to have; the gray sun won’t have died in vain.
We park our cars in front of this run-down boxing arena. People are being carded at the door and checked off a list. Maribelle is ready to bust in the front door to get her hands on the Blood Caster who played a role in her parents’ death, but Atlas convinces her to practice some discretion for the greater mission. Wesley dashes out of sight and returns a minute later.
“Two armed guards at the back entrance,” he says.
“Go disarm them,” Maribelle says.
“I give the orders,” Iris says. Wesley awaits instruction. “Go disarm them.”
We make our way to the back, fanning out so we don’t draw as much attention. I keep close to Brighton and Prudencia, wishing they’d remained at Nova. I stay away from Maribelle, whose fierceness is dark tonight. There’s a dagger hidden in her boot and gem-grenades in her shoulder pouch, and I don’t want to be around when she makes her move on June. We regroup behind the arena, where Wesley is lounging across the hood of a truck away from a group of unconscious guards.
Maribelle charges inside with Brighton closely following, his camera light exposing stains of blood and deep scratches along the floors and walls. It reeks of sweat and beer and wet fur. A thunderous roar echoes. I bet spellwork could explode back here and no one would notice.
We split up. Brighton and Prudencia head to the balcony so they can film discreetly. I remain on the lower level, which can’t be farther from my people, but Atlas assures me he’ll stay up in the shadows above to keep an eye on them. Iris and Wesley blend into the crowd while Maribelle patrols.