Infinity Son by Adam Silvera (some good books to read .TXT) 📕

absorbing their pain. I recover faster than they do, but I still suffer like I might break beyond repair. Imagine what would happen if Blood Casters or alchemists or enforcers got hold of me. I could spend the rest of my life healing criminals and officers who hate our kind.”

I never would’ve thought healing could be so nightmarish. That means yesterday, when we heard screams in the hallway, they weren’t coming from Iris, but Eva as she endured Stanton’s basilisk acid. I don’t know what to say, and I don’t want to press Eva any more than I already have, so I turn to Wesley to change the subject. “Thanks for giving my mother your room last night.”

“Don’t sweat it. It got a little cold, but I might keep camping out here so I can be the first one out the door next time someone betrays us,” Wesley says with a forced laugh to lighten the mood.

“Wouldn’t you be the first one out anyway with your swift-speed?” I ask.

“That’s the joke,” Atlas says. “Or what Wesley considers a joke.”

I force a laugh too. “Aren’t we going to have to relocate anyway when school starts up next week?”

“Dude, Nova didn’t receive any government funding. They were forced to shut down,” Wesley says, and someone needs to shut me up at this point because nothing I say is good. I haven’t felt this idiotic since the first few exams I took after Dad passed. “Same thing happened in my freshman year. I got moved to some basic public school and dropped out when I realized the teachers didn’t give a ghost’s cry about my powers.”

“Do you guys do lessons here?”

“We do some coaching,” Eva says with more energy than before. “But we’re not teachers.”

“What’s everyone’s role?” I ask. “I’m ready to help any way I can.”

The Spell Walkers have divided up duties. Iris gets the least sleep as the commander for all missions and recruiter for the team. Wesley is the direct correspondent with other rescue groups across the country to coordinate celestials seeking shelter elsewhere. Atlas manages requests for side gigs to bring in money. Eva is the resident healer, which apparently isn’t just physical but also mental; she runs therapy groups for struggling celestials and has one this morning. Maribelle is supposed to be training newbies for combat, but she’s been occupying herself with clearing her parents’ names.

“I can help with fixing your image,” I say. This is my calling. I was made for this. Blood and bones. “All eyes are on Emil, right? Let’s keep the focus on him. I’ll record his journey as a new Spell Walker and give the world his history and updates. They’ll see that everything we do and represent is heroic. We’ll prove everyone wrong.”

“It’s a good idea, but also an impossible task,” Atlas says. “Plus, some people are happy living in the past. But if we stop the Blood Casters, we can win back a lot of trust that way. One fight at a time. You got to let Emil know we’re not expecting him to save the world all on his own.”

“Maribelle needs to hear this too, man,” Wesley says.

“She went too hard on him,” Atlas agrees. “Brighton, if Emil helps us take down the Blood Casters, we’ll stop the prime source of violence that’s painting anyone with powers as villains.”

“We want your brother’s help,” Eva says. “But we understand what we’re asking of him.”

“I’ll talk to him. Emil isn’t going to want to hide for the rest of his life.”

I’ve been given my first mission from the Spell Walkers—purpose. I will do what it takes to protect my brother, and that means encouraging him to join this fight instead of waiting around for someone to track him down and kill him. Emil will know how to defend himself if the Spell Walkers coach him through his powers. Ideas are furiously spinning around my head.

“What time is the group therapy session?”

“Forty minutes,” Eva says.

“We’ll be there.”

I head back to our room.

Prudencia is in the hallway outside our door. She’s on the phone with her head hung low and one arm across her chest like she’s hugging herself.

“You better not throw away my stuff!” Prudencia is shaking. “Do you hear yourself? No one is threatening you. I’m taking care of a friend who needs me. No one is coming for you! I—” She looks at the phone and sinks against the locker. “She hung up. Why isn’t it easier to be happy that I don’t live with her anymore? It’s not like I ever thought I would keep in touch with her once I moved out.”

“She was the only family you had left after your parents died.”

Prudencia stares at our door. “I don’t know what Emil is feeling right now, but he was lucky to have grown up with a family that loved him so fiercely that he never suspected he was adopted. Is it horrible that I wish the same thing for myself instead of ending up with my aunt?”

“You deserved better,” I say. “We’ll take care of you.”

“It’s not about me. We should be more worried about Emil. He’s awake.”

We knock before entering, but still find Emil fully under the sheet. If it wasn’t for his phone screen shining through, I wouldn’t know if he was awake or not, because that’s how he sleeps and that’s how he hides from whatever is bothering him.

“Bro. You want to get up?”

“I’m trying to find info on how to break the cycle,” he says.

“Maribelle can get you Bautista and Sera’s notes on a potential cure,” I say.

“Only if I fight for them first. No. I got to figure out my own way to end infinity.”

“Let’s check the library,” I say. When he doesn’t budge, I pull the sheet off him. “Come on. You’re not going to escape this misery unless we do something about it.”

It takes a minute to get Emil out of bed, but in no time, I’m picking out a new shirt