Infinity Reaper by Adam Silvera (new books to read .TXT) 📕

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