Infinity Son by Adam Silvera (e book reader free txt) 📗

Twenty-TwoCage 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.

It’s a safe bet that tons of people here tonight have decorated their homes with creature heads. Maybe even hunted them personally as trophies to brag about. None of them give a damn that these creatures were ripped away from their families, carted over in darkness so they can be unleashed against their natural enemies. For entertainment.

Screw them all.

The ring is shaped like a diamond, with puddles of blood in the sand. There are sheds of serpent skin stretched across the ring, and man, I hope there isn’t a basilisk slithering around tonight. An announcer in an oversized hoodie signals that the match is about to start. Four people appear from the low entrance, all wearing armor and helmets, and they’re each carrying a chain and dragging the hydra. The golden-strand hydra is a ferocious beauty with flesh that’s beige like the tropical beaches of its home. Its eyes are yellow and orange with cracks of red like the sun. The hydra struggles, dragging its clawed feet, scratching the path to the cage.

A low phoenix screech that sounds like a piercing firework taking flight pulls everyone’s attention back to the entrance. The sun swallower’s ankles are chained, and its bright orange feathers are shedding as it flaps its wings wildly. Its red beak is sealed shut with iron, preventing it from breathing fire before it’s time. I want to lay into the two people as they pull the phoenix into its cage and unlock the muzzle and chains with the press of a button.

The hydra and phoenix are left alone in the cage and freeze as they lock eyes. The hydra roars, and the phoenix screeches, and I don’t need to speak their language to know they’re both frightened and prepared to fight for their lives. The hydra lunges, and the phoenix circles above, breathing fire. The crowd cheers as the hydra gallops around the cage, skidding across the sand and banging into the cell. The hydra bounces off the wall and smacks