Infinity Reaper Adam Silvera (best books to read in life .txt) 📖

I’m boiling because I’m tired of Ma’s kidnapping feeling like something that can keep being overlooked. “Whatever. I’m going to go for a run and wash up. Have fun telling Prudencia about the phoenixes.”

I dash down the halls, and I’m a little dizzy from the blood loss. Wesley wouldn’t have advised me running in bursts of swift-speed in this condition but I had to get out of there before I could lay into Emil. I find a bathroom and immediately get a wet towel against my cut until there’s no more blood. I scrub my cheek clean and I’m left with a nasty scratch. It’s frustrating and ridiculous that I’m not self-healing yet, especially since phoenixes and hydras both have that ability, but it wasn’t instant for Emil, so I got to hang tight.

I’m not in a rush so I walk back, catching up on my messages. I’ve got a text from Nina, who I haven’t heard much from since we broke up. She left a voice message after Dad died, but that’s about it. Even with everything that’s thrusted my family into the public eye this past month, this is the first time I’m hearing from her. Her little brother apparently wants an autograph. That kid snitched on us when Nina and I were planning on having sex. Normally I wouldn’t do him any favors but it works out since I’m glad I got to have my first time with Prudencia. I tell Nina I’ll send something when I get the chance. I really got to get my merch shop open.

“Brighton, Brighton, Brighton,” Wyatt calls out to me. “You know, my mum is from Brighton. She took the train into London and met my dad. Great name you have.”

I was supposed to be Miguel, but Dad wanted to honor his best friend and named me after him. Not that I’m telling Wyatt any of this.

He stares at my scratch. “Are you well?”

I cut right to the chase. “You said your phoenix loves tracking. Help us find our mother and the Blood Casters will be there too. Kill two birds with one stone.”

Wyatt cringes. “Surely you understand that expression is distasteful around these parts.”

“Please educate me on phoenix-friendly expressions after my mother is no longer locked away with major heart issues in a severely stressful situation.”

He looks embarrassed. “Sorry, mate. Nox is indeed a brilliant tracker. Do you have any of your mum’s personal belongings?”

“Not on me, but back at home. Can’t you use my blood?”

Wyatt shakes his head. “’Fraid not. The Reaper’s Blood will throw the whole hunt out of whack. It needs to be pure, and we sadly can’t use Emil’s blood either since . . .”

“Since he’s not her biological son.” This is the one curse the Reaper’s Blood has cast on me, but it’s still valuable. I may not be able to use my blood to find Ma, but I will use the powers the blood has given me to be her Infinity Savior. “Then what do we do?”

“I tell you what. We can send for some of your mum’s clothes back at your house and see if Nox can pick up a trail. But for now we should gather your lot and meet with Tala and Maribelle in the library because I may have discovered a skybreaking way to channel your phoenix abilities.”

“What? Don’t keep me in suspense, especially not after you ran off with my brother like I’m insignificant—”

“I believe you can travel back in time.”

Thirty-ThreeReversing the Cycle

EMIL

The castle’s library is intimate, but I’d happily kick up my feet on the gray chaise for hours, or as Wyatt would put it, spread my ashes here.

There are prints of different phoenixes above some knee-high bookcases, signaling the books that center on that particular breed. I stop in front of the century phoenix, grieving Gravesend, who won’t ever grow up to spread her wings as massively and proudly as this illustrated one. Tala opens the balcony doors and air blows in. There are a couple chairs outside, but there’s hardly any space to stretch with Nox and Roxana resting on the floor.

Everyone is gathered around a wooden table already, but I’m lagging behind as I admire all these colorful spines of books with general information about caring for phoenixes. I could spend the rest of my life here reading up on phoenixkind, armed with the knowledge to try and save them. That’s not why we’ve been brought in here, so I grab a seat before Brighton can come down on me again for experiencing a second of leisure. There’s a chandelier with beak-shaped bulbs and the light is casting over seven volumes of The Firebird Compendium. Wyatt is flipping through the pages of an eighth volume.

“Share your theory,” Tala says as she sits on the back of Maribelle’s chair.

“I’m finding the page I need for a smoother presentation,” Wyatt says. “I’d hate to disrupt the flow once we get these wings flapping because—aha!” He murmurs the text to himself while nodding along. “Marvelous. Emil, sweet Emil, when discussing the range of your powers it got me thinking. A phoenix’s most beautiful talent is rebirth, and we didn’t know specters to be privileged with that ability until we met you.”

I hadn’t directly considered resurrection as a privilege. There are so many people who have died ahead of their times—Dad, Atlas—and yet I’m the one whose soul has been brought back twice already. For all we know, I’m the first and only specter who experiences this. Will this work for Maribelle since she’s also part-celestial? Will it work for Brighton since his grand set of powers are technically incomplete? What about my enemies like Orton? Has he already been reborn as an infant and will grow up with the memories of our feud?

For the infinitieth time, I want out of this cycle.

“So what’s the deal?” I ask.

Brighton leans forward. “Wyatt thinks we can go