Nevermore: The Final Maximum Ride Adventure

another dreamlike vision. He was standing in a sea of red dust and blue sky, covered in blood and dirt and grime, but he didn’t look like Fang, exactly. He looked ferocious and crazed, a mad dog about to attack. Unhinged.

“She’s dead,” Fang said, and Angel drew in a sharp breath, her whole body trembling. She hadn’t dared to think it could really be true.

Fang’s face twisted as he tried to control his anguish. He took a step toward two girls Angel recognized from Fang’s gang: Star and Kate.

“Maya died because of you,” he snarled.

Realization hit Angel like a ton of C4 bricks. Maya. Max II. Relief, and then horrible guilt, surged through her: Max was alive. It was Maya who was dead.

“We didn’t know,” Kate said, weeping, mascara running down her smooth brown cheeks. Kate was superstrong, Angel remembered, but she didn’t look strong now. “Ari wasn’t supposed to—” Her voice caught as she cried, but Fang’s jaw was tensed, his features hard and calculating, his hands balled into fists.

Angel watched in dread. She knew that look. When crossed, Fang was deadly. Get out of there, she thought at the girls.

Star put an arm around her friend, and her usually harsh features softened. “We’re sorry, Fang, but Maya… wasn’t our fault. She was our friend.”

Fang’s laugh was harsh, his sneer horrifying. “Liar!” he shouted, towering over her. “Like I was your friend? You hated her,” he spat, his eyes flashing.

Star shifted uncomfortably and tucked a stray piece of blond hair behind her ear, her elflike face tightening. “I never wanted her dead,” she said quietly.

“Please, Fang,” Kate hedged, sensing he was about to snap. “We were afraid. There’s just too much danger following you. Jeb didn’t tell us they’d try to kill—”

“How do you know Jeb?” Fang asked, his voice low and murderous. A vein pulsed in his temple as he absorbed the flare of shock at hearing Jeb Batchelder’s name. Jeb, the man who’d once taken care of the flock like a father, but who’d turned out to be just another traitor. “How is he involved in this?”

“He said he’d keep us safe,” Star shot back, her blue eyes accusing. “Which is more than you could do.”

Fang’s growl was fierce and guttural as he lunged for Star’s throat like a wounded animal taking a last stand.

“Fang, don’t!” Holden pleaded, his voice cracking.

Ratchet had grabbed Fang’s arms. “Chill, man. Just chill. They’re not worth it.”

“You should know better than anyone that survival comes first,” Star said smugly, but she cowered as Fang surged against Ratchet’s grasp, gnashing his teeth.

Angel knew that Ratchet couldn’t hold Fang back if he really wanted to kill Star and Kate. As angry as he was, he was choosing to spare them.

“Traitors!” Fang shrieked after the girls as they took off down the desert road. “Go on, run. Get out of my sight! If I ever see your faces again I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands.”

Then the vision ended, leaving Angel with the image of Fang’s furious eyes, an ocean of hurt behind them. She blinked rapidly as the desert scene melted away, leaving her with a dull ache in her chest.

Max was alive, at least, but everything else seemed to be falling apart. Angel hunched into the emptiness of her dog crate, the thick smell of chemicals surrounding her and pain throbbing in every part of her body. She missed the flock so much.

If only Fang or Max were here with her.

23

“THAT IS MESSED up,” Ratchet said angrily, standing over Fang. “You’re not kicking us to the curb now, when we still gotta get back at that fanged freak. No way, man.”

Fang nodded, staring into the smoldering embers of their campfire. He was aching all over, and his shirt was still covered in Maya’s blood. “Sorry.”

“Is this about Star and Kate?” Ratchet demanded. “You think we’re like them? That I’d snitch? You know I don’t roll like that.” Even with his aggressive front, Fang could hear the real hurt in Ratchet’s voice. “Look at these battle scars.” Ratchet pulled up his sleeve, and his dark skin gleamed in the firelight. His arm was covered in slashes and bruises. “For you.”

“It’s not that,” Fang said. “I just can’t… do this. Besides Star and Kate, Maya’s dead, and… Look, there’s nothing left. Fang’s gang was a stupid fantasy. I’m just better on my own.”

A fleeting thought of the flock made his chest tighten.

“No man is an island,” Holden said with an awkward laugh, but Fang didn’t react.

“Shut up, Starfish,” Ratchet said halfheartedly, kicking an empty can into the darkness in frustration.

Holden brushed his sandy hair out of his face and pulled absentmindedly at the chunk of new skin on his earlobe, which had already grown back after one of the Erasers had bitten it off. After a minute, he said in a small voice, “Where are we supposed to go now?”

Fang sighed. “Go home.”

“We don’t have homes to go back to!” Ratchet exploded. “My guys saw me go off with you. You think they’ll take me back? What’ve I got? Nothing.”

“I can’t go back, either,” Holden said softly. “My parents don’t want me around. They’re… they’re scared of me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you.” Fang pinched the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted. Maybe more exhausted than he’d ever been. He was tired of making plans, of solving problems. He didn’t know how Max had stood it for so long. “You’ll figure it out.”

“So that’s it.” Ratchet’s voice was cold. “After all we’ve been through, you’re just saying, ‘So long, it’s been fun’?”

“Sorry,” said Fang. “But it actually hasn’t been that fun.” And then he stood up and limped away into the desert night.

24

COOL FINGERS PRESSED against Angel’s forehead. Someone was taking the bandages off her eyes.

She didn’t even struggle; she just lay there limply. There was no point fighting it anymore.

“Hey, sweetie,” the someone said, and Angel gasped—she knew that voice. She’d heard that voice so many times.

Jeb.

Jeb here, in the School, taking off the bandages from the operation.

“You.” Angel cringed away from his hands, fury coursing through her. “Don’t touch me!” she spat. “You deserted us. Again. I’m here because of you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Jeb said. “I’m so sorry, Angel. I can’t explain to you how sorry I am. You have to let me explain—”

“No,” Angel growled, and felt his hands twitch; he was startled. “I don’t care. You don’t get to explain after this.” She touched her tender face.

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t call me that ever again,” she cried. “I said I don’t care—I don’t care about any of it. About your excuses. About you. About the rest of the human race.” She was seething, and her voice was harsh and icy even to her own ears. “All people do is hurt one another,” she continued bitterly. “So let them all die. Let the doomsday, or whatever they’re calling it now, happen. I don’t care.”

Jeb brushed her dirty hair away from her face, her curls damp with sweat, but Angel clawed at his fingers. “Angel, please listen to me. I’ll make everything okay again, no one will hurt you—”

“I said shut up!” she shrieked. Her small body was shaking. “You just couldn’t stop at Iggy, could you, Jeb?”

“What do you mean?” Jeb asked. He sounded on the verge of horror.