Fang

“Max, gosh,” said Nudge, putting her hand on Angel’s shoulder.

I was breathing hard, and Fang pushed me back gently, moving me away from Angel. How could she say something like that and not explain it?

“Max, come on,” said Fang.

I opened my mouth, but then noticed that two people were approaching our fire. This would have to wait.

10

“HELLO,” PATRICK SAID as the people got nearer. As they got close, we could see that there was a tall man and a tall kid. They were only silhouettes until they were almost on top of the fire.

“Hello, good evening.” The man had a foreign accent and was ridiculously dapper in a crisp, clean seersucker suit.

“Can I help you?” asked Patrick.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “I am Dr. Hans Gunther-Hagen. One of my companies is conducting research here – I donated the supply of vaccines your group is using.”

Patrick stood and quickly wiped his hands on his shorts before holding one out to Dr. Gunther-Hagen. “Oh, thank you so much!” he said, beaming. “I can’t tell you what a difference it makes! We really appreciate your generosity.”

The doctor smiled at him. “It was my pleasure. It’s a blessing to be able to share my prosperity with others.”

Roger leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Huge billionaire. Owns a hundred companies, most in pharmaceuticals.”

Another huge billionaire, eh? I wondered if he knew Nino Pierpont, the richest guy in the world, who sometimes funded our little adventures. Like, did billionaires hang out with each other? Talk about the countries they want to buy, that kind of thing?

“I heard that you have the bird children here,” he said.

My eyebrows went up. Patrick looked nonplussed and deliberately didn’t glance at us. “Oh?” he managed.

“Yes,” the doctor said, sounding friendly and curious. “I’m most interested to meet them. They’ve gotten such tremendous publicity. I was hoping to ask the leader of the bird children to come have breakfast with me tomorrow morning in my tent.”

Seconds ticked by. Patrick and Roger said nothing.

I rose and stepped forward, saying, “That would be me.”

At the exact same time, Angel stood, saying, “Sure.”

My jaw clenched. On top of everything else, she was now starting one of her campaigns to lead the flock? Your timing sucks, I thought at her, and she flicked her eyes at me.

“Ah, fine,” said Dr. Gunther-Hagen, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “Splendid! Both of you come, then. But first, I’d like to introduce my… protege. This is Dylan.” He gestured, and the tall kid stepped into the fire’s circle of light.

I blinked, wondering what teen heartthrob magazine Dr. Haagen-Dazs had swiped Dylan from. He was as tall as Fang and Iggy, meaning over six feet. His thick, darkblond hair was shoved carelessly back from a tanned forehead. Expressive turquoise eyes looked at us with guarded curiosity. He was wearing worn jeans and scuffed, dusty boots. A beat-up suede jacket mostly covered his clean white T-shirt. He was ready for a photo shoot – like, for the top twenty-five hottest guys under the age of twenty.

Of course, Fang would also qualify.

“Hey,” I said raspily and nodded, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. And for some reason, that actually bothered me.

“I was particularly hoping you could meet Dylan,” said the doctor. “He’s been putting up with my company, and I’m sure he would benefit from meeting young people like himself.”

I rolled my eyes mentally, thinking that of course we were in no way like Dylan.

“Show them, Dylan,” said the doctor.

Dylan looked self-conscious but slowly took off his jacket to reveal broad shoulders and muscled arms. He was heavier than Fang, bulkier – maybe he was older? Had more regular access to food?

I was thinking, Wha -? when Dylan sort of shrugged his shoulders and extended his wings. All fifteen feet of them.

11

I AM NOTHING if not resilient, but usually I can handle only about one humongous life-shaking situation per hour. Now here it was, the second earth-shattering thing in five minutes. That, on top of the millet balls, made for a dangerously unsettled stomach.

“Where’d you come from, Dylan?” Fang’s steady and calm voice gave nothing away. He sat down and picked up a small bag of water to drink.

Dylan gave kind of a wry little smile. “A test tube,” he said. “A lab.”

Dr. Hunker-Gunther smiled and clapped his hands. “Oh, you have so much to talk about! But it is late and we are all tired.” He gave an old-fashioned bow. “We will be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

We were silent for several moments after they left. My eyes followed their outlines until tents got in the way.

“Well!” said Patrick finally. “I certainly never expected that! Did you know there were more of you?”

“Nope,” I said.

I glanced around at the dazed flock, wanting to get Angel alone so I could grill her for more details of her pronouncement about Fang. It would be best not to upset the others by bringing it up again publicly.

It’s pretty inconvenient sometimes when Angel is able to pick up my thoughts. She practically glued herself to Gazzy, and twenty minutes later, everyone was already settling down for the night in our tent. Angel was (at least pretending to be) asleep next to her brother, looking deceptively sweet and innocent. Iggy, a famously restless sleeper, was in a corner by himself.

Fang, Nudge, and I were together, tucked like the others under a treated netting that was supposed to ward off malaria-bearing mosquitoes.

“Don’t think about what Angel said,” Fang whispered next to my ear. “You have to remember – she’s still just a little kid.”

“A weird little kid,” I whispered back. We were holding hands; our feet were entwined.

“Besides,” he began. “If she’s right… well, I’m glad. It has to be me first. Not you.”

“Fang, don’t -”

“Go to sleep,” he broke in, then lightened up. “Long day tomorrow. Starting with your fascinating breakfast.” I could barely make out Fang’s grin in the darkness – without raptor vision, I wouldn’t have been able to see a thing.

“Yeah,” I said wearily. A few minutes later, I felt a subtle relaxing of Fang’s muscles that meant he’d joined the sleeping flock. I was still wound up, though my body was crying out for sleep. I just kept running over everything in my mind.

Fang – dead. It was unthinkable. A year ago it would have been the worst thing that could happen, and now – it was a thousand times worse. Now I knew what it felt like to hold him, what it felt like to kiss him until we were both breathless. How could I possibly go on without him?

The really, truly horrible thing was, Angel had never been wrong. Never, ever.

12

I WAS STILL AWAKE hours later when a tiny noise made my gaze jump to the nylon wall of the tent. There was a shadow moving there – a person, barely silhouetted against the canvas by the fire. Maybe as close as ten feet away.

I let out a breath of relief. The idea of a mere human lurking around at night seemed like fun ’n’ games compared to, say, a hungry lion. I’d not yet been clued in to the wildlife in these parts, and my imagination was fired up. I was definitely not a fan of injury by teeth. Give me a bullet any day.

But then the person stopped and seemed to turn toward our tent. It was a short figure, thick bodied and bulky – pretty much the exact opposite of everyone I’d seen in this country so far. I scanned the silhouette. One of its arms was raised, as if it were holding something, but I couldn’t make out the shape of a gun.

Every nerve came to life, and I tensed, ready to give the alarm and wake the flock.

Carefully, I untangled myself from Fang and lifted Nudge’s hand so I could slip out. My eyes stayed glued to the silhouette as I made my way to the tent’s opening. In one swift motion, I yanked the zipper and burst out.

There was no one there.

After a quick glance around, I jumped and shot out my wings, rising about fifteen feet into the air with a few powerful strokes.

There! Emerging from a ragged stand of trees was that figure again. Raptor vision allowed me to see more detail at night than most people could, but I still couldn’t believe what my brain was telling me.

Chu?

He was one of the most evil wack jobs I’d encountered lately. But that was back in Hawaii. He’d been dumping radioactive waste into the ocean. What was he doing here?

I landed as silently as possible in a nearby tree. He was speaking in a hushed voice. Must have had a cell phone.

“Yes… Collecting the new subjects… Approximately fifteen minutes.” He disappeared into a small tent with a first aid sign outside. It couldn’t have been big enough to hold more than about ten people.

So imagine my surprise when, over the next fifteen minutes, I saw maybe a couple dozen figures – who appeared to be mostly young-looking refugees from the camp – entering that tent…

And no one came out.

My curiosity got the better of me, so I left the tree and quietly crept behind the tent. No sounds inside. Not even a breath. WTH?

Swiveling my head around to look for more figures, I tiptoed toward the front. Still silence. There was nothing to do but stride right in, striking my best martial-arts pose as I whipped through the tent flap.

It was empty inside.