Fang

33

WE CROUCHED DOWN, staying in the shadows on the roof. The moon was bright overhead, and our raptor vision easily picked out the dark Jeep as it came toward us.

“Any chance it’s lost? On its way somewhere else?” Fang asked softly.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Sure. It’s probably the Easter Bu

It was starting. I could feel something change. I’d been on edge, paranoid for days. There was too much déjà vu: the house, the location… I’d seen an Eraser paw and an Eraser face. Even the black Jeep reminded me of the first time the Erasers attacked our old house. We’d been on the run ever since.

It was almost like the nightmare of the past year was about to start all over again.

“Okay, guys,” I said tightly, “let’s fan out. Hide high in trees, watch and see what happens. Check the sky for choppers; make sure the Jeep’s sunroof doesn’t open. When I give the signal, we attack. Aim for the Jeep’s windows. Break ’em.”

“Right,” said Gazzy, his face determined.

Almost silently, we ran hunched over to the other side of the roof, farthest from the road. I couldn’t believe this was happening. We’d barely been at the house a week…

I coiled my muscles, just about to jump – but then Angel cocked her head. “Wait – hold on, Max. I think… it’s Jeb.”

“Jeb?” Nudge said in disbelief.

Angel straightened and nodded her head. “Yeah, it’s Jeb. We don’t have to attack him, do we?”

I groaned to myself. As much as Jeb now claimed he was trying to help us, help me, I could never trust him again. It was like he woke up and said, “Oh, today’s Tuesday, an evil day.” Or “Friday again – guess I’ll be a white hat.” His shifting loyalties made my head spin.

“Is he alone?” I asked.

Angel looked thoughtful for a moment. “No.”

“Great.” I sighed. “No, I guess we don’t have to attack him. But keep an eye on whoever’s with him. It’s not my mom, is it?” I asked, suddenly hopeful.

Angel shook her head. “Sorry.”

The Jeep pulled up at the base of our house’s supports, and I jumped down to the ground to meet it. (You could get into our house only by flying or climbing a long ladder that we let down. Or not. That little design feature had been my idea.)

The driver’s door opened, and Jeb got out. At one time he’d been my savior, my teacher, my confidant. Now he was mostly just someone to be wary of – and, apparently, my biological father. But his contributing a cell to a test tube didn’t make me all misty eyed and eager to forgive. He would never feel like a father to me – not anymore.

“Jeb,” I said evenly. “I guess Mom told you where we were, how to find us?” Inexplicably, my mother still trusted Jeb. And I trusted my mom. Which was the only reason Gazzy wasn’t under the Jeep right now, rigging a detonator.

“Yes,” Jeb said. “She’s getting a team together for another CSM mission – I’ll have to tell you all about it later.”

The other car door opened, and I braced myself. But instead of, say, Mr. Chu, or a killer robot, or a cyborg assassin, it was something worse: Dylan.

My “perfect other half.”

34

JUST BETWEEN YOU AND ME and the lamppost, Dylan could easily be any girl’s perfect other half. If I didn’t already have a perfect other half, I might have been thrilled with the gift of my very own gorgeous mutant.

The moonlight glinted off Dylan’s dark blond hair, which dipped in a wave over one eye. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, and I could see the tops of his wings, a warm chocolate brown, darker than mine or Nudge’s.

For no reason I could think of, my heart seemed to thud to a halt. Somehow I hadn’t expected to see Dylan again, no matter what the Voice said. I’d left him behind in Africa. Now here he was, at my home. Looking at me intently.

Almost as if I were prey.

One by one, the rest of the flock fluttered down from the roof to stand with me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Jeb curtly. “And how did you get hold of him? Are you best buds with Dr. Gunta-Hubunka?”

“I wanted to come see you,” Jeb said. “Wanted to make sure the house was okay, that you were settling in, that it seemed safe.” He beckoned to Dylan to come closer. “Dr. Gunther-Hagen works in the same field of science as I do. We’ve crossed paths.”

I thought about how the good doctor had said he didn’t know Jeb. Did anyone ever just tell the truth anymore?

“Hi, Jeb,” said Angel. “Hi, Dylan.”

Everyone except me said hi. Not warmly or welcomingly – we’re too naturally wary for that – but somewhat civilly. Angel actually smiled.

Having Jeb here was bad enough – a violation of our privacy. And he’d had the gall to bring Mutant-Freak 2.0. Don’t be scared of possibilities, Max, the Voice said now, just to piss me off. Don’t close any… escape routes.

Huh? Escape routes? How could Dylan be an escape route?

“Dylan, you remember the flock,” Jeb said, pointing at each of us in turn. “Angel, the Gasman, Nudge, Iggy, Fang, and Max.”

Dylan nodded. “I’m really glad to see you again,” he said, not smiling. “You’re the only ones who are… like me.” His eyes focused on me again. I looked away.

“Maybe we can come in,” said Jeb. “Get caught up.” There was no way I was letting them in our house. It wasn’t that I automatically assumed Dylan was evil. The jury was still out on that. But I just didn’t get the point of his being here.

And he bothered me. He bothered me a lot.

“Sorry, no can do,” I said, just as Fang said, “Sure, what the hey. Come on up.”

I looked at Fang. His dark eyes questioned me.

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” I agreed ungraciously. I felt as taut as a bowstring and wondered how soon I could get rid of them both.

“Dylan, you can just fly up, like the rest of us,” said Fang. “Jeb, we’ll put down the ladder for you.”

Dylan glanced up at the house’s doorway, frowning. Angel and Nudge jumped up and were through the door with a couple of wing strokes. Dylan looked at me again, then at Jeb. “Yeah, okay,” he said finally.

He set his jaw, rolled his shoulders a couple times, then gave a jump into the air and tried to flap hard. But he hadn’t given himself enough room, and he just thunked back to the earth again, his wings whapping painfully against the ground. Typical newbie.

I heard barely suppressed snickering from Gazzy and Iggy as they flew up onto the porch.

Dylan’s chiseled face flushed as he let out a controlled breath and shook his head. “Not as easy as it looks,” he said wryly. “I’ve been trying -”

“Max taught the younger kids to fly,” Jeb said. “Max, why don’t you take a minute, give Dylan some pointers?”

My jaw all but dropped open. “Oh, he’ll get it soon enough,” I said, glaring meaningfully at Jeb.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” said Dylan, acting casual. “It’ll just take practice. Max doesn’t need to waste her time on this.” I wondered if he didn’t want a girl teaching him.

Incidentally, other people not wanting me to do something has often been Step One in making sure I do something. Plus, for a minute I actually felt a little sorry for him. It’s one thing to be a three-year-old with baby wings and learning how to fly. But this guy was… almost… a man. A little pathetic.

“Well, whatever. I can take a minute,” I heard myself say.

“Yeah?” Dylan raised an eyebrow and looked at me. He seemed to be trying not to look too eager.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” I said, making a mental note to get a good look at his wings. For all I knew, they were remote-controlled and duct-taped to his back.

“Have at ’im,” Fang said easily, and he was on the front porch with an almost silent flutter of his wide deep-black wings. God, Fang’s wings were gorgeous. They looked like they belonged on the Angel of Death.