Fang

I nodded at Fang, and he broke away, circling behind them as I pulled back into the shadows. Nudge sniffled and caught sight of me. I was shocked to see that her eyes were almost swollen shut. I glimpsed the others’ faces and noticed weird spots and swelling. WTH?

I put a finger to my lips, then circled it in the air. Nudge nodded almost imperceptibly, reaching behind her to tap Iggy’s hand twice. He tapped Gazzy’s hand twice, and Gazzy stopped blinking back tears and went quietly on alert.

So pretty much everyone was already primed by the time the biggest guy reached Jeb, pulled a gun out of his coat, and jabbed it into Jeb’s side.

“Nobody move!” the guy barked. “You’re all going to come with us! Somebody wants to see you.”

“I don’t think anyone wants to see us looking like this,” said Dylan.

The woman closest to him whirled, also pulling out a gun. In less time than it takes to tell, Dylan chopped the gun out of her hand, then grabbed her, locking her arms behind her back. So smoothly, so professionally, it was almost as though he had known she was coming.

Immediately, I swept my foot under the third one’s shoes, knocking him off balance, then clapped my hands hard over his ears. He shrieked in pain as his eardrums popped, and he fell. I planted my foot firmly on his neck, ready to stomp if he moved a muscle.

Meanwhile…

Almost as if in slow motion…

The gun skidded across the floor. And guess which of us had her bird kid claws all over that grisly weapon in the blink of an eye?

You got it. The scary seven-year-old with a leadership complex.

Having been subjected to the threat of guns way too many times in our short lives, the flock were not fans of them. Didn’t touch them, didn’t believe in them, didn’t want anything to do with them. And, fortunately, didn’t have a shred of experience using them.

So looking at Angel holding a gun? It wasn’t just terrifying. It was tragic. I felt crushed by the horror of what our lives had come to.

My sweet little Angel, looking like a murderer in a pink party dress.

I might say this a lot, but: This was like my worst nightmare. For real this time.

But then it got worse.

Because when Angel lifted the gun, she pointed it at me.

65

“NOBODY MOVES UNTIL I TELL them to,” Angel said calmly, as if she’d been doing this – or at least watching R-rated Mafia movies after I’d gone to sleep – her whole life.

I must admit, as a tactic the shock factor was super effective. Everyone was frozen with disbelief. For a moment, it was as if we were all on the same team, trying to talk a psycho down from the ledge. Every single one of us wanted that gun out of that child’s hands.

The scary thing was, she didn’t look like a child anymore. She looked very, very focused. And I was very, very focused on the barrel of the gun.

“Put it down,” the guy holding Jeb told her. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Yes, she does,” said Dylan seriously.

“Well, then, what does she think she’s doing?” the woman he had captive asked through clenched teeth.

“Okay, so what happens next is that everyone shuts up and listens to what I have to say,” Angel demanded.

Tell me to shut up, and I speak. “I’m listening, Angel. I simply ca

She gave me a look. Listen to me, Max.

“One by one, and only when I say,” Angel began, “the grown-ups will turn around and walk away without hurting us. And if you don’t do it, I’ll pull the trigger. And then what happens?”

“You’ll kill Max,” Fang said hoarsely.

“Right.” Her grip, her arm, didn’t waver. “And you grown-ups know as well as I do that Max is the prize. The only prize that really matters to your boss. You know exactly who I’m talking about. He would be very, very mad if she died and it was your fault, wouldn’t he? That would be very, very bad for you. Wouldn’t it?”

“You wouldn’t kill a member of your own flock. You’d never do it!” the guy whose neck was under my foot cried from the floor.

“Is that what you think?” Angel smiled. “Max, what do you think?”

I only needed to consider for a millisecond. “No question about it,” I said, staring her down. “She would do it.”

“Give us one good reason why we should believe that!” squawked Dylan’s captive.

“In case you guys didn’t catch last week’s episode, I’m out of the flock,” I informed them, letting my voice shake as much as possible. “Angel has no allegiance to me. She’s wanted me gone for a long time. And in case you didn’t catch all of the episodes from the past year, Angel is… unbalanced.”

“Untrustworthy,” Fang seconded.

“Unpredictable,” Jeb added.

“Dangerous,” Dylan chimed in. The other kids were, thankfully, too scared to speak up.

“Right,” Angel said slowly. “That’s just the word I would use. But I think everyone understands that now. So, Dylan, you can let your lady there go. She’s under control. Nice and easy, ma’am. Just turn around and walk away.”

As Dylan slowly loosened his grip, the woman’s eyes glazed over, and zombie-like, she headed out of the restaurant. Angel’s gaze was back on me now, strong and steady.

“Max, I think the gentleman under your foot is ready now. Bye-bye. Leave. Don’t ever come looking for us again,” she told him firmly.

Even after seeing Angel in action all these years, I was still awed by her powers as I lifted my foot and watched the man peel himself from the floor and stumble out.

“And finally, you, sir, with the gun. You’re going to leave now without hurting any of us bird kids. Go home and forget everything that just happened. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, with a bizarre expression on his face.

Then he pulled the trigger.

There was a pop, and Jeb collapsed. The rest of us gasped in horror.

“I didn’t hurt any of you bird kids,” he said emotionlessly. “Just like you said.”

Looking dazed, he dropped his gun to the floor and ran out.

66

JEB ALWAYS SAID HE’D TAKE a bullet for us. Now that he had, it significantly changed my sense of superiority over him. If he died, I would have some major soul-searching to do. Advice: Don’t wait until someone you have issues with – especially someone you’re related to – gets shot before you work it out.

Fortunately, the bullet seemed to have missed the important parts, but he’d lost a lot of blood, so there was no way we could avoid the dreaded hospital. I’d rather be in a zoo. Instead I was in a waiting room, taking out my frustrations on a vending machine that wasn’t working. I really needed some chocolate.

“Max!” I heard someone call. I felt my stomach unknot slightly.

“Mom!” I hurried to her, and we hugged. I’m not a huggy person, but her hugs were pretty much the best hugs on earth.

“Jeb’s out of surgery,” she said. “It looks like he’ll be fine.”

Fang and I led my mom to a room where the rest of the flock was under observation. The “agents” that Angel had hired had set up their private security guys outside the door – they didn’t want word of this leaking out. These kids were no longer marketable.

“Dr. Martinez!” Nudge said, managing a weak smile. Mom was good about not grimacing. Nudge’s skin looked like chocolate pudding bubbling in a pot on the stove. The rest looked like they had been dipped in a cauldron of lye. Doctors had swabbed the flock’s sores, taken blood, taken their temperatures – but hadn’t found squat.

“Oh, my gosh, Nudge,” my mom said gently. She smoothed some of Nudge’s corkscrew curls off her forehead, then went around and said hi to everyone else.

“I’m Dylan,” Dylan said when she paused by his bed, looking confused.

“He’s the latest, um, acquisition,” I explained weakly. Even with his messed-up skin, he still looked like he’d been designed by Gods R us. Except right now it was Trolls R us. But, like, a troll who would totally be a pinup in all the troll teen magazines.