Fang

68

“CAN’T WE PUT a boot on her, like a little car?” Gazzy asked, rubbing his hair in frustration so that it stood straight up.

“Yeah, maybe we should start locking her in at night,” I said wryly.

“Could she have been… kidnapped?” my mom asked.

We all quickly looked around. There was no sign of disturbance; everything was still locked. And the note was in Angel’s handwriting.

“No, I think she decided to go,” I said. “As much as I wish that weren’t true.”

“What does she mean about Fang’s time being up?” Jeb asked.

“She said that in Africa,” said Nudge. “She said Fang was go

“Die?” My mom’s eyes widened.

“She was just trying to get attention,” said Fang. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

I suddenly had a thought, one of those awful thoughts that you hate right away and yet you can’t ever unthink it. I felt my heart start to pound as I stood up.

“Fang? Let me see the back of your neck.”

Those of us who graduated from (or, I should say, escaped from) the School have expiration dates, like milk. We first noticed them on some Erasers, after they had… expired. Dates, like little tattoos, showed up on the backs of their necks. They seem to become visible about a week, maybe less, before the built-in expiration gene kicks in. Do we have long, full lives ahead of us, or are we living on borrowed time? No clue. It makes retirement pla

Fang stood up. In the past year he’d gotten taller than I was, so I had to stand on tiptoe a bit to see his neck. I didn’t want to look – didn’t want to know. I couldn’t even let myself think of what it would mean if I saw a date there.

But I’m not a coward. So I brushed his black silky hair off the smooth skin of his neck – the same neck I had kissed not long ago. I could smell his clean Fang smell, the one he inexplicably had even when he was noticeably filthy and covered in gore.

And I looked.

And saw… just smooth, plain, tan Fang skin. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

“No date,” I quickly told the others, and they visibly relaxed.

“Do I have a date?” Dylan’s quiet voice almost made me jump – I’d forgotten that he was there.

“I don’t know,” I said. “You were made by different people, I think.”

uncertainty played across his once-again-gorgeous face. I took pity on him. “I could… look. I guess.”

He came to stand close to me, and turned his back. His streaky blond hair wasn’t as long as Fang’s, but I still had to push it out of the way. And tug down a tiny bit on the neck of his maroon T-shirt. I hadn’t been this close to Dylan before, and I realized that he smelled good in a completely different way. Clean. Spicy.

Then I realized what I was thinking, and my cheeks burned. I took a fast look at his neck and snatched my hands away. “No date. Not that that means anything.”

“At least you don’t have one,” said my mom. “We know what having one means; we don’t know what not having one means.”

Still, Angel’s note had reignited the fears I’d tried to bury. What if all of the attacks in recent days had been meant for Fang? The Eraser attack, the Cirque shooter, the Furioso incident – what if all of these had been designed to get Fang? I remembered how Dylan had chopped the woman’s gun out of her hand at the restaurant.

He just might have saved Fang’s life.

69

“WHERE DOES DR. GOD hang out?” I asked. “Where exactly has Angel gone? How did she know where to find him?”

Nudge headed to our computer. “On it.”

“I’ll go with you,” Fang told me, already starting to load his pockets with knives, throwing stars, Snickers bars.

“No,” I said, trying to sound calm. “I’ll go by myself.”

He straightened up, and let me tell you, it was all I could do not to crumble and beg him to come with me. Any fight was possible with Fang as my backup. Any trip was more fun. But what if this was all designed to get him? I just didn’t know. I couldn’t take that chance. The thought of anything happening to Fang… it was much worse than thinking of anything happening to me.

Fang, typically, didn’t start pelting me with questions. Instead he looked at me, cocked his head slightly, and thought things through.

“You think you’ll have more chance of success without me?” he asked mildly.

“No,” I answered honestly. “Of course not. But I’m willing to risk me. I’m not willing to risk you.”

He opened his mouth to start arguing, but I held up my hand. “Fang, we don’t know what this whole ‘Fang’s time is up’ thing is about. But if it turns out that Angel’s doing this as part of that, then I don’t want to make it easy for them. You know?”

I turned to Jeb. After the shooting incident, I felt I had to trust him more. “Are you going to be staying here for a while?” I asked him.

He nodded.

“You can’t go by yourself, Max,” said Dylan.

I blinked. I mean, I don’t take direction from people I love, so direction from people I’ve practically just met? Not likely.

“Um, I found an address in Malibu, weirdly enough,” said Nudge.

“ Malibu?” I frowned. “That’s practically next door.”

“Max, what if something happens to you?” Dylan asked.

I ignored him and turned back to Jeb. “If Fang is in any way harmed while I’m gone – if he gets a hangnail - you won’t see another morning. Are we clear on that?”

Fang crossed his arms over his chest. “This is ridiculous. I’ve never needed a babysitter.”

“Not a babysitter – just backup,” I told him. “Iggy, Nudge, and Gazzy are also on duty here. But I don’t think I’ll be gone long.”

I moved to leave, and Dylan actually grabbed my shoulders. I was so surprised that I forgot to karate-chop his elbows and break his arms.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said urgently.

“What you want does not matter here,” I said slowly and carefully. I hoped Dylan was sensitive enough to read between the lines, to the subtext of: Let go of me or I’ll kill you.

He let go of me. Fang was looking at him with narrowed eyes. I didn’t have time for this.

“Okay, later,” I said, and strode off to save the day, once again. I hoped.

70

DR. HANS GUNTHER-HAGEN left his computer console and headed out to the terrace overlooking the ocean.

“Max is on the way,” he said. “I thought it would take longer for her to find this house.”

“Nah,” said Angel, dunking a strawberry into her nonalcoholic strawberry daiquiri. “They’re totally on top of the research, especially with that government computer.”

“Government computer?”

“Yeah. From the CIA or the NSA or something,” Angel said. She lay back on her patio lounger and adjusted her sunglasses. Her pure white wings were spread out to the sides, about nine feet across. The sunlight warmed the feathers, soaking in to heat the porous, light bones. It felt fantastic.

“She should be here quite soon,” said Dr. Hans. He shaded his eyes and searched the sky, as if even now he’d be able to see her tiny silhouette against the blue.

“Yeah,” said Angel, setting down her drink and closing her eyes. “I told you.”

She listened to the doctor walk away, hearing every nuance of his steps. She smiled to herself but made sure to keep it off her face. This was why Max liked being the leader, she thought. It was amazing to figure out a plan and then have it work, just watch it all start to fall into place. It was like playing chess, but with real people. And the endgame was about to start.