Angel_ A Maximum Ride Novel Part 17

Suddenly, two figures jumped from the window.

"Angel!" I yelled.

Her once-white wings were dull and gray. The boy's weight was making her sag as she flew, but she held him tightly. They were both gasping for breath and coughing.

Fang and Maya went closer. Angel looked at them and nodded. With one forceful stroke of her wings, she shot away from the building-just as the room exploded in flames, showering the sidewalk below with gla.s.s and debris.

I flew along the sidewalk beneath her, and with Fang and Maya flanking her on either side, Angel landed well down the block, setting the boy down gently. His mother raced up, shrieking in French, and grabbed him. He was coughing and sniffling but managed a smile as he motioned to Angel. The woman tearfully thanked Angel, who nodded wearily and then headed over to me. I met her halfway.

"Way to go, hero," I said, giving her a high five.

"Thanks." She smiled, her teeth bright white against her soot-covered face. "I bet you were dying to come get me."

I laughed ruefully. "You know me too well. I was going crazy."

Angel smiled again and took my hand. It was like old times.

62.

I BASKED IN nostalgia for about a minute and a half, then my reverie vanished.

I saw Fang gathering up his gang. Maya said something that made him smile. He grinned back at her, and-right in the very same city that I myself was currently in-he pushed her hair away from her face. Just like he had done for me so many times.

I lost my breath, like I was getting punched in the stomach. It almost felt like my own personal D-day, where I was experiencing the end of "Fang and Max," forever.

Suddenly, I needed to get away. I told Nudge and Angel that I'd be right back and gave them a lame, totally unconvincing smile. Then I ran down the sidewalk and launched myself into the air, ascending as fast as I could. I soared over the city and followed the Champs-elysees, the main boulevard, to the Arc de Triomphe, the center of twelve streets that radiate away from it.

I circled the city several times, high enough not to be seen but low enough to take in some of the sights-the Eiffel Tower, of course, Notre Dame, and Sacre-Coeur, high on its hill. A light drizzle began to fall, adding to my sadness. Streetlights came on, and the city twinkled.

Finally, I alighted atop the Arc de Triomphe. No one was up on the observation deck; I had it all to myself. The day had grown chilly, and I was damp all over, strands of hair plastered to my face. From up here, nearly two hundred feet in the air, I could see most of the city. It was amazingly beautiful.

I sighed, resting my head against one of the big iron spikes at the perimeter of of the Arc's deck.

I thought that I'd never see Fang again, but here we were, in Paris. At first I thought we'd always be together, but no. Then I thought we'd always be apart, but no again. I couldn't count on anything; I couldn't get used to either situation, because both kept changing. It was so frustrating! And so unfair! unfair!

I thought about what Angel had said, that I had to put my own feelings first when it came to Fang and Dylan. That would be easier if I actually knew what my feelings were. I wasn't sure I wanted to spend more time getting wet and chilly up here trying-and probably failing-to figure them out.

I sighed again. I should go back, I should go back, I thought. I thought. The flock will be wondering The flock will be wondering- Then a hand touched my shoulder. I spun around, muscles tense. It took a second for me to process Dylan's face, his unfolded wings, his look of concern.

"Don't sneak up," I said, feeling my heart pounding.

He gave a little smile. "At least I was able to. Ten points for me-I'm getting better."

"Didn't know we were keeping score," I mumbled. I turned away from him and looked out over the city as the sky got darker. "Everyone okay?" I asked, not looking at him.

"Some of Angel's feathers are singed, and her face is a little pink, but she'll be fine. Everyone else is okay. We got a suite in the same hotel Fang is staying at. But on a different floor."

"Great," I said, trying not to sound sarcastic. Dylan was quiet then, standing near me. Finally, I broke the awkward silence. "Is that why you're here? To let me know what hotel we're at?"

He frowned slightly, and I saw tiny drops of water on his face from the mist. "Not exactly. I came after you because you looked upset. And I wanted to be with you."

Again with the disarming honesty. The heart on the sleeve. I looked into his turquoise eyes and saw emotion there. Fang's eyes were so dark I couldn't see the pupils. And besides that, there was always layer upon layer of mystery, with Fang. Dylan's eyes were clear and open and full of... well, I couldn't let myself think it.

Dylan had come after me. Not Fang. But that wasn't reason enough to let him... in.

"About that being-with-me thing," I asked. "Why is is that, really? Because if there's a little bot gene inside of you that says ' that, really? Because if there's a little bot gene inside of you that says 'Me want Max' all day long, I'm telling you right now, that's just gross. I'm not interested."

He watched me intently, and I wasn't sure if I felt like prey or predator.

"See?" I jumped in. "Time's up. You have no idea why you like me."

Dylan smiled and reached out, gently taking my hand. "Well, for starters... you're kind of beautiful."

Okay, I wasn't expecting that. Saving the world doesn't give you a whole lot of time to look in the mirror. I'd done it maybe half a dozen times at most in the past year, most of the time to wipe blood off my face and check out injuries.

He couldn't be serious.

"You have no idea how dumb that sounds, Dylan." I snorted and pulled my hand away. "I guess you're too adolescent adolescent to understand that girls want you to like them for who they are, not how they look." to understand that girls want you to like them for who they are, not how they look."

Dylan shrugged. "I said 'for starters.' You didn't let me finish."

"So... be my guest." I tapped my fingers playfully on the railing as his eyes bored more deeply into mine.

"Waiting..." I said in a singsongy, now slightly jittery voice. He was moving toward me slowly, as if giving me a chance to protest. I didn't.

"Can we... talk about that later?" he asked. "I'm kind of... distracted right now."

But he couldn't have been more focused.

I didn't move-my back was against the safety bars. He touched my cold cheek with one hand, then pushed my damp hair away from my face. He ran his fingers down my tangly mop as if it were a strand of pearls.

When he looked back into my eyes, his expression gave me a little jolt.

"Um..." I said.

Then he stepped even closer and tilted his head slightly to one side, his eyes still locked on mine. I was frozen in place as his mouth touched mine and he kissed me. He was strong and warm and solid, and he gathered me to him, an arm around my waist. I didn't remember making a decision, but my arms found their way around his neck as he kissed me harder, holding me close in the mist.

And for a long time, it was just the two of us, silhouetted against the Paris skyline, the night deepening around us.

And it felt... right.

And kind of beautiful.

63.

I AM NOT Miss Savvy about romantic relationships. The only one I've ever really had was with Fang, and, I admit, it was kind of strange to fall in love with someone I had grown up with. So I was quietly freaked out about kissing Dylan. Eventually, it dawned on us that we were really hungry, so we'd flown back to the hotel together, only to find everyone walking down the street to a little crepe place on the corner.

I'd felt Fang's sharp gaze studying our faces as we sat down, Dylan's leg warm against mine, and I started to feel self-conscious. Then I remembered what Angel had said: he could stay and weigh in, or leave and keep his mouth shut. That made me sit up straighter, and I smiled at Angel as I asked her to pa.s.s the bread. I didn't know what all this meant, didn't know where it was going, but for the time being, at least I wasn't running away screaming. Which was progress.

After dinner (which was fabulous-ham and cheese and potato crepe), we all walked back to the hotel together. Angel and I fell behind and were talking quietly while the others went ahead. I was half paying attention to what she was saying and half reliving kissing Dylan.

And I'm sure you already realize what I didn't remember till it was too late: Angel can read minds. And she isn't too particular about who's mind it is or when she reads it.

She took my hand. I looked down at her and saw that she had grown three inches, like, in the past couple months. "I'm sorry this is so hard, Max," she said. "I know it's all confusing.

"And I know how much you love Fang," she said, surprising me. "But that just doesn't seem possible anymore, you know?"

I made some sort of strangled noise-I was getting relationship advice from a seven-year-old. Because she knew more than I did. A new low.

"Max, we know how much you've done for us," she continued, my mind reeling. "You've made so many sacrifices for us, risked your life so many times. In a way, letting Dylan love you is another sacrifice-one you would make not just for us but for the future of the whole world."

Okay, now I was seriously wigging out. Was Angel saying I should flit off to Germany and have eggs with Dylan? I mean, WTH?

"And," Angel said, pausing before we went into the hotel, "it's a sacrifice that you could even be happy with, someday. Dylan is a great guy. And if he really was made for you, it'll make everything so much easier. He truly cares about you. If you let him in just a little bit, he could easily love you."

I felt like I was going to faint or throw up-that's what talking about emotions does to me-but I looked down into her big blue eyes. She gave me a little smile.

"I wish I could help, Max. I wish I had all the answers. All I can do is tell you to trust your feelings. And don't worry about what Fang or anyone else thinks. Whatever you do, I support you. I'm here for you, okay?"

I so wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe she no longer wanted to take over the flock, to be the leader instead of me. "Believe me, Max," she whispered.

64.

MANY THINGS IN America are really big. Big Macs, for example. And stretch pants, and cars. Not so much in Europe. In general, things there seem to be scaled down, more people sized. And it's charming. It's approachable.

Except when your hotel's only elevator is maybe two feet by two feet and is apparently powered by aging chipmunks running frantically, and you're stuck in it with someone who stomped on your heart. stomped on your heart. Because you chose not to walk up the stairs like a sensible person. Because you chose not to walk up the stairs like a sensible person.

I stood as far away from Fang as possible, which was about four inches, and looked down at my feet. I feigned huge interest in my sneakers and the fact that one of them was held on my foot with bent paper clips because the shoelace had broken.

"So, the whole Doomsday Group thing is getting pretty creepy," Fang said lamely above the sound of the wheezing elevator cables. I wondered when they had last been inspected. This building dated from the late 1600s, a plaque downstairs said. Had the cables been replaced since then?

"Max?" Fang asked.

My head snapped up. I couldn't avoid this anymore. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You figure?" I said. "What with the whole everyone must die everyone must die shtick?" shtick?"

Fang sighed, and I tried unsuccessfully to inch away from him.

"The flock looks to be in good shape," he said after a moment. "I know you're worried about your mom and Ella." Someone must have filled him in on everything that had been quietly plaguing me for days. I'd been keeping all of that to myself.

I nodded. This superficial conversation was torture. This was the person I'd spent countless hours with, kissing, talking to about everything in our hearts, our minds. How was it that it suddenly felt like Dylan was the one whom I'd known forever and Fang was the total stranger? I knew that life as a genetic experiment sucked, but I hadn't realized just how much worse it might suck as a teenage genetic experiment.

"So... you're not going to talk to me anymore?" Fang sounded angry.

And then, something inside me snapped. "How could you stop loving me?"

As soon as my words came out, they hung in the air between us, and I wanted to disappear. The sound of hurt in my voice, even asking him that question-it was like painting a big target on my chest. I looked away and shrugged, like, never mind, never mind, but of course it was too late. Once spoken, words can't be unspoken. but of course it was too late. Once spoken, words can't be unspoken.

Fang smacked his hand against the elevator wall, no doubt startling the chipmunks.

"Is that what you think?" he asked. "Do you think I like seeing you with that... experiment?"

Okay, pot calling the kettle black, but- "Do you think I like seeing you with that... clone? clone?"

"But this is what you decided!" he said.

"This is what you you decided!" I said, stung. "You're the one who left! You're the one who immediately replaced all of us! Replaced me!" decided!" I said, stung. "You're the one who left! You're the one who immediately replaced all of us! Replaced me!"

"She's not a replacement for you!" His face softened for a moment. "No one could replace you. But I needed another good fighter. And... she's really very different from you, in lots of ways."

"That's special!" I snapped. "Glad to hear it!"

"What about you and superboy?" Fang demanded. "You think I don't know what's going on?"

"Yeah? Then tell me, 'cause I have no freaking idea what's going on!"

Our voices had gotten louder and louder in the tiny s.p.a.ce, and the elevator had been moving so slowly that we didn't even notice when it groaned to a halt. But suddenly the doors opened, and our voices spilled out into the elegant hallway. Then my eyes locked on Angel's small, determined face.

She crossed her arms and had obviously been waiting for us. "Okay, you guys," she said briskly, "you can argue later. Right now you need to listen up. I have a plan."

Oh, there you go, I thought in dismay. If there were ever words guaranteed to strike fear into my heart... I thought in dismay. If there were ever words guaranteed to strike fear into my heart...

I sighed.

"Let's hear it," I said.

65.