This wasn’t like with
the Cryenas. Fang was exhausted, and no part of him felt invincible. He felt every scratch and bite, every broken bone. Every part of him hurt.
“You know it’s useless to fight, Fang,” a voice called from below. “This is your fate. It’s always been your fate.”
He glanced down to see the man standing on the cliff.
Was he hallucinating, or was it…
64
JEB.
It was you all along, Fang thought. You destroyed everything.
This was the confrontation he’d been waiting for, and the sight of his nemesis sent a surge of adrenaline through him, giving his muscles an extra kick. He wrenched away from his attackers and raced toward the ground, concentrating the last of his speed and power on one goal: tearing out Jeb’s throat.
But he just wasn’t fast enough. He wasn’t powerful enough.
Fang was so close, only inches from that smiling mug, when the Horsemen caught him, slamming him to the ground at Jeb’s feet.
Fang roared in frustration as he wrestled against them. There were two on his back now, pinning his arms beneath him, and one kneeling in front of him, its fists raining down on Fang’s head.
“You can’t beat them,” Jeb said, calmly looking down on the bloody scene. “You’re a part of them, Fang. You’re what makes them strong. Stronger.”
“Stronger than what?” Fang slurred through swollen lips. Another punch landed with a thwack, and he felt like his eye sockets were caving in.
“They’re not quite invincible,” Jeb observed as the Horsemen pummeled Fang. “Not yet. But with the next generation, or the one after, we’ll get there—we’ll engineer the species that cannot die.”
Between blows, Fang squinted at the Horsemen, thinking about the familiarity he’d felt. Jeb had trained the flock in martial arts—that explained why they fought just like Fang. There was something else, though. The way they moved, appeared out of nowhere like shadows…
“You should be proud, Fang. You’re going to have a huge impact on the world for generations to come.”
Fang stopped struggling just for a second and looked up at Jeb with an expression of utter horror. Finally, he understood what Jeb was getting at.
When they had kidnapped Fang and run all those tests, when they’d taken his blood, it was to create something else. Something unspeakable.
They’d used his DNA.
“You bastard,” Fang spat. “You had no right.”
And in the midst of that brief distraction, Fang felt a sudden, excruciating rip, and one of the Horsemen tossed a strange object to the ground.
It landed next to him with a heavy sound of finality, and Fang stared at the dark, feathered mass for several seconds, unable to make the connection to his own throbbing pain.
Gritting his teeth, he gathered his energy and bucked the beast off his back. With an arm finally free, Fang was able to reach over his right shoulder. He touched wetness. A nub of jagged bone.
Nothing else.
Fang’s skin felt clammy and cold. He started to shake all over.
My wing, he thought vaguely as he went into shock. They took my wing.
Fang saw Angel’s face. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she was smiling at him. His heart broke in that moment—he knew what it meant.
“No,” he murmured. “Please.”
It’s almost over, Angel soothed him. Just let go.