“What ‘oh, my God’?” I demanded. “What ‘Dylan’?”
“He’s… he’s… gone wacko,” said Gazzy.
I turned my attention to the news broadcast, which was showing a grainy, shaky cell phone video… of a bird kid rampaging through town. My mouth dropped open as I saw Dylan—and he was totally, prosecutably recognizable as Dylan—smashing windows, ripping down signs, kicking cars, knocking over mailboxes.
“It doesn’t seem like him at all,” said Gazzy. “He’s always so laid back. Maybe it’s, like, a clone or something?” he offered.
“No,” I murmured, anxiously watching the screen. “No, I think it’s really him.” But why was he on this insane destructive streak? What had happened since I last saw him? I tried to think when that was….
He’d been with me all day, right up until—oh. Suddenly it all became horribly clear, and my stomach clenched. Dylan had been near the door when I’d gone outside to be alone. He must have seen Fang follow me, which meant he’d seen Fang and me fly off, out of earshot of the house.
What else had he seen?
“This is all my fault,” I muttered, grabbing my jacket. “I’m going to find him.”
Before Gazzy could say anything, I’d leaped off our balcony and was streaking toward town.
60
I WAS AT the edge of town before I realized that I had no idea what I was going to say to Dylan when I found him.
Dylan had had my back when I didn’t really have anyone else, and he was the last person in the world I wanted to hurt. He was… Well, he was a great guy, and I knew exactly how much he cared about me. He’d worn his heart on his wing, and he deserved honesty from me in return.
But what could I say to him? What could I offer him? What could I promise? How could I know what to say when I hardly even knew what to feel these days?
God help me.
I kept myself high enough in the sky so that people wouldn’t necessarily spot me right away. But I could still see everything, and I almost skidded to a halt when I saw firsthand the damage Dylan had done.
The town was in chaos. It looked like a tornado had streaked through, wrecking everything in its path. There were dented cars stopped on Main Street, store owners talking angrily to police, people sweeping up glass and reattaching signs. It was like Dylan had woken up today and decided to play Godzilla.
I let out a slow breath, understanding the implication: The measure of damage that Dylan had caused was probably about equal to the amount of pain he might be in right now.
Because of me.
My heart in my throat, I kept scanning the streets, but what I didn’t see was Dylan. I went high, way high, to give myself a broader view, but saw not a feather. I scanned treetops, the roofs of buildings, other places suitable for hiding out and seething, but he had disappeared.
And when he came back—if he came back—how would things be then? Would he still be the sweet, vulnerable Dylan I had begrudgingly come to rely on, to even like?
To more than like. I couldn’t admit to myself just what that feeling was, but it was something that had started to work its way deep inside me.
I’d been trying for so long to ignore his adoring looks, to distance myself and push him away.
So if I’d finally succeeded, why did it hurt so much?
61
HE’S HOME.
That was my first thought when I was rudely jolted out of a restless sleep that night. For the second time in just a couple of weeks, Iggy’s alarm system was sending wails and automated warning messages through the house in the middle of the night.
Be angry, I told myself as I bolted from my bed. He shouldn’t have taken off like that, shouldn’t have caused all that damage. You’re furious. But I couldn’t stop the feelings of relief and elation that swept through me as I headed for the door.
“What is it? Who’s attacking us?” Gazzy yelled from his room. “Should I bring the bombs?”
“Max?” Angel whimpered, stumbling out of my way sleepily as I rounded the corner and ran down the hall.
“It’s okay, Angel. Everything’s fine. Don’t worry, guys,” I yelled over my shoulder as I started to unbolt the locks. “Iggy! Cut the alarm! It’s just Dyl—”