Again.
“No, Angel. The only thing you told me was that Fang was going to die.” I looked at her accusingly.
“I told you that Fang would be the first to die because I saw it, in a vision. I saw him falling.”
“And you were wrong about that, weren’t you?” I asked. “He’s still here.”
“It’s still true, though.” Angel frowned. “It’s not over yet. Soon, but not yet.”
No. NO. I shook my head against her idiotic claims, her attempts at mind control. We had been through all of this too many times before.
“I know it hurts,” Angel said sadly. “Didn’t I tell you to harden your heart?”
“You’re wrong,” I said through tears, clutching Fang’s hand. “You’re lying.”
“I told you knowledge was a terrible burden, Max,” Angel whispered, and I could hear the Voice saying those exact words in my head, years before. “That’s why I couldn’t tell you. Do you know how hard it is, seeing everything that’s going to happen all the time?” There were tears shimmering in her eyes, a bitterness in her voice. She sounded jaded, old. So much older than a seven-year-old should ever sound.
“Imagine feeling what people feel, thinking what they think. It’s so hard to stop listening, even when it hurts. Your Voice said she considered you a friend and loved you more than anyone. I meant it, Max. I always will. Don’t you trust me?”
I thought about that question long and hard.
How I’d missed her, how I’d felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest when we thought she was dead. But it was Angel who tried to hijack my leadership, who put the flock in danger over and over again. Angel who could kill us all.
She was my baby, and I loved her so, so much. But did I trust her?
Angel’s face crumpled; she looked hurt and betrayed. She turned from us then and soared off toward the cliffs.
Don’t deny the truth, the Voice said inside my head, and this time it was Angel’s voice, sweet and coaxing. Now is your time! Save yourself and the others! Do it now!
I spun around, flabbergasted. I was choking on tears.
“What are we supposed to do?” I asked Fang. I’d been doing this for so long, taking on the responsibility, making all the decisions, that I’d forgotten what it felt like to have absolutely no clue where to turn. “After all that, what the heck are we supposed to do now?”
Fang shook his head and stroked the sides of my face with his slender fingers.
“I’ve spent my life trying to deny what I felt, when all I ever really wanted was to be with you, Max,” he said. “I don’t care what Angel says. I’m with you. Always. Whatever you decide.”
But as I looked into Fang’s angular face, his pupils suddenly dilated to pinheads as the world lit up around us.
I wasn’t going to get to decide, after all.
84
THE SKY WAS on fire.
I mean really, actually, burning through the clouds on fire. A moment before it had been blue and calm, but suddenly the entire sky was exploding, as far as I could see, reaching from the jungle all the way across the ocean.
The light was nearly blinding as the yellow and orange flames licked overhead, burning through the atmosphere. I heard Fang inhale sharply next to me, and we both stared in awe and wonder. Seconds felt like hours as we watched the whole horizon transform into a raging inferno.
I could not move.
It was… dazzling. More than that. It was awesomely, terrifyingly beautiful. Like, it hurt to look at. The most spectacular sunset the world would ever see—this was the world’s final good night.
Moments later, a gash ripped across the sky, splitting it into two flaming halves, with an aching hole of nothingness between them. Then the split opened wider, like a horrible, garish sneer, and I felt all the dread I’d been bottling up sigh right out of it. I held my breath as I waited for the hand of God, or aliens, or even vindictive Ari, back from the dead one last time, to reach out and pluck me from where I stood.
Instead, from that gaping mouth came a wave of excruciating heat that swept through the jungle and right over us.
I snapped out of my trance and collapsed to the floor in agony, tearing at my feathers, my clothes; I was sure my skin was boiling off. I couldn’t even scream—my lungs were like shriveled little steaks baking inside my ch