I knew what I really wanted to get Iggy for his birthday.
And I knew where to get it.
But … I just couldn’t pay that price. I couldn’t.
I leaned forward and let myself drop into the air, enjoying the thrill of free-falling before snapping my wings out and rising.
Let’s see the doctor touch the sky!
“Do you think she’d like a bomb of her own?” Gazzy asked Iggy.
Iggy thought. “I kind of don’t think so. She usually just relies on us to do all that.”
“Well, what can I give her?” Gazzy ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Bombs are the only thing I know how to make!”
“Well, here’s an idea,” said Iggy, and leaned over to whisper into Gazzy’s ear.
A smile slowly widened on Gazzy’s face. He rubbed his hands together. “Brillllliant.”
Nudge sang softly to herself as she worked. It had been totally worth it, lu
gging everything back from Europe and New York. Look at how handy these things were now! Her backpack had been stuffed, and she’d hidden 80 percent of everything she’d bought, sure that Max would make her dump it as being not worth lugging around, a liability in case of a fight, etc., etc., etc. Now it was all paying off.
Two presents down, three to go. She smiled as she reached for the hot-glue gun.
* * *
Angel straightened, listening. Overhead she heard the cries of a hawk, and she shaded her eyes to watch it wheel through the sky. She loved flying with hawks. They’d all learned a lot from them. You’d think that flying would be as natural as walking, and it was, in a way, but it was also a skill that could be improved.
Other than the hawks, she was alone in the canyon. She had most of what she needed, but a couple more things would be perfect. Her sharp eyes darted here and there, searching in the shadows, checking out every shape, every outline.
Oh, there! Perfect! It was amazing that vultures hadn’t picked the bones clean.
It was just what she needed for the presents she was making.
Fang saw the shine of familiar brown hair way down the street and stepped back quickly into the shadow of a storefront. What was she doing here, more than a hundred miles from home? He smiled: no doubt the same thing he was doing.
So far he was in good shape: He’d gotten a really scary thriller novel on CD for Iggy. It was totally inappropriate for kids, and he knew Ig would love it. For Nudge he’d bought a dozen different fashion magazines, all about hair and clothes and makeup. He could already imagine her squealing with joy, then disappearing for several days to curl up somewhere and pore over every page.
For Gazzy? A history of explosives and how they’d been used in warfare for thousands of years. It was like giving candy to a diabetic, but it was perfect.
Angel had been a bit more difficult. Dolls or games or anything for a little kid just seemed too … young. She’d changed so much in the past year. She didn’t even sleep with Celeste anymore, the ballerina bear she’d scammed for, so long ago. And yet, she was still a little kid.
He’d finally settled on a camera. And he hoped she would use it for good instead of evil. The first time she rigged it up in the boys’ bathroom, he’d take a baseball bat to it.
And for Max — Fang smiled even as his heart began to pound a little harder. He hoped she would like what he got her. He hoped she wouldn’t say it wasn’t practical or whatever. But with Max, you never knew.
It was one of the things he loved best about her.
31
“IG, YOU HAVE outdone yourself,” I said, taking another bite of chocolate cake.
Iggy grinned and cut himself a second slice, which meant there was only about half an acre of cake left, slathered with a couple bathtubs’ worth of icing.
“You have to get the right proportion of cake to ice cream,” Gazzy said. “Each bite needs cake, frosting, and ice cream, all at once. It’s the combination that really makes it.” He managed to get his carefully loaded spoonful into his mouth before it dropped onto his shirt. Like the last one had.
“And thank you to Fang for getting the ice cream,” I said, waving in his direction. “And the balloons!”