I blinked rapidly. What the h was going on? The Eraser in the mirror blinked rapidly too.
The Eraser was me.
18
In an instant, cold sweat coated my forehead and the back of my neck.
I swallowed, and the Eraser Max in the mirror swallowed.
I opened my mouth and saw the long, sharp canines. But when I touched them with my finger, they felt small, smooth, normal. I touched my face and felt smooth skin, though the mirror showed me totally morphed.
I remembered how ill I had felt, hot and heart-poundy. Oh, God. What was this all about? Had I just discovered a new “skill,” like Angel reading minds, Gazzy able to imitate any voice, Iggy identifying people by feeling their fingerprints? Had I just developed the skill of turning into an Eraser, our worst enemy?
I felt sick with revulsion and dread. I glanced guiltily around to make sure no on
e could see me like this. I didn’t even know what they would see if they woke up. I felt normal. I looked like an Eraser. Kind of a cuter, blonder, Pekingesey Eraser.
Respect and honor your enemies, said my Voice. Always. Know your friends well; know your enemies even better.
Oh, please, I begged silently. Please let this be just a horrible lesson and not reality. I promise, promise, promise to know my enemies better. Just let me lose the muzzle.
Your greatest strength is your greatest weakness, Max.
I stared at the mirror. Huh?
Your hatred of Erasers gives you the power to fight to the death. But that hatred also blinds you to the big picture: the big picture of them, of you, of everything in your life.
Um. Let me think about that and get back to you. Okay?
Ow. I winced and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to rub the pain away. I touched my face one last time to make sure it really was smooth, and then I went and looked at Fang.
He was still breathing, sleeping. He looked better. Not so embalmed. He was going to be all right. I sighed, trying to release my pain and fear, then I curled up on my mat next to Nudge. I closed my eyes but didn’t really have any hope of sleeping.
I lay quietly in the darkness. The only thing that made me feel better was listening to the even, regular, calm breathing of my sleeping flock.
19
“I don’t understand it,” said the doctor, gazing at Fang’s wound.
Yeah, well, I thought, that’s the whimsy of recombinant DNA.
The doc had come in to change the bandages this morning and found that Fang’s gashes were almost healed, just thin pink lines of scar tissue.
“Guess I’m good to go,” said Fang, trying to sit up. He was alert, himself, and happiness filled my heart. I’d been so scared—what would I do without Fang?
“Wait!” Anne Walker said, holding up her hand. “You’re nowhere near ready to move or leave. Please, Nick, just lie still and rest.”
Fang regarded her calmly, and I smirked to myself. If Anne thought I was uncooperative, wait till she dealt with a recovered Fang.
“Nick, now that you’re feeling a bit better, maybe you can convince your brothers and sisters to leave with me,” Anne said. “I’ve offered for all of you to come stay at my house, to rest and regroup.” She gave a slight smile. “Max refused to leave without you. But I’m sure you can see that it’s pointless for them to stay here and be uncomfortable. And you’d be joining us in a week or so.”
Fang just looked at her, waiting.
I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms.
“So, how do you feel about it, Nick?”
Actually, I’d already briefed him, early this morning. Since we were up at six. Since, at six, the nurse had been overcome with an overwhelming compulsion to take Fang’s temperature right then.