Nevermore: The Final Maximum Ride Adventure (Maximum Ride 8)

“We don’t have homes to go back to!” Ratchet exploded. “My guys saw me go off with you. You think they’ll take me back? What’ve I got? Nothing.”

“I can’t go back, either,” Holden said softly. “My parents don’t want me around. They’re… they’re scared of me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you.” Fang pinched the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted. Maybe more exhausted than he’d ever been. He was tired of making plans, of solving problems. He didn’t know how Max had stood it for so long. “You’ll figure it out.”

“So that’s it.” Ratchet’s voice was cold. “After all we’ve been through, you’re just saying, ‘So long, it’s been fun’?”

“Sorry,” said Fang. “But it actually hasn’t been that fun.” And then he stood up and limped away into the desert night.

24

COOL FINGERS PRESSED against Angel’s forehead. Someone was taking the bandages off her eyes.

She didn’t even struggle; she just lay there limply. There was no point fighting it anymore.

“Hey, sweetie,” the someone said, and Angel gasped—she knew that voice. She’d heard that voice so many times.

Jeb.

Jeb here, in the School, taking off the bandages from the operation.

“You.” Angel cringed away from his hands, fury coursing through her. “Don’t touch me!” she spat. “You deserted us. Again. I’m here because of you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Jeb said. “I’m so sorry, Angel. I can’t explain to you how sorry I am. You have to let me explain—”

“No,” Angel growled, and felt his hands twitch; he was startled. “I don’t care. You don’t get to explain after this.” She touched her tender face.

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t call me that ever again,” she cried. “I said I don’t care—I don’t care about any of it. About your excuses. About you. About the rest of the human race.” She was seething, and her voice was harsh and icy even to her own ears. “All people do is hurt one another,” she continued bitterly. “So let them all die. Let the doomsday, or whatever they’re calling it now, happen. I don’t care.”

Jeb brushed her dirty hair away from her face, her curls damp with sweat, but Angel clawed at his fingers. “Angel, please listen to me. I’ll make everything okay again, no one will hurt you—”

“I said shut up!” she shrieked. Her small body was shaking. “You just couldn’t stop at Iggy, could you, Jeb?”

“What do you mean?” Jeb asked. He sounded on the verge of horror.

“What do you think I mean?” asked Angel, her voice rising with hysteria. She felt clumsily for the sides of her cage. “I’m blind.”

25

FANG LEANED AGAINST the cold, rough tombstone.

It was twilight, and the sky above the graveyard was a pale indigo. The trees rustled with a slight breeze, but no birds sang, no crickets chirped. Fang was completely alone.

Blood trickled slowly from the wound on his wing, where the bone had cracked and punctured the skin as he’d flown up to catch Maya. At the time, he hadn’t even noticed the pain. It was pulsing dully now, and he was letting it bleed.

Pain from somewhere other than his heart was a welcome change.

He deserved the pain, Fang told himself. Everything was his fault.

If he had paid more attention in that battle with the henchgoons, if he had kept tabs on Maya the entire time, she wouldn’t have fought Ari in the air. She wouldn’t have died in Fang’s arms. She would still be alive today, warm and happy and Maxish and not Maxish, having his back when things got too real.

Fang stared up at the moon, only barely visible in the murky dusk. Things had gotten too real.

First Angel. Then Maya. Both innocent, both dead.

All his fault.