We headed to the door that led to the air lock and outside.
Brian stepped between us and the door, and what had been amusing suddenly became irritating.
“Max, you don’t know —,” he began, and that was when I decked him.
A second later Brian was lying stunned on the floor, one hand to his jaw, blinking and wondering what had happened.
At least I assume that was what he was doing.
I wouldn’t know, because Fang and I were already gone.
53
FLYING IN HIGH WINDS can be the most exhilarating thing in the world. You just put your wings fully out and coast, doing micro-adjustments as needed to stay aloft. It’s a lot like surfing at the beach, riding the waves, except, you know, without the water. Or the beach. Or the surfboard.
At least, it’s fun like that when you don’t have to go anywhere and can take all the time in the world to enjoy Mother Nature’s roller coaster. If you need to go in any other direction, you’re screwe
d.
Fang and I are wicked strong, and our wings are, uh, not superhuman — I guess super-avian would be the term. But these were some freaking stiff winds, and on top of that, it was, to put it in words that won’t get edited out for younger kids, exceedingly cold.
Fang and I broke through the wind as best we could. We tried going above it, but before we got high enough, we realized we were so far up that we couldn’t see squat on the ground, even with raptor vision.
Teeth clenched, windburn tears streaming out of our eyes, we headed back down, staying close to each other. We started in small circles, then made them increasingly larger. And saw nothing. Nothing but whiteness. Ice. Rock. Snow. Right then, global warming seemed like a great idea.
“Hypothermia,” Fang yelled over the wind, and I nodded, biting my lip. Dealing with regular old freezingness was one thing, but being caught somewhere, unable to move and keep warm, was something else. If Angel had fallen through some ice or had gotten trapped somehow, it wouldn’t take long for her to freeze to death. Total, being smaller, would last even less time.
We kept seeing more of nothing. I realized that the wind was probably scouring away any tracks as fast as they could be made. I was so, so glad that Fang was with me, that we were doing this together. I looked over at him, his face focused and intent, and I felt a pang of — what? I didn’t know. Sort of longing mixed with miserableness.
Feeling my eyes on him, he looked over at me, and his gaze seemed to go right inside my head, like a laser. I felt as if he could see right into my heart, see all my emotions, and I didn’t know what to do. His expression softened, and he looked a bit surprised, but then he gave me his lopsided smile, and suddenly I was less miserable.
“We’ll find her,” he called. “We always do.”
I nodded, and our moment was gone.
It seemed as if we’d been flying forever, though it had probably been about fifteen minutes. But the coldness, the battling with the wind, the worry about Angel — it felt like a week since I’d decked Brian.
Then . . . I blinked several times and peered downward. Was that . . . ?
“There!” I said, pointing. “Are those tracks?” Below us, I thought I saw faint gray outlines of very small tracks.
“Penguins?” Fang guessed. The prints were being scoured away by the wind even as we watched. I glanced ahead at where they were going, and sure enough, about a half mile away, I saw a huddled black-and-white blob of penguins grouped together to stay warm.
“Yeah,” I said, disappointment burning in my chest.
Then I thought: penguins.
“Penguins!” I shouted at Fang. He heard me, despite my voice being ripped away by the wind. My eyes felt frozen open, and my mouth was incredibly dry.
“That’s what I just said!” he yelled back. Though he was only eight feet above me, I could hardly hear him.
“No, I mean, Angel wanted a penguin!” I shouted through cupped hands. “I’m going down!” Fang nodded, and we angled downward, seeing the ground rushing up at us.
Please, please let Angel somehow be in the middle of the penguin huddle, keeping warm.
54
THE LOSS OF HIS MAIN CONTACT was a regrettable obstacle, Gozen thought, but at least she had succeeded in placing tiny homing devices on the quarry before she was so unexpectedly terminated. Now Gozen watched his small screen as the green beacons began moving across the ice. He and his troops had been about to set out to find the beacon that had suddenly stopped and become dimmer, but then others had appeared, meaning more of his quarry had left the station. He’d wait till they stopped, then go out to meet them.