nd he tensed in his chair. Fang and Iggy tensed too, waiting.
“Is that your blog on the Web?” Mike asked in a whisper.
“Yeah.”
The Gasman returned and put a plate of muffins on the table. He immediately picked up on the vibe and stilled, looking quickly from boy to boy. Since no one was pulling out weapons, he sat down and took a muffin, pushing the rest toward the others.
“So you’re sayin’ you have...like, wings?” Mike kept his voice low.
“Not just like ’em,” said Iggy, talking with his mouth full. “We got ’em.” He realized Fang hadn’t answered the question and turned his head. “Oh. Was that a secret?”
“Not anymore,” Fang said dryly.
“You’re the bird kids everyone’s talkin’ about.”
Fang shrugged. “Can you help me or not?”
“I’ll help you if you’re them. Convince me.”
“I’ll need more room,” said Fang, looking around.
Mike took them upstairs, above the coffee shop, where he pulled out a set of keys and unlocked a door. Fang was on hyperalert and wished Angel were there to scan for any threats.
“In here.” Mike ushered them into a large room, obviously used for storage. Boxes of various supplies were stacked along one wall, but the middle of the room was empty. “This enough space?”
Fang nodded and shrugged off his jacket. He made note of where the windows were and gauged whether they were single or double paned, in case he had to jump through one any time soon.
Slowly, Fang unfolded his wings, stretching his muscles, enjoying the sensation of extending them after holding them tight against his back for hours. He shook them out, feeling the feathers align. The tips of his wings almost touched the walls on both sides of the room. He wished he could take off right now and fly for hours, wheeling through the open sky.
Mike’s mouth was slightly open. “Dude. That is so awesome.” He looked at Iggy and the Gasman. “You guys got ’em too? What about those chicks that were with you?”
“We all have them,” said Fang. “Now, howsabout sending that message?”
93
Mike’s fingers flew over the keyboard of Fang’s laptop. “I just gotta write a bit of code here,” he muttered. “Get you in through a bunch of different back doors. Lotsa people got firewalls up, stuff like that, but this should bypass most of ’em.”
He opened Fang’s main blog page and scanned it quickly. “Okay, I’ve gotta try to get access to them through their IP addresses, since you don’t have most of theire-mail addresses,” he said. “This
could be tricky, but I’ll give it a shot.”
“You are a criminal mastermind,” the Gasman said admiringly.
“I try,” Mike said.
“Wait,” said Fang, reading over his shoulder. “Switch over to my e-mail for a sec. I just saw a pop-up alert on the bottom of the screen.”
“Yeah, this one has three red flags for priority,” Mike said, pointing.
Fang’s heart sped up.
THIS IS FROM MAX. READ IT NOW!!!!
We’re in Germany. Town of Lendeheim. Big castle here, head of Itex. Lots of really bad stuff. Come as fast as you can. (Hi Fang! From Nudge. I miss you!) Do NOT blow this off. Come!!! We have days, maybe hours. I mean it, you better get your butt over here. Max.
Huh. Fang sat back and nodded at Mike to keep working.
So. Max wanted him back, eh? She didn’t say whether she still had Frankenbirdy with her. If she did, Fang didn’t want any part of it.