Fang and I exchanged a look. This was a little scary. Actually, a lot scary.
“Um, what do you mean, exactly?” I asked Angel. Okay, so she can pick up on most people’s thoughts and feelings. But this was the first I’d heard of her sending a thought.
“I just asked her, in my mind,” Angel said absently, straightening the bear’s small white wings. “And she said okay. And she bought it for me. I’m going to call it Celeste.”
“Angel, are you saying that you influenced that woman so she would buy you the bear?” I asked carefully.
“Celeste,” Angel said. “What’s influenced?”
“To have an effect on something or someone,” I said. “It sounds like you sort of made that woman buy you the bear—”
“Celeste.”
“Celeste, whether she wanted to or not. Do you see what I’m saying?”
Angel frowned and shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Then her brow cleared. “Well, I really wanted Celeste. More than anything in the whole wide world.”
Like that made it okay.
I opened my mouth to explain the life lesson that was screaming to be learned here, but Fang caught my eye. His expression said, Save it, and I shut up and nodded, waiting to hear his thoughts later.
And now, back to our mission. If only I had one freaking clue as to how to find the Institute.
We stopped and bought falafel for lunch, keeping an eye out for danger as we walked along eating. Angel tucked her bear—Celeste—into the waistband of her pants so she’d have both hands free.
Angel is only six, and God knows her upbringing hasn’t exactly been normal. Still, I thought she was old enough to know the difference between right and wrong. I thought she knew that influencing that woman to buy her Celeste was wrong. But she had done it anyway.
Which I found disturbing.
I winced and grabbed my temple just as the silky Voice said, It’s just a toy, Max. Kids deserve toys. Don’t you think you deserve a toy too?
“I’m too old for toys,” I muttered angrily, and Fang glanced at me in surprise.
“Did you want a toy?” the Gasman asked, c
onfused.
I shook my head. Don’t mind me, folks. Just talking to my little Voice again. But at least my head didn’t hurt nearly as bad this time.
I’m sorry it hurts sometimes, Max. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to help you.
I clamped my lips together so I wouldn’t answer it. When I wanted information, it was silent; when I didn’t want to hear from it, it got chatty.
It was almost as irritating as Fang.
93
I was starting to seriously freak out. Everywhere we went, something from the Other Side got to me. If it wasn’t a voice in my head, it was a TV screen in a window. It was a hacker kid in a subway tunnel, the contents of my brain displayed on his computer. Bus drivers telling us where the fun was. The Erasers. What’s that saying—you’re not paranoid if somebody really is chasing you?
“We’re surrounded,” I muttered, staring at the toes of my boots as we walked along.
I felt Fang do a 360 next to me.
“We’re wasting time,” I finally said in frustration. “We need to find the Institute. Discover our histories and destinies. We don’t need to go to toy stores. We’ve got to get serious about this.”
All in good time, Max.
Fang started to answer me, but I held up a finger—one sec.