Fang (Maximum Ride 6)

After that, LA’s young and restless got out of our way.

Inside, it was dark enough to hide most face-lifts, but it took only a moment to locate the flock — they were standing by the one light source in the place. I also spotted Jeb’s sandy hair. At the same time, I took in the fact that three people dressed in black were converging on the flock, and they didn’t look like hospitality associates.

I nodded at Fang, and he broke away, circling behind them as I pulled back into the shadows. Nudge sniffled and caught sight of me. I was shocked to see that her eyes were almost swollen shut. I glimpsed the others’ faces and noticed weird spots and swelling. WTH?

I put a finger to my lips, then circled it in the air. Nudge nodded almost imperceptibly, reaching behind her to tap Iggy’s hand twice. He tapped Gazzy’s hand twice, and Gazzy stopped blinking back tears and went quietly on alert.

So pretty much everyone was already primed by the time the biggest guy reached Jeb, pulled a gun out of his coat, and jabbed it into Jeb’s side.

“Nobody move!” the guy barked. “You’re all going to come with us! Somebody wants to see you.”

“I don’t think anyone wants to see us looking like this,” said Dylan.

The woman closest to him whirled, also pulling out a gun. In less time than it takes to tell, Dylan chopped the gun out of her hand, then grabbed her, locking her arms behind her back. So smoothly, so professionally, it was almost as though he had known she was coming.

Immediately, I swept my foot under the third one’s shoes, knocking him off balance, then clapped my hands hard over his ears. He shrieked in pain as his eardrums popped, and he fell. I planted my foot firmly on his neck, ready to stomp if he moved a muscle.

Meanwhile …

Almost as if in slow motion …

The gun skidded across the floor. And guess which of us had her bird kid claws all over that grisly weapon in the blink of an eye?

You got it. The scary seven-year-old with a leadership complex.

Having been subjected to the threat of guns way too many times in our short lives, the flock were not fans of them. Didn’t touch them, didn’t believe in them, didn’t want anything to do with them. And, fortunately, didn’t have a shred of experience using them.

So looking at Angel holding a gun? It wasn’t just terrifying. It was tragic. I felt crushed by the horror of what our lives had come to.

My sweet little Angel, looking like a murderer in a pink party dress.

I might say this a lot, but: This was like my worst nightmare. For real this time.

But then it got worse.

Because when Angel lifted the gun, she pointed it at me.

65

“NOBODY MOVES UNTIL I TELL them to,” Angel said calmly, as if she’d been doing this — or at least watching R-rated Mafia movies after I’d gone to sleep — her whole life.

I must admit, as a tactic the shock factor was super effective. Everyone was frozen with disbelief. For a moment, it was as if we were all on the same team, trying to talk a psycho down from the ledge. Every single one of us wanted that gun out of that child’s hands.

The scary thing was, she didn’t look like a child anymore. She looked very, very focused. And I was very, very focused on the barrel of the gun.

“Put it down,” the guy holding Jeb told her. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Yes, she does,” said Dylan seriously.

“Well, then, what does she think she’s doing?” the woman he had captive asked through clenched teeth.

“Okay, so what happens next is that everyone shuts up and listens to what I have to say,” Angel demanded.

Tell me to shut up, and I speak. “I’m listening, Angel. I

simply cannot wait to hear this one.”

She gave me a look. Listen to me, Max.