Angel (Maximum Ride 7)

“The what?” Gazzy asked, peering at the menu. “Um, this is all in French. I want a burger.”

“Try the boeuf haché,’ ” Maya recommended, and I remembered Angel telling me that Maya had lived mainly in Europe since she’d been liberated from her cage in New York.

“So, what’ve you got?” Fang asked me while we waited for them to bring our drinks.

“Hm?” I asked, keenly aware that Maya was looking at me expectantly. Dylan raised an eyebrow, ready to come to my aid if necessary. “Oh, it’s nothing.” I coughed. “Just… we kept hearing all this stuff about D-day—like, the world ends day, we think—but people were pretty tight-lipped about it, so we don’t know when this whole shebang is going down.”

“Plus, we got a smidge caught up in sightseeing around ol’ Paree,” Total said, oblivious to my sharp glance. “Twelve patisseries, three parks, and four museums.” He put his paws on the table and drank some water from a glass.

“Really,” said Fang.

I paused, trying to frame our activities in a positive light. “We just went to as many places as possible where people might meet, where kids might want to go…”

“It may have been thirteen patisseries,” Dylan added unhelpfully. “But we also hit a lot of schools. We saw at least two DGers hanging out at schools, scoping out the students.”

“Checking the schools was my idea, since they seem most interested in kids,” said Gazzy, helping himself to more bread and butter. In France, plain old bread and butter were just about the best things on earth. “The patisseries were Max’s idea.”

“Of course,” said Fang, but I didn’t react.

“Dude, quit playing with her,” Ratchet said. “Are you gonna tell them what we found or not?”

Fang cocked an eyebrow at me, and I scowled.

Maya took a flyer out of her pocket and unfolded it so we could read it. “Yeah, we actually already knew about the D-day thing,” she said. “But we got the inside info.”

Fang smirked, and I kind of wanted to punch him.

Instead, I tried to act mature while reading the flyer, calmly seething. “Day after tomorrow,” I said, shocked. “That’s… soon.”

We were all solemn as we pondered that thought. Until Gazzy broke the silence with, “No duh.”

“We’d better make plans…” Fang began, but he didn’t get very far.

Boom!

60

BOOM! THE WHOLE restaurant was suddenly rocked by a huge explosion that seemed to come from right beneath our feet. People screamed, the lights went out, and we heard glass breaking and walls crashing down.

“Stay together, everyone!” I yelled. “Let’s get out of here!”

Carefully, we began to edge past hysterical people, relying on Iggy’s extraordinary sense of direction, since most of us couldn’t see anything through the smoke.

Le Cinq had a big freaking hole in its outside wall, and we made for it. I pulled my shirt up over my nose and mouth and kept hold of Nudge’s arm. I also held onto Angel’s hand as she yelled, “Calm down! Follow us! We’ll get you out! No pushing!”

People around us were panicking, climbing over tables, screaming. But I heard one unmistakable voice above it all: “Max!”

In an instant, I felt his breath on my neck, his hands on my shoulders. “I’m okay, Dylan,” I called. “Get a grip.” I found myself shrugging off his touch. At least he gives a crap, I thought. Unlike someone else, who was, mind you, out of sight.

Together we climbed over the rubble and through the hole, into the street. Sirens were already wailing. I quickly counted heads and felt a weird twinge when I saw Fang doing the same. All of us were safe.

Gazzy sniffed the air. “That’s explosives. It smells like Christmas!”

Okay, so we’ve had somewhat untraditional Christmases. With explosives.

Suddenly, there was another explosion from deep within the building. The blast made us stagger, even from across the street. Down the block, the hotel’s front doors opened and people poured out, panicked and screaming.

“We’d better move back,” Dylan said. “The whole building’s going to collapse.”