Hawk - James Patterson Page 0,110

be a good time for you to find me. Before it’s too late. If it wasn’t already too late. I closed my eyes.

A banshee wail, an unholy shriek, made me open them. I had no more than a second to see the white and brown jet streaking toward us.

Max! Max?

Giacomo Pater raised his pistol and fired it just as Max screeched to a halt. The bullet hit her somewhere—her whole body jerked.

I saw the surprise on her face and tried to scream. I tried to say Mom but couldn’t.

Max’s face looked like it was carved from stone. Then one long, strong wing whistled through the air and smashed into Giacomo just as he shot the pistol again.

His face crumpled like rubber as his neck snapped, the sound loud in the tunnel. His head flopped grotesquely to one side like a puppet’s just as Max collapsed to the ground, her feathery warmth covering me. Her body limp.

Hot tears ran down my cheek, and I wished she’d never found me. Not this time, not ever.

EPILOGUE

“How long will it take them to rebuild?” Nudge asked.

“Forever,” Gazzy said, tracing his fingers over the rough rock wall of this Tetran room. “They’ll always be improving. I hope.”

“I know that they’ve opened twenty new centers to help people get off dope,” Iggy said.

“A new, real Children’s Home has opened in what’s left of the Paters’ estate,” Angel said. “Pietro has chosen a manager, and they already have fifteen kids there. Kids who were foraging in the streets.”

“The people rallied against the rest of the Six,” Gazzy reminded them. “I don’t see how they could ever seize power again. I mean, I’m hoping the new City Council does a good job, but it might take a while.”

Nudge looked over at Fang, whose dark eyes revealed nothing. He was rolling a small rubber ball back and forth in his hands, not speaking. He hadn’t spoken much since it had happened. You don’t just get over—

“I like it here,” Iggy said. “Despite—”

“There’s a lot to like about Tetra,” Angel agreed as Calypso climbed into her lap. The four antennas on her back were now so long that holes needed to be cut into her shirts. “I miss Hawk,” she said, and Angel nodded.

Rain stood up, holding out her hand to Calypso. “Come on, sweetie. I’ll tell you a story.”

Max came into the room, wearing the loose linen clothes that most Tetrans wore.

“Unh,” she said, sitting down by Fang. “I feel like crap on a stick.”

Fang put his arm around her and kissed her hair. “War is bad, honey.”

“You were shot,” Nudge pointed out. “Twice.”

Max leaned over the table and put her head down on her arms. “Maybe some ice cream would help,” she mumbled.

“I’ll get you some ice cream,” Angel said. “Again.”

“Ice cream sounds good,” a voice said from the doorway.

“Hawk!” Angel went over and gave her a gentle hug.

“You’re up!” Iggy said. “You didn’t say anything this morning.”

“Wasn’t sure I could do it,” Hawk said.

Max looked at her daughter, this creature that she and Fang had made a lifetime ago. She looked like shit. And it was going to take a long time to remember to call her Hawk instead of Phoenix, which was so much better.

Max held out her hand. “Can you sit in a regular chair?”

“I’ll try,” Hawk said, gingerly making her way over. “I’m not real bendy these days.”

“It’ll get better,” Fang promised.

“I still feel… like that was all so bad,” Hawk said, carefully sitting.

“It was war,” Iggy said. “It was necessary, to free those people and save the environment they live in, but war is always ugly. Always bloody. Always has too high a cost.”

Hawk nodded soberly, then looked at Max and Fang. “Where will the next one be?”

“I don’t know,” Fang said. “But we’ll find it.”

“That’s what’s so horrible,” Nudge said. “We always find it. Always.”

Hawk nodded again, not smiling. “And I’m always coming with you.”

MORE EPILOGUE

Hawk

Turns out, I could eat ice cream without gagging. Two weeks of forced bed rest and recovering in the care center at Tetra had left me twitchy and anxious to be moving, but the Tetrans were determined, sneaky bastards. Every day they’d figured out how to keep me in bed, how to keep my mind occupied so I didn’t go crazy.

“You were practically sliced in half,” Ying had said disapprovingly, like it had been my fault somehow. “It took a hundred and forty stitches to put you back together, and that’s not counting the part of your