Hawk - James Patterson Page 0,39

hadn’t saved anyone yet, and, I reminded myself, promises were easy to make. And even easier to break.

“You okay?” Iggy frowned at me. But he was blind.

“How do I know that you’ll help me get my friends out?” My voice sounded like a lost little kid’s, and I made it stronger. “Maybe you’ll rescue Fang and then ditch me.” I stuck my chin up in the air, my lips tight, to show this would be no more than a small glitch. Like, if they’re going to screw me, let’s take the surprise element out of it and just screw me now.

All three of them turned to really look at me, their faces shocked.

“How could—we would never ditch you!” the Gasman said.

“You’re one of us, Phoenix,” Iggy said. “I mean Hawk.”

Despite obviously itching to hit the sky, Nudge came and sat next to me, putting her hand on my knee. A cold wind whistled through the skeletal building, whipping plastic sheeting around. I wanted to shiver but forced myself not to.

“Sweetie, I don’t think you understand,” she said. “You’re part of the Flock. You’re not being invited in—you are in. You were a missing piece, and now you’re back, and we’ll never let you go again.” She raised her head, and a thin shaft of moonlight highlighted her tan skin and one brown eye. “Okay, that sounded more stalkery than I meant. But to us you aren’t a stranger, though we haven’t seen you in ten years and you definitely look different.” She smiled. “To us you’re a member of our family.”

“You don’t even know me!” I said loudly, getting to my feet. This was all getting super sticky, and I felt furious but didn’t know why.

“That’s the thing about families,” Iggy said. “We don’t have to know you. Hell, we don’t even have to like you. But you’re in the Flock anyway.”

“Just like that,” I sneered.

“Just like that,” Gazzy agreed.

I sat down abruptly again and reached for a bottle of juice. It was slick and sugary in my throat, chasing down the last of the doughnuts. My body was burning through all the sugar, eager and ready to fly, but I was still thinking. What Iggy said about families was right; I knew what it was like to make one rather than be born into one. And I knew—really well—that you didn’t have to always like each other. But that word—family—hung in the air, and I had one more question.

“Did the pris—did Fang really kill some kids?” Was I the possible daughter of a murderer?

“He may have,” said Nudge calmly. “If he thought it was necessary, he would.”

“Why would it ever be necessary to kill a bunch of kids?” I cried.

Nudge’s voice was quiet when she answered. “Because sometimes, death is, in fact, better than life. Only in the most extreme situations. Only when death is… a mercy.” She stood up and shook out her wings, ready to fly. “And you should know that, better than anyone.”

One last smile and she ran and jumped off the building, a hundred stories up. Energized by possibilities, sugar, and curiosity, I ran and jumped after her.

CHAPTER 35

Max

The concrete I’d fallen onto was wet and slimy with mold. All I felt was my familiar enemy, pain. Pain in my head, pain from my scraped knees, and big pain in my side where the arms of the claw had definitely popped some staples. What kind of sick asshole would make a big claw to move people? Give me ten minutes alone in a room with them. But first maybe give me ten days of recovery.

Slowly I stood, refusing to show how much I hurt. One by one, pink, purple, and green floodlights snapped on, making my skin look revolting, like I’d already died and started to rot. Looking up, I saw they made everything look revolting—then I almost gasped in disbelief.

“Oh, come on!” I shouted, blinking against the pink floodlights shining in my eyes. “This is the Judgment Room? It’s more of a judgment courtyard, isn’t it? You used the stupid claw to bring me here?” I was about thirty meters away from where I’d started, in this separate little block in the prison yard! So the whole claw-grabbing thing had been pointless! Except it had been scary, I’d thought I was going to die, and it’d hurt like almighty hell. Other than that, pointless.

But, I guess that was the point, wasn’t it? Hurting me and scaring me. These sick, sick assholes. When would I