execution square. I don’t know how to hover, so I would downstroke and rise up about ten feet, then let myself fall. I felt stupid, like I should have figured all this out on my own.
“Okay, swoop down, cut him free, swoop back up with him,” Nudge said, and the other two nodded, hovering in the air like… like mosquitos or something. “Who’s going to carry him?”
“Me,” Iggy and Gazzy said at the same time. There was a pause, then they both said “Me” again.
“Me,” Gazzy said again. “Iggy drops down and sets him loose.”
“But—” Nudge began.
“You’re not as good at lock picking as he is,” Gazzy said. I saw from Nudge’s face that she couldn’t deny it.
I hadn’t wanted to actually look at Fang, in case he was dead. He might be my dad. He might be dead. Finally I forced myself. In the dark courtyard, there was one prisoner handcuffed to a post. He was slumped forward, not moving. The wall all around him was stained with blood, some of it super recent, alarmingly bright.
I swallowed hard, scanning him for signs of life. I couldn’t see any. There was a vidscreen in front of Fang’s limp body, of course. I remembered what McCallum had said when they brought Fang to the prison—we do prison right! Yep, prison and murder, and making sure everyone knew who was in charge. Right now families all over the city in their homes were beaming at a glowing McCallum on their TVs. But they were able to look away, if they wanted to. Part of the punishment for a prisoner would be having to stare, all day, into that confident jerk’s mug, huge and oily and just out of reach.
Maybe some of them did walk away “rehabilitated,” truly believing that McCallum wanted the best for them, was here to protect them, and the city. But I bet most of them just died wishing they could crush his face.
“Okay, let’s go,” said Iggy, and he and Gazzy dropped down to the ground.
I couldn’t swallow.
Iggy immediately set to work on a handcuff, while Gazzy took out his canteen and splashed some on Fang’s head. Did he twitch? Then Gazzy pulled Fang’s head back by his long, black hair and tipped water into his mouth just as Iggy got one hand free.
Fang slumped down, held up by one hand. Just like Calypso. Gazzy propped him up so Iggy could work on the other metal cuff. Nudge was hovering, and I was trying to hover and not succeeding.
The vidscreen in front of Fang changed to McCallum’s broad, tan face and small blue eyes. “This is for you third-shift workers who are making the City of the Dead productive, even while others sleep!” he boomed. “I know it’s the middle of the night! But I have a show for you that you won’t believe! We have found a freak to end all freaks—someone who drank the water before it hit the water-cleaning facility!” He paused to let everyone laugh, then said, “We have a true subversive, loyal citizens. Someone who would destroy what you own, what you believe, what you want. But we’re going to show her that in our city, we don’t want subversives! Traitors! People who don’t trust their McCallum!” He gave a big smile. “Citizens, we’ve captured a bird-person, and we just can’t rehabilitate her!”
Nudge’s head whipped downward and she stared at the screen. My breath caught in my throat. Iggy and Gazzy both froze and looked at the screen.
“We’ve tried and tried, but she’s bad to the bone,” McCallum said ruefully. “So in a little while here, we’re going to cut off her wings! See how subversive she feels then!”
On the vidscreen, a fast montage of images scrolled by—images of a young woman with brown hair and brown eyes. Usually she was spitting at the screen or shown beating up other prisoners or guards. Once she flew upward and clung from thick metal bars, screaming into the wind, her wings outstretched behind her.
They were my wings. The underside… was identical to mine.
Below us, Fang blinked blearily, his face a mass of swollen bruises.
“Max?” he said hoarsely.
CHAPTER 45
In moments Iggy had freed Fang’s other hand. That cuff was apparently attached to an alarm system, because as soon as it popped open, klaxons sounded, floodlights lit the gruesome, garish courtyard, and we heard tramping booted feet.
“Let’s go!” Gazzy said, taking Fang on his back. He jumped into the air, pushed downward hard with his broad wings,