Guess how many bedrooms Anne’s little country shack had. Seven. One for her, one for each bird kid. Guess how many bathrooms it had. Five. Five bathrooms all in one house.

“Max!” The Gasman pounded on my bedroom door.

I opened it, my hair still wet from my long, incredibly hot shower.

“Can I go outside?” he asked.

“Gee, I had forgotten the natural color of your skin,” I told him. “I was convinced you were kind of dirt colored.”

He grinned at me. “Call it camouflage. Can I go outside?”

“Yeah, let’s all go together, give Iggy some landmarks.”

“What is that, like, a plane hangar?” Nudge asked. A grove of trees had hidden the big red building from the house, but now that we were doing recon, we were finding all kinds of things.

“It’s a barn,” said Fang.

I was keeping an eye on him. As soon as he started to look tired, I was going to send him back to the house.

“A barn with animals?” asked Angel excitedly.

Just then, Total started barking, as if he’d picked up something’s scent.

“Yep, guess so,” I said, scooping Total up in my arms. “Listen, you,” I told him. “No more with the barking. You’re going to spook somebody.”

Total looked offended but stayed quiet as long as I held him.

“That first one is Sugar,” said Anne, coming up behind us. She’d given us free rein of the place after she’d shown us our rooms and stuff.

We stood in the open bam doorway and watched Sugar, a pale gray horse who was looking back at us with interest.

“He’s beautiful,” Nudge whispered.

“He’s big,” said the Gasman.

“Big and sweet,” said Anne, opening a box and taking out a carrot. She handed it to Nudge and nodded at the horse. “Go on. He likes carrots. Hold it flat in your hand.”

Cautiously Nudge stepped forward, holding out the carrot. This is a kid who could break a man’s ribs with a well-placed kick, but she was almost trembling as she approached the horse.

Sugar very delicately lipped up the carrot, then crunched it with satisfaction.

Nudge turned to me, her face glowing, and my heart caught in my throat. It was like we were inner-city kids getting a week on the farm as part of a social service program. We were surrounded by beautiful scenery and fresh air, there were animals, and -

“You guys have another half hour,” Anne said, turning to go back to the house. “Dinner’s at six.”

And, I was going to say, plenty of food. It was amazing.

Where was the catch? ‘Cause I knew one was coming.

“Oh, yeah!” said the Gasman, looking at the pond. “I am so there!”

Anne’s pond,was about as big as a football stadium, with a small, rocky shore edged by cattails and daylilies.

I stared at it suspiciously, waiting for the Pond Ness Monster to rise out of its depths. Okay, call me hopelessly paranoid, but this whole place was starting to seem creep-ily idyllic. Like, my bedroom was charming. Charming! What did I know about charming? I’d never called anything charming before in my life.

And now here I was, eyes narrowed at a picture-perfect pond. Was this some new freakish test?

“We don’t have time right now, Gazzy,” I said, clamping down on my rising fears. “But maybe we can go swimming tomorrow.”

“It’s just so beautiful here,” Nudge said, gazing at the untrustable rolling hills, the dark, secret-concealing orchard, the pond (see above rant re pond), the small, literally babbling brook that ran into the pond. “Like the Garden of Eden.”

“Yeah, and that turned out so well,” I muttered under my breath.

“Look, there are more animals over there,” said Angel, pointing.

No doubt tidy, Martha Stewart, heirloom pedigree animals enclosed in chintz pens.

“Okay, we can swing by ‘em on the way back to the house. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.” I glanced over at Fang, who was starting to look a little pale. Tonight after dinner I would try to get him to take it easy in one of the too-comfortable recliners by the horribly cozy fireplace.

“Sheep!” Angel cried, catching sight of some fluffy brown wool.

“Anne is quite the animal lover,” Fang said to me as we followed Angel. “Horses, sheep, goats. Chickens. Pigs.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I wonder who’s for dinner?”

He flashed one of his rare smiles at me, and it was like the sun coming out. I felt my cheeks get hot and strode on ahead.

“Pigs, look,” said the Gasman excitedly. “Come here, Ig.” Gazzy guided Iggy’s hand down, and Iggy scratched a small brown pig behind its ears, sending it into ecstatic squeals.

“Pigs are so lucky,” said the Gasman, as images of bacon danced in my head. “No one cares if they’re dirty or live in a pigsty.”

“That’s because they’re pigs,” I pointed out. Just then, Total leaped out of my arms, scratching me.

“Hey!” I said, and then saw a large black-and-white shepherdy-looking dog bounding up. Total braced his front legs and barked loudly, and the other dog barked back.

“Total!” I called, clapping my hands. “Stop it! It’s his yard. Angel!”

Angel was already trotting over, and she grabbed Total’s collar.

“Since when does he have a collar?” I asked.

“Okay, Total, calm down,” Angel said, stroking his head. Total stopped barking, then shook his head in disgust and said, “Putz.”

I blinked in surprise and opened my mouth - and then saw Gazzy loping up, hands in his pockets, whistling. I absolutely refused to give Gazzy the satisfaction of freaking out over his latest voice-throwing trick and didn’t say a thing.

“Come on, guys,” I said. “Let’s go chow.”

“Okay, let’s see what we have here,” I muttered. The six of us were in “my” room. The notes we’d gotten from the Institute in New York were spread out on my bed. When we’d found the files in the computer and printed them out, some of the information had been readable. Now those pages were gone, leaving us with lines of numerical code. What had happened to the readable pages? Dunno. Was it another test?

So basically, we were looking at reams of numbers. Every once in a while a real word leaped out at us. Some of the real words were us, our names. Somewhere in these pages was info about our parents.

“How about we each take two pages and comb through them,” I suggested. “Figure out what we can. See if anything about the numbers looks familiar or has a pattern.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Iggy. “Except for me.”

“I’ll read you out some numbers,” said Fang.

Iggy nodded, and I passed out the sheets. Fang started reading softly to Iggy, who concentrated hard, nodding every so often.

I took my two sheets and sat at the desk. For the next hour, we tried every basic code-breaking technique we knew. We looked for patterns, hexagons - and came up with nada, nothing.

Another hour later, I dropped my head into my hands. “This is impossible,” I said, ready to scream in frustration. “This is probably a computerized code. If it is, we’ll never break it.”

“But isn’t everything a test?” the Gasman asked, his small face tired. It was almost ten. I had to get these guys into bed. “Didn’t Jeb tell you that everything is a test, back at the School, when we were rescuing Angel? So that would mean we’re supposed to be able to break this somehow.”

“I thought of that,” I said. “That’s what’s so irritating. I’ve tried everything that would occur to me. So I guess I’m flunking this test.”

A tap on my door interrupted us. The door opened a bit, and Anne poked her head around it.

“Hey, guys,” she said with a smile. “Sleepy yet? Krystal? Want to get ready for bed?”

“Yep,” said Nudge. “I’m beat.”

Gazzy looked at me, and I nodded at him.

“Yeah,” he told Anne. “We were just about to crash.”

“Good,” she said easily. “Anyone need anything? Before you crash?”

“No, we’re fine,” said Angel, following Anne out. They walked down the hall, and I heard Anne say, “Ariel, how about letting Total out one last time?”

“Okay,” said Angel.

I stood in my room, feeling a little bad, feeling as if someone else was taking care of my flock.

Welcome to another day at Camp Agent!

To start, a hearty breakfast that Iggy and I made. That’s because on our first morning here, we had discovered that single-woman Anne Walker considered a protein bar and an orange-flavored sports drink to be an acceptable breakfast.

Which, if we were Dumpster diving or stealing from a 7-Eleven, would be great. But since we were in a seven-freaking-bedroom country chateau with a Sub-Zero fridge and Viking range at our disposal, it didn’t cut it.

So it was massive infusions of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, etc., for everyone.

Next, quaint housekeeping issues. Anne made each of us responsible for keeping our bedchambers tidy and worthy of a photo shoot. And here’s what really ticked me off: The flock actually did it.

Had I asked them a thousand times to keep their rooms straight at home, when we had a home? Yes. Had they done it? No. However, they were all over the bed-making and shoe-lining-up situation here, for a stranger. Little buggers.

Then, rousing exercise in the country-fresh air. Flying, sparring, playing, swimming, horseback riding.

Lunch. Anne got the fine art of making sandwiches down to a science.

Post-lunch rest, play, etc. Anne occasionally took us aside one by one and interviewed us, had us show her what we could do. She loved to watch us fly - made us feel like marvels, swooping around in the sky.

She would watch us for hours, with binoculars, and the look of wonder and delight on her face could be seen from two thousand feet away.

Dinner. Anne really tried. But this was a woman whose main source of nutritional comfort came in single-serve microwavable packages. After the first day, she’d gone shopping and brought home fifteen bags of groceries and a cookbook. With mixed results.

But you know what? The food was hot and someone was fixing it for us, which made it fabulous in my book.

After that first day, I tried to start getting the flock ready for bed before Anne could do it. It bothered me, her doing it. Taking over my role. I was still the leader. Soon Anne and her comfy house would be just a memory. Just like Jeb. Just like Dr. Martinez and Ella. Just like everything in our temporary lives.

One night after we’d been there almost two weeks, I was lying in bed listening to my favorite, favorite singer, Liam Rooney. Liam, Liam, you are my inspiration. The younger kids were already asleep. There was an almost silent tap on my door.

“Yeah?”

Fang came in.

“What’s up?”

“Look.” He put some of the coded sheets from the Institute on my lap, then hauled a big spiral-bound book onto the bed. He opened it up across my knees.

“I was looking at this stuff, going nuts, you know? And suddenly it looked like map coordinates.”

I drew in a breath. As soon as he said that, I could see the possibility.

“This is a book of detailed street maps of Washington DC,” he said. “I got it out of Anne’s car. Look - each page is numbered, each map is numbered, each grid of each map is numbered. And look at this clump of stuff here, by Gazzy’s name. Twenty-seven, eight, G nine.

“So I go to page twenty-seven, and it’s a section of town, see?”

“Yeah,” I breathed.

“This section has twelve smaller maps. I go to map eight.” He turned pages. “Which is a blowup of one section. Then I go to column G and trace it down to row nine.” His finger slowly moved down the map. “And it’s a pretty specific little chunk of streets.”

I looked at him. “Oh, my God,” I said. “Did you try

any others?” He nodded. “This one by Nudge’s name. Same thing - I actually end up with a real place.” “You are so brilliant,” I said, and he shrugged, looking almost embarrassed, except that Fang never gets embarrassed. “But I thought Nudge was pretty sure she’d found her parents in Arizona,” I added.

He shrugged again. “I don’t know. The woman we saw was black, but it wasn’t like Nudge was a photocopy of her. You think this is worth checking out?”

“Absolutely,” I said, swinging my legs out of bed. “Everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. Including the Annemeister.” “Okay. Gimme a minute to get some jeans on.”

“Hmm,” I said.

Fang propped the map book on a fire hydrant and braced it with one knee. He took out the page of code, and I held the penlight so he could see. He double-checked the coordinates, showing them to me. I looked at the street signs at each end of the block.

“No, you’re right,” I said. “This is it. If those are map coordinates, then this is where we should be.”

We looked at the building across from us. It was not a cute house with a picket fence, suitable for bringing a baby home to, a baby that would later be turned into a mutant bird kid by mad scientists. No, it was a pizza parlor.

On this block were a car wash, a bank, the pizza joint, and a dry cleaner. On the opposite side of the street was a park. No houses, no apartment buildings, no place where someone could have lived.

“Well, crap,” said Fang.

“I concur with that assessment,” I said, crossing the street. “Maybe there was an apartment building here and it got torn down.”

We stood in front of the darkened store and peered inside. Hanging on the wall was a black-and-white photo of a bunch of people standing in front of a new, shiny version of the store. “Here since 1954,” the caption under the picture said.

“So much for that theory,” said Fang.

“Do you want to swear this time or do you want me to?” I asked.

“You can,” said Fang, stuffing the page back into his pocket.

“Well, crap,” I said. “Okay. Let’s try the next one. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

And we did get lucky - in that the next address was actually a house.

Unfortunately, it was an abandoned apartment house in the middle of a hellhole block inhabited by some of the more scum-sucking members of society - many of whom were conducting “business” right now, at two in the morning.’

“Let’s check it out anyway,” I said, drawing farther back into the shadows.

We had landed on the tarry roof of the building next door. Half an hour of waiting and watching had shown us that at least two guys, and maybe more, seemed to be squatting in this bombed-out wreck of a building.

Twenty minutes after the second guy left and didn’t come back, I stood up. “Ready?”

“Ready,” said Fang, and we jumped across to the other roof.

“Least favorite place,” I whispered to Fang. “Sewer tunnels of New York? Or abandoned home of squatting crackheads?”

Fang thought about it, moving silently across the room, staying out of the squares of moonlight coming through the gaping windows.

“I’d have to go with sewer tunnels of New York,” he whispered back.

We started on the second floor and moved down, opening doors, looking up fireplaces, tapping walls for hidden compartments.

Two hours later, I rubbed my forehead with a filthy hand. “We got nothing. This stinks.”

“Yeah.” Fang breathed out. “Well, get this last closet and we’ll split.”

I nodded and opened the hallway coat closet. It was empty, its walls nothing but broken plaster, showing the bare laths within.

I was about to close the door when a thin strip of white caught my eye. I shone the penlight on it, frowning, then reached down to pick at it. Something was wedged in back of a lath.

“What?” Fang asked quietly.

“Nothing, I’m sure,” I whispered back. “But I’ll just get it….”

I pried it out with my fingernails, and it turned out to be a square of paper, about four inches across. I turned it over, and my breath caught.

It was a photograph.

Fang leaned over my shoulder while I focused the light on the photo. It was a picture of a woman holding a baby in her arms. The baby was plump, blond, blue-eyed . . . the spitting image of the baby Gasman - cowlick and everything.

“Holy moly,” I breathed. Just then we heard heavy footsteps coming up to the front door.

“They’re back,” Fang whispered. “Upstairs!”

We whirled and ran up the steps. But the moonlight streaming through the windows cast our shadows down the stairs.

I heard the front door shut, and then a voice bellowed, “Hey!”

Heavy, uncoordinated footsteps pounded up behind us, and it sounded like someone swung a baseball bat against a wall. We heard a heavy thunk and then the sound of breaking plaster.

“That’s your head!” one guy shouted. “We’re gonna bust you up!”

At the top of the stairs, I darted to the right, the way we had come in. I was past several rooms when I realized Fang wasn’t with me. I skidded to a halt and spotted him at the other end of the hallway.

I motioned to Fang, but just as he started toward me, the two crackhead squatters lurched into the hall between us.

One of them slapped the bat against his open palm with chilling smacking sounds. The other held a broken bottle.

“So,” one growled. “You think you can pop our crib?”

Pop their crib? Come again?

They stopped for a moment, then their smiles grew wider. Grosser.

“It’s a chick, man!” one exclaimed.

The bottle-holding slug pulled a wicked-looking knife out of his belt. He held it up so it caught the moonlight.

Fang? You go ahead and make your move. Any time now, I thought tensely. Where are you, Fang?

“We don’t care whose chick you are,” one said. “For the next hour, you’re gonna be our chick.” The guys were totally scuzzy, grinning horribly, showing holes where teeth should be.

“Excuse me?” I said acidly. “Can we say sexist?”

They didn’t have time.

“Boys, God doesn’t like you,” Fang intoned behind them.

Whaaaaat? I thought, dumbfounded.

“Wha!” they said, whirling.

At that moment, Fang snapped out his huge wings and shone the penlight under his chin so it raked his cheekbones and eyes. My mouth dropped open: He looked like the angel of death.

His dark wings filled the hallway almost to the ceiling, and he moved them up and down. “God doesn’t like bad people,” he said, using a really weird, deep voice.

“What the hell,” one of the squatters muttered shallowly, his mouth slack, his eyes bugging out of his head. “I’m trippin’.”

“I see it too,” whispered the other one. “We’re both trippin’.”

I whipped my own wings open - impressive as all get-out. Fun, anyway.

“This was a test,” I said, using my best spooky voice. “And guess what? You both failed.”

The bums stopped dead, looks of horror and amazement on their faces.

Then Fang growled, “Rowr!” He stepped forward, sweeping his wings up and down: the avenging demon. I almost cracked up.

“Rowr!” I said myself, shaking my wings out.

“Ahhh!” the guys yelled, backpedaling fast. Unfortunately, they were standing at the top of the staircase. They fell awkwardly, trying to grab each other, and rolled down two flights like lumpy bags of potatoes, shrieking the whole way-Fang and I slapped each other a quick high five - and we were out of there, jack.

And then my Voice was in my head. So glad you ‘re having fun, Maximum. While the world burns.

I’ll say this for the world, and civilization: The whole hot-shower thing totally worked for me.

Reluctantly, I turned off the water and got out, then wrapped myself in my own personal towel, Dove fresh. On the other hand, civilization had its own quirky demands: remembering to brush your hair, wearing different clothes every day - details I wasn’t used to.

But I was dealing.

“Max?” Iggy knocked on the door. “Can I come in? I just have to brush my teeth.”

“No - I’m in a towel,” I called back.

“I’m blind,” he said impatiently.

“No! You’re kidding! Are you sure?” I grabbed my comb and rubbed a hole in the fogged-up mirror - then stifled a shriek. Eraser Max was back.

“Very funny,” said Iggy. “Well, don’t take forever. Primping’s not going to do much for you, anyway.”

I still hadn’t taken a breath by the time I heard his footsteps reach the end of the hall.

Swallowing hard, I reached up with trembling fingers and touched my cheek. It was smooth skin. The mirror showed a hairy paw with ragged claws, caressing my muzzle.

“How is this happening?” I whispered, terrified.

Eraser Max smiled at me. “But we’re not so different,” it said. “Everything is connected. I’m part of you. You’re part of me. We can help each other.”

“You’re not part of me,” I whispered. “I could never be like you.”

“Max, Max,” Eraser Max said soothingly. “You already are.”

I whirled away from the mirror and burst out of the bathroom. Quickly I went to my room and shut the door, before anyone could see me.

I sat on my bed, shaking, and kept touching my face over and over to make sure I was still me. “Am I really, finally going crazy?” I murmured.

A little tap on my door made me jump, every muscle bunched with fear. It had to be Iggy. “I’m out of the bathroom,” I called, hearing my voice shake a little.

“Yeah,” Fang said. “I can tell, ’cause your voice is coming from in there.”

“What do you want?”

“Can I come in?”

“No!”

So of course the door opened. Fang leaned in the doorway. He saw how I looked, pale and big-eyed and freaked. Compulsively I touched my face, looked down at my hands. Still covered with plain skin.

One of his dark eyebrows rose, and he came in and closed the door. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Something’s wrong with me, but I don’t know what.”

Fang waited for a moment, then sat next to me on the bed and put his arm gently across my shoulders. I was all huddled up, damp in my towel, feeling miserable and more scared than I’d been in - days.

“You’ll be okay,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“Because I know everything, as I keep reminding you.”

I was too miserable to smile.

“Look,” he said. “Whatever this is, we’ll deal with it. We always have before.”

I swallowed. I was dying to tell him about Eraser Max but was too afraid and ashamed.

“Fang - if I’m changing, if I’m turning into something … bad - will you deal with it?”

He was silent, his eyes on me.

I took a deep breath. “If I turn into an Eraser,” I said more strongly, “will you deal with it? To protect the others?”

Our eyes met for a long time. He knew what I was asking him. If I turned into an Eraser, it would be his job to kill me.

He looked down at his feet, then up at me. “Yes. I”ll do what has to be done.”

I breathed out in relief. “Thank you,” I said quietly.

Fang stood up and squeezed my shoulder. “You’ll be okay,” he said again. He leaned down and quickly kissed my forehead. “I promise.”

Then he was gone, and I was more confused than ever.

“Bombs away!” the Gasman yelled, right over my head.

I looked up, startled, and saw Gazzy flying low over the pond. He tucked his wings in, curled into a ball, and dropped, cackling maniacally. I winced as he crashed into the water, sending up a huge craterlike wave.

Soon his blond head surfaced, a smile splitting his face. “Did you see that?” he crowed. “That was so awesome! I’m going to do it again!”

“Okay,” I said, grinning. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“And don’t hurt me!” Nudge yelled, as Gazzy clambered out of the water. “Watch where you drop! You almost landed on me!”

“Sorry,” Gazzy said.

I was glad that he and Nudge weren’t letting their disappointment get to them too much. Fang and I had told them about our fruitless search for our parents in the city. It had been one more false lead.

I typed in another command and shielded the screen so I could read it. Yes, this was the ticket, going wi-fi out

by the private pond. I’d pulled over an Adirondack chair and borrowed Anne’s laptop, and I had lemonade close at hand. It was a tough life, but someone had to live it.

The search results popped up on the screen. I scanned them and frowned.

Ten kids had gone missing in the DC area in the last four months. Had whitecoats taken them, as fodder for their experiments? I could only imagine what the families were going through. What had happened when we had gone missing? Our parents had cared, hadn’t they? They’d missed us, right?

Hmm. That was a thought. I typed in a new Google search.

Angel’s head popped out of the water. “Max!” She’d been under about ten minutes. Even though I knew about her ability to breathe under water, it still took all my self-control not to leap in after her when I didn’t see her come up for a while.

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“What’s the best way to catch a fish?”

I thought. “Well, I guess it depends on the kind of fish,” I began.

“No, what’s the best way to catch a fish?” Angel asked again.

Oh. “I don’t know?” I said warily.

“Have someone throw it to you!” Angel laughed, I groaned, and, next to me, Total chuckled.

“Good one,” he said, and I rolled my eyes, looking around for the voice-throwing Gasman.

Uh, but Gazzy was fifty feet in the air, dive-bombing the pond again.

Total trotted off, sniffing for rabbits, and I looked at Angel.

“Angel?”

“Yeah?” She looked up, all blue-eyed innocence.

I felt stupid, but… “Can Total, um, talk?”

“Uh-huh,” Angel said casually, squeezing water out of her hair.

I stared at her. “He talks. Total talks, and you didn’t tell me?”

“Well. . .” Angel looked for him, saw he was pretty far away, and lowered her voice. “Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s actually not that interesting.”

I was nonplussed. My mouth was hanging open, and I shut it before I started catching flies. I turned to see the small dog trotting among the cattails and daylilies.

“Total?” I called. He looked up alertly, then ran over to me, small pink tongue hanging out.

“Total?” I said when he was close. “Can you talk?”

He flopped down on the grass, panting slightly. “Yeah. So?” .

Jeezum. I mean, mutant weirdos are nothing new to me, you know? But a talking dog?

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” I asked him.

“It’s not like I lied about it,” said Total, reaching up with a hind leg to scratch behind one ear. “Between you and me, I’m still trying to get used to the whole flying-kid thing.”

That night I was lying awake in “my” bed, watching the moonlight create shadows on “my” walls, so I heard the door open almost silently.

“Max?” Angel’s whisper barely disturbed the air.

I sat up. “Yeah, sweetie?”

“I can’t sleep. Can I go fly around?” she asked.

I glanced at the clock. Almost midnight. The house was quiet and still. Except for the soft footsteps padding down the hall.

The Gasman put his head around my door.

“Max? I can’t sleep.”

“Okay, put your clothes on. Let’s go take advantage of the wide-open spaces.”

In the end we all went, including Total.

“I love flying!” he said, leaping into Iggy’s arms. “Just don’t drop me.”

It was glorious. Out here in the country, there were few lights, no planes, and, so far, no Erasers.

The air was crisp and cool, near forty degrees, and felt like liquid oxygen in our lungs. I swooped in huge arcs, catching wind currents, coasting, feeling almost weightless. It was times like this that I felt the most calm, the most normal. As if I were just a normal part of the world and I actually fit into it.

You do fit into it, Max, said the Voice. You’re part of everything, and everything is part of you. Everything should flow together. The more you resist, the more pain you’ll feel. The more you go with the flow, the more whole you’ll be.

I frowned. Was that a bumper sticker?

Don’t resist the flow, Max, said the Voice. Become one with the flow.

Well, since I didn’t have a single freaking clue about what that meant, I decided to go with the airflow right now and enjoy myself.

“Look, bats!” said Nudge.

As soon as I looked, I saw them, hundreds, if not thousands, of fluttering bats. They swept jerkily among the trees, odd little black quotation marks against the deep purple night sky. We’d flown with hawks before, but not bats.

“Hey, they’re mammals, like we are,” I said. Were they more like us than birds? Well, not the whole eating-insects thing.

“My ears hurt,” Total complained.

“It’s their echolocation,” I heard Iggy explain. “It’s way cool. Now be quiet, I’m trying to concentrate.”

Total huffed and settled down.

Nudge, Angel, and I swung into a circle, each keeping one wing tip touching the others’, and flew around like feathered spokes on a wheel.

Then Gazzy came up and whapped Nudge on the back with one wing. “You’re it!” he cried, and darted away.

Fang was up high, doing steep circling moves, banking, practicing the techniques he’d learned from the hawks out west. It was hard to see him - except when he passed in front of the moon.

Then all at once I felt the all-too-familiar rush of heat flooding me, washing my face with fire. I began breathing fast, the adrenaline jump-starting my heart. Quickly I put my hand up to my face, hoping I didn’t look like an Eraser now, in front of the others.

The next thing I knew, I was streaking into the sky like a rocket, my hair streaming in back of me, wind stinging my eyes. I was going incredibly fast, and I could hardly feel my wings moving. Oh, my God, what is this? I thought, seeing the earth blur beneath me.

The flock and I could keep up a steady pace of eighty miles an hour with no effort, and could sprint at a hundred and twenty. Dive-bombing, we’d hit speeds of a hundred and eighty.

I was going way faster than that now, straight out, by myself.

It so totally rocked.

A giddy joy rose up in me, but my laugh was snatched away, left far behind me as I shot into the night. Eventually I came back to myself, felt myself slowing.

I wasn’t even breathing hard. Laughing again, I turned and headed back toward Anne’s house. I figured I’d gone about… thirty miles.

The flock was where I’d left them. I saw them long before they saw me.

I slowed and coasted up to them. Five faces turned toward me, looking stunned. Six, if you count Total.

The Gasman was the first to speak. “You have warp drive,” he said faintly.

“I want to ride with you,” Total said, trying to escape Iggy’s hold.

I laughed and held my arms out, and he leaped into them. In his excitement, he licked my neck, which I could have lived without, but whatever.

“What was that, Max?” Angel asked, wide-eyed.

“I think I just developed a new skill,” I said, grinning big.

Take! Crack. That! Crack. Max! Crack.

So Max could fly at the speed of light, eh? Snarling, Ari leaped forward again, smashing the bo across his opponent’s back. The heavy wooden stick, taller than he and as thick around as his wrist, made a dull, sickening thud.

The Eraser dropped to the mat and lay there, groaning thinly.

“Next! ” Ari growled.

Another member of his team morphed and sprang into the circle with him, his own bo at the ready. Ari went into attack mode, the blows of the heavy staff sending shock waves up his arms.

He had clocked Max at more than two hundred miles an hour. He’d also seen the delight on her face, seen her hair whipping around her head like a halo.

Jeb just kept giving the flock more gifts. And what had he given Ari? Unnatural, painful, heavy wings. He’d thought he wanted to fly, to be more like the flock. But having wings grafted onto an Eraser’s body wasn’t even

close to what the flock had. Gall rose in Ari’s throat, burning him, and with a roar, he smashed his bo down on the other Eraser’s head.

He would do that to Max, he thought. She was fourteen, and he was only seven, but he was three times as big as she was. He had huge muscles and a wolf’s power - a wolf’s nature too.

Jeb had said it was necessary. Jeb had said to trust him. And look where that had gotten him. He had huge painful wings. And Max was still laughing at him. Well, those days were over.

Soon he would be the golden boy, and Max would be a distant memory of an experiment gone bad.

It had been approved by the higher-ups.

It was a done deal.

“Next victim! “

The first two addresses in Washington hadn’t panned out, but Fang’s map code was still the only thing we’d been able to come up with. And we had found that photo of the Gasman at the second address. At least, I was pretty sure it was Gazzy. So maybe it hadn’t been a complete waste.

At any rate, we had two more addresses to check out. No information about me or my possible parents had turned up yet. I tried not to mind.

“Wait, Total!” I said, as I pulled on my new jacket. It had big hidden slits for my wings, and I wondered where Anne had gotten it. Bird Kids “R” Us? Total kept trying to leap into my arms, determined not to be left behind.

“Total? Maybe it would be better if you stayed home,” I said, zipping up. “You know, maybe guard the house or something.”

Total stood still and looked at me. “That is so condescending,” he said.

Angel went and put her arms around him. “She just meant because, you know, you’re so fierce and stuff, and have great hearing and those big teeth,” she said soothingly.

Inwardly I rolled my eyes. “Yeah - not just because you’re a dog or anything.”

Total sat down, looking just as stubborn as Gazzy did sometimes. “I want to go with.”

Fang smirked at me over Total’s head. I breathed out heavily.

“Fine,” I said tightly, and Total leaped into my arms and licked my cheek. I was gonna have to talk to him about that.

Five minutes later we were airborne and headed to DC.

“So, Angel?” I said, looking over at her. She was gliding through the night sky, her eight-foot white wings looking like a dove’s. “Have you picked up anything from Anne, about anything? Anything off?”

“Not really.” Angel thought. “From what I can tell, she does work for the FBI. She does care about us and wants us to be happy. She thinks the boys are slobs.”

“I’m blind,” Iggy said irritably. “How am I supposed to make everything all tidy?”

“Yeah, because you’re so handicapped,” I said sarcastically. “Like - you can’t build bombs or cook or win at Monopoly. You can’t tell us all apart by the feel of our skin or feathers.”

Gazzy giggled next to Iggy, and Iggy frowned. . I turned back to Angel. “Anything else?”

“There is something she isn’t telling us,” Angel said slowly. “But I don’t know what it is. It’s not even clear in her mind. Just something that’s going to happen.”

All my senses went on alert. “Like what? Is she going to turn us over to the whitecoats?”

“I’m not sure she even knows what whitecoats are,” said Angel. “I don’t know that it’s something bad. It could be, like - she’s going to take us to the circus or something.”

“Wouldn’t that be redundant?” Fang muttered.

“Hmm. Well,” I said. “I know how easy it’s been to relax there, guys. But let’s try to keep on guard, okay?”

“Okay,” Angel said.

“I’m chilly,” said Total.

My eyes narrowed.

Angel smiled at me.

“You’re wearing a fur coat,” I pointed out.

“It’s chilly up here.”

I gritted my teeth, unzipped my coat, zipped Total into it, and tried to ignore how the boys were snickering. Total’s little head peeped out at the neck of my jacket.

“Much better,” he said happily.

“Yo - first address is down there,” said Fang, pointing. “Showtime.”

“Maybe her dad was a barber?” Nudge said.

I looked over at Fang. This was the address that had been closest to his name, the address where his mom had supposedly lived. We thought she’d been a single mom, a teenager, and that she’d given Fang up for adoption. But like the first two addresses, this was a bust - a barbershop in the shadow of an office building-Fang shrugged, looking unconcerned. But I knew him, and the stiff set of his jaw.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. For just a moment, he met my gaze, and I saw his emotion. Then his eyes went flat again.

“No big. Didn’t think it would add up to anything anyway,” he said. “It’s probably more wasting of our time, but should we check out this last one?”

“Yes,” said Iggy. It was the address next to his name. “Okay, let’s go,” said Fang, and he took off, not turning to see if we were following.

“He’s really upset,” Angel whispered to me, as Nudge and Gazzy leaped into the air.

“I know, sweetie,” I whispered back.

“I don’t care where I came from,” Angel said earnestly, looking into my eyes. “Wherever I came from, I don’t want to go back. Not if you can’t come too.”

I kissed her forehead. “We’ll deal with that if and when it happens,” I said. “But right now, let’s catch up to everyone else.”

“Hang on,” said Total, trotting over to a fire hydrant. “Potty break.”

“Are there apartments on top of the stores?” Iggy asked, his feelings written all over his face.

“No.” I heaved a sigh. Iggy’s coded address had turned out to be an Asian food store in a little strip mall.

“What’s across the street?” Iggy asked.

“A used-car lot,” I said. “I’m sorry, Ig.”

“It’s my fault, guys,” said Fang. “I thought I’d cracked the code, but obviously I was totally off my gourd.”

“Well, if you were wrong,” Nudge said, “then we don’t have to be disappointed, right? It just means we still don’t know.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Nudge,” I said, thankful that she was taking it so well.

“This sucks!” Iggy shouted suddenly, his voice echoing off the glass storefronts. He punched a telephone pole in front of him, hitting it accurately. He winced, and I saw the scraped skin and bloody knuckles.

“I’m sorry, Ig -,” I began.

“I don’t care if you’re sorry!” Iggy shouted at me. “Everyone’s sorry! That doesn’t matter! What matters is that we find where we belong!” He walked angrily away from us, his boots kicking up stones in the parking lot. “I mean, I just can’t take this anymore!” he yelled, waving his arms and heading back to us. “I need some answers! We can’t just keep on wandering from place to place, always on the run, always hunted….” His voice broke, and we all looked at him in shock. Iggy hardly ever cried.

I went over and tried to put my arms around him, but he pushed me away.

“We all want answers, Iggy,” I said. “We all feel lost sometimes. It’s just -we have to stick together. We won’t stop looking for your parents, I swear.”

“It’s different for you,” Iggy said, his voice quieter but bitter. “You don’t know what it’s like. Yeah, I make jokes, I’m the blind kid - but don’t you see? Every time we move on, I’m lost all over again. You guys - it’s so much easier for you. Even your lost isn’t as bad as my lost, you know?”

I’d never heard Iggy admit to feeling scared or vulnerable.

“We’re your eyes, Iggy,” said the Gasman, sounding small and anxious. “You don’t need to see when you’ve got us.”

“Yeah, but I won’t always have you!” Iggy said, his voice rising till he was shouting again. “What happens if you get killed? Of course I need to see, you idiot! I re-member seeing! I know what it’s like! I don’t have it anymore, and I won’t ever have it again. And someday I’m going to lose you, lose all of you - and when that happens, I’ll lose … myself.”

His face was contorted with rage, and he swept one hand down and picked up a chunk of asphalt. Whirling, he threw it hard against a storefront, where it shattered a big plate-glass window. Immediately alarms went off.

“Uh-oh,” Iggy muttered.

“Let’s split,” Fang said. Angel, the Gasman, and Nudge took off. Total jumped up into my arms, and I zipped him into my jacket.

“No,” said Iggy, and I skidded to a halt.

“What? Come on, Iggy,” I said. “The alarm’s going off.”

“I know. I’m not deaf too,” Iggy said bitterly. “I don’t care. Let them find me, take me now. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.”

And, to my horror, he sat down on the curb. I heard police car sirens wailing toward us.

“Iggy, let’s go, get up,” Fang said.

“Give me one good reason,” Iggy said, dropping his head into his hands.

I tossed Total to Fang, and the dog yipped, startled, as Fang grabbed him. “You guys go,” I ordered.

Fang took off, but the flock stayed nearby, hovering. The police sirens were getting closer.

I leaned down. “Listen, Iggy,” I said tensely. “I’m sorry about tonight. I know how disappointed you are. We’re all disappointed. And I’m sorry you’re blind. I remember when you weren’t, and I can’t even imagine what it’s like to lose that. I’m sorry we’re mutant bird kids, I’m sorry we don’t have parents, I’m sorry we have Erasers and people trying to kill us all the time.

“But if you think I’m going to let you give up on us now, you’ve got another think coming. Yes, you’re a blind mutant freak, but you’re my blind mutant freak, and you’re coming with me, now, you’re coming with us right now, or I swear I will kick your skinny white ass from here to the middle of next week.”

Iggy raised his head. Flashes of light told me the cops were almost on top of us.

“Iggy, I need you,” I said urgently. “I love you. I need all of you, all five of you, to feel whole myself. Now get up, before I kill you.”

Iggy stood. “Well, when you put it that way …”

I grabbed his hand and we ran around to the back of the mall, then took off fast, racing toward the shadows at the edge of the parking lot. We stayed high, looking down to see two squad cars zoom into the lot.

We turned and headed toward Anne’s house, and I made sure the tips of my wing feathers brushed against Iggy’s on every downstroke.

“We’re your family,” I told him. “We’ll always be your family.”

“I know.” He sniffled and rubbed his sleeve across his sightless eyes.

“Let’s go fast,” Total said.

“What is this?” I said without thinking. “I mean - looks good. Smells good.” I sat down at the table and held my plate out. “Is that broccoli? Yum.”

Anne put a big spoonful of some casseroley-type stuff on my plate. I could identify peas and a possible carrot and something brownish that was probably of the meat persuasion.

I picked up my fork and put a smile on my face. “Thanks for making dinner, Anne,” I said, taking a bite.

“Uh-huh,” she said, giving me a wry look. “At least I made a lot of it. I’m learning.”

“It’s fine,” I said with my mouth full. I waved my fork in the air. “‘S great.”

Fang passed Iggy his plate and tapped the table by his fork. Unerringly Iggy picked up his fork and started eating. I’d kept my eye on him since last night, but he’d been pretty okay today. At least, he hadn’t blown anything up or set anything on fire, so that was good.

All of us cleaned our plates. Twice. We’d gone hungry too many times to be picky eaters.

Then, to add to the American domesticity of the scene, Anne brought out an apple pie.

“I love apple pie!” Nudge said excitedly.

“Do you have two of them?” Gazzy looked anxious, already mentally dividing it.

Anne brought over another one. “I told you, I’m learning.”

Gazzy punched the air. “Yes!”

“I’d like to talk to you guys,” Anne said, dishing up the pie. “Sort of a family meeting.”

I kept my face blank, wondering whose family she thought she was talking about.

“You’ve all done beautifully here,” she said, sitting back in her chair. “You’ve adjusted better than I thought possible. And I find I’m enjoying it more than I ever imagined.”

I started to get a really bad feeling. Please don’t let her say something horrible, like she wanted to adopt us or something. I had no idea what I would do if that happened.

“I think we’re ready to take the next step,” she went on, looking around the table at us.

Please no please no please no -

“So I’ve enrolled you in school.”

Whaaat?

Fang burst out laughing. “Whoa, you had us going there for a minute,” he said.

“I’m not kidding, Nick,” Anne said quietly. ‘There’s an excellent school nearby. It would be perfectly safe. You could meet other people your age, interact with them. And - let’s face it: Your education has been spotty at best.”

Or nonexistent at worst, I thought.

“School?” Nudge asked. “You mean, like, at a school?”

There was that word again.

“Going to a real school, with other people?” Angel looked concerned.

“Holy frijoles,” Total muttered from under the table.

“You’ll start on Monday,” Anne said briskly, starting to gather empty plates. “I’ll pick up your uniforms tomorrow.”

Uniforms?

Without a word, I shoved my chair away from the table and stomped over to the back door. I yanked it open and jumped down the steps.

From there I did a running takeoff, snapping out my wings, feeling them push against the air filling my feathers. A couple of hard strokes and I was airborne, rising above the apple orchards, above the barn.

Once I was up high, I let the full range of my anger bloom. Taking a deep breath, I tried to remember how to fly really fast - and then, almost immediately, I was doing it, my wings seeming to move by themselves.

Let’s see just how fast I can get out of here, I thought grimly, and poured on the speed.

Running away never helps, said the Voice in my head.

“Yeah, well, flying helps - a lot!”

Fang was waiting for me by an open window when I got back. He handed me a glass of water, and I sucked it down.

“Gone a long time,” he said. “How far did you get? Botswana?”

I grinned wryly. “Just for a minute, before I had to turn around. They say hi.”

“How fast do you think you go?”

“Over two hundred,” I said. “Two twenty? Two forty?”

He nodded.

“Everything cool here?” I headed down the hall to my room, kicking off my shoes. The house was dark and quiet. My clock said one-thirty.

“Yeah. Wrangled Gazzy into the bath. Total fell in. Angel made Nudge change her mind about what book to read, and I came down on her.”

I looked at him. “Sounds like you’ve got everything under control.”

“I managed.”

I sat on my bed, not knowing what to say.

Fang sat down next to me. “Did you want to just keep going out there?” he asked. “Keep going and not come back?”

I drew a shaky breath. “Yes,” I whispered.

“Anne’s never gonna take your place, Max,” Fang said, his dark eyes on me.

I shrugged, not looking at him.

“Anne’s just a - depot,” he said. He seemed to be getting more, well, comfortable with me lately. “We can rest up, eat, hang out, while we plan our next move. The kids know that. Yeah, they like not having to run or sleep in subway tunnels. They like having the same bed every night. So do I. So do you. Anne’s been nice to them, to us, and they like it. We don’t get a lot of down days, where we can just chill. They’re enjoying the heck out of this, Max. And if they weren’t, it would mean they were so messed up they couldn’t be saved, ever.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“But they know who’s saved their bacon too many times to count. Who’s fed them and clothed them and chased away the nightmares. Jeb may have gotten us out of our cages, but you ‘re the one who’s kept us out, Max.”