When I wake up the next morning, it’s early. Too early. I’m shivering, and my bones ache like someone used them in croquet practice. Sick. Again.

  Mandy is pressed against me, breathing slow and loud. I stroke her arm, studying all the golden hairs I’d never noticed before. Being close to someone. Feeling the heat of another body radiating onto mine. I want this. Every night. I want Francesca. To stroke her arm. To play with her hair while she sleeps. To make the bedroom our total world.

  I get up quietly and take a cold shower to wash all the fever sweat off my body. I check my phone. Another Chuck Norris joke from Maya, this one sent at 1 AM. Jeez. They’ve really been keeping crazy hours.

  Make sure he sleeps, I text her back.

  I pack up my bag, put Sir Hopsalot in his cage, and, after searching through every cabinet in the kitchen, get the coffee going. It’d be easier for me to just walk out right now. Amanda would let me too. Wouldn’t say a thing about it next time we got online together. But I know she doesn’t deserve that kind of slinking exit. I set two mugs of steaming coffee on the nightstand, get back in bed, and lay a big wet kiss on her face. Then, right as she’s starting to rouse, I tickle her.

  Mandy screams and flails and ends up smacking me pretty hard in the ear.

  “Gotta go pretty soon,” I tell her, and this sobers her up. I pass her the coffee. She winces at the first sip, and I wonder if she’s one of those crazies who dilutes their caffeine hit with cream and sugar.

  “This was great though,” I tell her, laying a kiss on her collar bone. “I forget how much I like being here. Being with you.”

  I think I said the wrong thing, because she stares at her coffee. Whatever she’s thinking though, she doesn’t say it. I put my things in the truck, and when I get back, she’s standing in the kitchen in the beat-to-shit bunny slippers that I absolutely love. My fav is the left one with the missing eye, which I’ve named Captain Fury.

  “Stay for breakfast?” she asks.

  “I can’t.” Really. My joints are rusty, and my stomach isn’t even close to appreciating the thought of solid food.

  “But I’ll stay for one more kiss. It’s got to be a good one though.” I almost add, “cause I have cancer,” but decide at the last moment not to be a total ass. “Can you lay a good one on me?”

  “Yes,” she says, shy and sad again. Amanda walks up to me, brushes back her kinky orange hair, and gives me a long, lasting kiss with some tongue. Her breath is a little funky, but I make like she’s the sexiest thing on the planet, pressing my body into hers, stroking her amazing breasts.

  “Well, that’ll certainly tide me over for the duration,” I say as I pull back. I give her another quick kiss. “Bye Mandy.”

  “Bye Lee.” She doesn’t ask me when I’ll be back. The girl’s really more than I deserve, though I know she doesn’t see it that way. I honestly think I do more good than harm, otherwise I wouldn’t come at all.

  She turns away so I can’t see her face as I close the door.

  Chapter 8

  The drive back home is about as pleasant as getting Force-choked by Darth Vader. My bones are a thousand years old, and apparently my brain has taken up percussion lessons in my head. An hour and a half later, Bubba and I cruise through Pueblo, CO, the last refuge of civilization before I plunge into the sprawling backwoods of my town, Farewell. I’m at a stoplight right next to the WalMart when my phone rings.

  The hell?

  Only three people on the planet have this number, Tarren, Maya, and Dr. Lee, and Maya’s the only one who ever uses it, sending me her endless Chuck Norris texts and short mission updates.

  She doesn’t call. Ever.

  Could be a wrong number or a telemarketer, but in my world it’s more likely someone I love is bleeding…or worse. I pick up the call and nudge my way into the left turn lane, ignoring the honks as I swing Bubba into the WalMart parking lot. I’m pretty damn sure I don’t want to be on the road for this conversation.

  “Yeah?” I say. My fingers tap on the wheel.

  “We have a situation.” Tarren’s voice is cold and empty. Someone’s dead. Maya’s dead. Or Maya’s hurt someone, but she wouldn’t…

  “Could you be a little more fucking specific?” I say, and my voice is stupid loud.

  Epic pause. “Maya has been taken.”

  I twist the wheel and screech to a halt, parked crooked across three spaces in the back of the lot. Tarren’s words light a fire inside me. I look at my hand on the wheel, see the bones of my knuckles trying to push their way through my skin.

  Angels are going to die for this. As many as it takes.

  “So we’ll get her back.” My voice goes into hyper speed. “Tell me what we need. Guns, knives, scopes, whatever, and then I’ll come out there and…”

  “We need to initiate Styx,” Tarren interrupts. Still that cold, robotic voice, like we’re trading stock tips or discussing TPS reports. If I could punch his stupid face through the phone, I swear I’d do it.

  “I’m coming and you’re not stopping me.” My voice is getting louder, trying to make up for all his bullshit calm.

  “If she talks…”

  “Maya won’t talk!” I holler.

  “If she does, then everyone is in danger, Lo, Dr. Lee…” Tarren pauses for just a heartbeat, “…and Francesca.

  “Damn you,” I choke.

  “Get them out,” Tarren says.

  The phone is shaking against my face. “Don’t you fucking leave her Tarren. You find her, you bring her back.”

  We both know what I’m asking. Styx. I hate that word. Hate it so much I might just give my left nut to never hear it again. Mom created Styx. I have to believe she did it out of love even though that word is like a nightmare, always stalking the very worst moments of my life. Styx is the code word we use when capture is imminent. It is a warning to the rest of the family to cut all lines of communication, abandon the house, get our allies out. It means we run and never look back so the angels can’t find us no matter what information they pull from the captive.

  Abandon one to save the rest.

  Well, I don’t do the abandon thing. Not ever. Better we all go down fighting and bleeding and cussing like sailors together than walk away from one of our own. I sure as hell won’t let Tarren walk away either. He may act the cold-hearted hero on the outside – might have even been playing at it long enough to believe it – but I know the deepest parts of him are as squishy, human, and irrational as the rest of us.

  “Tarren, promise me you won’t leave her,” I say into the phone. “Promise on Mom’s grave.”

  A pause on the other end; one of those long, lingering Tarren pauses. “Don’t go back to the house,” he says finally. “Dispose of all the phones. Pick up a different vehicle…”

  “I know how it works!” I’m screaming now, totally losing it. Maya’s hurt. She’s getting tortured, and I’m not there to save her, because she thought I was too weak. She and Tarren both, and they were probably right.

  Tarren rattles off two email addresses he just set up so we can communicate without using our old phones, but I interrupt him again.

  “Get her back!” I holler at the phone. “Get her…”

  The dial tone hums on the other end. “No, no, no, SHIT!”

  I pound the wheel with my fists, feeling the impact jar up my bones, but what does that matter when my sister is gone? Just like Tammy. I can’t breathe. They have Maya. They’ll hurt her. Just like Tammy, just like Tammy.

  My brain is in full meltdown mode, but one thought finally gets me to stumble out of the truck and start stomping across the parking lot. I’m going to Peoria Fucking Illinois. Nothing’s going to keep me here knitting a pair of socks for the soldiers overseas while Tarren plays the hero…assuming he doesn’t turn tail with Mom’s rule book up his ass. We’re going to rescue Maya. There’s just no other alternative that I’m willing to live with.

  My strides turn into a jog. I haven’t been making Maya laugh. This realization knees me in the balls. I’ve been so caught up in my own pathetic-fest that I haven’t even been trying. It’s my job to make sure she cracks that crooked smile and doesn’t go sailing off into the sea of despair. I can’t ever get Tarren back the way he was before Tammy died, but I can make Maya laugh. And I will. I swear I will.

  I come up to the automatic doors, and damn, when did that they start moving at the speed of glaciers? I get in, grab a basket, and manage not to punch out the dentures of the WalMart greeter who has the audacity to be pleasant and happy.

  I head to the mobile phone department and drop a handful of cheapo, pay-as-you-go phones and some prepaid minute cards into my basket. I always carry an emergency $300 prepaid credit card in my wallet. This pretty damn well looks like an emergency to me. Next, I load up on snacks, piling protein bars into the basket and enough energy drinks to fuel the entire World of Warcraft community for a week. I hurry past the outdoor section on my way to the counter, stop, and backtrack. I go down the aisle, and my heart clobbers in my chest as I set eyes on a beautiful piece of equipment. I have just enough on the prepaid card to cover it. I tuck my prize under my arm and rush to the cash register like all of hell’s fury was at my heels.

  Chapter 9

  I connect my Bluetooth earpiece and give Lo a call as I peel out of the WalMart parking lot. My foot wants to go lead on the accelerator, but getting pulled over would just be one more bucket of shit in this shit hurricane. I force myself to stay right on top of the speed limit like I was just moseying my way to brunch after church.

  Lo picks up on the third ring.

  “What?” He somehow manages to pour his entire dickish attitude into that one word. Here’s the thing about Lo – he’s a full-on genius. A hair away from mad scientist if you ask me. Nothing wrong with having some smarts – Tarren’s got IQ numbers in spades – but Lo has a way of always rubbing it in, letting me know that my mental crayon isn’t only dull, but also broken and half melted in the sun.

  Yeah, I know brains weren’t one of the gifts God doled out to me, but I do my damned best to make up for it with roguish charm. Where’s the appreciation for that? Roguish charm can get you out of a whole hell of a lot of situations, even some where too much thinking just gets in the way.

  “It’s me,” I say.

  He must know this is serious since I didn’t open with an insult. “Tarren’s dead,” he says, and a waver hits his voice. Who knew the kid had feelings under all that goth crap he paints on his face?

  “No.”

  A pause. “Maya.” The heavy metal music crashing in the background disappears.

  “We’ve been compromised,” I say. “You and your mom need to get out. Head for the hills.”

  “Step-mom,” he corrects automatically. “What happened?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Get out now.” I’m doing my best Tarren impression, all half-uttered growls in a cold, don’t even think of messing with me right now voice. “Don’t come back Lo. Seriously, you can’t ever come back.”

  “Shit,” he mutters. “How much time?

  “None. Go.”

  “It’s not that easy fucktard,” he snaps back. “I’ve got things I’m working on. Important things. Samples. Experiments. I can’t just sweep it all into a suitcase.”

  This is why Lo is such a little bastard. Here I am, trying to save his dweeby life, and he’s bitching about it like I just pissed in his soup.

  “Don’t care. Move your ass Lo!” I’m grinding my teeth, trying not to fishtail the slow-as-all-hell station wagon in front of me with the Disney Land family decal on the back.

  “Was it Maya? Did she turn and join up with them?” Lo asks.

  I whip around the station wagon and leave it and the speed limit in the dust. I dare a stupid cop to pull me over.

  “I swear to God Lo, you ever say something like that again about Maya, and I’m going to kick you so hard in the balls, Mariah Carey will be jealous of the high notes you’ll hit. Maya would never betray us.”

  I pass the sign to Farewell.

  Before Lo can say anything that will further tempt me to hang up on this call and let the angels have a go at him, I list off the username and password for the second email Tarren gave me. “Soon as you get a new cell, email us the number. We’ll go from there.”

  “Yeah? And then what happens? We stay in hiding the rest of our lives?” I hear a door opening on Lo’s end. The scrape of something pulled from a shelf, followed by a small grunt. I hope that twiggy bastard drops a suitcase on his head.

  I fly past the dwindling shops, and Bubba’s wheels skid as I hit a gravel road without slowing. Snow covered pines and firs flash by like sleeping giants.

  “And make sure you bring your mom, step-mom,” I correct myself. It would be just like Lo to leave his feisty step-mom behind, let the angels descend upon her. Carmen’s a little vacant in the head department, but she makes it up with lots of sauce and sass and so many curves that I bet she’s a real rollercoaster in bed.

  “She’s my checkbook until I turn 18. She’s not going anywhere,” Lo says. He sounds a little out of breath. Clinks and clunks sound from his end of the call.

  “Good.” I’m about to hang up.

  “Stay safe. Make sure Tarren does too,” Lo says. There’s that waver again.

  Awkward. “Yeah, you too,” I mumble and end the call before I do something crazy like start not hating the guy. I’m coming up on Dr. Lee’s cabin anyway, and my attention immediately shifts to the occupants within.

  I pull up into the driveway, turn off the truck, and take the spare Glock from the glove compartment. If they break Maya, if she talks, they could already have angels swarming us and our allies. The angel network is a far cry from the efficient machine it used to be when Grand’s father ran things, but I’ve got a feeling our enemies would pull their broke-down clubhouse together for the chance to enact some hellacious revenge on us.

  I wait inside the truck, listening to the wind blow through the trees around me. My eyes scan for any movement, any flash of color that could mean a coming attack. I try not to think about just how pathetic my aim was two days ago, or how exactly I could take on even a single angel when my video game life bar is 25% at best. We’ve always been the hunters. I take a second to appreciate how much I really, truly hate being on the prey end of the equation.

  Everything is quiet. Pristine. Unnerves the hell out of me. I swing down from the truck and take careful steps up the icy porch steps. A small wreath of pine needles hangs on the front door, a tiny touch of green in this frozen forest of white. Francesca. My heart clobbers as I pound on the cabin door. I’ve just got to believe that Maya will hold out, that…

  Francesca opens the door, her doe eyes wide and warm…still warm, even after everything.

  “Gabe.” She seems generally pleased to see me, though I don’t know why. Her expression clouds as she gets a load of my face.

  “I need to talk to Dr. Lee,” I say quickly and add, “right now,” as if the urgency weren’t plain enough.

  “Okay.” Francesca eyes the gun in my hand with unconcealed fear.

  “Everything’s fine,” I lie to her. “We’ve just got…a situation.” Damn, those were the same words Tarren used, and I’d wanted to punch him in the face for it.

  “Do you want to come in?” Francesca is still the concerned hostess, even now.

  “I need to stay out here. Get him now.”

  Francesca nods and turns, but Dr. Lee is behind her. His face is lined and leathery as a baseball glove. Same color too. Those dark eyes take me in.

  “Tell me,” he commands. The old man is sharp as broken glass. I almost expect him to read the entire story right off my face.

  “Maya’s been taken.” No time to be all secretive in front of Francesca. “You need to get out, now.”

  “Don’t you presume to kick me out of my house Gabriel Fox,” Dr. Lee spits back. “That girl was filled with rage and hurt. She was lost. And you only fed her with coals and vengeance. You led her down your own path. The path of ashes.”

  I hate when he goes into one of his drama-dripping rants. This is exactly where Tarren gets it from. When I was a kid, Dr. Lee’s anger was scarier than the monster in my closet. His voice boomed like thunder and could shake all the lies and excuses out of me. Now, my eyes take in the peppered hair, the liver spots on his hands, the loose skin around his jowls. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s been ancient, but he was never this old before – old enough to look weak and frail.

  “Bellow all you want, but you’re leaving.” I realize that I have to look down to meet his stony gaze.

  “What is…” Francesca starts.

  “If they come, they come,” Dr. Lee says. “I’m not running anymore.”

  “And what about her?” I nod toward Francesca. “It’s all fine and good to lay your weary ass down for a noble evisceration, but where does she go?”

  “Please, stop,” Francesca says, but I don’t. I can’t.

  “How long until they find her? How long until they thank her for keeping me alive?”

  Dr. Lee’s lips press together so hard they look almost white. Finally, he says, “Francesca, we shall be taking a sojourn. You’ll need to pack a bag.”

  Francesca looks at me, tears gathered in her eyes.

  “I don’t have time to explain what’s going on,” I tell her, “but it’s not safe here. You have to leave.”

  “Who took Maya?” Her hand keeps clutching a long, dangling lock of black hair.

  This is so not the time for the big reveal. “It doesn’t matter…” I start.

  “Has she been kidnapped?” Francesca’s voice quavers.

  We’ve asked way too much of her. Shown her flashes of something terrible without preparing her for the full-on nightmare.

  I take her hands, though I know mine are cold and thin. “I need you to be strong for me right now,” I tell her. It’s the cheesiest of cheese, but that’s what my idiot brain spits out. “I know I’ve got no right to ask that of you.” I squeeze her hands. So warm. So soft. I want to kiss her fingertips. “Bring anything important that you can carry. You may not ever be able to come back.”