This story continues from my previous tale, School of Thought, which can be found on my fanfiction profile. It outlined the early days of the flock through their first transit to New York in The Angel Experiment. This story begins shortly thereafter.

At age six, Angel was already aware that she was a very special girl.

Of everyone in her little 'flock,' Max always gave her the most attention, but that wasn't so big of a deal; her brother Gazzy also got plenty of that.

Of everyone in the world, she had a pair of fully functional wings, big, swan-white and powerful. Angel didn't think this that important either; she knew five other people with wings, and Max's were much, much larger and more powerful than hers.

Of everyone she'd met, Angel knew that she was the only one who could read minds. But even this made her only feel so special. You didn't need to read minds to know a lot about the world. There were people like Jeb Batchelder and Dr. Robert Drake who seemed to know everything she could think of. They couldn't read minds—or, rather, she prayed that they couldn't. Robert Drake was the closest thing she had to a biological father, and the things that he'd done to her—the things that he'd implied that she would do, seemed at once both terribly frightening, and painfully real.

No. What made Angel special wasn't her family, or body, or powers; it was her ability to feel immense terror, and not let anyone else see it. When Max had fallen out of the sky from the effects of Jeb's old and bad Voice program, she'd shown proper concern, but kept her mouth shut. When Dr. Drake had invaded her mind, demanding her to direct her family to New York or otherwise withhold important information that Max and the others craved about their respective pasts, she had shuddered in terror, but then complied, presenting the flock with a mostly straight-faced list of answers. When the same Dr. Drake had let her into his mind to see what the future held for her; a landscape of distorted pictures she could barely comprehend but which nonetheless carried an overwhelming sense of crushing darkness and unimaginable powers that threatened to swallow her very being—she had wanted to scream, needed to scream, but couldn't. No matter how hard she tried, how often she curled into a ball and prayed that the pressure of those images would leave, they continued to haunt her. Even so, it simply never registered on her face; as far as Max knew, the worst Angel had suffered were calisthenics and doctors needles, and therefore was under the impression that they could sympathize.

How very wrong she was.

They had only been in New York for a few days, but to Angel it felt like they'd been wandering the city for an eternity. They'd been to restaurants, the zoo, the subways, the library, dodging Erasers or looking for the location of the Institute for Higher Living. In the middle of it, Max had claimed to have a working Voice, which was slowly giving her instructions too; instructions which she seemed all too willing to follow.

Don't do it! Angel wanted to scream at her, Don't follow a single word it says! They want to control you! Just like they want to control me! Shut it out Max!

But the Erasers had already attacked them once, so someone in the School had to know where they were. Perhaps they were tracking them somehow. And Dr. Drake was really high up in the School, he ordered the Erasers, and if he really was that determined, Max wouldn't stand a chance. The only way to keep Max and the others safe was, again, to play along and pray for a miracle.

"I think we should get on the Madison Avenue bus," Max was saying.

"Why?" Fang asked, giving Max a confused look.

Max mouthed a phrase to Fang. Angel didn't need to hear it to know she was saying "The Voice," the image was clear enough in Max's mind. Fang replied quietly in kind, prompting Max to shout, "I don't know! Maybe we should do what it says for a while—to see."

"Do what what says?" Gazzy asked. Again, Angel noticed, it didn't take a mind reader to pick up on things. Even if Gazzy couldn't read minds, he was still really smart.

Angel waited for a half-baked reply, but was surprised to hear Fang explain, "Max has been hearing a voice, inside her. We don't know what it is."

As Nudge asked for clarification, Angel shot a quick glance up and down Fourteenth Street. She couldn't see anyone Eraser-like, that didn't mean they weren't there. She also didn't feel any Eraser-like minds around her, but that only went so far—about thirty feet in any direction. That had been growing too, Angel noticed. Before she had been taken to the School, it couldn't have been a radius of more than twenty feet.

From there, Max led them at a quick pace down the street, fourteen whole blocks. It would have been easier to fly, Angel knew, much, much easier, but Max had insisted on keeping a low profile. As she walked her eyes drifted down to the gum-covered sidewalk and the measured paces of her flockmates. Max, she noticed, had really long legs. She took maybe one stride to Angel's two, probably didn't notice either.

One day, Angel, you won't have to walk if you don't want to.

Angel felt the blood drain from her face. If Jeb wanted to use the Voice toy around with Max, that was one thing. It was less personal, and the quests seemed, so far, to be kind and easygoing. Dr. Drake hadn't said a single word since the information that he'd asked Angel to deliver about their parents, and now here he was again, whispering into her head.

I don't mind, Angel lied back, I like walking.

Someday soon, everyone will know who you are, Drake's Voice continued, no one will care if you fly then—except Max. And you'll have such beautiful wings. They'll be bigger than Max's, you know, and stronger too.

Angel shook her head, a very slow motion that no one else caught but her. I'll never be better than Max, she reaffirmed, I'll always be smaller, and she'll always be able to do more. And I like it that way. Please, leave me alone.

In her head, Robert's voice gave an amused chuckle. Tsk, tsk. Angel, you already are far more powerful than Max, you just haven't noticed yet. I've been waiting for this day for years. A whole new world is about to open up for you Angel, and we'll take the first step together.

They had arrived at the bus stop, where the bus was already loading passengers. Max placed a small handful of coins into the fare collector, and gestured for Angel and the others to follow her towards the back of the bus.

Together? Angel asked, But you're back at the School.

Am I?

Angel glanced about the bus. She was crushed next to Max, tightly holding her hand. Was Drake coming for her?

At that moment, the man in the seat directly next to her lowered his copy of The Wall Street Journal. Angel recognized him instantly; the graying dark hair and deep brown eyes that, as the last time the two met, seemed to glow with a contained animal fire. Robert Drake gave her a quick glance, and then raised his newspaper again. Using the Voice he gave her one more command.

Say nothing, or else I shall blow up this bus.

Note: This chapter contains dialogue from The Angel Experiment, Chapter 89.