A/N: Sorry that the updates are so slow. This will probably be the last one before school lets out. But once I'm on break, I'll try to start updating every week again, like I used to.

WARNING: BEWARE OF FAXNESS!

NSQR#9: "Let's make the best of the situation / Before I finally go insane. / Please don't say we'll never find a way / And tell me all my love's in vain. –Eric Clapton"

Disclaimer/Copyright: I don't own Maximum Ride, the Holy Bible, or CSI: NY, which is where I got the idea for this chapter from.

Chapter Eight: Life After Death (Part Two)

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So, where do you go when you're a bird kid in desperate need of a Bible?

A hotel.

Fang and I checked into the first semi-cheap-looking motel we found. After a search that took a lot longer than I thought it would, we uncovered a King James Version Holy Bible in the bottom drawer of the TV stand.

I had no idea how to work one of those things, so Fang flipped to the very back and started reading the tiny print while I shifted around impatiently behind him.

"Revelation," Fang explained. "Is the last book in the Bible. It's pretty much this John guy having a vision of the apocalypse."

Save the world, Max…

"There's all these theories about how the Second Coming is upon us because of all these things happening that supposedly match up with prophecies," Fang continued, leafing through the thin pages.

"And you know this how?" I asked.

"PBS."

I rolled my eyes. Fang stopped, and then held the book up to me. "Right there, beneath the big fifteen."

I took it and read the miniature script aloud. "'And then I saw another sign in heaven, great and marvelous, seven angels having the seven last plagues; for in them is filled up the wrath of God.'" I raised my eyebrows at Fang over the book. "Angels?"

"Well, gee Max," Fang said slowly, lounging across a chair. "We do have wings."

"No dip," I replied sarcastically. I whacked him across the head with the Bible. "But there's only six of us. It says seven. And I don't think Total counts."

Fang shrugged his shoulders, reaching down into his bag and pulling out a bar of chocolate. "How do we even know it's us? How do we even know it means anything?" he questioned me, meticulously pulling back the wrapper.

"Do you know another flock of avian hybrids flying around, being told to save the world?"

Fang took a bite of chocolate and chewed unhurried, staring at me thoughtfully. I fidgeted uncomfortably, stretching my legs out in front of me, and Fang's lips twitched at the corners. "No," he answered finally. "But you're the one being told to save the world, not all of us." I opened my mouth to argue, but Fang interrupted me. "And this is, of course, assuming it was meant literally."

I held up the note, pointing at the dried blood on it. "Someone died getting this to us. I'm pretty sure it's serious," I informed him dryly. Fang nodded, eating another chunk of chocolate, still watching me. "And will you stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" Fang asked, widening his eyes innocently. I noticed absently that his irises were the exact same color as the Hershey's Special Dark Chocolate bar he was eating. Weird.

"Doing… whatever you doing. Ugh, I don't even know." I leaned against the bed, picking at the hotel's carpeting. "Just… stop."

Fang chuckled and slid off the chair onto the ground next to me. "Okay, I'm stopping." He laughed again softly, popping the last bit of chocolate into his mouth.

"How can you be in such a good mood?" I demanded.

"Because it's easier than being upset."

I gave him a shove. He pushed me back playfully before wrapping one arm around my waist and tugging me next to him. "Fine, I'm being serious now." I looked up at him suspiciously; his face was somber, but I could still detect a trace of humor in his eyes. "If the verse is for real," Fang continued. "The question is, does it mean literally God and seven angels? Or is it supposed to be symbolic, like the 'gold beneath the rainbow' bit when we were looking for the Institute?"

I tapped my fingers against Fang's arm, thinking. "I don't know," I admitted.

Fang sighed. His breath tickled my neck. "Has Deven said anything about it?"

I shook my head. "He hasn't been saying much. I told you, he's really upset about the Houston guy. Or maybe he left again."

"Don't write me off just yet. You're still stuck with me."

Oh. Hey. "Never mind; he's here," I told Fang. How're you doing?

"I've been better."

Fang was tracing small circles on my palm. "Ask him," he said quietly.

About the Bible verse thing: what the heck is that about?

"It's part of the test, Max. You have to figure it out."

Everything is part of the test, I huffed back. And what's the point of having a voice in your head if it doesn't help you out?

Deven laughed bitterly. "You have no idea how much I've done for you, what I'm still doing."

Enlighten me, then.

"I can't tell you that." The Voice paused and sighed. "I'll give you a hint: some of it is literal and some of is symbolic."

So… is the Flock the seven angels?

"Six out of seven. You must find the seventh angel."

And is this seventh angel a bird kid like us, or what? But Deven didn't respond.

I returned my focus back to Fang, who was now fiddling with my fingers. "Deven says some of it is literal and some isn't. And that we need to find a seventh angel."

Fang dropped my hand back into my lap. "Another avian hybrid?"

I shrugged. "He wouldn't say. Maybe." A thought struck me. "Oh—what about those kids we released from the Institute? There were two there, a girl and a boy."

"Or maybe a newer experiment?" Fang suggested. "Or an older one."

"What do you mean?"

Fang looked down at me. "Well, I was Subject Seven, you were Six. What about the five Subjects before us?"

I shook my head. "But they always said that we were the first successful avian crosses. The ones before us must've died or something."

Fang pursed his lips. "Or…" he started slowly. "Or, maybe you count as two people, since you have another person in your head."

"Yeah, but Deven said we had to find the seventh angel. So, wouldn't that mean we hadn't met them yet? Besides, the verse thingy said 'God', so wouldn't that mean Deven?"

"True." Fang pulled me into his lap and laid his head atop mine. After a minute, he added, "It could be an Eraser."

"What? No way," I replied, crossly.

"They have wings too," he reminded me.

I folded my arms. "Yeah, but they're certainly not angels." Fang chuckled, running a strand of my hair between his fingers.

"Definitely not." He tucked the hair back behind my ear. "But I'm not much of an angel either."

I whipped around. "You are!" I proclaimed indignantly. "You're like, like my guardian angel!" Then, I realized what I'd said and blushed deeply.

Fang noticed, of course. He raised an eyebrow. "Guardian angel?" he teased.

I felt my face burn brighter and nodded reluctantly.

Fang chuckled again, shaking his head, but smiling. Then, he leaned forward and kissed my forehead, my nose, and, finally, my mouth.

I grinned and kissed him back, linking my fingers together behind his neck. Fang's tongue ran along my bottom lip, asking for entrance. I waited a bit just to tease him, then when he became more insistent, I granted him access. His tongue swept through my mouth and oh God…

"Spare me, please."

I smirked and slipped my tongue between Fang's lips, massaging his with mine. I immediately tasted something sweet and pulled back.

"What?" Fang asked, concerned he'd crossed the line.

I shook my head and snickered. "I can taste the chocolate."

Fang's expression turned cocky. "Taste yummy, do I?"

"Mmmhmm," I answered. I kissed him again lightly before standing up. "I'm taking advantage of the hot shower," I informed him, digging through my backpack for my night clothes and toothbrush. I felt Fang's eyes on my back until I stepped into the small bathroom. I dropped my toothbrush and clothes onto the sink counter and was reaching to shut the door when my reflection caught my eye.

Eraser Max smiled at me, sharp teeth jutting above her lip. "Hello, Maxie."

Before I could stop myself, I screamed.

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I was taking off my shoes when Max suddenly screamed with pure, uncontained terror. Max never screams like that. Getting scared already, I leapt to my feet and ran to the bathroom. "Max?!"

The door was halfway closed; I threw it open, banging it against the wall. Max was edging away from the sink, practically climbing up the wall as she stared at the mirror in terror.

But since there were no Erasers or blood, I calmed down just a tad. "Max?" I asked cautiously, stepping towards her.

Max suddenly noticed me and shrieked, jumping away from me. "No, go, go…" she moaned, covering her face with her hands. I reached out to her, but she back away, feet banging into the tub. "Stay away from me!"

"Max?" I tried again. Every instinct inside me was screaming at me to touch her, but when I moved closer, she only seemed to get more agitated. "What—what's the matter?"

Max wouldn't look at me, shoulders trembling. "S-she's going to kill you," she stammered.

"Who is?"

Max pointed at the mirror. I looked at it, but all I saw was Max and me standing in the cramped bathroom. Then it clicked. "Eraser Max?"

"She's going to kill you," Max repeated, shaking and heaving in sharp bursts of breath. Oh shit, she's hyperventilating.

"No one is going to kill me," I assured her. "Just breathe." She shook her head, starting to cry and face turning red from the lack of oxygen. "Breathe, Max, c'mon." I approached her slowly, hands spread wide in front of me. Max tried to scuttle away, but she couldn't go any farther. Kneeling down beside her, I turned her towards me, away from the mirror. "Shh, breathe Max, it's okay," I soothed.

Max was still covering her face with one hand; I gently tugged it away. I brushed her hair behind her ears and then cupped her face with both hands. She seemed to calm down, her eyes getting less frantic. "Deep breath." Max did as instructed, the flush starting to fade.

"Good," I murmured. Max breathed deep again, then sobbed softly, burying her face into the crook of my neck. I wrapped my arms around her, rubbing her back.

"She's going to kill you," Max mumbled again disjointedly, gripping fistfuls of my shirt. I felt a drop of something wet slick down to my collarbone.

"Shh." I kissed the top of her head, pulling her into my lap. "Is she still there?"

"Yes." She clenched my shirt tighter. I glanced over my shoulder at the mirror; there was definitely no Eraser there. "She's talking to me," Max continued, whimpering.

"Don't listen to her, listen to me," I told her. "Nothing's going to happen to me and nothing is going to happen to you, okay?" Max nodded, still crying quietly. "We're going to figure this out, alright? We're going to be fine."

I picked up Max, standing carefully. She kept her face turned into my chest, refusing to even glance away, and quivering slightly. I sighed; I hated seeing her like this. "Let's get you some sleep."

Max didn't protest as I carried her back into the room and laid her down on the bed, though I did have to pry her hands off of my t-shirt. She curled up into a ball as I pulled the covers over her. Combing my fingers through her hair, I pressed my lips to her forehead. "Goodnight, Max."

Max grabbed my arm, squeezing so hard her nails bit into my skin. "Fang… " she whispered. I leaned forward to hear her. "…Don't let her kill you."

"I didn't plan on it."

I was finally able to coax Max asleep after a half hour or so. When she was finally deep into a slumber, I slipped away and walked silently to the bathroom.

The mirror seemed innocent enough. Three by five feet, unadorned, speckled with a few stains, typical cheap glass you see in motels. I placed my palm on the cool surface, spreading my fingers wide. I hadn't seen anything weird in the mirror. But Max had. And it wasn't the first time either.

"A couple of times, when I've looked into a mirror, I've—seen myself morph. Into an Eraser."

That was at Anne's, after her date with that Sam guy. Max had also said something about seeing Eraser Max on New Years Eve. And now tonight. So, four times, maybe more.

What was the common denominator? Where was the link?

At first, I'd put it off as too much stress, but tonight… if she was talking to her, freaking Max out that much, it had to be serious.

But what was it? I hadn't seen anything in the mirror, and Max looked normal enough to me. So, if it was all in Max's head, what was causing it?

I opened the tiny linen closet's door and pulled out one of the spare bed sheets, covering the mirror with it. I tugged the corners taut around the edges of the mirror, glaring at the blank, white space.

If you can't cure it, treat it.

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A/N: Sorry about the shortness, but I wanted to post soon. If you get bored, go vote for the nominees of the Maximum Ride Fanfiction Awards. And if you're bored after that, go study for your finals. I'm sure you have to take them too.