Chapter 37

Max POV

"You have twigs in your hair," Fang remarked, throwing me one of his famous, half-smiles. My face flushed. He chuckled at my futile attempt to retrieve the twigs from my unruly nest of hair, eventually assisting me with the task.

"It's your fault, you know," I retorted, grinning.

"My fault?" he twisted a strand of my hair, eyebrows raising theatrically. "You pushed me off the cliff!"

I rolled my eyes, stood, and unfurled my wings. "You deserved it," I stuck my tongue out playfully.

"I definitely did n-" An unusual, nervous twitch forced me to clutch my stomach. Unintentionally, I gasped, interrupting Fang. "Max, what's happening?" The second, powerful jab only increased the urgency in his voice. "Max. Talk to me!" He grabbed my wrist, tilting my chin to meet his gaze.

"I think," I whispered. "I think the baby is kicking." The tension in the air decreased noticeably. Fang rested his forehead on mine, sighing deeply.

"C-can I feel it?" he asked permission gingerly, biting his lip. I nodded, watching him curiously. Fang kneeled, gently peeled back the cotton of my t-shirt, and placed his hands on my protruding belly. I couldn't help but notice that they were shaking ever so slightly.

A few agonizing seconds later, the same twitch occurred. Fang's eyes shot to mine, raven orbs flecked with amazement and wonder. He shook with laughter, stood abruptly, and kissed me deeply. His lips parted as if he was about to say something when a loud thud came from the cave.

Instinctively, we broke apart and ascended into the forest, toward the noise. My wings caught the damp air, propelling me forward. I stumbled into the shelter, breathing heavily. Fang wasn't far behind me. "What happened?"

"Nudge hit me with a fucking frying pan!" Iggy bellowed, rubbing a red spot on his forehead. Angel and Gazzy were chuckling to themselves, in no way intending to stop the quarrel. I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. Although whopping Iggy upside the head with a frying pan was a common fantasy of mine, I couldn't let Nudge off the hook that easily.

"I know what you're thinking, Max," Nudge reasoned with me. "This looks bad. But, Iggy was making fun of Justin's new song, and the humidity is ruining my hair, and I just started my peri-"

"Okay!" I interjected, clearing my throat. "I know everyone is a little stressed right now, but we have to work together if we're going to save my mom and Ella." Iggy's sightless eyes flickered in my direction momentarily, and then receded back to his hands. "We have a little under four hours until," I trailed off, not entirely sure of what was to come. I absolutely hated having no control over a situation that put all of the people I loved in danger.

"Until seven," Fang finished, stepping forward. Our wings brushed, sending a chill down the length of my spine. I felt a tug on my jeans and noticed that he had hung his finger in the belt loop.

I bit my lip, fighting off a smile as I suggested our next step. "I say, we find a place to chill and make a plan."

"Preferably one with wifi," Fang adds quietly.

"And coffee," Iggy groans. "Lots of it."

Gazzy lunges forward, with his fist thrust in the air like Superman. "Starbucks, here we come!"

We had exactly two hours and thirty-six minutes until our impending doom (or whatever the people who had captured my family had in mind.) I thoroughly intended on following the mysterious directions in order to rescue my mother and sister, but it led me to one question; why Niagara Falls? If I were to, say, blackmail the cook from the China Palace back in Arizona into telling me what is really in their Szechuan Chicken, I would do it somewhere discreet, like the alley behind Sesame Street where Big Bird sells his crack.

Niagara Falls, however, is a public attraction in public that draws a lot of publicity. It's almost like they want to be seen…or want us to be seen. "One Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino for m'lady," Fang smirked, placing the warm coffee cup in my hands. He slid into the booth next to me and placed his hand on my thigh, absentmindedly making small circles with his thumb. "What are we looking at?"

Two full sentences, I thought. Someone's feeling chatty. "It's the Niagara Falls Official website," I scanned the web page absentmindedly, terribly distracted by his hand on my thigh. "So, basically just a bunch of historical junk. It says here that there is an illumination show and fireworks every night, starting at nine."

"What about seven o'clock?" Fang furrowed his brow, posing a question that I couldn't answer. It was a scary feeling. I shrugged, sinking into his chest, defeated. It would be so easy to just give up and stay here, in his arms.

Max.

My eyes shot open, searching the quaint coffee house for the voice that had called for me. But, it didn't belong to a member of my flock or any of the caffeine junkies; it came from inside my head.

Don't give up. You can do this.

Wait, wait, wait. Did the infamous Voice just say something encouraging? Am I on Punk'd? Because, I'd really like to have a talk with Ashton Kutcher about that beard of his- it gives me the hibigeebies.

As much as I hated it, the Voice was right. If I gave up now, I would be letting everyone that I loved down. And, I was determined to make my family whole again.

Do you remember that horror movie, "The Mist," where a storm blows into town and traps the people in the supermarket while vicious, bloodthirsty creatures lurk in the fog surrounding them? Well, imagine that the supermarket is a boat and subtract the bloodthirsty creatures, and add a few mutant birdkids.. Alright, so, really it was nothing like the movie. But, it was foggy as hell, and for all I knew, there could have been frightening critters hidden in the mist. Just sayin'.

"Marilyn Monroe was here in 1952 to film her first starring role," Nudge beamed, absorbed by a pamphlet of interesting facts that she picked up at the kiosk where we bought tickets to ride the Maid of The Mist.

We all had on obnoxiously yellow ponchos, which Iggy felt the need to comment on. "I feel like Big Bird."

The tour guide, a cheery, plump woman with rosy cheeks waddled to the stern of the ship. Unlike our ponchos, the woman's was a bright pink hue- I'm sure Nudge was already plotting to snag it from her. The guide's hair remained perfectly curled, despite the constant downpour of mist, leading me to the conclusion that she had personally burned a small hole in the ozone layer with hairspray over the course of her lifetime. "Hiya, folks," she chortled. "Welcome to the magical Maid of The Mist; first launched in 1846. Ooh, that rhymed!" She spoke so theatrically, I only bothered listening to half of what she said (which was primarily adjectives) "This majestic vessel…water below the marvelous falls…an astounding 170 feet deep…one of the world's most popular honeymoon destinations."

Fang squeezed my hand and my heart leapt involuntarily. "What's that?" A little freckly boy wondered aloud, pointing to the sky. Suspended over our heads, from one side of the falls to the other, was a thin, black rope. I had a feeling it was much larger than it appeared, seeing as we were 160-something feet below it.

"Why, that is the world-renowned tightrope walker that will be crossing the falls this evening, at seven!" Hairspray Harriet exclaimed. I would have laughed when a gust of rain whipped the hood of her poncho over her face, causing her to squirm restlessly like a life-sized, fuschia roach, but I was momentarily distracted. Wait, seven…what's happening at seven? I already TiVo'd the Bachelor…

"Max!" Gazzy choked out, concern present in his voice. But, I already knew what he was going to say, because I saw it too. We all did.

Dangling from the middle of the tightrope walker's line were two struggling figures, bound together with rope. My mother and sister.