There goes my staying-ahead-of-my-updates plan. Back to writing the chapters day by day...Oh, well.
Thanks to JessicaJayJackson for reviewing!
Max POV
Okay, this was official: my mom makes the best food in the world.
I breathed in the scent of fresh homemade chocolate chip cookies greedily, as if it would make the cookies last longer.
It didn't.
"Cookies!" Angel cried, grabbing one from the plate that my mom had just set before us.
"Careful, they're hot," I warned, snatching a couple myself, and blowing on them to cool them down.
Mmm…
Flour, butter, sugar, and lots and lots of chocolate chips. That is what makes a delicious chocolate chip cookie.
"Hmph," Total sulked in a corner, "who said that dogs can't have chocolate? Who?"
All too soon, the cookies disappeared. Well, okay. They weren't completely gone. Mom decided to store the rest of the cookies in a jar, saying that we'd had enough. Soon, everyone left to do whatever they did during this time of day, and only Ella and I were left.
It was after dinner, and the stars were just beginning to glimmer among the sea of blue-black. I stared outside, transfixed by the beauty of the night when my attention was suddenly drawn to the framed photo that hung beside the window.
It was of a man, wearing a Christmas-themed wool sweater and laughing in a way not many of us ever laugh—truly happy. He was skinny, but not overly so, and had a mop of dark brown hair. He looked familiar somehow.
"Who's that?" I asked Ella, pointing.
"Oh, that," she said, looking slightly sad, "that's my dad."
The topic of her dad has always been a touchy subject. But, as you know, curiosity killed the cat. Or, rather, bird. "Has he passed away?" I blurted out. I regretted the question the moment it passed my lips.
Ella's expression was fierce. "No! He has not died. Dad's just…gone. He couldn't have died." She added quietly, worry and doubt etched her face.
I backtracked quickly. "Of course not. I was just wondering."
She softened. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be so snappy. It's just that I'm worried…he's been missing for over a year now. Mom had talked to the police, but nothing's turned up…they say that the chances of him returning gets slimmer every day...I'm so worried."
I hugged her. "Don't worry. Everything's going to turn out fine in the end, you'll see."
I hoped I wasn't giving her a false hope. There really wasn't much of a chance of her Dad coming back…
But I made a mental note to look for him, all the same.
A voice cut through my thoughts. "Max? Want to go flying?" Fang asked quietly, standing in the doorway.
I looked at Ella and she smiled as she shoved me to my feet. "Go, have fun with your boyfriend."
Boyfriend? Was Fang and I…well, I suppose so. Not that I was going to admit that any time soon.
The air was fresh this time of day, clean and cool. There was a gentle breeze playing through the trees below, and starlight bathed everything in a silvery mist.
Fang and I leaped from the open window, flaring out our wings and soaring upwards just before we would have hit the ground.
Did I ever tell you have wonderful it was to fly?
Up and up we flew, until houses below were merely specks and streets were just lines criss-crossing the ground. Until the moon seemed close enough to touch and the wind bit through my light jacket. Until it seemed like there was no other in the world except for Fang.
I smiled at Fang, who smiled back. Up here, where the wind ruffled hair and rumpled clothing, where you can laugh all you want and have nobody know, where you can be crazy or serious or just yourself and nobody can judge—this was his home. This was where he loved being the most.
And because he loved it, I loved it too.
But nowhere would be home without Fang. I still don't remember—and probably never will—why I had committed suicide all those weeks back. Maybe because I wanted to protect the Flock. Maybe because I wanted to protect him. And maybe I don't want to know.
But it must have been a good reason. I couldn't imagine a world without Fang, without my Flock. Couldn't imagine living if they weren't right there with me.
But every once in a while, I look at Fang's face and know that he feels the same way. That he wants me beside him just as much as I do, that he wouldn't ever let go.
And I feel thankful that I have him, and not some random, blond-haired, Justin Beiber wannabe, for instance.
I looked at him and saw him staring up at the half moon.
"Don't you ever wonder why the night has a thousand different points of light, and the day only one? Actually the daytime has stars too, except they are all blotted out by one—the sun."
"And where, pray tell, did you find that piece of information?" I asked.
He turned towards me. "On the internet. It has everything, I'm telling you."
"Well, I find the night time much safer. It has a million stars to watch after you."
Fang smirked. "Getting poetic, are we? Next thing we know, you'll be walking around holding some dead dude's skull and quoting Shakespeare."
I growled. "You better run!"
By the time we climbed back into the house late into the night, we were laughing (or at least I was—Fang had some kind half-smile and was chuckling softly whenever he thought I couldn't hear him, which was good enough for me), faces flushed from the chilly fall air.
I yawned. "Well, time for bed. Otherwise, Mom'll kill me." I paused, "Okay, maybe I'll eat just one more cookie."
Fang sighed. "Knowing you, you'd probably eat the whole jar. You're addicted to those things."
What? "No way!" I countered, "I'll eat only one—promise!" I started down the hallway towards the kitchen. I was not addicted. Well, not much.
It was late into the night, and everyone was already in bed. Both my footsteps and Fang's could be heard distinctly throughout the whole house.
Sticking my hand into the cookie jar, I took one chocolate chip cookie out. "See?" I said, turning to Fang and biting into the cookie, "I can limit myself."
I looked towards the window that Fang was standing in front of.
Or, at least the window that he should have been in front of.
He wasn't there.
However, what was there was enough to make me scream. But call it restraint, call it habit, but I didn't.
But I very much could have.
Floating outside, framed perfectly by the window, was Fang's head.
Except it was not. It was twisted and rotten-looking, with flesh drooping and eyes sunken. Matted dirty hair hung around his face, and sunken dull eyes stared accusingly at me. The skin was a sallow, blackened in parts, and blistered—at least what skin I could see. Most of it was torn off, leaving bloody tears in what should have been parts of his face.
Fang should have looked hideous—except he wasn't. I could see the beauty behind the disfigured face, could sense it. Could sense the kindness and caring and beauty behind the terrible sight.
And that was the worst part.
The knowledge that I didn't deserve him, that I would never, ever, be anywhere near good enough for such a person. He was perfect, perfect in all aspects, and…he cared for me.
He shouldn't like me…he shouldn't even care…
And then he opened his mouth.
"Why did you kill me, Max?" Fang asked, infinite hurt and betrayal evident in his voice. "What have I ever done to you?"
This couldn't be real…this shouldn't be real. It must be a…hallucination, yeah, that's it. A hallucination from lack of sugar.
My eyes didn't believe me.
I sank down to my knees, sobs caught at the back of my throat, eyes unable to rip themselves from the sight.
And then he was gone, somehow just disappeared.
Only to be replaced by something else.
The huge Eraser's black furry head turned to face me, its red eyes glowing hatred.
It grinned at me, a menacing smile that stretched horribly across it face.
"Ah, Max," it hissed, wicked teeth flashing in the light with every word, "When will you ever learn? Everything you do will only harm everyone around you. Every tragedy that is to come can and will be your fault-your mistakes will cost the world. You are not destined to save the world.
You will destroy it."
There. A longer and (hopefully) less confusing chapter. (Go random Fax moments!)
Review?