AFTER A DAY of zombified culties shrieking about wiping out the human race and an hour of hysterical panic holding Iggy down while fighting for his mind as he writhed in the bathtub, I’d aged about five years, and I swear I got my first gray hair from that ordeal.

However, we were now back on track. We were six normalish birdkids, one of whom had recently endured a freezing cold deprogramming experience, and a small black dog thrilled that he’d escaped a bath. Together we sat, a little freaked out, around the table, trying to plan our next course of action.

“Dr. Martinez, Jeb, and Ella are still gone,” Dylan said, and Gazzy countered with, “Well, duh.” I was glad to hear the Gasman sounding almost back to normal after the whole not-talking-for-two-days thing, which I hadn’t really had time to deal with.

“Do you want to saddle up, go back, and get Ella?” Dylan asked me, ignoring Gazzy.

“That’s my first instinct,” I said slowly, thinking. “But I’m really worried about what this Doomsday Group is up to. If it’s something serious, we might have to try to stop it. Fast. This thing is spreading like the plague.”

“It’s just so weird that—” Nudge began, then stopped after a harsh look from Angel.

“What?” I said.

Nudge pressed her lips together and looked away. Total coughed meaningfully.

I sighed and rubbed my temples. “Just tell me. Obviously, it’s about Fang.” I was amazed I could even say his name without having to curl up into a little ball afterward.

“Well, it’s just so weird that we’re dealing with the Doomsday Group here, and Fang is going to California to do the same thing,” Nudge said quickly.

I’d seen mention of the Doomsday Group on the TV in the little stomach-turning video I’d seen of Fang and his Max stand-in but didn’t know it was more than that.

“Fang mentioned them in his blog?” I demanded.

“Yeah,” Nudge admitted.

I sat down at the laptop and called up Fang’s blog myself, for the first time since he’d left. It was painful, just seeing the words he’d written. I was aware of Dylan, who’d gone across the room and was sitting moodily on the sofa, flicking through TV channels.

“ ‘So, Comic-Con!’ ” I read, as Total stretched up to my lap. “ ‘I’ve always wanted to go! Looks like I’ll get my chance—the Doomsday Group is holding a huge rally there. Why, I don’t know, but the Fang gang is on its way. Feel free to drop by! I’ll be the one with real—not strap-on—wings.’ ”

I looked up. “No one was going to tell me about this because…”