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Back Angel Save as PDF
Chapters (88)
  1. Welcome
  2. Dedication
  3. To the reader
  4. BOOK ONE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. BOOK TWO
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. BOOK THREE
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. Books by James Patterson
  88. Cover Page

I flew along the sidewalk beneath her, and with Fang and Maya flanking her on either side, Angel landed well down the block, setting the boy down gently. His mother raced up, shrieking in French, and grabbed him. He was coughing and sniffling but managed a smile as he motioned to Angel. The woman tearfully thanked Angel, who nodded wearily and then headed over to me. I met her halfway.

“Way to go, hero,” I said, giving her a high five.

“Thanks.” She smiled, her teeth bright white against her soot-covered face. “I bet you were dying to come get me.”

I laughed ruefully. “You know me too well. I was going crazy.”

Angel smiled again and took my hand. It was like old times.

62

I BASKED IN nostalgia for about a minute and a half, then my reverie vanished.

I saw Fang gathering up his gang. Maya said something that made him smile. He grinned back at her, and—right in the very same city that I myself was currently in—he pushed her hair away from her face. Just like he had done for me so many times.

I lost my breath, like I was getting punched in the stomach. It almost felt like my own personal D-day, where I was experiencing the end of “Fang and Max,” forever.

Suddenly, I needed to get away. I told Nudge and Angel that I’d be right back and gave them a lame, totally unconvincing smile. Then I ran down the sidewalk and launched myself into the air, ascending as fast as I could. I soared over the city and followed the Champs-Élysées, the main boulevard, to the Arc de Triomphe, the center of twelve streets that radiate away from it.

I circled the city several times, high enough not to be seen but low enough to take in some of the sights—the Eiffel Tower, of course, Notre Dame, and Sacré-Coeur, high on its hill. A light drizzle began to fall, adding to my sadness. Streetlights came on, and the city twinkled.

Finally, I alighted atop the Arc de Triomphe. No one was up on the observation deck; I had it all to myself. The day had grown chilly, and I was damp all over, strands of hair plastered to my face. From up here, nearly two hundred feet in the air, I could see most of the city. It was amazingly beautiful.

I sighed, resting my head against one of the big iron spikes at the perimeter of of the Arc’s deck.

I thought that I’d never see Fang again, but here we were, in Paris. At first I thought we’d always be together, but no. Then I thought we’d always be apart, but no again. I couldn’t count on anything; I couldn’t get used to either situation, because both kept changing. It was so frustrating! And so unfair!