The white streak in his hair is unmistakable and so is his demented anger. This time, Raffe isn’t here to intimidate him. He grabs Paige’s pet locust and lifts him into the air above him like a squirming baby.

‘No!’ Paige’s hands reach up like a little kid trying to get her ball back from a bully.

White Streak slams the smaller locust down against his knee, breaking the beast’s back with a snap.

‘No!’ Paige screams. Her crisscrossed face turns red, and the cords in her neck stand out.

White Streak tosses the broken locust onto the concrete. Ignoring my sister, he stalks around the broken beast.

The injured locust pulls itself forward by its hands. It tries to get away from White Streak, dragging its dead legs behind it.

White Streak is making a show of it, puffing up and standing tall for all to see as every scorpion-tailed monster watches. He clearly plans to show that he’s the king of the locusts and no one else can challenge him.

That means he’s going to have to kill Paige.

I sprint toward my sister, weaving through the spectators. Although the air boils with locusts, no one else is fighting on the bridge. Doc had warned them that some locusts might be on our side. Now no one seems sure what to do. Everyone on the bridge – locust and human – watches the drama unfold.

Paige’s face crumples as she watches her pet locust drag itself helplessly on the asphalt, unable to move its legs or tail. She starts sobbing.

The sight seems to enrage White Streak. He swipes at her with his tail.

I scream. Every time I’ve seen my sister win a fight, she’s had the element of surprise on her side. But this time, White Streak knows she’s a threat and is out to kill her.

Then someone shouts over the loudspeaker, ‘They’re coming!’

The dark mass of locusts shifts and churns above the bridge, blotting out the sky. Between the stingers and iridescent wings, I catch glimpses of an ever-growing tide of bird-of-prey wings.

The blood hunt is starting.

Chapter 60

60

I try to slam my fear and anxiety into the vault in my head, but they’re too big.

When I look back down from the sky, Paige is ripping her teeth into White Streak’s arm. She’s alive and fighting.

I run toward her, trying to be as small as possible in case there’s a stray bullet.

In the center of the bridge, White Streak swats and tosses Paige onto the ground like a rabid dog, then he stomps his foot on her chest, keeping her struggling form down as he looms over her.

My sister is unrelentingly furious and thrashing beneath him. Watching her pet be crippled and crawl helplessly must have triggered something in her, something so violent and intense that it might just choke her.