“Max?” Brian said. “You need to stay here. Let us handle it.” There was an intent tone in his voice that made me glance up at him. He looked worried.

“Guys,” I said, zipping up my parka, pulling the fur-trimmed hood onto my head, “I take care of my own.”

Paul crossed his arms and took on his ship’s-captain persona. “Max, I forbid you and Fang to go out into that storm!”

I couldn’t help chuckling, and Fang cracked a smile.

We headed to the door that led to the air lock and outside.

Brian stepped between us and the door, and what had been amusing suddenly became irritating.

“Max, you don’t know —,” he began, and that was when I decked him.

A second later Brian was lying stunned on the floor, one hand to his jaw, blinking and wondering what had happened.

At least I assume that was what he was doing.

I wouldn’t know, because Fang and I were already gone.

Chapter 53

53

FLYING IN HIGH WINDS can be the most exhilarating thing in the world. You just put your wings fully out and coast, doing micro-adjustments as needed to stay aloft. It’s a lot like surfing at the beach, riding the waves, except, you know, without the water. Or the beach. Or the surfboard.

At least, it’s fun like that when you don’t have to go anywhere and can take all the time in the world to enjoy Mother Nature’s roller coaster. If you need to go in any other direction, you’re screwed.

Fang and I are wicked strong, and our wings are, uh, not superhuman — I guess super-avian would be the term. But these were some freaking stiff winds, and on top of that, it was, to put it in words that won’t get edited out for younger kids, exceedingly cold.

Fang and I broke through the wind as best we could. We tried going above it, but before we got high enough, we realized we were so far up that we couldn’t see squat on the ground, even with raptor vision.

Teeth clenched, windburn tears streaming out of our eyes, we headed back down, staying close to each other. We started in small circles, then made them increasingly larger. And saw nothing. Nothing but whiteness. Ice. Rock. Snow. Right then, global warming seemed like a great idea.

“Hypothermia,” Fang yelled over the wind, and I nodded, biting my lip. Dealing with regular old freezingness was one thing, but being caught somewhere, unable to move and keep warm, was something else. If Angel had fallen through some ice or had gotten trapped somehow, it wouldn’t take long for her to freeze to death. Total, being smaller, would last even less time.