“Stronger than what?” Fang slurred through swollen lips. Another punch landed with a thwack, and he felt like his eye sockets were caving in.

“They’re not quite invincible,” Jeb observed as the Horsemen pummeled Fang. “Not yet. But with the next generation, or the one after, we’ll get there—we’ll engineer the species that cannot die.”

Between blows, Fang squinted at the Horsemen, thinking about the familiarity he’d felt. Jeb had trained the flock in martial arts—that explained why they fought just like Fang. There was something else, though. The way they moved, appeared out of nowhere like shadows…

“You should be proud, Fang. You’re going to have a huge impact on the world for generations to come.”

Fang stopped struggling just for a second and looked up at Jeb with an expression of utter horror. Finally, he understood what Jeb was getting at.

When they had kidnapped Fang and run all those tests, when they’d taken his blood, it was to create something else. Something unspeakable.

They’d used his DNA.

“You bastard,” Fang spat. “You had no right.”

And in the midst of that brief distraction, Fang felt a sudden, excruciating rip, and one of the Horsemen tossed a strange object to the ground.

It landed next to him with a heavy sound of finality, and Fang stared at the dark, feathered mass for several seconds, unable to make the connection to his own throbbing pain.

Gritting his teeth, he gathered his energy and bucked the beast off his back. With an arm finally free, Fang was able to reach over his right shoulder. He touched wetness. A nub of jagged bone.

Nothing else.

Fang’s skin felt clammy and cold. He started to shake all over.

My wing, he thought vaguely as he went into shock. They took my wing.

Fang saw Angel’s face. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she was smiling at him. His heart broke in that moment—he knew what it meant.

“No,” he murmured. “Please.”

It’s almost over, Angel soothed him. Just let go.

65

ANGEL CURLED HER body tighter into the nook of the fir tree, where one of the branches met the trunk, and wept.

She held her throbbing head in her hands, her fair hair twisting around her fingers as she gripped it. The images in her head played on a loop now, but they were often just glimpses, like small snippets of film. Close-ups of yellow eyes narrowing, yellow teeth flashing. Fists clenching, feathers falling. Snow stained dark with blood.

Angel wasn’t sure if what she was seeing was in the past or the future, and it was so hard sometimes to know what to do.

It was even harder to wait for the answer.