Max- Maya's Death

  Her wings were silhouetted against the brilliant flame of sunlight. Fang knew the exact color of those wings, their span, their texture against his cheek. Hawk’s wings, to match her sharp instincts, her hard looks.

  She looked soft now—softer than the air and the clouds around her. Tender. Cradled in blue.

  Fang was holding his breath.

  He could see her face now, her mouth open in a perfect O, caught in mid-sentence, drawing in.

  To tell him everything that had never been said. That she’d still be there for him, like she always had. That he shouldn’t have left her and the flock.

  That she loved him.

  Fang felt his will seeping out of him, crushed beneath the weight of this knowledge. The fall would kill them both.

  He blinked and she was moving again, her arms like a marionette’s, in unlikely poses, twisting. A delicate dance, a swaying to music he could not hear.

  Down… and down.

  Her features came sharply into focus and Fang saw the fear there, her mouth protesting in a silent scream, the ragged ripple of wing tearing behind her, ruined.

  The blood in her hair, cut short. So it wouldn’t get tangled in the wind.

  The sound caught up to Fang’s ears, the shriek vibrating louder and louder, closer and closer as the ground rushed upward and all the light fell away from her and she was plummeting, as dark and heavy as a stone.

  Max—no, Maya—was falling to her death.

  Fang surged upward. Racing gravity, he stretched out his arms toward Maya’s free-falling body. He just barely managed to catch her, then sagged as her deadweight dragged him down.

  Hovering with Maya clutched in his arms, Fang felt his jaw tighten as he saw that her neck was covered in blood, which was streaming down her skin and onto her shirt. No, no, no, his brain protested with growing distress. Ari’s claws had sliced her up like deli meat.

  “Fang,” Maya whispered.

  “You’re okay,” Fang said, as much to convince himself as Maya. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

  Scenes flashed in Fang’s mind: Maya laughing easily. Maya asking if he was okay, her eyes soft, concerned. Maya after her haircut—happy, confident, ready for a fresh start. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he had thought they could be each other’s fresh start. He ground his teeth into his lips to keep from screaming.

  “Fang… I love you,” Maya said, starting to cry. Tears trickled over her lovely cheeks, down her jaw, into the mutilated mess of her neck.

  The sound of wings filtered into his brain, but only vaguely, as if he were hearing it through a long tunnel.

  “I know,” Fang whispered.

  Then he felt the wind shift behind him, felt the hairs on his neck rising. Before he could move, before he could react, Ari appeared, and with a final, murderous lunge, smashed his elbow into Maya’s chest with crushing force.

  “No!” Fang screamed as Ari soared away from them. Still struggling to hold Maya up, Fang couldn’t defend her, couldn’t fight back. He could only clutch at her and watch it happen.

  Helpless.

  Fang landed as gently as he could. He fell to his knees, arranging Maya’s head on his lap.

  “Crap,” Ratchet said, awake again and limping over. “I saw Ari take a swipe at her, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

  “Get me something to stop the bleeding,” Fang said tersely. Ratchet looked around, then grabbed Holden and yanked the boy’s shirt off. He tossed it to Fang, who pressed the cloth to Maya’s neck.

  He was aware of Star and Kate, unsure what to do, huddling together off to the side. They clearly hadn’t been prepared for this. Fang would deal with them later.

  Ratchet and Holden leaned silently over him. They knew, just as Fang knew, that it was too late.

  “I’m sorry,” Maya cried helplessly. She coughed and sputtered, her breath growing shallow.

  “Shh,” Fang said. “Don’t talk. Just focus on breathing. You’re going to get through this. We’re going to get through this,” he repeated.

  Maya’s brown eyes struggled to focus on his. “Sorry I’m… not st-strong af… ter all.”

  “Maya,” he said quietly. “You are strong. Stronger than anyone.”

  “After Max,” she said, trying to smile. Blood began to seep from beneath Holden’s shirt and drip on the ground.

  Fang shook his head. “Not after Max. Right next to her. Equal.”

  “Thank you,” Maya whispered. Then her eyes seemed to focus on a spot just to one side of Fang’s face, and her head lolled.

  Fang didn’t move.

  He just sat there, staring at the dead girl. The dead Maya, the dead Max, the dead almost everything he cared about. He felt like a freight train was slamming into his chest, over and over again.

- Nevermore: The Final Maximum Ride Adventure, chapter 18