Let the Sky Fall (36 page)

She’s right. Her gift gives her the upper hand in any fight.

But she’s also wrong.

She doesn’t know
my
secret.

Vane and I bonded. And when we melded together, he filled my mind with a single word—a word I didn’t understand until right now.

Peace.

I know Westerly.

I’ve never heard of a bond allowing people to share languages. But for us, it did.

So I weave the nearest Westerly into my next vortex and hurtle it at my mother with all the force I can manage. Then another. And another.

One for the Westons.

One for my father.

One for Vane.

She collapses, covering her head, screaming from the pain as the whipping winds tear her clothes, her hair, her skin. Red rivers of blood streak from her face and congeal in the sand. Still I hammer her, unleashing ten years of pent-up rage. I rip my father’s pendant from her neck. She doesn’t deserve to mourn for him.

This. Ends. Now.

I stare at my mother’s dirty, bloody, unconscious face as I weave the four winds into a spike, just like the one Vane made before. It feels cold in my hand.

Deadly.

I raise it over my mother’s heart.

CHAPTER 57

VANE

F
or a second I’m too stunned to move.

Audra speaks Westerly?

Then reality sets in, and I scramble to my feet.

She’s hurt and angry and has every right to rage out on her mother. But I throw myself on her, knocking the wind spike free.

I pin her arms as she thrashes for freedom.

“Hey,” I breathe. “It’s me, okay? It’s me.”

She slows, just enough to really look at me, and her fury fades.

“There’s my girl.”

“Let me go, Vane—I have to—”

“Murder your mother? I know she deserves it, but do you really think you could live with yourself? You speak Westerly, Audra. You think you could deal with that?”

“I’m an Easterly.”

“But you’re part of me now too. So you better think it through very carefully, because you’re seconds away from seriously screwing up your life. Which I’d rather you didn’t do. I’m kinda looking forward to us being together. Making out all day. Taking a break for dinner. Then making out again all night. But if you want to waste all of that on her—if she’s worth that . . . I won’t stop you.”

I let go of her shoulders.

She looks away. Tears pool in her eyes.

“I know. Believe me—I know. She killed my family too.” I punch the ground as I say it, then try to swallow the rage. “It’s not worth it. It’s not.”

I stare at the bracelet on my wrist—all I have left of my parents after Arella stole them from me—and wonder if that’s really true. But the arrow on the compass still points west, reminding me of my heritage.

Violence isn’t the answer.

Audra rolls to her side and curls her legs into her chest. I pull her against me as she sobs. I stroke her face, her arms. Wipe away the tears, the dust, the dried blood. Try to make her better.

After who knows how long, she finally looks up at me. Her eyes are puffy and red—but she’s still gorgeous. “Now what?” she whispers.

I have a feeling that question is going to keep haunting us.

“The Gales are coming here, right?”

She nods.

“Then I think you should leave.” I point to her mother’s crumpled
body. “Do you really want to be the one to tell them what your mother did?”

She glances at Arella—then immediately away, covering her mouth with her hand, like she’s feeling sick. “They’ll need to question me anyway.”

“Why? I can explain everything. Please let me take care of this for you. It won’t be easy to testify against your mom. Especially since I’m guessing your army has a pretty serious punishment for murderers.”

She cringes at the word, and her voice trembles as she says, “They’ll trap her deep in the earth, starve her from the drafts, until her wind form withers and crumbles. I hear it’s a pain far worse than death.”

I squeeze her hands. “She deserves it.”

She doesn’t say anything.

I give her a minute to collect herself, but I can’t take my eyes off the sky. The Gales could be here any second. “You’ve been through enough, Audra. Let me handle this.”

“But I’m your guardian. If they think I abandoned you—”

“I’ll tell them you’re looking for the other Stormer. Making sure he’s . . .”

I can’t say it.

I focus on the winds, letting the Westerlies’ peaceful song calm me.

“Are you going to tell them about us?” Audra whispers.

“No.”

She sighs with relief, like I’ve given the right answer. But then she tenses. “My mother knows.”

“How? She didn’t
see
anything. Besides, would they really believe a criminal over us?”

“No,” she admits after a second. She still looks nervous, though.

“We’ll figure it out,” I promise. “I just need to think through a few things.”

I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole bonding thing, but . . . I have a feeling Audra and I were already connected somehow.

When Audra and I were kids and clung to each other after the storm, something passed between us. A rush of heat. Kind of like what happened today when we kissed—but totally different, too. More like we were drawing strength and support from each other.

Could that be another kind of bond?

It would explain the sparks we feel when we touch, and the way I’ve been able to see her in my dreams.

And it would mean Audra did nothing wrong today by kissing me. We were already connected, long before the Gales made their little betrothal.

I’m just not sure if that’s true. Or possible.

“You should go,” I tell her, helping her sit up.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. In fact, I’m looking forward to finally meeting these Gales of yours. I have a few bones to pick with them.”

She gives a sad smile. “Don’t get yourself exiled.”

“Please—I’m the last Westerly. I’m gold.”

Her smile fades.

“I’ll be fine.” I cup her cheek, pulling her face toward me. Ready to kiss her goodbye.

At the last second I shift and kiss her forehead. It’s not time to say goodbye. I’ll never say goodbye again.

“I’ll see you soon,” I whisper.

“How will you get home? You won’t be able to fly that far.”

“I’ll have one of the Gales give me a lift. They owe me. Just go. Clean yourself up. No offense—but you kinda need it.”

She smiles for real this time, and shoves me. “You’re pretty filthy yourself.”

“You love that about me.”

Her face turns serious. “I do.”

My heart swells, and I’m ready to change my mind and kiss her goodbye like she’s never been kissed goodbye before. But she calls a group of Easterlies to her side. Our eyes hold as she wraps the drafts around her and floats slowly away.

Audra’s mom doesn’t stir, but I coil a couple of Westerlies around her hands and feet just to be safe. Then I squat in the shade of a windmill and watch the sky. The winds whip around me, filling the air with songs asking the same question in my head.

What now?

I don’t know.

But . . . maybe I don’t need to know. I love Audra. She loves me. We survived the storm. We finally know the truth about our pasts.

Isn’t that enough?

“Who are you?” a man’s voice asks, and I nearly pee my pants.

I turn to face a tall man wearing the same black uniform as Audra.

A Gale.

His dark, shoulder-length hair has an intricate braid running down one side of his narrow, wide-eyed face—but half of his hair remains loose. Maybe that means he’s special. Which would be awesome because I have some demands for him.

“Vane Weston,” I say, standing and offering a hand to shake. “Maybe you’ve heard of me?”

His eyes widen, and he turns to Arella’s unconscious form. “What happened?”

“Better have a seat. You and I have a
lot
to talk about.”

CHAPTER 58

AUDRA

I
didn’t plan to return to my mother’s house. I never wanted to see it again. But the winds seemed to steer me here. Like there’s something they want me to find.

I stand in the shade of the oak where I swore my oath to the Gales. The oath I’ve now broken.

What will I do without its rigid structure guiding my life?

What do I have left?

Vane.

I feel like I should add a question mark to the end of his name. Every thought around him is a question.

How can we be together?

How do I let him in?

How do I have anything normal, when my life’s been shredded
to bits, turned inside out, painted different colors and reassembled in an order I don’t recognize?

How?

The heat starts to suffocate me, so I make my way to the dark, creaky house. My mother’s trace hangs so heavily in the air it’s like she’s here.

A ghost. A shadow. Following my every step.

My hands graze the cold walls as I move down the empty hall. Guiding me to the one thing I have to see.

The wind chimes hang over the table, still and silent. Suffocated.

I reach up and slide them off the hook, my eyes burning as the chimes tinkle from the motion. I run my fingers over the intricate etchings my father made on the graceful blackbird.

This was how he saw my mother.

Beautiful.

Wild.

Perfect.

Sobs choke me as I remove his pendant from my pocket, and my tears drip on the black cord. But it doesn’t hurt to let them out. For the first time, I’m glad he’s gone. He doesn’t have to see her for who she really is.

Or maybe he knew.

Maybe he saw something during the storm. Maybe that’s why he sent his gift to me instead of her. He knew I would use it for good.

I’ll never know for sure.

But I hope not.

I drape the pendant around the blackbird’s neck and knot the cord tight. Let him rest with the version of her he loved.

Now it’s time to set him free.

I kick the dust off my feet as I retreat down the hall and cross the threshold. Then I close the door on that chapter of my life and step into the winds.

The air is full of Easterlies, and when I concentrate, I hear one singing the song I always listen for. The song I sometimes believe is my father’s windsong.

I raise the chimes to the winds and hook them from the porch’s eaves, letting the tinkling melody join in the chorus. The soft, familiar sound fills the air, and I realize I’m asking myself the wrong question.

Not
How
?

When?

I don’t know the answer to that, either. But I know it’s not now. And that makes all the difference.

I’ve been caged and silenced for ten years.

It’s time for me to sing.

I reach up and unravel my braid, letting my hair fall loose. The wavy strands hurt as I smooth them against my scalp. But the pain only lasts a minute. Then I’m free.

I slip my jacket off my shoulders and run my hands over the thick fabric.

I’m not a guardian anymore. It’s time to be
me
—whoever that is.

So I call three Easterlies and give each draft a single word to hold as I coil them around my jacket. I wrap the package tight—then send it to the sky and let the wind carry it away.

Vane will understand.

I hope.

Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them back.

This is my choice. The first choice I’ve made for me—and only me—in as long as I can remember.

The second comes now.

I call the Easterly laced with my father’s song and coil it around me, ready to let it sweep me into the clouds. But it’s not what I need anymore.

I send it away and reach for a Westerly.

The smooth, gentle draft rushes across my skin and I open my mind to its unfamiliar song.

It sings of rest. Of hope.

I beg the draft to take me away, humming along to the melody, like when I used to sing with my father.

I don’t know where I’m going. But it’s time to find my peace.

CHAPTER 59

VANE

M
y little chat with the guardian ran longer than I planned.

He didn’t want to accept that his Gales don’t get to run my life anymore. But then I showed him a few of my newly discovered tricks and he realized he didn’t have the power to control me. Not to mention, the Gales need me—now more than ever. So I got to make a few demands, number one of which was an immediate termination of my betrothal.

I didn’t tell him why—and I don’t care if he guesses. All that matters is that he agreed.

I also get to stay with my parents.

That one he agreed with right away—said it was important to appear strong. No more running. No more hiding. The Gales will set up base in the dunes nearby to support me. But now that I’ve had the
fourth breakthrough, it’s time to make a stand. They expect Raiden to lie low for now, anyway. He’ll wait to see what I can do, how powerful I am, before he attacks again.

So I’m safe.

Sorta.

Which is probably the best I’ll get, as far as Raiden is concerned. Until he’s gone. And the Gales still expect me to be the one to take him down. I don’t know what to do with that crazy piece of information, but I’ve decided it doesn’t matter. I’ll deal with it when the time comes. Not a second sooner.

The sun has set and the sky glows with oranges and reds when I’m dropped off in my front yard. The house is dark. I need to call my parents and tell them I’m safe—that they can come home. But not until I talk to Audra.

I check inside, half-hoping I’ll catch her in the middle of a shower. Or stretched out in my bed. But the rooms are silent. Empty.

I roll my eyes at Audra’s stubbornness and take off toward the trees. If she thinks I’m going to let her sleep in a roach-infested pile of dead leaves tonight, she’s lost her mind.

The grove is quiet as I run. Too quiet.

I call for her when the pale, broken walls of her house come into view.

She doesn’t answer.