I reach for him. “You’re right. I’ll ride with you this time.”
He stares at my hand for a second, like he can’t believe his eyes. Then, slowly—tentatively, even—he twines our fingers together. The familiar jolt of heat shoots up my arm, and I hope he can’t feel my racing pulse.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
I nod. “You ready?”
He licks his lips and swallows, watching the winds spin and race.
I think he must need another minute. But then he squeezes my hand and meets my eyes. “With you, I am.”
Goose bumps prickle my skin. Chills mixing with the warmth of his touch.
I pull him into the vortex, letting the winds launch us into the sky.
CHAPTER 29
VANE
I expect to dream of Audra that night.
Not because it took us at least a dozen trips up the wind funnel for me to figure out how to call the stupid Southerly and wrap it around us so Audra wouldn’t have to step in.
And not because holding her hand that long left my skin humming with energy—though that does make me want to close my eyes and let a few of my favorite Audra fantasies play out.
It’s because falling through the sky with her was so eerily like the memory I saw in my dream, I expected to drift off to sleep and pick up where I left off. And I wanted to. I want to know what happened next. How she survived the fall. Who saved her.
But I don’t dream of young Audra, screaming and thrashing as she plummets through the sky. I see my father.
My real father.
I cling to the dream, committing it to memory before it slips out of my reach. I want to zoom in, adjust focus, and stare at his face forever.
For so long I’ve had absolutely no memories of what he looked like. Now I can see his dark, wavy hair, his pale blue eyes, and his square jaw.
He looked like me.
It shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is.
My. Dad. Looked. Like. Me.
I don’t want to let go of his face, but I can’t forget the rest of the memory. I play the dream back, trying to find something to help me place it into the broken time line of my life.
I stand next to my dad at the edge of a glassy lake. My legs are skinny and my hair flops around my eyes, so I guess I’m about seven. Snowcapped mountains reflect off the water’s surface. My dad has his hand on my shoulder, but I don’t look at him—too busy skipping rocks over the water. Watching the tiny ripples distort the perfect reflection.
“It’s time to go, Vane.” His voice is clear and deep. Cutting through the tranquil silence around us.
I skip another rock. Harder this time. Breaking the water. “I don’t want to.”
“I know.” He pulls me against his side. “But Arella can feel them coming. If we don’t leave, they’ll catch us.”
More rocks splash into the water. I fling them hard this time. “How do they keep finding us?”
“I don’t know,” my dad whispers.
I turn to look at him.
He stares into the distance, frowning. “But we have to leave.”
He reaches for my hand, and even though I want to jerk away—want to run so fast and so far he’ll never catch me—I take it. He squeezes my fingers. Not hard. More to reassure. Then he whispers something that sounds like a dragged-out sigh.
I can’t understand what he says, but I know what’s coming. I hold on tight as the cool breeze closes us in, then lifts us into the sky and floats us away.
A wind bubble.
I remember calling them that—and the way my mom would laugh and tell me I was silly when I said it. I can’t see her face, but her deep, rich laugh fills my mind.
Tears sting my eyes.
I love my adopted parents, and I always will. But to see the father I lost? Hear his voice in my mind? Hear my mom’s laugh? It feels like I have them back—for a few minutes, anyway.
But the memory raises just as many questions as it answers, and the gaps feel almost painful. I need the missing pieces.
I lie back down, trying to clear my head.
Deep breaths. Think it through.
If I was seven, then the memory is from not that long before my parents were killed. Which makes sense. It seemed like we were on the run for our lives. But where were we? I saw the lake in the first dream too, but I don’t recognize it. It could be anywhere. And who’s Arella? The article said my mom’s name was Lani, so it has to be someone else. Audra’s mom, maybe? How did she know it was time to run?
It’s tempting to ask Audra, but I can’t think of a way to do it without giving away that my memories are coming back.
I’ll have to solve the puzzle myself. The answers are in my mind. I just need time to let the memories resurface.
I glance at the clock: 3:24 a.m. Audra will be here at dawn, but I still have time to see what further memories sleep will give me.
Come on, dreams. Give me the missing pieces.
CHAPTER 30
AUDRA
Vane is already awake when I come get him for training.
And he’s dressed.
And his hair is combed.
“You’re up,” I say, trying to recover from my surprise.