A fighter.
A guardian.
Stronger than Stormers.
Stronger than Vane.
Beyond all emotion.
I don’t give in to fear or pity or love. I’m the one in control.
The reminder fuels my weary body with an extra burst of energy, and I swing the blade with a vengeance. My thoughts vanish. My brain steps back, letting my limbs remember the motions on their own. Running on instinct.
My muscles throb, but the pain is liberating. Helps me clarify my purpose.
Vane needs to have the fourth breakthrough.
I can’t stand back and wait for it to happen. I have to trigger it myself.
But how?
My legs turn to rubber and I collapse to the sticky, date-covered ground. I reach for the nearest Easterly and pull it around me to help cool me down. And as I listen to its song I realize . . .
Wind.
Vane needs maximum Westerly exposure. The more winds bombarding him, the better chance there is he’ll find a way to breathe one in and let it settle into his consciousness. To hear it.
I may not be able to call the Westerlies to him.
But I can bring him to the Westerlies.
Tonight.
Now.
It will work. I have to believe it will work.
And if it doesn’t, I doubt anything else will.
CHAPTER 35
VANE
I yawn for the ten zillionth time, shaking my head as my eyes blur from staring at the endless, empty stretch of freeway. I point the AC vent at my face to let the cold air jolt me awake.
“You know, when you said you’d come get me a little earlier,” I tell Audra, “I was thinking like four thirty—which is still ridiculously early, by the way. But two a.m.? Are you trying to kill me?”
“I need to know if this will work.” She sounds way too alert for this time of night. Doesn’t she ever get tired?
Her words hit me then. “If? I thought you said this would work.”
She shifts in her seat. “Nothing is guaranteed. But this should work.”
Should is a whole lot different than will. “And if it doesn’t?”
Silence.
Guess that means there isn’t a Plan B. Though, honestly, I’m surprised she found a Plan A.
We pass a sign that says LOS ANGELES 81 MILES.
I groan. “Remind me why we aren’t flying there?”
“I wasn’t sure I had the energy to get us there and back.”
The change in her tone makes me turn toward her. She’s fidgeting with the ends of her braid. She tends to do that when she’s hiding something from me.
I’m tempted to call her on it, but I have better questions to ask. The way I see it, this drive is an hour and a half of uninterrupted “Ask Audra” time—and I will get some answers.
“So,” I say, trying to figure out where to start, “assuming this works, and I have a Westerly breakthrough or whatever, where do we go from there?”
She considers that, like she hasn’t thought it through. Which says wonders about how unsure she is. “I suppose I’ll contact my mother so she can send word to the Gales.”
“Your mother? Your mother’s the one you went to a few nights ago? Who denied your request for backup?”
“She’s helping as much as she can.”
I snort. “If that were true, we’d have a whole army at our side.”
“She’s a guardian too, Vane. She’s bound by her oath to serve just as much as I am. Personal connections can’t get in the way.”
Her voice is calm. Detached.
But I don’t buy that she doesn’t care. I mean, dude, I’m not even related to my parents, and I still know they’ll do anything to keep me safe. Even if it means breaking the law or oath or code or whatever. And that’s how it should be.
So I can’t stop myself from saying, “She sounds tough.”
“She can be,” she mumbles under her breath. “Especially since . . .”
I know what she means, even though she doesn’t finish. “Was she better before that?”
“Sometimes.”
She falls quiet, and I figure that’s all she’s going to say. But then she adds, “She used to love to watch me make the birds dance.”
“Dance?” I can’t help picturing a bunch of pigeons twitching their necks to the beat.
“If I’ve connected with a bird, I can command it to flutter and twirl and flip through the sky. My mother used to lie next to me on the grass, and we’d watch them sweep across the clouds. She said it was the one way I reminded her of herself.”
Her voice sounds warmer, lighter with the memory.
“So, what does your mother do as a guardian—besides turn her daughter away in her time of need?”
Audra ignores my snipe. “She keeps watch on the winds. She can feel things in the gusts—traces and warnings and secrets—and she uses her birds to send that information to the Gales so they know of any possible dangers. Right now she’s using her gift to stall the Stormers as long as she can and send warning when they draw close. I expect to hear from her any day.”
Any day.