I suck in huge gulps of air, trying to fight the sudden nausea and dizziness.
I’m not going to get out of this with rainbows and sunshine. If it takes violence, I will pull together the guts to use it.
Not that it matters. I wasn’t smart enough to grab a knife. All I grabbed was a stupid packet of pain pills.
Pills.
I twist and squirm, straining every muscle in my body trying to reach my pocket.
Dammit—why can’t I be more flexible?
I shove all the air out of my lungs and contort myself into arguably the most unnatural position ever—legs up, back arched, arms stretching down. My eyes water from the pain, but my fingers slide into my pocket and feel the edge of the packet of pills.
I pinch the corner between my fingers and pull like my life depends on it—because it does. But the packet doesn’t move. I wiggle my hips to loosen it, and it pulls a fraction of an inch, but not enough.
Oh God—this is going to hurt.
And I’m so tired. All I want to do is close my eyes, let my limbs relax . . .
I shake myself awake. Then I hold my breath and strain my back to bend that Last. Little. Bit. I feel something tear—and the scream that slips out of my mouth backs me up on that. But the packet comes free.
It takes more bending and straining—I swear I qualify for yoga master now—to get the packet to my teeth. I tear it open and dump the two smooth pills into my sweaty palm. My fingers close around them before the wind can sweep them away.
Now I just need a way to get the Stormers to swallow them.
I spit out the packet and try not to look as the winds toss it back and forth on its long way to the ground.
“I’m not going to fall,” I tell myself.
“Oh, we would never let that happen,” a deep, hard voice says behind me.
I hate myself for yelping.
Cold hands spin me around and I’m face to face with a Stormer. His wavy blond hair and blue eyes belong on a surfer—not on a heartless warrior in a sleek gray uniform. I never thought the Stormers would look so . . . human.
“If you’re plotting escape, you can stop now,” he mocks me. “There’s nothing you can throw at me that I haven’t anticipated.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Big words for someone caught in unbreakable bonds.”
He shouts something I can’t understand and the bonds spread, clamping around my chest. My fist grips my pills as I cough and fight for air.
“Let. Me. Go.” I know it’s a stupid thing to say, but I’m pretty sure every hostage has to scream it at some point.
“No, I don’t think I will.”
His bulging muscles and the way he hovers in the air so effortlessly prove he’s more powerful than I am. But I’m too angry to be afraid.
“I can’t wait to see what Audra does to you when she gets here.”
“Is that her name? Wispy thing? Acts all tough with a windslicer?” He leans close enough that his cold breath coats my face. “Not too worried about her. She’s bound in a drainer.”
Everything inside me drops like a stone. “A drainer?”
He grins. “Special funnel we make. The hostage can’t move. Can’t escape. And our hungry winds drain the life right out of them. Kind of like what your bonds are doing to you—but all over her body. She won’t last long that way.”
“You’re lying!”
“I’ll send her echo when it’s over. Let you feel the loss for yourself. And don’t go counting on the other one to rescue you either,” he adds as I suck in air to calm my rage. “She took off like a frightened bird the second we found where you guys were hiding. We’ll track her down later.”
He shoves me then, sending me tumbling through the sky like a useless piece of debris. I barely notice the nausea. My head’s already spinning way faster.
Audra’s been captured—in a drainer?
Arella abandoned us?
My body finally stops flipping and I breathe through my nose, refusing to let the vertigo overwhelm me. It’s all up to me now.
I squeeze the pills so hard they crumble.
Dammit!
Unless . . .
I pulverize what remains of the pills with one hand while my other hand searches the sky, feeling for an Easterly. I’ll only get one shot at this, so I have to get it right.
I fight exhaustion as I wait for the winds to surge and let the sound drown out my whispered call. The draft coils around my wrist, and I pray the Stormer won’t notice until it’s too late.
I don’t know the exact command for Shove this down his freaking throat, so I’ll have to improvise.
I study his breathing, searching for the pattern.
Three.
Two.
One.
I shout, “Rush,” and toss the crushed pills into the draft.
The white powder slams him in the face mid-inhale and he sucks it up. Not nearly as much as I’d hoped, but enough to make him gag.
He charges me, gripping my throat. His thick, meaty fingers dig into my skin, strangling me. Then his hands start to shake and I slip from his grasp.