“What did you do to me?” The anger in his voice fades to fear as he chokes. Hard.
Okay, choking is good. And he’s scratching at his skin, like he’s getting hives. But he’s definitely not passing out like I’d been counting on.
Time for Plan B.
I don’t know where the strength comes from, but I thrust my body in a half somersault, positioning my feet above my head. I call another Easterly and coil it around my legs.
“Rush!” I scream.
The draft launches me forward, and I strain my legs higher, lining up my aim.
The Stormer notices me a split second too early and tries to twist out of the way. But my legs are long enough to kick him in the head as hard as I can.
I try to ignore the crack-crunch sound of my shoe connecting with his skull, but the nausea still hits me.
Only shock saves me from hurling all over myself as the Stormer’s head lolls back, thin lines of red trailing down one side of his face. Then the drafts holding him whisk away, and he drops like dead weight.
Dead.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
Maybe he’ll wake up before he hits the ground and stop his fall. Or maybe he’ll land in a sand dune and it’ll cushion the impact. Or maybe . . .
I start gagging.
I’m thinking about it.
I suck in as much air as I can, focusing on the only thought holding me together.
I had no choice.
Okay, so my guard is gone—but who knows when his evil sidekick will get here, and I’m still tied up with these life-sucking bonds in the middle of a freaking storm. Things could be better.
Deep breaths. Think.
I need a Westerly. It’s the only thing I can think of that might break these stupid unbreakable bonds. I have to find a way to call one.
Come on, I know this. I’ve done it before.
I close my eyes and force myself to imagine Audra bound in a drainer. Feeling the same exhaustion I’m feeling, but a thousand times worse. Every second bringing her closer to death.
I shove past my pain and anger. Past my broken, scattered memories. Deep into my consciousness. My mind buzzes with warm energy and I reach for it, sinking deeper still. Beyond fear. Beyond everything.
Everything except the soft, gentle rush.
A sigh.
A single word.
Peace.
As soon as my mind touches the word, the warmth swells, shoving me up and out. Back to the light.
I open my eyes and inhale as a new voice fills my mind. A hushed, gentle whisper.
A Westerly.
Calling to me. Singing to me.
It’s not like the other breakthroughs, where the winds tempted and teased and tricked me away from myself. The west wind is me.
And I know how to control it.
“Come to my side. Share your peace. Surge and surround me. Secure my release.”
A warm, gentle draft tangles with my bonds, and the icy winds turn warm and unravel.
The celebration lasts about a second. Then I hurtle toward the ground.
The Westerlies calm my panic, whispering a song of peace and security as I call them to me and wrap them around my exhausted body. I beg them to stay—and they obey, sealing me in a warm circle of air.
A wind bubble. Just like my parents used to make.
Tears well in my eyes as I float toward the ground.
My family has never felt closer. Never felt farther away.
I try to absorb as much strength and energy from the winds as I can.
Then my feet touch the ground and the bubble bursts.
I’m back in the thick of the storm.
CHAPTER 52
AUDRA
The Stormers tossed me like a grain of sand.
I couldn’t defend myself.
Their broken, useless winds wouldn’t answer my call. I slashed as many drafts as I could. But they snared me.
Have they trapped my mother the same way? Or is she with Vane?
It’s cold inside the vortex. I can’t see. Can’t move. Can’t hear anything beyond the raging winds. The drafts move in unison, not woven or bound in any way, but still synchronized. Like they’re all of one mind.
The funnel swallows every gust that crosses its path, leaving no winds to call for aid. No escape except death. And I feel death approaching. The winds are icy splinters, tearing me apart. Swallowing tiny pieces of me with every sweep across my skin.
Minutes pass. I lose count of how many.
My head turns fuzzy. I try to focus on the songs of the wind, but their melodies are flat. Lifeless. It breaks my heart to hear them. Their very essence has been stripped, leaving nothing but shells of the glorious drafts they once were.
Just like me.
My life never held much joy or warmth or richness—not without my father. But Vane filled my empty world with the thrill of his touch. The soothing peace of his forgiveness.
I should’ve kissed him when I had the chance.
I should’ve taken one moment of pure, unadulterated happiness for myself. Pressed my lips against his and let the intoxicating heat erupt between us. Tasted his sweetness. Then pulled him closer till there was nothing separating us but fire and skin.