And when Gus destroyed it, he . . .
“Seven!” I hear Raiden call as Gus drops his wind spike and backs away, like he can actually see his father’s blood on it.
“What did the prisoner look like?” I whisper.
“He had a hood over his face. But he had a Gale Force uniform on and Raiden said the Stormers just captured him today—and that he put up a fight and delayed them.”
“Six!”
“God, Gus—I don’t even . . .” I say as Gus’s eyes get cloudy and he starts to sway. “I’m so sorry—and I feel like a jerk for saying this, but . . . you have to hold it together right now. We’re in a serious mess here.”
I pick up his wind spike and he jumps back like it has the plague.
“Please, Gus. If we don’t do something, Raiden’s going to get exactly what he wants.”
“I’ll give him what he wants,” Gus screams, snatching Audra’s spike from her hands.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when he turns around and launches it straight for Raiden’s heart—but I am.
And so is Raiden.
He shouts a garbled command and some of his ruined winds slam against the spike. But it slices through them like butter, and the Stormer next to Raiden has to yank him out of the way—and the spike still tears a thick gash in Raiden’s arm before it embeds in the mountain’s face.
Everyone freezes.
Raiden glares at the red seeping onto his pristine sleeve, and I’m guessing it’s been a while since someone actually got one up on him. The Stormers seem shocked too, watching their leader with wide eyes and open mouths, like they can’t believe he actually bleeds.
“Okay, time to go!’ I shout as Raiden orders his Stormers to attack.
The broken winds rage to life, making the air feel thick as they claw and tear at our skin. We shove our way through, trying to zig and zag to make ourselves harder targets as dozens of wind spikes explode around us.
Now would be a really awesome time to form a pipeline and blast ourselves out of here—but there are no usable drafts to call.
“Over there,” Audra shouts, pointing to a huge boulder that will give us at least some cover.
She barely makes it another step before a wind spike slams into her shoulder, knocking her to the ground.
I hear myself scream, and tears blur my eyes, but Audra stumbles to her feet and runs to the shadow of the boulder. Gus and I follow and I drop to my knees, pulling her close and checking her for injuries.
She doesn’t have a mark on her.
“How is that possible?” I ask, running my hands over her perfect skin. Warm sparks make my hands tingle, but I can also feel a soft breeze.
“It’s a Westerly,” Audra explains. “It’s wrapped around me like a—”
The rest of her words are smothered by an explosion.
A batch of wind spikes hammers our shelter and the boulder cracks down the center as rocks and dust shower around us.
“We need a shield,” Audra shouts before she whispers the same plea in Westerly.
I watch in wonder as the draft around her stretches into the air above us, spreading thinner and blanketing us in a silky dome of cool wind. I’ve never seen anything like it.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Audra already knows more about my language than I do—she’s sort of the queen of I Am Better than Everyone Else at Everything. But it’s strange to see how naturally the Westerly responds, not caring at all that it’s being ordered around by an Easterly.
I push against the thin wall of air and my hand slips right through. “Uh, is this going to be strong enough?”
“I guess we’ll find out,” she says, as a wind spike crashes into a nearby boulder, pulverizing it into itty-bitty pieces. “But it’s kept me safe so far.”
“Thank God,” I whisper, brushing my hand over her perfect shoulder again.
She reaches up and wipes my forehead.
“I’m fine,” I tell her as we both stare at the blood on her fingers.
She nods. Then she pulls me closer and kisses me—so quickly it’s over before I can even process it. But I can still feel her heat in my lips.
“What was that for?”
“I’ve lost you twice in the last few days. I don’t want any more regrets.”
Well, I’m definitely a fan of that kind of thinking. But . . . “Wait—twice? When was the other time?”
“We’ll talk about it later. Right now we have bigger things to worry about.”
We both glance at Gus.
He looks sweaty and pale and is clearly in the middle of some sort of meltdown—not that I blame him.
I grab his arm and shake him as another spike pummels our hiding place. “Stay with us, okay?”
He nods, but it’s a weak nod, and I can tell by the way he closes his eyes that we’ll be lucky if he can manage to run on his own.