Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(22)
Clearly, it’s time to lay down the ground rules and let her know she can’t order me around. This is my life, and I’m going to be in control of it.
“I can train with you in the afternoons, as long as we go somewhere with air-conditioning. But before we do that, you’re explaining everything. Got it?”
Personally I’m pretty proud of the line I just drew in the sand.
But Audra’s eyes narrow and her jaw sets, turning her face into a series of hard lines. “You seem to be under the misimpression that you’re in charge here, so let me correct that right now.” She whips her arms in front of her and whispers, “Rush.”
A blast of wind slams against my chest and sends me flying backward. I grunt as my back crashes into one of the remaining walls of the fire-scarred house. The wind pins me to the scratchy stucco and my eyes water from the racing air.
Audra steps toward me, the glare in her eyes leaving no doubt that she can end me right here, right now.
“Let’s get a few things straight,” she says, her voice deadly serious. “We’re in a tremendous amount of danger, and I am responsible for keeping everyone in this valley alive—including you. No one will be making greater sacrifices than I will, so you will do what I say when I say it—and you will do it without complaint. Is. That. Understood?”
“I thought you said you’d answer my questions today,” I shout over the roaring winds. I distinctly remember her promising that last night. Right around the time she promised to get help. What brought on the change of plans?
“I will, Vane. But we have to train when no one’s around to see us, so you’ll have to wait a few more hours. I’ll answer your questions this evening, and then you’ll understand how serious the situation is. Deal?”
I don’t want to cooperate—she slammed me into the wall hard enough to leave the mother of all bruises. But I can tell she’s more than willing to continue to beat the crap out of me with her voodoo wind control, and I’m not in the mood for any further humiliation.
“Fine.”
“Good.” Her hands return to her sides and she whispers, “Release.”
The winds whisk away. I slump to the ground, hacking and coughing from all the dust she stirred.
She looks a little guilty as I rub my throbbing shoulders. “Did I hurt you?”
I shrug and stand, swiping the sand off my shorts and legs. I’m not about to admit I got beat up by a skinny girl.
She stalks inside her dilapidated house and I follow, intentionally dragging my feet to take as long as possible.
She may think she can push me around—but one of these days I’ll be strong enough to take her on. And as soon as I am, wind girl is going down.
CHAPTER 12
AUDRA
Vane doesn’t seem to be grasping the gravity of our situation. Either that or he truly is the most annoying boy on the planet.
Probably both.
At least my fingers aren’t tingling from touching him anymore. If anything, they itch to strangle him. And if he weren’t so crucial, I’d do just that. Too bad he has to be a Weston.
I stomp through my house, releasing bits of my built-up frustration with each pound of my boots. This is what my father died for? What I’m supposed to surrender my life for? This bratty, ungrateful boy I can hear trudging through the sand, taking his sweet time to frustrate me?
I’m done playing nice.
I move to the room’s only corner and sweep the palm leaves away from the wall, unearthing the handle of my blade. Calm settles over me as I reach for the hilt, each finger finding its perfect place in the grip. The sword wasn’t made for me, but I’ve practiced with it so much the metal has conformed to every curve of my palm—tangible proof of my mastery.
The smallest flick of my wrist sweeps the blade from the slit I carved in the ground, and with a single motion, I swish and spin, stopping my rotation with the pointed tip of the weapon aimed directly between Vane’s eyes.
“What the crap?” he shouts, backing up.
I smile at his sudden lack of bravado. Windslicers make quite an impression.
Thousands of razor-sharp, unbreakable needles line a steel vein in the center—a deadly feather that can slice through flesh as easily as it can shred the strongest gust or flurry. I slash a couple of times, letting the tearing air echo off the walls like a breathy scream.
Vane backs farther away, stumbling over his feet.
“Are you ready to start taking this seriously?” I ask, thrusting the point closer, practically grazing the skin of his nose.
“I already said I was—put that thing down before someone gets hurt.”
“Lots of people are going to get hurt if you don’t start listening to me. The Stormers have blades just like these. Do you think they’ll hesitate to use them? Can you imagine the level of damage they can inflict?”
I tilt the blade to let the orangey sunlight trace across the needles’ points. Vane’s wide eyes follow the glinting trail, and I can almost see his mind picturing how it’d feel to be wounded with such a weapon.
I don’t have to imagine. My forearm caught the tail end of a blow during my training, and I can still remember the agony as my skin was pierced, shredded, and smashed at the same time. The only pain worse is joining the wind.
“And weapons are nothing compared to the power of three,” I add, waiting for Vane to meet my gaze. He looks ashen. “Raiden requires his Stormers to master the languages of the three most powerful winds, making them virtually unstoppable. They’ll show no mercy. Think about what happened to your parents. To my father.”