Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(25)

Wishing on every star out there that the words I just said were true.

Hoping even harder I’ll never have to tell Vane they aren’t.





CHAPTER 13


VANE


I’m speechless—probably for the first time in my life.

My memories were stolen.

Not repressed.

Stolen.

I’ve lived the last ten years with a black hole for a past—not the easiest way to grow up. And apparently that’s all I’ll ever have.

I want to throw something. Or maybe pick up that crazy needle-sword thing and see what kind of damage I can do to the walls with it.

But another piece of me—a tiny, much quieter piece—is relieved that I didn’t forget my parents.

I’m not the horrible, selfish jerk who erased his family because it hurt to remember them. It wasn’t my fault. Audra’s mother stole my memories while Audra held my hand and promised I would be okay.

Which at least explains the only memory I have. Audra leaning over me, staring at me with those dark, haunted eyes, until a breeze whisks her away. That was real. I just don’t remember the rest because the memory was swept out of my mind by the wind.

How does it even work? How does a gust of wind steal my memories?

“I know this is hard to understand,” she says quietly. “But we had to keep the fact that you survived top secret so Raiden wouldn’t come searching for you. That’s why we let the human authorities run you through their adoption system. We kept watch, to make sure you were okay, but we needed you to disappear, stay off the grid—as you call it. And that wouldn’t happen if you were running around talking about sylphs and Stormers and the four languages of the wind. I’m not sure which would’ve been worse: what the humans would’ve done to you or what would’ve happened when Raiden found you. And he would have found you.”

“He found me anyway, didn’t he?” I’m surprised at the growl in my voice. “And how is that, by the way? I’m guessing he didn’t just wake up and think, ‘Hey, I bet Vane’s in the crappy Coachella Valley.’ ”

Her shoulders sag. “No. I . . . made a mistake.”

“So it’s your fault.”

She shrinks even more, like she’s trying to hide from the words. But she doesn’t deny them.

It’s strange to see her so deflated, like her guilt’s drained all the fire inside her.

I bite back my apology.

She deserves to feel guilty. How many different ways has she screwed up my life?

She reaches for my arm, her warm fingers stroking my skin. “Please. Let’s not waste our training time on this.”

I shake off her hand, shoving my body back to put some space between us.

“Why is he looking for me, Audra? Why me? Why my family?”

She looks away, like she doesn’t want to answer. But she does. “It’s because you’re a Weston.”

“What, my family’s important?”

“Yes. No. Well, yes and no. And I guess the proper term is ‘Westerly.’ Weston is just your family name.”

“Gonna have to be clearer than that.”

She straightens, a little of the fight returning to her eyes. “This isn’t going to make a whole lot of sense, but fine. If it will make you take your training seriously, so be it.” Her hands twist around each other and she stares at the space between us.

“I told you earlier—there are four languages for the wind. There are also four kinds of Windwalkers: Northerlies, Southerlies, Easterlies, and Westerlies. Everyone’s born with what’s called their ‘native tongue.’ The language of their heritage. For most of our history no one bothered learning any of the other languages. There wasn’t any point. We lived in separate corners of the earth. We rarely mixed company. Why mix languages? It wasn’t until the Gale Force that things changed.”

“The Gale Force?”

“A force we created for peace and safety, in both our society and the groundlings’. The winds have been shifting—becoming more wild. More reckless. And it’s our responsibility to calm the storms, stop them from destroying human cities like they do now. Not for glory or power or respect, but because it’s right.”

She points to a small blue patch on the sleeve of her jacket, just below her right shoulder. Four wavy lines twisted together in the middle, like a knot. That explains the crazy outfit. And probably the freakishly tight hair.

“So, you’re a soldier in the army?”

“A guardian. But yes. At first, all the guardians were Northerlies, because the northern wind is the strongest. But it’s also the coldest and the most unstable, as are its people, so—”

“I take it you’re a Northerly?”

“Why would you think that?”

I almost laugh. Does she not realize how cold and scary she can be? Or is it normal to threaten people with evil swords of doom in sylph-land? “Never mind.”

“My family name is Eastend. Easterlies were the next to join the Gales, to be a softening influence. But they were commanded to learn the Northerly language, to increase their strength. And when they did, they discovered something unexpected.”

She scoots back and whispers the call she taught me. A small breeze swirls in the air between us. I cough as sand and bits of dead palm leaves catch in my throat.