Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(35)

I reach for the drafts, try to hold them in my grasp.

They slip through my fingers.

He’s gone.

Debris claps like thunder as it collides with the ground. It bruises me. Pummels my limbs.

I don’t run. I collapse in a sobbing heap, shaking uncontrollably.

He didn’t say goodbye.

He didn’t say he loved me.

All he said was, “Take care of Vane.”

A pair of arms wraps around me and I jump, the relief like a warm blast of sunshine as I turn to hug my father.

But it’s not him.

I stare into Vane’s watery eyes, feel his arms shaking as he strangles me in a hug, clinging to me like I’m the only thing holding him to the ground.

I want to shove him away. Pound him with my fists.

Why is he here and not my dad?

It’s his fault.

His. Fault.

But even my rage won’t sell me on the lie.

The truth slices through me, rips me apart, knocks me off my feet. I steady myself against Vane, sobbing onto his shoulder as hard as he cries onto mine. And I tell him the truth.

I tell him it’s my fault. Scream it over the winds. I have to, before the weight of what I did crushes everything inside me.

I know he hears me because he stops crying. Still, he doesn’t let go. Doesn’t pull away.

He pulls me tighter.

The winds are cold and icy, and the world has never felt so lonely and dark. But I feel Vane’s warmth through the fabric of his coat, and the longer we hold each other, the more the heat spreads through me, filling me with energy and life.

I never want to let go.

Take care of Vane. My father’s last wish.

I promise whatever’s left of my father that I will.

I can never make this right. But I’ll do everything I can to try.





CHAPTER 19


VANE


Audra isn’t in the burned-down shack, which seems . . . strange. Not as strange as the soft whimpers echoing through the air, drowning out the buzzing, chirping, crackling sounds of the grove.

“Audra?” I call, trying to follow the sound. It seems like it’s coming from above, but the sun’s too bright, and even when I squint, all I can see in the fuzzy light are palm leaves.

My whole body shudders as an awful possibility occurs to me.

They’re here. They’ve got her.

I race back to the burned-down house, scrambling to the corner where she stashed the sword. I rip it from the slit in the ground and hold it in front of me. It’s heavier than I expected, and my stomach turns as I stare at the needled edges.

Tearing flesh.

Blood spilling from jagged wounds.

Dripping down the blade.

The mental images make my hands shake so hard I almost drop the sword.

But Audra needs me.

I race through the palms, following the sound of her sobs. Broken branches scratch my legs and the sharp bark scrapes my arms as I tear deeper into the grove.

“Audra!” I scream.

The crying stops.

A loud screech replaces it, and that evil hawk of hers dives out of the sky, aiming for my head. I barely duck in time.

“I’m trying to help her, you stupid bird!” I shout, swiping the sword, even though he’s already flown out of my reach.

“Vane?”

Audra’s voice bounces off the trees in so many different directions I can’t tell where it came from. “Where the hell are you?”

“Up here.”

I squint at the treetops and there—peeking out from the leaves of the tallest one—is Audra.

Alone.

Safe.

Nothing to worry about—except the glare in her eyes as she asks, “What do you think you’re doing? Why do you have the windslicer?”

Windslicer?

Awesome name.

I move to the shade of her tree, trying to cool off. Running in the heat is not the best idea. Good thing I put on extra deodorant.

“I was . . . trying to save you,” I admit, hating how cheesy it sounds. “I thought the Stormers were here.”

“You were trying to save me?”

“Hey, I heard crying. I thought the warriors were torturing you or something.”

Sheesh—ungrateful much?

She stares at me, her expression a little proud, but mostly sorry for me. Like a parent listening to their child’s plan to capture the closet monster. “If the Stormers were here, the sky would be inky black and the winds would be picking up these trees and tossing them around like matchsticks.”

“Oh, good. Something to look forward to.”

We both glance at the sky, like we need to double-check that there’s nothing there.

Not a cloud in sight. But her hawk dives at me again and I almost drop the windslicer as I flail to cover my head. “Seriously, call off your attack bird.”

“Go to your perch, Gavin,” she commands, and instantly the stupid creature obeys, screeching one last time as he flaps toward the house.

Freaking bird.

“Step back,” she warns, moving to the edge of the leaves.

She’s not going to jump, is sh—

My thought’s cut short as she spreads her arms and steps off the branch. She whispers something I can’t understand and a hot gust of wind rushes past me. The draft wraps around her, slows her descent, and sets her gently on the ground.