Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(38)

He takes my hands, gently locking our fingers together. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Audra.”

I look away, battling back the explosion of emotions erupting inside me.

My palms tingle so hard from his touch, they practically throb. My burning, scorching guilt, punishing me for my newest crime.

I deserve it. I’m letting Vane risk everything to save me—and he has no idea I’m the one who destroyed his life.

I’ll never tell him, either. It would break his commitment to the mission. Get him captured and me killed, along with thousands of innocent people.

But that’s not the only reason.

Vane’s the first person since my father died to care whether I live and breathe. I can’t give that up.

The guilt burns hotter as I own up to my selfishness, but I bear the pain. It hurts less than the aching loneliness I’ve endured for the last ten years.

So I take a deep breath to clear my head. “You should probably sit down. This is going to be . . . intense.”





CHAPTER 21


VANE


Audra has me sit cross-legged on the pile of palm leaves on the floor, and they’re just as scratchy as they look. I can’t believe she sleeps on these things. She rattles off a long list of instructions I should probably be paying attention to—but I can’t focus. My brain’s stuck on auto repeat.

Intense. Intense. Intense.

I’m pretty sure what she means is intense pain—and I’m not exactly known for having a high tolerance for that.

At least Audra seems pretty impressed that I’m willing to do this to help her—which is crazy. Does she really think I want her to die to save me?

“Hug yourself tighter, Vane. Northerlies are incredibly aggressive winds.”

It’s hard not to groan. “Aggressive” is almost as bad as “dangerous.”

She adjusts my hands and arms, bending me into a Vane pretzel.

“You okay?” she asks when I jump at her touch.

“Yeah, sorry. Just jittery, I guess.”

Doesn’t she feel the way the sparks jolt between us? Now, that’s intense.

The waves of heat make their way to my heart, settling in like that’s where they belong. I know how cheesy that sounds—Isaac would hurl if he knew I was thinking it. But I like it. It feels like she’s becoming a part of me, more and more with every touch.

Makes me want to grab her, pull her against me, feel the warm rush spread as I run my hands down—

“Are you ready?” she asks, ripping me out of my fantasies.

“Yes.” I hate my voice for shaking.

“Okay. Let’s get the most painful part over with first.”

“Sounds awesome.”

Her lips twist into that small half smile she’s becoming famous for. “The only advice I can give you is to not fight back. I’ll command the winds to slip into your consciousness, but you have to breathe them in. Once the gusts are in there, you have to force yourself to concentrate. They’ll feel foreign and unwelcome and your head will probably throb. Just remember that your mind does know how to do this.”

“You kind of lost me at ‘throb,’ but I’ll do my best. Let’s just . . . get this over with.”

She nods. Then she closes her eyes and whispers something that sounds like a snake singing. The winds kick up around her.

A chill settles over us—which actually isn’t so bad after baking in the heat. The gusts wrap around me, crackling the palm branches as they lift me off the ground. The pressure’s much stronger than I expected, and my twisted limbs uncoil until I’m sprawled out flat, rolling with the storm.

“Breathe them in, Vane. Then concentrate on what you hear,” Audra shouts before the roaring air drowns her out. Leaving me alone, shivering in my icy wind cocoon as the drafts hammer my face.

I want to block them, close off everything and hope they go away. But I lock my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering, and the next time a gust comes full force at my face I take a long, deep breath. Instead of flowing into my lungs, the air pushes into my mind. It burns like when water goes up my nose—only a thousand times more painful.

The winds streak inside my head, forming a vortex and slamming me with the most intense migraine ever, like my brain’s being kicked and punched and stabbed and ripped apart. I want to tear off my scalp to let the gusts out.

Concentrate, Audra told me.

How the hell am I supposed to concentrate with a wind tunnel in my head? It’s like standing by a waterfall as a jet engine blows past and a million claps of thunder rumble at the same time.

But mixed with all that chaos is a simple, solitary note.

It rings with a long, low whine—nothing I can understand. But the more I strain to hear it, the closer and clearer it becomes, like it’s shoving its way to the front of my focus, demanding my attention.

It reminds me of when Isaac turns on the subwoofer in his truck. All the music and lyrics get drowned out by the throbbing, pulsing bass, making his truck vibrate and his old, grumpy neighbors glare at us as we thump thump thump by their houses.

The pain in my head amplifies as I concentrate on the sound, and the wind feels like it’s freezing me into a Vane-cicle.

Come on, you stupid wind, break through before I seriously lose it here.

This is hopeless. I’m never going to feel or hear whatever freaking thing I’m supposed to hear or feel. I’m a failure as a Windwalker, and Audra’s going to die because of me.