Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(50)

I’m going to die.





CHAPTER 28


AUDRA


Watching Vane plummet from the sky rips me back to the past.

A man floats above me in the Stormer’s trap. A tangle of dark clothes and thrashing limbs and wind.

For one horrifying second I think it’s my father and my body shakes with sobs. Then I get a better look at his face.

Not my dad.

Vane’s dad.

I hate myself for being relieved—but I can’t help it.

His wide, terrified eyes meet mine and he tries to twist his arms free. But he’s too tightly bound by the winds to move. He’ll never escape on his own.

I have to help him. I have to fix this—make this right somehow.

Before I can decide what to do, a gust untangles from the wall of the storm, coils around the dark trunk of a dislodged tree, and whips it toward me like someone’s controlling it. I drop to the ground, covering my head with my skinny arms, and wait to be shredded by the jagged branches. But the wind shifts again and I hear Vane’s dad cry out.

Something red and wet drips on my arm.

It’s too bright among the gray and black of the storm. I don’t understand what it is or where it came from. Until another drop splatters my cheek.

I look back up and see crooked branches protruding from his arms, his neck, his chest. Streams of red trickle from the wounds.

I scream, harder and louder than I’ve ever screamed before.

Vane’s scream snaps me out of it, and I command the draft I’d wrapped around me to “Rush!”

I don’t breathe until I snag Vane by the waist and pull him into the nest of winds supporting me.

“Told you that was a bad idea,” he mutters with a shaky voice.

He’s right.

He’s even more helpless than his parents were.

I can’t let myself forget that—no matter how much promise he shows.

Our feet touch the ground and I realize I’m leaning on Vane more than he’s leaning on me.

I can’t let him end up the same way his parents did.

I can’t.

I won’t.

I pull away from him. “What happened up there?”

“I don’t know. I guess I blanked.”

“You blanked?” He’s being too easy on himself. His parents didn’t push themselves, and now they’re both dead.

“Hey, I’m not exactly used to being shot through wind funnels like a Vane-bullet. I don’t even like heights.”

“You don’t like heights?”

His cheeks flush. “I didn’t say I’m afraid of them. I’m just not used to them.”

“Well—you’d better get used to them.”

“I know.”

“Before the Stormers come.”

“I said I know—I’m not an idiot, okay?”

I sigh, trying to get ahold of myself. “Look, Vane. I know I’m pushing you really hard. But I’m trying to protect you. I have to teach you as many basic lifesaving skills as I can. And stopping yourself from falling is essential. So we’re going to have to practice this until you get it right.”

He pales as I point to the wind funnel, still swirling away in the darkness.

“Try to relax this time,” I suggest.

He runs his hands down his face as he stares at the funnel. “I can’t.”

“You have to.”

Endless seconds pass as he watches the winds swirl. “Come with me, then,” he finally whispers.

“What?”

“Come with me.” He holds out his hand. “Maybe having you there will help me keep calm enough to remember the command.”

“I’m not always going to be at your side during the fight. You need—”

“I know what I need. But right now, when I’m still trying to get the hang of all this, and still trying to make sense of the three crazy wind languages in my head, and still sore from almost dying yesterday, and still trying to wrap my head around all the impossible things you’ve told me. Maybe with all that, you could help me learn this very complicated—and, by the way, terrifying—new skill. I know you think you can teach me how to swim by just dropping me in the deep end and telling me to paddle, but sometimes people need floaties.”

“Floaties?”

“Those dorky inflatable things that go on your arms, to keep you floating when you’re first learning how to swim.”

I have less than zero idea what he’s talking about.

“Never mind.” He kicks the ground. “I’m just saying that maybe I need help when I’m trying to do a skill that makes every single part of my brain scream, This will be the death of me.”

I can tell he hates admitting the weakness.

And I guess I can’t blame him for being frustrated. I haven’t been holding his hand through this process. I’ve told myself it’s because no one needed to do that for me. But deep down I know it’s more than that.

I don’t want to get close to him. I can’t let myself get close to him.

But I have to get him through this. No matter what it takes.

I reach for him. “You’re right. I’ll ride with you this time.”

He stares at my hand for a second, like he can’t believe his eyes. Then, slowly—tentatively, even—he twines our fingers together. The familiar jolt of heat shoots up my arm, and I hope he can’t feel my racing pulse.