Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(63)

It’s way too late at night for my brain to understand crazy concepts like this. “But if that happened, you wouldn’t really be dead. You’d just be wind, right?”

“Yes. But you’ve permanently sacrificed your earthly form. Life as you know it is over. And the ultimate sacrifice requires you to sacrifice your wind form as well. I don’t know that much about it—it’s only happened one other time, besides my father.”

Her voice catches and she clears her throat before continuing. “As I understand it, you let the winds rip you apart and tackle the storm piece by piece in a unified, mass bombardment. Your consciousness stays with you long enough to let you whisper thousands of commands that shred the storm and destroy anyone inside it. But you scatter with the winds. And there’s no way you can put yourself back together before your consciousness fades away.”

My grip tightens on the steering wheel.

No way I’m letting her do that.

“But as you surrender yourself, you can send your gifts to someone else. So the talent isn’t lost. My father—” Her voice catches again and she pauses for another breath. “My father sent me his gift when he sacrificed himself. It’s why I can walk so easily on the winds. Why I’m a guardian so young. And if I have to sacrifice myself, I’ll send it to you.”

“I don’t want it.” My hands shake so hard we swerve toward the shoulder. “I don’t want your talent. You’re not doing that, Audra. I don’t care how bad it gets. Promise me that.”

“I’ll only do it as a last resort. But I will make the sacrifice if need be. And there’s nothing you can say or do to stop me.”

My palms throb from squeezing the steering wheel so hard.

She’s wrong. There is something I can do to stop her.

I can have the fourth breakthrough.

I press harder on the gas, breaking the speed limit and not caring.

The Westerlies and I have a date. And I have no intention of screwing this one up.





CHAPTER 36


AUDRA


The salty air hits me as soon as I open the car door, as does a strong ocean wind singing in a language I can’t understand. A Westerly.

Vane parks near the beachfront, and we make our way across the empty parking lot toward the massive wooden structure stretching into the churning ocean. The Santa Monica Pier.

It’s almost four a.m., and the night is clear, the heavy winds sweeping away any fog or clouds. The amusement park in the center of the pier is mostly dark, a tangled maze of twisting lines and shapes rimmed with flashing blue and red lights, set against the black, starry sky. All the shops and restaurants are closed. The only things lit are the streetlights lining the railings along the edge of the pier. This place was built for large crowds, but right now it’s empty, save for a few fishermen sitting silently by their poles on the scattered benches.

The solitude is eerie. I feel exposed—vulnerable—as I struggle to keep up with Vane. He climbs the wooden stairway like a man on a mission.

As I step onto the pier the Westerlies pick up speed, filling my head with their unfamiliar song. It’s unsettling to be surrounded by winds I can’t understand. Like being mobbed by strangers.

But this place is familiar.

I’ve been here once before, a day I’ve buried deep in my memory with all the other things too painful to think about.

Crowds of people swarm around me, blocking my view of Vane and his brand-new family as they wander the pier.

My weary legs are tired of standing in the shadows as his parents buy him drippy swirls of ice cream and pink puffy candy and buckets of popcorn and put him on rides that make him flip and twist and spin.

Vane gets to have the perfect, happy life. I can only watch from a distance.

For the first time since I joined the Gales, I’m tempted to leave. Take a break from training to fight and kill. From mastering the winds. From shadowing Vane. Do something for me.

I stare at the seagulls gliding above the rippled water. They call to me, beg me to join them, and I can’t help wondering how long I could fly on my own. Would it be far enough to forget? Far enough to be free?

I step toward the rails.

Vane’s dad shouts for him to come along, and I obediently return to my duties. I follow them into the fancy building with the blue trim and the arched windows. The room echoes with music and conversation, and I watch Vane circle the carousel, selecting his favorite horse. He picks a gray stallion with a red saddle and a black mane.

I stop to stare at the familiar building, having to remind myself that it’s not nine years ago. The doors are locked and the windows are dark, but when I squint through the glass I can see the painted ponies staring at me with their lifeless eyes. And I can see the fortune-telling machine I’d hidden beside. The place I heard a voice so familiar it made my heart freeze.

“Audra.”

“Dad?” I scream, drawing far too much attention to myself and not caring in the slightest. I shove people out of my way, run up to every man I see, but none of them is him.

The carousel starts to spin and it feels like the rest of the world is spinning around me. The music plays louder, making it harder to hear. Harder to think. I can’t separate the voices, much less find the one I need. Several of the groundlings ask me what’s wrong, but I shove them away. I’ll be in big trouble with the Gales for making such a spectacle, but I don’t care. I have to find my dad. Tell him I’m sorry. Beg him to stay.