Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(87)

Absorb? Meld? Pool? Marry?

I need a bigger vocabulary.

And then it hits me.

Converge.

The word tingles my mind. That has to mean I’m on the right track.

I smooth the Westerly strands along the wind spike, stalling.

Trust your instincts.

I force my lips to whisper the command.

The Westerly sinks into the wind spike, and the drafts spin to a blur. I jump back when the spike shoots into the air, and barely miss getting conked on the head. A crack splits down the center of the spike and I dive for cover, expecting an explosion. But it never goes boom.

It hovers in midair, twisted and blue, with sharp pointed ends. Force and energy flow through it, and when I grab it, it’s soft as a feather but somehow solid too. And cold. It conforms to my grip, like it’s made for me, and crackles like a lightning bolt.

I love the way it feels, like I hold the power of the wind in the palm of my hand.

Okay—time for the craziest part of the plan.

I point the weapon at one end of the vortex binding Audra and line up my aim.

Don’t miss.

Man, I wish I’d practiced more with Audra. If I’m off by even a few inches . . .

And even if it works, there’s no telling how the winds will unravel. They could easily fling her into the spinning blades.

My mind flashes to an image of Audra getting tossed through the windmill, shredded and splattered.

The world spins and I grip my knees to send some blood to my brain.

When my head clears, I stare at her pale body, losing life with every second I stall.

I have to do this.

I test my throw three, four, five times.

On the sixth I let it fly.

And.

It’s.

Wide.

Maybe the winds knock it. Maybe I suck. But it’s going to hit her.

It’s going to hit her!

I thrash my arms at the air, trying to grab it, stop it, change its course.

It has to divert.

“Divert,” I shout in the Westerly tongue.

And it does.

It arcs left and slams the vortex where it connects to the windmill.

The gusts scream like rabid beasts, and white heat blasts me as the evil gray winds unravel. Audra plummets, and I order a Westerly to catch her, just like when we were kids. And this time I have enough control to set her down gently.

I run to her side and fall to my knees, cradling her face. She doesn’t move. Barely breathes.

Her skin is beyond cold, so I wrap her in my arms and let the sparks shoot between us. “Please, Audra. Come back to me.”

I crush her to my chest. Kiss the gash on her forehead. The cuts and scrapes on her cheeks. Run my lips along the raw, red scratches on her jaw. I’ll make up for every pain, every wound she suffered to protect me.

My hands rub her arms, trying to generate friction.

She’s still so cold.

A real kiss might warm her up.

Man—it’s tempting. Her lips are right there. Drawing me toward them.

But . . . call me old-fashioned, but I kinda want her to be conscious for our first kiss.

I kiss her forehead again. “Please come back to me,” I whisper. “I love you.”

Nothing happens for a few seconds, and I choke back a sob. Then her eyes flutter.

She moans.

“Where does it hurt? What do you need?”

She twists in my lap, her back arching like she’s in pain, and moans again. More of a groan, actually.

“What can I do?” I beg.

She turns back to me and her eyes focus on mine.

Her face crumples. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

I pull her against me. “We’re safe.”

I rock her back and forth, feeling my hope grow as the warmth returns to her skin.

“What about the Stormers?” she asks.

I swallow bile as my mind imagines the blond Stormer’s broken, lifeless body somewhere out there.

“I took care of one.”

She jerks away from me, wincing like she’s just gotten the mother of all head rushes. “Where’s the other?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since I got free. I’m guessing he’s long gone.”

“Guess again,” a low, vicious voice snarls behind us.

My heart feels ready to explode as I turn to face the gray-clad figure. He has dark hair and light eyes and a jaw so square you could use his chin as a ruler.

He smirks. “Thought I’d sit back and see what the last Westerly can do, in case you clam up like the others when we interrogate you. And I must say, that little toy you have there is quite impressive.” He points to the wind spike, which fell a few feet away from me. It didn’t explode like the others. It must be too strong.

“Come,” I order it in Westerly, and it shoots to my hand. Cool—a voice-controlled weapon. No wonder Raiden wants the power of four.

But he’s not getting it.

I point the spike at the Stormer’s head.

“Put it down, son, and I’ll make this a lot easier for you,” he tells me.

“Or . . . ,” I say as I stand. Audra tries to stand too, but her legs collapse. I step in front of her, shielding her. “How about you leave now and I won’t run you through with this?”

I hold the edge of the spike out so he can see the way it glistens along the edge, like a real sword.