Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(88)

“It’s fun to watch you play soldier. But you forget that I know your kind. I’ve been with Raiden for all the Westerly interrogations. Violence isn’t in your blood, boy.”

“Your partner might disagree. Or he would if he weren’t dead.” My voice shakes on the word and my vision dims, but I fight for control.

The Stormer falters. Then he shakes his head. “If that’s true, it must’ve been an accident. You think you have the stones to stab me? Spill my blood all over the ground?”

My arms shake.

He grins. “Typical Westerly. So let’s stop pretending there’s even the slightest chance you’ll do any harm with that toy.”

“It’s not a toy,” I shout, getting seriously pissed. The callous way he talks about the murders he’s witnessed—helped with—makes me gag.

“Vane, give me the weapon,” Audra orders. She can barely hold out her hand, but I know she means it.

“How cute, your little girlfriend wants to play too. And I’m sure she could at least make good on her threats—if she weren’t half dead right now.” He winks at Audra. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you the rest of the way before the day is over.”

Some sort of strangled roar erupts from me.

“Ooh, he doesn’t like it when I’m mean to his girlfriend.” The Stormer moves a step closer and I adjust my aim. Straight at his heart—assuming he even has one.

He rolls his eyes.

Then he grumbles a string of words I can’t understand and whips out his arms. A chain of broken gray Northerlies tangle around me like a lasso. I slice them with my spike and they unravel.

He frowns. “Like I said, your toy is quite impressive. Hand it over, come quietly, and I’ll let your girlfriend live.”

“Don’t even think about it, Vane!” Audra shouts.

I ignore her. “How do I know you won’t kill her the second I’m restrained?”

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

“Then I guess you’re an idiot.”

He growls. Then, with a blur of motion, he grabs the windslicer from his belt and launches it at Audra. I lunge and slash it. The sword explodes, peppering the ground with tiny needles.

“I can do this all day,” I warn him, tossing my spike between my hands.

His eyes narrow. “Fine. I give you my word.”

“Not good enough. If you want a deal, you’ll let me launch her safely out of here in a pipeline and then I’ll turn myself in.”

“No,” Audra shouts. She fumbles, trying to get up. Trying to stop me.

I move away from her. Closer to the Stormer, careful to keep the spike trained on him.

“Do you think you intimidate me?” he asks. “You forget, I’ve watched your kind let us torture their wives—their kids—and do absolutely nothing to stop us. You’re gutless weaklings by nature. Nothing changes that.”

He stares me down. Daring me to prove him wrong—knowing I won’t. Can’t. It’s all a game to him. And I’m tired of playing.

I raise my spike, aiming it between his eyes. “Let. Audra. Go.”

My hands shake. My voice shakes. But I mean it.

“I’m done with this!” he yells.

His body’s a blur, his next words a mystery, but I know whatever he’s doing is going to kill Audra. Break me so I’ll have no fight left to resist him.

I watch my arm swing back, almost like it’s attached to someone else. It’s easier to think of it that way.

It’s someone else aiming the weapon at his heart. Someone else letting it fly at just the right point in the toss. Someone else running him through with a revolting squish of flesh and blood.

Someone else.

But it’s me who screams. Me who collapses, shaking. Me who can’t get the question out of my head—the one I don’t want to know the answer to, but have to ask anyway.

What have I done?





CHAPTER 54


AUDRA


I scream as I claw my way to Vane’s side. It all happened so fast, I couldn’t tell who fell first, or why.

He’s not dead. He can’t be dead. Please. Be. Alive.

My hands reach him then, and he’s still warm. He’s curled up on his side, shaking. But he’s alive.

Tears fill my eyes as I search his face, his chest—everywhere—for blood, a wound. He’s perfect. No injuries.

Then I see the Stormer.

The twisted wind spike sticks out of his chest at a jagged angle. Thick, syrupy blood streams in rivers as parts of the wound disintegrate and float away with the wind. His eyes are glazed. His mouth twisted in a snarl. Cruel even in death.

My stomach heaves.

Vane groans.

It hits me then. Vane did this.

A Westerly did this.

I pull him closer, whispering, “Shhhhh.” Trying to calm him.

He shivers harder, his teeth chattering. I wrap my arms around him and press as much of myself against him as I can to warm him. Fire shoots between us, and his eyes clear enough to meet mine.

He shatters into sobs. Low, deep wails of pain and terror.

I pull his head against my shoulder. Stroke his hair. Cling as tight as I can, afraid if I let go he’ll crumble into a million pieces and never put them back together.