Let the Storm Break (Sky Fall #2)(88)

CHAPTER 40


AUDRA

E

verything about this feels wrong.

Leaving Vane alone and unprotected in the middle of nowhere.

Setting my mother free.

Even flying with Gus—though at least he seems as uncomfortable as me. He’s adjusted his hold twice already, but thanks to this dress, there’s nowhere safe to grab.

“What do you think the odds are that Vane will really stay where he is?” Gus asks as he shifts his hands to my waist, holding my bandaged side extra carefully.

“Probably about as good as my mother being a changed woman.” “So I take it you’re still pissed about setting her free?” “I just . . . know my mother.”

I know Vane wants to believe she’s different now—and maybe she was when he talked to her. But I’ve learned the hard way that any kindness or concern my mother ever shows lasts only long enough for her to get what she wants.

And now we’re about to let her have her way again. We follow my mother’s vulture toward circles of dead palm trees, and as soon as we reach them, the Westerlies carrying us turn jittery. I urge the winds to fly on, but they grow increasingly unsteady, breaking into a panic when a frenzied Easterly swarms around me.

The draft’s tone reminds me of my father’s voice, but I know there’s no way it could be him. Its desperate song begs me to turn away and never come back, and my father would never try to stop me from setting my mother free. He loved her beyond life—beyond reason—beyond air.

He would carry me there faster if he could.

“Wow, the Maelstrom sure does spook the winds,” Gus mumbles as the Easterly flies with us, repeating its warning over and over.

I continue to ignore it, and when we reach a series of strange rock formations, the vulture dives and the Easterly finally sweeps away.

We’ve reached our destination.

The other Westerlies take off the second I unravel them, but my loyal shield doesn’t waver, tightening its grip around me like it can feel the evil in the air.

I can feel it too.

The unnatural stillness.

The strange push and pull, dragging me toward the dark opening in the sand up ahead, even though every instinct I have is screaming for me to run away.

“There’s something off about this place,” Gus mumbles, his hand gripping his wind spike as he searches the air.

“It feels just like the other Maelstrom,” I tell him.

Sounds the same too.The horrible screeching that bores into my brain like twisted needles.

Though this one was built by the captain of the Gales.

Gus’s eyes scan the valley, but the only signs of life are the vultures. Dozens and dozens of them, lining the rocks, the scrubby plants, even the sand. They watch us with their silent stares as we make our way to the Maelstrom’s entrance.

I’m tempted to shoo them away—they won’t be getting the meal they’ve been waiting for. But I know they won’t leave.They’ll be loyal to her.

“So . . . we have to go down there?” Gus asks as I start down the sloped, dark path surrounded by the spinning funnel of sand

“Unless you want to stay here and cover the entrance,” I offer.

For the briefest second he looks tempted. Then he draws his wind spike, holding it in front of him as he pushes past me to take the lead. “Let’s get this over with.”

I try not to touch the walls—try even harder not to imagine bits of my mother being absorbed by them.

But she’s also in the air.

I cover my mouth, breathing as shallowly as I can. Still, every breath makes me want to gag.

I keep my hand to my heart as we walk, wishing I could feel some small trace of my bond. There’s nothing but a cold emptiness.

It makes me want to turn around and run until I find the sky. But I press forward. One foot in front of the other. Each step dragging me away from the light. Into the wasted darkness.

“Okay, I officially hate it down here,” Gus says after several more minutes of walking. “I mean . . . it’s just wrong. There’s no other way to describe it.”

There isn’t.

Maelstroms feel as awful as they are.

And once again I can’t help thinking that a Gale made this.

I almost speak the thought aloud, but stop myself just in time. So I’m surprised when Gus asks me, “What do you think about Os?”

I choose my answer carefully. Now is not the time to cast doubt on our leader. Battles call for trust and loyalty. “I think he’s desperate to protect our people.”

“Desperate,” Gus repeats. He’s quiet for several steps, before he asks, “Do you believe the Gales can win?”

My fingers rub the skin on my wrist, finding the remnants of Aston’s burn. His haunting warnings still ring in my mind, and I can see now why he was so sure we had no chance. But I have to believe there’s still hope.

“No matter how powerful Raiden gets,” I tell Gus, “the wind will always be stronger. And I can’t believe that the wind will let him keep on destroying it for much longer.”

“You talk about the wind like it’s alive.”

“In some ways it is.”

I think of my loyal Westerly shield, journeying with me into this dark place that no other winds dare to go. It stays because it wants to. The same reason it rallied the other Westerlies and came to our rescue in Death Valley.