Let the Storm Break (Sky Fall #2)(90)

I stop fighting and let it.

I hold my wind spike with my good arm, trying to feel ready for wherever this wind is bringing me. But nothing could’ve prepared me for seeing my valley up close.

I’ve seen disasters on TV.

I’ve even lived through a couple.

But this . . .

Mangled houses. Fallen trees. Smashed cars. Police. Ambulances. Firemen. Helicopters.

People are running. Blocking the roads. Screaming and shouting and wailing.

It’s chaos.

The kind of thing where reporters will come from miles around and the president will go on TV and try to say something to help people make sense of the destruction. But no one is going to understand this.

I can see the Living Storms still raging, scattered through the different towns—though it looks like there might be less of them. It’s hard to tell.

It’s hard to think.

One Storm is ransacking Indio and Coachella, and I can see two more shredding the mansions in Indian Wells and Rancho Mirage and another whipping through Cathedral City. But the worst of the fighting is in La Quinta, where three of the biggest Storms are tearing through the Cove. My Westerly steers me there.

I fly over my parents’ house and it’s actually still standing. But Isaac and Shelby weren’t so lucky. Shelby’s house is okay, but her car is smashed through the wall of her neighbor’s garage. And Isaac’s street is gone.

Like, gone gone.

Not a house. Not a tree. Even the sidewalk’s disappeared.

I’m glad I warned them to leave, but what will they come home to?

And what about their neighbors?

Fury makes me shake, but I can’t decide who I’m mad at.

Raiden may have created the Storms but . . .

They’re here because of me.

My Westerly picks up speed as we get closer to the Storms, but just as I’m gearing up for the fight of my life, it steers me into the mountains and drops me down on a narrow ledge.

A strong hand yanks me into a small cave.

“Don’t let them see you!” Os hisses as he spins me around to face him.

My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I notice he’s here with Solana, and they’re both crouched in the shadows.

There’s a new gash to Os’s scar, cutting right through the center, like the mark has been crossed out. But Solana looks a lot worse. Huge splotches of blood stain her pale dress. I can’t tell if it’s all hers, but the thick gash on her chin looks pretty gnarly either way.

“What happened?” I ask quietly.

Os points out at the Storms. “What do you think?”

The Storms slam against the mountain next to us, pulverizing a huge hole into the wall of stone.

My mouth goes dry and I have to swallow several times before I can ask, “How many Gales are left?”

Os drops his eyes to his hands. “Last count . . . eight—and that’s including us.”

That’s . . . not even half.

“Where are Gus and Audra?” Solana asks after a second.

I was just wondering the same thing.

I’d thought the “traitor” the Westerly was taking me to was Arella. But it brought me here.

I scan the tiny cave trying to figure out why. A glint of yellow catches my attention.

“What are those?” I ask, pointing to the pile of strangely colored wind spikes piled at Os’s feet.

Traitor, my Westerly whispers again, and I have a horrible feeling I already know.

I pick one up and the winds’ pain and misery pulses through my hand like a heartbeat.

“You broke the winds inside these?” I ask, dropping the spike and backing away.

“Only the Northerlies,” Os corrects as he bends to retrieve it. “And only because there was no other option.”

“Yeah, well, clearly the winds disagree, or I wouldn’t have been dragged here by a Westerly that kept calling you a traitor.”

“A traitor?” Os shouts—then covers his mouth and makes us all duck as we wait to see if the Storms heard.

“I’m a traitor?” he hisses after a few seconds. “I’m the one who saved us! I got your pathetic warning only minutes before the Storms arrived, and before I’d had time to blink they’d taken out a third of our force. We tried to run and hide until the three of you came back to help us, but we would’ve been snuffed out completely if I hadn’t realized that Raiden had broken the Storms. The only way to fight a ruined wind is with another. So I broke the Northerlies in the spikes and we’ve been taking down the Storms one by one. We only have a few left.”

Traitor, the Westerlies around me whisper.

“There has to be another way—”

“There isn’t!” Os grabs one of the spikes and hurls it through the cave’s opening at a Living Storm that had just discovered our hideout.

The spike tears straight through the Storm’s shoulder, making it howl and rage as smoky mist leaks into the sky. Before it even finishes yelping, Os launches another spike straight through its eyes, making the massive Storm explode.

“You see?” Os asks as the ground shakes and the air turns thick and we cough from the dust and debris. “Without these weapons we’d have no fighting chance.”

He hands another spike to me as proof, then reaches up to smear the blood off his cheek.