But first we have to fix Vane.
I shout the command, forming the pipeline right in front of us, and we fly straight into the funnel. The pressure makes my head throb and my eyes water and I’m worried the winds are going to collapse around us. But then we shoot into a gray, cloudy sky, and Gus tangles us in Northerlies and sets us down in the foothills.
I can see the whole valley in the distance. The line of Living Storms towers over the small desert towns, filling the air with a gray-brown haze as they tear their way toward the Gales’ base. I hope Os got my message.
“Yep, it’s totally dislocated,” Gus says, reminding me why we’re here. “We need to pop it back into place.”
“Sounds like a party,” Vane mumbles, forcing a small smile.
“Can you handle the traction?” Gus asks me, and I order myself to nod.
Part of our guardian training includes basic medical procedures. But the idea of doing this to Vane . . .
“Ugh, it’s going to be that bad?” Vane asks, grabbing my shaking hand.
“Yeah, this is going to suck,” Gus tells him. “But not as much as what’s going on down there.”
We both follow his gaze and see the Storms curling into a circle, surrounding what has to be the Gales’ base. I hold my breath, hoping to see some sign that the Gales can handle them. But all I see are the Storms closing in.
“We’d better hurry,” Vane says, and I kneel in the sand, facing him with my knees pressed against his bad arm. His eyes never leave mine as I place both hands on his biceps and pin it to the ground—but he sucks in a sharp breath as Gus bends his elbow up to a right angle.
“Was that it?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly hopeful.
“Sorry,” Gus mumbles. “I’m still trying to get it in the right position.” He bends Vane’s arm back toward the sand and Vane lets out a strangled cry. “Okay, I think we’re set. You guys ready?”
Vane nods as he turns to me. “Kiss me.”
“Dude, this is so not the time.” Gus groans as my cheeks turn hotter than the desert sun.
“It’ll distract me from the pain,” Vane insists.
I glance at Gus and he sighs. “He’s probably right.”
“Of course I am.”
The glint in Vane’s beautiful eyes makes it impossible not to smile. But I still can’t believe I’m doing this as I tighten my grip on his arm and lean close enough to feel his breath on my skin.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you too.” My insecurities vanish as I press my lips against his.
I try to keep the kiss slow, but the heat between us keeps building until my head feels dizzy from the rush. Somewhere in my blurry thoughts I remember to keep my hands steady when Gus shouts, “Now!”
Vane’s lips pull away to let out one muffled scream.
“How does it feel?” I ask as Vane sits up and attempts to bend his elbow. He makes it about halfway before his face contorts with pain.
Gus sighs. “You probably damaged a few ligaments. We need to wrap it to keep pressure on it.”
There’s barely enough fabric on my dress as it is, but since Gus is still shirtless and Vane can barely move, there aren’t a lot of options. I reach for the back hem and tear a thick strand free, trying not to think about how much draftier it feels now.
I tie it around his elbow as tightly as I can. “How’s that?”
He takes another deep breath before trying to bend his arm, and this time he doesn’t wince. “Better. Though I think it would help even more if you tore off another piece of your dress.”
I blush while Gus shakes his head. “Dude, you’re hopeless.”
“And we need to get back down there.” I point to the desert basin, where the Living Storms are starting to scatter, heading into all the most populated areas.
“Dammit!” Vane shouts. “Why aren’t the Gales stopping them?”
He struggles to his feet, but barely lasts a second before he collapses to his knees.
“I’m fine,” he promises. “Just dizzy.”
But when he tries to get up again, he tumbles forward immediately.
“You’re way too weak to fight, man,” Gus says as he catches Vane before he lands on his bad arm. “I think we’re going to have to leave you here to rest and come get you when this is over.”
“I’m not going to hide in a cave while you guys fight,” Vane argues, trying to balance on his own. I move behind him as he wobbles, letting him lean against me.
“Just give me five minutes,” he begs. “All I need is some air.”
“Five minutes,” Gus repeats. “We need to come up with a plan, anyway.”
We all turn toward the valley, and my chest tightens when I see the Storms spreading even wider. It’s impossible to tell if the Gales are still fighting them, but the massive trails of destruction don’t look promising.
Vane reaches for my hands, locking our fingers together.
“I don’t see any Stormers, do you?” Gus asks, shielding his eyes and squinting at the mountains.
I shake my head as I concentrate on the winds. “I don’t feel any trace of them either.” Though I’m relieved to feel some of the Gales’.
There’s still a chance, even if it’s a weak one.
“Would Raiden really not bring them?” Gus asks.
“Maybe he didn’t want to risk losing any of them,” I suggest.
“Or maybe this is only round one,” Vane says quietly. “I’m not picking up any trace of Raiden, either, but there’s no way he’s not here. He’s up to something, I can feel it. I just can’t tell what it is.”
Gus runs his hands through his hair, pulling it loose from his guardian braid. “So what are we going to do?”
“There’s really only one thing we can do,” Vane says, staring up at the bird slowly circling above us.
The vulture should’ve lost track of us when we launched through the pipeline. But my mother has a way of always getting what she wants.
I guess that’s why I’m not surprised when Vane squeezes my hand tighter and tells me, “We have to go get your mom, Audra. She’s the only chance we have left.”
CHAPTER 39
VANE
You really think we can trust my mother?” Audra asks, pulling away from me so quickly I lose my balance and have to sink to my knees.
“She told us she could help us, right?”
“That doesn’t mean it’s true.”
Audra calls the creepy vulture and it swoops down and lands on a rock a few feet away, letting out an evil hiss that sounds like a possessed child. Even Gus backs away as it bows its gross red, bumpy head and holds out its massive black wing so Audra can count the notches in the feathers.
“How does she even know we’re in trouble?” she asks when she’s read the message again. “She’s trapped in a Maelstrom. The wind shouldn’t be able to reach her.”
“I don’t know—maybe the birds told her. Or maybe she can feel it. Her gift is pretty powerful, right? Seems like she might be able to pick up on something this huge. I mean, look at that.”
I point to the desert, where fires are starting to break out in the rubble. Smoke is mixing with the dust and thunderheads, making it harder to see what’s going on—which is probably better. My brain doesn’t know how to process that kind of destruction.
Everything I know has just changed.
And the Storms are still raging.
“You don’t find it convenient that she’s reaching out to us now, offering us vague promises when we’re at our weakest?” Audra asks me.
“Of course I do—and it reminds me way too much of the time she used Gavin to give away our location and nearly got us killed. But what other option do we have? Our wind spikes aren’t working and the Westerlies told me they can’t help us. The Gales look like they’re failing pretty epically down there—so what else are we supposed to do?”