Author: Shannon Messenger

A couple tears streak down her cheeks.

Seeing them makes it hurt more. Makes it feel final.

I’ve done everything I can—said everything there is to say. And it isn’t enough.

I shift into reverse without looking at her. She buckles her seat belt—getting it right in one try—and turns away.

She doesn’t speak again until I pull into my driveway and park. “I have something I should’ve given to you a long time ago.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out some sort of copper-colored cord with something round and silver in the center. “Hold out your right hand.”

I don’t have the energy to argue, so I do as she asks and she wraps the braided strap around my wrist and latches it with the worn copper clasp.

I turn my wrist over, surprised to find that the silver piece in the center is actually a small compass. The arrow spins for a second, then comes to a stop on West.

Audra sucks in a breath. “It’s never done that for me. But I’m not a Westerly.” She sighs. “It was your father’s, I believe—though both your parents had them. I found it in the rubble after the storm and kept it for you. I figured you’d want to have something that was theirs.”

The copper band looks worn and weathered, and the glass on the compass is scratched and dulled. But it’s perfect.

Audra buttons her jacket, becoming guardian Audra again. “We’re going to need to come up with a battle plan tonight. The more prepared we are, the better our chances.”

There are so many things I could—should—say.

But I don’t know what the right move is anymore.

Audra decides for me. She exits the car.

As she steps outside she turns her face to the wind, closing her eyes. It should’ve been a peaceful gesture, but her brow creases. Her lips tighten.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as she spins around, her wild eyes scanning the sky.

She doesn’t answer. Just walks toward the grove, touching the trunks of the palms. She glances at the treetops, searching for something.

“You realize how much trouble you’re in, don’t you?” my mom calls from the front door.

Crap.

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry.”

“If you’re sorry, you’ll tell me what the hell is going on.” She steps outside, shaking her head as she moves down the path toward me. She folds her arms across her chest. “Where were you?”

“Santa Monica,” I say, only half paying attention as I climb out of the car and head toward Audra.

Audra scoops up a small white dove and inspects the feathers of its wings. Her frown deepens with every feather she checks.

“Are you even listening to me?” my mom asks.

I turn back toward her.

My mom sighs. “I want to trust you, honey—but you’re making it very hard. Ever since she came along, you haven’t been the same. What’s she doing over there, anyway?”

Audra fiddles with the dove’s feathers, rearranging them somehow. Her hands shake.

“I don’t know.” But something is clearly wrong.

I run to her side, annoyed at my mom for following but knowing I can’t stop her.

“What happened?” I ask Audra.

Her face looks pale as she stares into space, ignoring me. She tosses the dove into the sky, its wings flapping in my face as it flies away.

Freaking birds.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” I beg.

“We just ran out of time,” she says, finally meeting my eyes. “The Stormers will be here tomorrow.”

CHAPTER 44

AUDRA

I can barely believe the words as I speak them. It wasn’t her usual crow, but the dove came from my mother. And I checked her message three times, counting and recounting each mark she made in the feathers to make sure I hadn’t missed one.

There’s no mistake.

But . . . it’s only been four days since I gave away our location.

Four.

How could we have lost so much time?

My mother said the Stormers are better trackers than she’s ever seen. They saw through her confounded trails much quicker than they should have, and now they’ve locked onto ours.

They must be more powerful than I feared.

But why wouldn’t they be? Raiden’s been searching for Vane for years. He sent his best.

My heavy lunch churns in my stomach as the fear settles in and I wonder if I’m about to vomit.

“What do you mean they’ll be here tomorrow?” Vane asks, his face ashen. “How do you even know that?”

“Wait—who’s coming? What’s going on?”

It takes my brain a second to put together that Vane’s mother is standing with us. But I don’t have time to worry about her.

“My mother sent me a message,” I tell Vane. “They found our trace and they’re bearing down on us.”

The words knock Vane back a step. I know exactly how he feels.

At least we have time to prepare—though we have precious little of it. Still, it’s better than nothing. I have time to strategize. Anticipate. Steer things our way.

We shouldn’t try to hide—the chance is too great they’ll catch us off guard. The smarter play would be move to a position where we have the advantage and call them to us.

The wind farm.

The gusts are strong there, giving us plenty of ammunition. And we can hide, send our trace in every direction so they won’t know which angle to approach from. The pointed blades of the windmills make a wind fight more dangerous—but that will work to our advantage too. I’m sure the Stormers have been ordered to be cautious after what happened with Vane’s parents. Raiden needs Vane brought in alive.

“Get changed into something warm,” I order Vane. “They’re Northerlies, so it’ll be an icy storm. And hurry—we need to move fast.”

“Absolutely not,” his mother interrupts, blocking his path. “You’re not going anywhere, Vane. Not until you explain what the hell is going on—and even then. Do you really think I’m just going to ignore that you ran away in the middle of the night?”

Vane runs a hand through his hair. “Mom, you don’t understand.”

“So enlighten me.”

He sighs. “Even if I tried to explain it, you wouldn’t believe me. You have to trust me.”

“I do trust you. But I don’t trust her.” She spins toward me, her face much harder than the last time I saw her.

I take a step back.

“Ever since she showed up, you haven’t been yourself,” she tells Vane. “You’ve been lying, sneaking around, ignoring your friends. I know you like her, but she’s not good for you, honey. I don’t want you to see her anymore.”

The words sting more than they should, and I drop my eyes to the ground. I don’t want Vane’s mom to hate me. And I hate myself for being wounded by such a petty thing.

“You can’t stop me, Mom.” Vane’s voice is gentle but firm. “I’m going with her—I have to. And I need you to do me a favor.” He grabs her shoulders. “Go get Dad and get as far away from here as you can. And if any storm clouds follow you, keep going.”

“Storm clouds?” She leans in, staring into his eyes. “Are you on drugs? You can tell me if you are. I just want to help you.”

Vane laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I wish this was all some big acid trip—that would be a lot better than the reality. But it isn’t. I can’t explain it, but you need to listen to me. Please. Have I ever lied to you—about anything important, at least?”

She stares at him for a long time. “You’re scaring me, Vane. Please, just tell me what’s going on.”

Vane looks at me, and I see the question filling his mind.

I shake my head, as hard as I can.

Do. Not. Tell. Her.

I shove at the thought, wishing I could push it into his brain.

Vane’s jaw sets, and I know he knows what I’m thinking. The rigid line of his shoulders tells me he’s going to ignore it.

“Vane,” I warn as he opens his mouth. “Don’t.”

“She deserves to know.”

“She’ll never believe you.”

“Yes, I will,” his mom chimes in. “How dare you tell him what I will or won’t do! Tell me, Vane. Please.”

Time ticks by, and a soft Easterly streaks past us, singing of the shifting, unsteady world. Vane’s shoulders fall. “I’m sorry, Mom. I can’t tell you.”

I release the breath I’ve been holding.

“But I can show you,” he adds.

Before I can react, he reaches out his hands and whispers the Easterly call, wrapping the draft in front of him into a mini tornado swirling at his feet.

His mom gasps and jumps back, her eyes darting everywhere, like she doesn’t know where to look. “How?” she sputters.

“Don’t say it,” I order him.

Vane looks at me, not her as he answers. “I’m not human, Mom. I’m a Windwalker.”

CHAPTER 45

VANE

I don’t know what I expected. Disbelief? Fear? Disgust?

All seem like logical reactions.

Instead, my mom says, “You control the wind.” Like it’s no big deal. Like I just showed her I can pat my head and rub my stomach at the same time.

“Kind of,” I say, my mind spinning as fast as the cyclone I’ve made.

Her not freaking out makes me freak out. I mean, doesn’t it seem at all strange to her that her son is a different species?

“So, what exactly is a Windwalker?” she asks, still mesmerized by the swirling winds.

Seriously—how is she taking this so well?

“Vane,” Audra warns.

“I’m a sylph,” I blurt out, because I’ve come too far to stop now. “I guess I’m an air elemental or whatever. I can speak to the wind, tell it what I want it to do.”

I whisper another command and the wind funnel tightens, stretching high over our heads, spraying us with bits of sand.

My mom gasps, her eyes wide with . . . wonder? Fright? I can’t tell.

“So that’s how you survived the tornado,” she whispers.

Who is this woman, and what has she done with my ever worrying mother?

“Uh . . . yeah. Sort of. But you believe me? Just like that?”

“Well, it’s not exactly easy,” she says, turning to face me, “but it’s hard to ignore the evidence.”

She points to the cyclone, which is picking up speed, growing wider every second. I whisper the command to unravel it and the winds streak away, showering us with pebbles and whipping our hair.

My mom wobbles. “Okay, I think I need to sit down.”

I grab her shoulders to support her. “Finally—a normal reaction.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Audra practically growls.

“I know. But this is important.” I turn back to my mom. “I’m sorry, I know this is a lot to take in. I would’ve told you sooner—but I figured you’d get kinda weirded out by the whole ‘not human’ thing. Sure freaked me out when Audra told me.”

“Audra,” my mom says, frowning as she looks at Audra. “So . . . she’s a sylph too?”

“Enough.” Audra’s voice is more weary than angry. “Do you have any idea how many rules you’ve just broken, Vane? She’s not allowed to know these things.”

“Why not? He’s my son.”

“Not biologically.”

My mom’s eyes flash. “He’s my son. How dare you make him keep secrets from me.”

Audra’s jaw locks.

Uh-oh.

I step between them. “Look, we’ll figure all this out later, okay?” I turn back to my mom, who still looks ready to throttle Audra. I take her shoulder, forcing her to look at me. “I need you to go get Dad from work, and the two of you need to get as far away from this valley as you can.”