Let the Storm Break

CHAPTER 5 VANE

I must’ve looked pretty bad when Gus brought me home, because my mom flipped.

I barely had a chance to explain what happened—minus all the ultra-embarrassing stuff, of course—before she ordered me to my room and spent the next hour bandaging my Gus-bite and forcing me to choke down giant glasses of blended vegetables.

My mom’s been on a juice kick ever since she found out I’m a sylph, like she’s convinced she can turn me human again if she just gives me enough liquefied celery. It sorta makes me wish I had to give up eating and drinking, but the Gales think I’m too weak to handle that kind of sacrifice right now. Plus, now that we know Raiden can destroy the wind with only a few words, shifting into our wind form is really not the best battle strategy. So brownish-green sludge every morning it is!

Honestly, though, my mom’s been strangely cool about the whole my-adopted-son-is-an-air-elemental thing. She didn’t scream or run away when I told her—even when I showed her how the wind obeys all my weird, hissy words. And my dad just clapped me on the back and told me to remember that this kind of power comes with extra responsibility, like he expected me to put on spandex and start calling myself Windman!

I’m surprised he didn’t buy me a cape.

Fang was the one who freaked out about them knowing. But I don’t care if the Gales have a code of secrecy. They’re my family. I may not look like them—and I may not even be the same species. But they’re the only parents I’ve ever really known, and I wasn’t going to lie to them.

Besides, how was I supposed to explain why I was suddenly surrounded by a bunch of guys with long, braided hair and black soldier uniforms? And no way was I moving to the Gales’ new base a couple of miles away. Raiden knows where I live. My family needs just as much protection as I do. Maybe more, since they can’t exactly defend themselves against wind warriors.

A cool breeze slips through my window and I know it’s a Westerly before I even listen to its song. I swear they come to find me, and I always keep my window open for them—even if it lets out all the AC and makes my bedroom feel like an oven. I need to have the wind around. It makes my heritage feel real, and like maybe the tangled-up, scattered memories of my past will unravel someday and actually make sense.

Plus, I always want Audra to have a way to reach me.

I close my eyes and let the soft whispers float around me, promising myself I will not fall asleep. But it’s hard. I’ve reached that point of exhaustion where everything actually aches. If I could just nap for ten minutes—even five—I would take it.

“You up for a visitor, Vane?” my mom asks.

I yank my eyes open as she leans through my doorway. “Uh, sure.”

I’m assuming it must be Fang, come to rip me a new one. But when my mom steps aside, a Gale I’ve never seen before strides into my room.

On the left side of his face, part of his long, dark hair is twisted into a braid that’s tucked behind his ear. The rest hangs loose—a style worn only by Gale Force leaders.

Ruh-roh.

He clears his throat and stares at my mom, waiting for her to leave. I watch her jaw lock, and I know she’s about to remind him that this is her house. But I give her my best please don’t embarrass me in front of my army look and she caves, promising to be back in a few minutes with my breakfast.

When her footsteps have retreated down the hall, the Gale leader steps forward. He has two red scars on his cheek that cross like a T, and they stretch as he gives me a thin smile. “It’s nice to finally meet the king.”

I fidget when he bows. “Um, you can just call me Vane.”

“As you wish.”

He stares at my wrinkled Batman T-shirt, looking less than impressed. But he can glare all he wants, I’m not wearing their stupid uniform.

“And you are . . . ?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.

“Captain Osmund—though you can call me Os. I’m the captain of the Gales.”

Double ruh-roh.

“I’ve been away at our Riverspan Base for the last few weeks, trying to help them hold off a band of Stormers who’ve been especially aggressive. But when I got wind of last night’s incident, well . . .” He shakes his head. “Guardian Gusty already—”

“Wait—hang on. Gus is short for Gusty?”

I laugh when he nods.

“Anyway,” Os says, clearly not as amused by this as I am. “Guardian Gusty already briefed me on what he witnessed. But I’m hoping you can shed some further light on the attack.”

It’s strange to think of it as an attack, but I guess that’s what it was.

“There’s not really much to tell,” I mumble. “I went to the mountains to get some fresh air and I’ve been so tired from not sleeping that I guess I dozed off and Raiden’s creepy wind found me.”

“Gusty told me you go up there a few times a week. He assumed you were searching for someone.” He raises the brow on the scarred side of his face.

I shrug, trying to stay calm as I search for a believable lie. “Fine. If you really want to know, I go up there to check on my friend. I like to make sure he’s still safe, and I didn’t want the Gales to know because they’ve asked me to stay away from him.”

Told me is more like it, but I’m trying not to sound bitter.

I know they’re right that being around me puts Isaac in danger—but it hasn’t been fun cutting off my best friend. He bought my excuses for a few days, but eventually he figured out something was up. And when I wouldn’t—couldn’t—tell him the truth, he stopped calling.

I haven’t talked to him in almost two weeks.

Os doesn’t look as satisfied with my explanation as I’d like. But all he says is “What did Raiden’s wind do to you?”

I really don’t want to relive any of it, but Os insists. So I rush through a few details.

“A girl,” he interrupts. “You didn’t know who she was?”

“No.”

It’s not even a lie. That girl was not Audra.

“And what did the girl do?”

I feel my face get hot as my mind fills with the memory of not-Audra lying on top of me.

Os must notice my blush because he says, “Oh.” Several seconds of awkward silence pass before he quietly asks, “Is this why you canceled your betroth—”

“No.”

I give him my I don’t want to talk about this glare and he falls silent. But just when I think he’s dropped it he adds, “If you’re experiencing urges—”

“Dude—we are so not doing this.”

I barely survived my parents’ you’re-becoming-a-man-and-your-body-is-changing talk when I was a kid. I’m not going through it again—especially with someone named Os.

He clears his throat. “Fine. But it sounds like Raiden has found a way to lure you deep into your consciousness with your desires. That will be a much harder trick to resist.”

He doesn’t have to tell me. I know better than anyone how close it came to working. “But why would he want to do that? Doesn’t he need me conscious if I’m going to teach him what he wants?”

“I’m sure he has a way to release you. But you’ll be much easier to catch if you can’t use the power of four to defend yourself. And there’s no telling if we’ll be able to pull you back if this happens again.”

I stare at my bandaged pinkie, trying not to think about how desperate Gus must’ve been to bite me. “So, what’s the plan?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth I realize what I just walked into.

“I’m not teaching anyone Westerly,” I jump in before Os can ask. “And it won’t help anyway. I’ve already tried every command I can think of.”

“Yes, but those of us with more knowledge of the other winds will be able to think of things that you can’t.”

“Not an option.”

And somehow I doubt that. I’ve been practicing with Westerlies a lot, and it’s amazing the things they’ll let me do. But this trick is beyond them. They’re too trusting and agreeable to block another wind—which I know sounds crazy, but it’s true. Westerlies like to get along with the other drafts, and that makes it kind of hard when the other drafts are evil.

Os puts a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, Vane, I know you want to protect your heritage, but if you would just listen to reason—”

“No, if you guys would just listen to me. Aren’t people supposed to listen to their king?” I ask, shaking his hand away. “Do I need to start threatening beheadings or something?”

It feels weird playing the royalty card, but I’m so tired of this fight.

I’m tired of everything.

I’m just tired.

Os sighs. “If that is truly your decision, then I can only think of one other option.”

“Okay . . . ?” I prompt when he doesn’t say anything.

He sighs again, this time letting it rock his shoulders as he reaches up and plays with the ends of his braid. “It’s something I’d prefer to keep secret. But it’s the only place the wind can’t reach and the only place I can think of where you might be able to sleep.”

I yawn so wide it feels like my face is stretching. “Sleep sounds good—I vote for that.”

“You might not be so eager if you knew where you’ll be going. It’s a place I created for a much darker purpose.”

His voice has turned to the kind of hollow whisper you hear in horror movies when a character’s just seen a ghost.

“Uh, then thanks. I’ll pass. I’ll just do some more push-ups.”

“You can’t stay awake by sheer force of will, Vane—look what happened last night. You have to sleep. If you won’t give us the language we need to protect you, you will have to come with me. The choice is yours.”

Doesn’t sound like there’s much of a choice—but that’s probably the point. This is just another dare to try and force me into giving them what they want. And I’m not caving.

“Fine,” I tell him, throwing off my covers. “Take me wherever you want—but there better be a soft bed.”

Os shakes his head. “I wish you would change your mind.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to.”

He closes his eyes, and his voice has that ghostly tone again when he says, “So be it. But you’ll need your walking shoes. We have a long journey ahead.”