He slashes at a Stormer who crosses our path, and I close my eyes, trying not to think about the spray of red. "The pull of our bond weakens when we're this close to each other, but I'll see if I can feel it."

I ask my Westerly to leave me for a minute so I can search the sky for Vane's trace.

The dust is so thick it coats my tongue, but I force myself to concentrate, searching for a hint of warmth or some sign of contact in the other winds. I feel like I've swallowed half the desert before I finally feel the electric tingle I need.

I tighten my grip on Gus's hand and we take off running, him slashing anything in our path and me following the heat in the air until I crash into a bare chest.

"Thank G.o.d you're okay," Vane says as I wrap my shield back around me and call one for him.

I wait for the Westerlies to blanket us like second skins. Then I fall into Vane's arms and cling to him as tightly as I can.

Vane squeezes me back, but his arm b.u.mps the gash in my side, and I hate myself for wincing.

He pulls away, staring at the blood on his hand. "I'll kill Raiden."

"No-he's mine." Gus insists.

"Actually-you're both wrong," Raiden calls, parting the dust enough to show where he's been hiding. He's coated in sickly gray winds and he looks pale and green from their effects. But they seem to let him breathe in the storm. "Once again, you've managed to impress me with your powers. But it's time to stop these foolish games. Call off this ridiculous hab.o.o.b and I promise I'll let you all live."

"Or we kill you now," Gus says, holding up Raiden's windslicer.

"Try it, see what happens."

I put my hand on Gus's shoulder to stop him. I'm sure Raiden isn't bluffing.

The Westerlies crash again, but Raiden doesn't even flinch.

We won't be able to get away from him-not unless we do something new. And that's when I realize that my Westerly has changed its song again.

Every verse now ends with the same word-like it's begging me to listen to the clue. The command doesn't make sense, but this draft hasn't failed me so far.

I tighten my grip on Gus and Vane and shout, "Fuse!"

The Westerlies shift direction, collecting together, swelling thicker and stronger. I'd thought the storm was chaos before, but now it's an impenetrable wall of choking dust that traps all the Stormers-even Raiden-in the heavy air that Gus, Vane, and I are allowed to move through with ease. Our Westerly shields must be telling the other winds to let us pa.s.s.

We run as fast as we can, not looking back as the ground gets steeper. And the higher we climb, the more the air clears until we're finally able to gather the winds we need for a pipeline.

"Wait," Vane shouts, adding a Westerly to the mix before I give the final command.

Then he takes my hand, grabbing Gus with his other as he shouts "Enhance!" and the vortex expands around us, blasting us out of the valley.

CHAPTER 27.VANE.

I.

can't believe we're alive.

Well . . . for now.

I don't know how long that crazy wind-sludge stuff will trap Raiden in Death Valley, but I'm betting it's asking too much for it to last few hundred years. Odds are, we have a couple of hours. Maybe less.

The vortex spits us out into the open air, and I do useful things like scream and flail while Audra unravels the pipeline and Gus gathers Southerlies and tangles them around us to slow our fall. At least I remember to release the Westerly shields. We owe our lives to those weary drafts. They deserve to be free.

The winds around Gus and me zip into the gray twilight sky. But Audra's shield tightens its grip, and from the smile on her face I can tell she wants it to stay. Only Audra could make a Westerly her new pet.

"Where are we?" Gus asks when we touch down in the middle of yet another desert. I'm starting to wonder if that's all there is in this freaking state when I realize we're not actually in California anymore.

The skyline in the distance has a castle, an Eiffel Tower, and a blinking neon pyramid. Leave it to me to blast us all the way to Vegas.

"Looks like we're at least three hours from home. Unless someone wants to hit the buffets first? Or maybe get married by Elvis?"

I realize the awkward mess I've stepped in the second the joke leaves my mouth.

"That's not a proposal," I tell Audra, wondering if her cheeks are as red as mine feel. It's hard to tell in the dim moonlight. "I would never-well, I don't mean never-I just mean . . . I would do it way better than that-not that I'm thinking about proposing-at least not now-I just . . ."

Please, somebody kill me now.

Then Gus clears his throat and I realize there's a whole other level of awkward to this situation.

I sigh. "Listen. I know I can't ask you to-"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone,"Gus interrupts."This one's your mess. I'm staying out of it."

Well, that's good-I guess. I don't know, I'm kinda over the whole "hiding it" thing. But I'll have to talk to Audra and see how she feels about going public.

"But just so I'm clear," Gus adds, "she's the one you were sneaking off to the mountains to check for all the time, right?"

"All the time?" Audra repeats.

"Every chance I could," I admit. "Finding your trace was the only thing that kept me going."

Her face falls and I reach for her. "Hey-I didn't mean it like that. I just missed you. I-" My hand brushes something wet on her side and she flinches. "You're still bleeding?"

I lift the side of her shirt, and my head starts to cloud when I see the dark, jagged gash that starts above her hip and stretches onto her stomach.

"I'm fine," she insists as I search for something I can use to cover the wound.

I try to tear off the bottom of my shorts, but the thick cargo fabric refuses to rip.

Why did I have to take off my stupid shirt?

"Hey," she says, coiling her Westerly around her waist, "It's okay, see? The wind helps us heal."

I can't tell if the cool breeze is actually stopping the blood or just whisking it away-but I guess it'll have to do until we can get home.

"Do you feel any threat?" Audra asks Gus, who has his hands stretched out, searching the air.

"No. I don't feel anything."

He stalks off into the desert without another word.

It's hard to see in the dim light, but I hear him unsheathe his windslicer and start hacking the c.r.a.p out of something.

Audra looks at me, and I know she's waiting for me to go talk to him. But what am I supposed to say? I'm a.s.suming this is about his dad, and I suck at emotional things like this.

Several minutes pa.s.s and Gus is still going to town, so I finally make my way over.

"Hey," I mumble, off to a brilliant start. "Um . . . you okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm awesome." He takes another swing, slicing the top off a dry, scraggly bush.

"Look. I know you're angry-and I don't blame you. What happened to Feng was-and I don't mean what you did to the Storm thing . . . I mean what Raiden did. By the time you got there he . . ."

Wow, I really suck at this.

"I know that thing wasn't my father," Gus growls, slashing another plant. "And I always knew I would probably lose him. It's what happens to guardians-it's in the oath we all swear. It's just"- he sighs and stares up at the stars-"There's really nothing left. I can't even find his echo."

"I never found my father's either," Audra says, coming up beside me. "And I know it probably sounds crazy but . . . sometimes I wonder if that's because he's not really gone. It feels like there's still part of him left-a small hint of his presence carried on a breeze, that finds me when I need him most."

Her voice cracks and I reach for her hand.

She never told me that-and I have no idea if it's possible. But I hope it's true.

Gus must too, because he takes a deep breath and slides the dark blade of his windslicer back in its sheath.

Raiden's windslicer.

I want to grab it and hurtle it into the desert as far as I can-but a scarier thought stops me cold.

We took Raiden's weapon.

And we escaped.

And I taunted him in front of everyone.

If Raiden went after Gus's mom to punish Feng for his victory- how much more will he want to retaliate against me for all of that?

"I have to get home," I say, kicking myself for not thinking of this sooner. How many minutes have we already wasted?

Solana's with my parents-and I haven't told them to come back, so they shouldn't be home yet. But I bet Raiden has a way to track them down.

Audra must know what I'm thinking because she puts a hand on my shoulder. "The Gales will protect them."

I nod, hoping she's right-but when we left, the Gales had all been called away. And even if they're back, protecting my family has never been a very high priority. . . .

"We should use another pipeline to get back," I say, cringing as I suggest it. Launching through one feels like getting launched from a slingshot, blasted through a giant vacuum, and then flung back toward the ground at rocket speed.

Audra shakes her head. "Pipelines should only be used for emergencies."

"This is an emergency!"

"No, she's right. They're pretty unstable-especially over a long distance," Gus tells me. "And if they collapse while you're in there, there's nothing you can do."

Funny how Audra never mentioned that when she taught me how to make them.

"But we made it to Vegas," I remind them. "Maybe the fourth wind makes pipelines safer."

"Or we got lucky," Gus argues. "I thought my head was going to explode, didn't you?"

Actually, I thought my skin was going to tear off-but I don't want to admit that. I have to get home.

Audra squeezes my hand. "Flying with the power of four will get us there in half the time. And I don't think Raiden's going to make a move yet, anyway. He called the Living Storm the first of his new army-I can't see him attacking until he's made more. But even if we are racing toward another battle, we need time to come up with a strategy, and we can do that along the journey."

She calls drafts from all four winds and weaves them into a wind bubble around the three of us. "I think we should fly together. Everyone hold tight."

Gus moves behind me and grabs my shoulders. I can tell he's trying to avoid where Raiden kicked me, but the bruise covers my whole freaking shoulder blade. The one on my side is even worse, and it aches every time I take a deep breath. I wouldn't be surprised if Raiden cracked a few ribs.

But it's nothing on what he did to Audra. I try to find a spot on her waist that's safe to grab, but it's all too raw and b.l.o.o.d.y. She takes my hands and slides them lower.

"Don't get any ideas," she mumbles when we both realize that I'm practically cupping her b.u.t.t.

If Gus weren't here and my family wasn't in danger-and she weren't bleeding-I would have lots of ideas. But under the circ.u.mstances, all I want to do is get back to my valley as fast as we can.

Audra shouts "Rise," and we blast into the sky faster than I've ever flown before. The stars turn to a blur and I hear Audra whispering adjustments, keeping the winds in check as we fly. But her voice sounds tired, and the shadows under her eyes are almost as dark as my bruise.

"Hey," I tell her, pulling her closer. "Let me take over. You need to rest."

She smiles. "It probably wouldn't be a good idea to let us plummet to our deaths."

"Uh-I can windwalk. How else do you think I got here? Took me a few tries to get it right, but once I figured out how to hear the wind's undertones, it was easy."

"Undertones?"

"Yeah. Like right now, the Easterlies are longing to spin to the left. So I would coax them back on path."

She sucks in a breath.

"What-does something hurt?"

"No, it's just . . . that's my father's gift . . ."

"Is it? Well, I guess you must've shared it with me when we bonded."

Audra shakes her head. "I've never heard of gifts pa.s.sing during a bond. My parents' didn't. My mom had hers-my dad had his."

"Mine too," Gus mumbles.

Audra's quiet for so long I have to finally ask, "Are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm just trying to figure out what it means. I've never heard of bonds sharing languages either, and yet . . ."