Breakthroughs are complicated things. Most of the time they require extreme measures to trigger. But it always comes down to learning one word and having all the pieces snap together. Sometimes just hearing it is enough.

Gus goes back to practicing slashes with his spike. He moves so fast his arms turn to a blur as he whips the sharp edge at a strange angle that ripples the air.

"I guess it would be a pretty big responsibility," he mumbles.

"You just jumped to the top of Raiden's Most Wanted list." "Second to the top," I correct, trying to copy his motion and not coming close. "Vane's still the only actual Westerly."

"All the more reason why you'll be at the top. Who's Raiden going to want more-the guy whose kinsmen have been resisting his interrogation methods for decades, or the first non-Westerly to have the fourth breakthrough?"

I slash again, still failing to copy Gus's skill. "Both." "Maybe." He comes up behind me, grabbing my arm and guiding me through the motion. Halfway through the thrust, he slides his fingers to my wrist, showing me how I need to twist it at the tail end of my swipe. It's the same way all my trainers worked with me when I was learning blade technique, but it feels strangely uncomfortable this time. Probably because Gus still has no shirt on and I'm stuck in this ridiculous dress.

Gus must feel the same way because he clears his throat and steps back, raising his spike to challenge me to a spar instead. "All I'm saying is, be ready. If I were Raiden-and I knew there was a chance I might only be able to grab one of you-I know which one I'd make my priority."

I raise my spike to accept his challenge. "If that's the case, it's a good thing. Of the two of us, I'm far more ready to face down Raiden than Vane is."

"Well, that is definitely true."

Still, Gus manages to knock my spike out of my grip in only three thrusts-and when I challenge him to a rematch I barely last five minutes before he knocks me to the ground and sends my spike skidding out of my reach.

"My gift lets me pull strength from the wind," Gus explains, and I'm sure that's part of my problem.

But the bigger issue is that every time I go for a deadly swipe, a rush of dizziness weakens my arm.

Gus helps me to my feet, and I can feel him studying me as I dust the sand off my shaky legs.

"That question you asked earlier," he says after a second, "about picking up the Westerlies' aversion to violence. Did you . . . ?" I can't look at him as I nod. "I'm not as bad as Vane, but . . ." Gus sighs, and I want to crawl into a hole and disappear. He squeezes my shoulder, waiting for me to meet his eyes. "I'll have your back the entire time."

I force a smile, trying to be grateful.

But as I stare at the sky, all I can hear are Os's words from earlier. Someone's going to die today.

For the first time, I believe him.

CHAPTER 35.VANE.

T.

he flight to Isaac's street takes less than five minutes, and as I touch down next to his beat-up truck, I still have no idea what I'm going to say. I just know that I'm not leaving until he agrees to get the h.e.l.l out of town.

His neighbors are still asleep-their blinds closed tight-and when I stare at the row of nearly identical houses, I feel like I've swallowed something bitter.

Dozens of families are in there, just like Isaac's, all sound asleep, with no idea they're in any danger.

Same with the next street over.

And the one after that.

And the whole freaking desert.

But I don't have time to warn them all-and even if I did, it would only create ma.s.sive panic.

I won't let the Storms reach the valley, I promise myself as I sneak in the gate to Isaac's backyard. His curtains are closed, and when I test his bedroom window, it's locked. Which leaves pounding on the gla.s.s and calling his name, hoping I'm not waking his whole family.

It takes at least a minute of solid banging before he slides the curtains apart.

"Gah-put some clothes on!" I shout as he throws open the window wearing only supertight briefs.

"Dude, Vane, I don't know what you're on-"

"Come on, you know me better than that-"

"No, I used to know you," he snaps, running his hand through his hair-or what little of it he has left. He buzzed it since I last saw him. And finally got rid of his scraggly mustache.

Now if only he'd put on some pants.

"Look," I tell him. "I know things have been weird lately-trust me, they have been for me, too. It's just . . . the world's not the way you think it is, okay? There's all kinds of other c.r.a.p going on in the background that you don't know about-and some of it is pretty huge. Life-or-death huge. I don't know how else to explain it, but please, you have to trust me when I say you need to get your family out of here."

Isaac snorts and starts to close the window. I reach out and block him.

He pushes harder, but it makes no difference. Three weeks of late-night workouts and I'm way stronger than him now. "I'm serious, Isaac. Look." I use one hand to lift my shirt, showing him the wicked bruise on my side. "Does this look like a joke? Am I imagining this?"

He winces and stops trying to shut me out. "What happened- did someone jump you?"

"It's way bigger than that. That's why you have to get out of here."

"No, that's what cops are for."

I almost want to laugh at the idea of a few out-of-shape policemen pointing guns at Raiden and telling him to freeze.

"This is so far beyond cops, man." I sigh, trying figure out how to make him understand. "I'm talking about the kind of thing you only see in movies and stuff. Like Thor or-"

"Really? You're giving me thunder G.o.ds?"

c.r.a.p, there's no way to explain this without telling him everything.

And there's no way to tell him and have him actually believe me.

Unless . . .

"You want the truth? Fine."

I'm already winning the prize for Biggest Rule Breaker at this point, so why not shatter the Gales' code of secrecy again?

I call the nearest wind to my side, tangling the cold Northerly around Isaac's waist. Before he can blink, I tell the draft to surge and it yanks Isaac into the air, floating him a few feet above his bedroom floor.

When he's done flailing and shouting words in Spanish that I can't understand-but I'm pretty sure I know what they mean-I set him down and twist the wind into a small dust devil. I tell it to suck up a pair of pants off his floor and launch them at him. "Seriously, dude, cover your junk."

Isaac barely manages to catch his jeans. He's too busy looking back and forth between the tornado and me. "What the-how the- you just-"

"I'm a sylph," I say, cutting him off. "Don't worry, I'd never heard of it either. I guess it means I can control the wind."

Isaac laughs. The hysterical kind where if he were out in public, parents would be pulling their kids to safety.

"How do you control the freaking wind?"

"It's really hard to explain, but it has to do with words." I whisper the command to release the Northerly and it sweeps around Isaac's room, fluttering all the papers on his desk before it streaks out the window and races back into the sky.

Isaac stares at me for a second. Then backs away.

"Dude, you don't have to be afraid of me. I'm still the same guy you know."

"Uh, the Vane I know could barely control his farts, much less the wind. And he didn't bang on my window at the crack of dawn covered in mysterious bruises, telling me to get out of town."

"Okay, so maybe a few things have changed."

I glance around his bedroom, which has stayed pretty much the same since I met Isaac when I was eight. Some of the football and video game junk has been shoved aside to make room for pictures of his girlfriend Shelby, and all the papers on his desk look like college applications. But he's still the same guy who went out of his way to talk to the weird new kid at school.

If he knew what I was way back then, I doubt he would've bothered. And maybe that would've been better, because now he's in a c.r.a.pload of danger.

"So, like, how did you find all this out?" Isaac asks quietly. "Did you just wake up one day and start talking to the wind?"

"No. Audra had to show me."

"Is that the hot chick who ruined your date with Hannah?" "Yeah." I grin, remembering the way she stormed into the Cheesecake Factory and told Hannah she was my girlfriend. One of the most awkward-and awesome-moments ever.

"And you and her are . . . together?"

I nod, deciding not to get into the whole bonding thing. I'm sure Isaac's had all the weird he can take.

"Niiiiiice," he tells me, though he frowns. "Is she a sylph too?"

"Yep. There are a lot of us, actually. Well, not a lot compared to, like, humans but-"

"Wait. You're not human?"

I nod and he takes another step away.

"Come on, don't act surprised. I told you, I'm a sylph."

"I know, but I thought that was like a t.i.tle or something. Like Hawkeye or Batman or-"

"I'm not a superhero."

"I guess not. Which is good. If you start wearing spandex, I'm ditching you."

"This from the guy in tighty-whities."

He glances down and blushes before finally slipping on his pants.

"Thank G.o.d."

"Shut up-you're just jealous of my s.e.xy."

I'm tempted to shove him across the room with another draft. But I've already wasted too much time.

"You have to listen to me, Isaac. You need to get out of town."

"Why? What does any of this have to do with me? I haven't even talked to you for weeks."

"I know-I was trying to keep you out of this. But I can't anymore. It's a really long story, but there's this super scary guy who's coming here to get me, and he'd be happy to get his hands on my best friend, too."

"You're telling me you have an arch nemesis?"

"I guess you could put it that way-except I'm being serious, Isaac. I hope you get that. Raiden's tortured and killed hundreds of people. Maybe thousands. And he's extra p.i.s.sed at me right now." I lift my shirt again and point to my bruise. "He did this right before I got away. No one gets away from him. So he doesn't just want to catch me again, he wants to destroy this whole freaking valley."

Isaac rubs his temples as he processes that. "Wait-the whole valley? How are you going to warn everyone?"

"I can't-there's not enough time. And do you really think they'd believe me?"

"But . . . there's a lot of people here."

"I know."

He starts mumbling in Spanish again as he turns and paces his room.

"So what are you going to do?" he asks after a few seconds. "Fight."

"Uh, no offense, man, but my kid brother is tougher than you."

"Hey-I've been training for weeks. And I won't be fighting alone. My army-"

"You have an army?"

"I told you, it's a really really really really long story. And someday I promise to tell you anything you want to know. But I don't have time right now. I'm not even supposed to be here, but I couldn't let things start without warning you. So please. Grab your family, get Shelby, and head south, before it's too late, okay?"

"I don't know, man," he mumbles. "I don't know what do with any of this."

"I get that. But will you be able to live with yourself if something happens to anyone you love?"

That seems to snap him out of it, at least enough to ask, "What the h.e.l.l am I supposed to tell them? They're not going to believe this sylph c.r.a.p."

"I don't know-but I know you're awesome at getting people to do things they don't want to do. How else did you drag me on so many blind dates?"

He grins at the memory, and I feel myself smile too.

"So just . . . work that same magic. And don't waste any time. As it is . . ." I glance at the sky and feel my heart freeze.

A few minutes ago it was a clear, vivid blue. But the western horizon is now dark and gray. And now that I'm paying attention, I notice the air has a chill. Way too cold for the desert in August.