Page 109 of Storm Caller

I groan as he smooths back the hair on my forehead and presses his warm lips to my cold skin. “I was so worried,” he breathes against me. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

It takes me a moment to remember what happened. We were on the Storm Tower, and everything went wrong. Those clouds were supernatural. That storm was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. General Sol fainted, I think?

“Henry,” I gasp, recalling the moment he was hit.

“He’s fine,” Rook says, leaning in close. “I promise. You’re both fine.”

I hear footsteps, and then Rook shifts aside to reveal Dr. Eze.

I shake my head, wondering what on earth is going on. “Dr. Eze?”

“Please, call me Ada,” she says, her smile bright as I take a moment to gauge my surroundings. I’m in a small room with no windows. The walls are painted gray, and the floor is made of cheap white tiles. I’m surrounded by various medical equipment, some of it hooked up to me and some to a sleeping Henry on the other side of the room, but most of it lies dormant.

“Where are we?” I ask, my voice dropping to a whisper, because several things calcify in that moment.

My suspicions about the doctor and what she knows.

The lies she told on my behalf.

“You’re in a safe house belonging to the Fog,” Ada says.

She says it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that it almost feels intentional. I understand that whatever she’s about to reveal won’t just be big; it will be monumental, and she’s trying to stop me from freaking out.

“The Fog?” I ask. “What’s that?”

“I’ll explain everything once I’ve checked your vitals,” she says, her dark-brown eyes warm. I want to argue. I want to demand everything immediately, but I sit still as she inspects me, testing my heart rate and my breathing. A lump on my head is covered in bandages, but they must have given me something for the pain. While Ada works, my gaze drifts to Henry.

“Is he really okay?” I ask.

She glances over and nods. “He was shocked pretty badly, but he should be fine in a few days. Thankfully, he was wearing one of our prototype vests, or I’m not sure I could say the same.”

I huff out a breath of relief. I remember the vests they showed us during our last simulation at the Tempestade. They killed Hollows to prove the vests worked. It was horrible and unnecessarily cruel, but I’m also glad it just saved Henry’s life.

We all wait silently while the doctor finishes her assessment, and then she steps back.

“What happened?” I ask, touching my throbbing temple.

“Have some of these,” Ada says, handing over a few painkillers. “You bumped your head when you fell, but it looks like it’s just a bruise. No concussion.”

“What about the Spark I touched?” I ask, and as soon as the words are out, I slap my hand over my mouth. “I mean. I—”

“Poet,” Ada says, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. I know what you are. I’ve known it since the first day of cadet training. You’re a Storm Caller. And so is Rook.”

Rook and I share a confused glance. How does she know that?

She smiles, and it’s so reassuring that something collapses in my chest, easing a tight knot of worry I’ve been carrying around like a boulder since I was seven years old.

“You know,” I say. “And you protected us.”

“That’s my job,” she says. “Along with every member of the Fog.”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”

“I know you have a lot of questions, and if you’re feeling up for it, I’d like to bring your friends in here so I can explain.”

“Domino and Journey are . . . here?” I say, realizing they must have seen everything.

As Ada leaves to retrieve them, I peer up at Rook, who must read the worry in my eyes.