Page 17 of Storm Caller

Then he grabs the Keeper by the wrists and drags him toward the perimeter.

“Can you get up?” he asks. “I can help you in a moment.”

“No, I’m fine,” I answer. I think. I stagger to my feet as Rook drags the body of the Keeper through the fence. I don’t understand why Rook is moving him.

“Come on,” Rook says from the other side. The lines of flickering light cast long shadows over him, hollowing out the contours of his eyes and cheeks. The wind tosses his hair while the sky above continues to tumble.

I can’t seem to move.

“Poet,” he says, his voice sharp, snapping me out of shock. “Before someone sees you.”

I nod and then make my way closer, wincing with every step as sharp pains stab through my rib cage.

“You’re hurt,” Rook says, twitching like he’s about to leap back through the fence.

I hold up a hand to stop him. “I think I broke something.”

“We need to get you to the hospital.”

“I’m fine, I just need to sit down.”

He nods and waves me closer. I approach the fence and then brace myself. With my breath held, I plunge through it, gasping at the jolt. The burn. The pain searing across my skin.

“Fuck!” I shout as I collapse to my knees, clutching my aching side. I understand that the only reason I’m alive is my secret ability, but this isn’t Spark, and it definitely has the power to hurt me.

While I stare at the ground, willing my vision to stop spinning, Rook doesn’t move. I peer up to find him staring at the Keeper’s dead body. He’s so pale, and I’m worried he’s about to faint.

“Rook, are you okay?”

“I . . . shouldn’t have killed him.”

“You had no choice. He was about to kill us.”

“This isn’t our way.” He says it dully. Woodenly. Like he’s committed the worst of crimes.

Their way.

They protect their Keepers.

I think of their silent screams and that hollow rattling in the man’s chest.

This madness was never his fault, and Rook’s people understand and respect that.

Why does that thought make tears burn so hotly in my eyes?

But Rook isn’t a Keeper. Nor is he a Whisper, and neither am I.

Which begs so many more questions.

A burst of Spark hits the ground a few feet away, exploding into a plasma arc.

“We need to get out of the open,” Rook says again, snagging me by the wrist. “Can you walk?”

“I think so,” I say as he helps me up on wobbly legs. A sharp pain stabs through my side, but now I think it might only be bruised. “Let’s go. I’m fine.”

Rook offers me a skeptical look, but we have no choice but to continue moving.

Again, we dodge through the camp as more bolts of Spark explode across the sky.