Free Let the Sky Fall by Shannon Messenger Page A

night?”
    I do a quick mental inventory.
    Hot dream girl is real —check.
    Though her hair is back in a tight braid like it was at Yard House and she has her stuffy jacket and pants on again—all of which makes her look a lot less hot and a lot more intimidating. I much prefer that tiny dress she wore last night.
    My fingertips prickle, remembering the feel of her lips when I parted them. The way she looked at me when we were alone. The way she wrapped her arms around me . . .
    Wait—what am I doing?
    Right, mental inventory of last night.
    The morning breeze sweeps through my now open window, and it whispers a song about the morning dew and sunrise and the coming heat. It’s more than a little trippy. Especially since it means I didn’t imagine the part about being a sylph-Windwalker-whatever-you-call-it.
    Not human —check.
    Weird revelations I don’t know what to do with —check.
    But there’s something else I’m forgetting.
    I notice the shadows under Audra’s eyes. She looks tired. Worried.
    More memories slam through the mental fog. Warriors are coming—which sounds so surreal, like my life has officially turnedinto a video game. I mean . . . warriors ! Who has those besides evil warlords in RPGs?
    Then again, I’m apparently a mythical creature. A fake-sounding one I’ve never heard of, but still— mythical.
    Note to self: Google “sylphs” later .
    “Is help on the way?” I ask, trying to stay focused.
    She doesn’t look at me as she answers. “I’ve come up with a different plan. It’s time to train. Get dressed.”
    She jumps out the window before I can ask any follow-up questions, like: What the hell does that mean? And the dragging me out of bed before five a.m. and telling me what to do without explanation thing is going to stop—immediately.
    Part of me wants to slam the window, lock it tight, and crawl back under the covers. Maybe I’ll even put up a sign that says Don’t come back unless you’re wearing the sexy dress.
    That might be worth getting up early for.
    But the other part of me is too curious what Audra means by “train” to put up much of a fight. Especially since I also need to know what this new “plan” is, and make sure I don’t need to get my family out of town and hidden somewhere safe.
    So I seethe at the wall for a few seconds, then kick the sheet off my bed and grab a T-shirt from the stack on the floor by my dresser. The cargo shorts I wore yesterday are crumpled from a night on the floor—but at five a.m., after only four hours of sleep, I don’t give a crap what I look like. I snatch them and creep down the hall to change in the bathroom.
    Audra doesn’t seem like the Peeping Tom type—and I’m notsure I mind if she is. But I’m not going out there without brushing my teeth. No way I want her to get a whiff of my wicked morning breath.
    Two minutes later I hop out my window minty fresh and with a scowl that hopefully says You’d better have a darn good reason for waking me up this early . If she catches my meaning, she doesn’t seem to care. She just shushes me as I start to ask what the plan is and motions for me to follow her deep into the date grove.
    We stop walking when we reach the burned-down house she’s been squatting in. “What time do your parents wake up?” she asks.
    “I don’t know. Seven or eight.” I wave a swarm of gnats away from my eyes, mentally cursing the stupid desert. It’s already hot enough to make my back sweat. “But they know I’m never up before nine.”
    I emphasize the word “never,” hoping she’ll get the hint.
    “Good. We can get four hours of training in every morning. Though it’d be better if you can give your parents some excuse for where you are, preferably something that will explain where you go at night, so we don’t have to worry about them catching you sneaking out.”
    “Whoa whoa whoa. There’s no way I’m waking up at five every morning—especially if you’ll also be keeping