Page 14 of Storm Caller

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I sit straight up, my heart pounding in my chest, and slap my hands over my ears. “What’s that?”

“We have to get out of here,” Rook says, already shoving his feet into his shoes. He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. I step into my boots but don’t have time to lace them before he’s tugging me through the tent opening. The encampment is swarming with people running left and right. The sky is dark, flashing with lilac bursts against a backdrop of rolling clouds.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and prickles explode across my scalp.

A storm is coming. Is that what this is all about?

“Rook!” I shout as he leads me through the crowd. A quick assessment reveals that people are organized in their hurry. They know where to go. They’ve prepared for this.

“What’s happening?” I ask as he drags me away. “What’s going on?”

More fucking questions. They fill my head like a swarm of killer bees.

When will I get some answers?

The wind is picking up, and another round of cloudbursts explodes across the sky. A shiver crawls up my spine. The storm is moving so fast, I didn’t even feel it coming.

I glance up as a bolt of Spark peels off a large cloud formation almost directly overhead. It spears toward the earth, hitting the center of the encampment before exploding into a plasma arc as someone is consumed by the blast that swallows their last screams.

More people are shouting now. Instructions are being issued. The ordered chaos of a moment ago shifts, giving way to panic edged with fear.

“Move underground!” someone yells. “They’re coming.”

“This way!” Rook shouts, tugging me toward him with such force that I nearly stumble, but I’m saved by his arm cinching around my waist. “There’s a bunker over here.”

More people scatter as they run for cover. Several disappear through a large metal hatch set into the earth. It closes with a hiss as Rook keeps pulling me through the camp.

I notice people are taking up positions outside the perimeter of the compound, their sights focused on the trees. They’re waiting for something.

I stop to watch, scanning the horizon. About a hundred feet of forest has been cleared around the fence as a security measure. I notice the leaves shifting, rustling like something is moving through the trees. Something large.

It takes a moment for them to appear at the edge of the treeline.

I see it. Someone is coming—several someones.

They walk in a line, slowly, approaching like they’re moving through tree sap.

But what really catches my attention is their eyes—glowing purple orbs burn in the darkness, making my fingers turn numb.

“Who are they?” I croak, peering through the fencing and the flickering lines of electricity cordoning off the camp.

“Whispers,” he says, and I turn to frown at him. “What you refer to as Keepers. They’ve succumbed to the madness that breaks their minds. We call it the Silence.”

It takes me a moment to process his words. To put two and two together. My entire life, I’ve been told that Keepers go insane. That they lose control of their faculties. They become violent and dangerous. But I’ve never actually seen it happen. Keepers within the walls of New Manhattan are always dealt with before they become a problem.

I’ve kept this secret in my heart for most of my life, terrified of discovery.

Whispers. The Silence.

Those words send a flurry of icy shivers spreading over my skin.

“I don’t . . . I’ve never . . .”

“Poet,” Rook says, dragging me against him, cupping my face in his hands. “Focus. We need to get somewhere safe.”

The line of Keepers has moved closer. I can make out some of their features, their stiff limbs and the haunted looks on their faces. Some of them are completely expressionless. They stare straight ahead, their bright eyes brilliant against the night.