Page 175 of Storm Caller

“You’re curing them,” Justin says. “Over and over. Just so you can use them again.”

“Yes,” Mowry says with a nod. “Most people will tolerate it about three or four cycles before their body simply gives out.”

Skies. How does this keep getting worse and worse?

Bile rises in my throat.

“This is another reason she needed a Caller,” he adds.

“What do you mean?” I ask, spinning around.

“I mean this is no longer enough. We reached a critical point about a year ago, and adding more Keepers only yields diminishing results. She’s been forced to channel too much Spark, and it’s causing her mind to deteriorate too quickly.”

“She wants to connect Rook to the . . . network?” I ask, another churn of acid burning in my gut.

“It’s our working theory that a single Storm Caller could take the place of over a thousand Keepers . . .”

Suddenly, my head swims, and I stumble several steps, my hand landing on a tank to catch myself. It’s warm to the touch, like it’s filled with blood. I recoil because it looks like the woman inside is suddenly alive. Her lips move, and her fingers twitch. I grow lightheaded with terror, then realize it’s only an effect of the water.

My knees stop working as I sink to the concrete floor, cold seeping up my legs.

I’m hyperventilating. I can’t get enough air. I think I’m having a panic attack.

“Poet,” my dad says, dropping down beside me. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I say. “I just . . . I need a minute.”

Everyone is silent as I gather myself, all of us lost in our own thoughts.

“So, where’s our brother?” Navy asks as I glance up at Mowry.

“Is he in here?” I jump up and start scanning the tanks. “I swear if you . . .”

“He’s not in here,” Dr. Mowry says.

“Then where?”

He blinks watery eyes. “I will show you.”

Dr. Mowry leads us through the room to the far end, where we pass through another secure door and then turn down a few more hallways. A staircase leads deeper into the earth, and as we wind down, I try to ignore the sensation that I’m being buried alive.

Part of me wonders if Mowry is just leading us into a trap, but he’s unarmed and outnumbered—I don’t think there’s much he can do.

A few more corridors, and then we arrive at a door also guarded with a lock. Mowry scans his face again, and it beeps before revealing another room, much smaller than the one we just left.

We pass various pieces of medical equipment, dominated by a massive white tube attached to a sliding table.

“What’s that?” Justin asks.

“The brain scanner where I monitor Nyxia,” Mowry says.

Then we turn a corner into a square room, and I gasp.

Standing in the center is another cylindrical tank, glowing with purple light.

And floating in the center . . . is Rook.

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