Page 3 of Storm Caller

“Do you want to carry him, Crust?” Calliope asks, hurling the word “crust” like it’s something covered in shit attached to the heel of her boot. “Because we sure as fuck aren’t doing it.”

I glance at Rook. I’d be more than willing to carry him, but we wouldn’t get far.

His eyes have drifted open again, clearer now. Whatever Vess gave him is stirring him back to life.

Calliope drops to her haunches next to Rook before clasping her hands. “I don’t allow Crusts through my tunnels, Athira. You know that.”

His mouth presses together, annoyance flashing over his expression along with a wince of pain.

“Allow me to beg your forgiveness,” he answers, somehow making it sound impertinent despite how hard he’s struggling to get the words out.

It feels a little reckless, given our current predicament.

Calliope smirks and gestures to the tall man with the shaved head who silently threatened me a moment ago. “August, get her up,” she orders.

August steps out of the circle and approaches me on sure feet. He’s even taller up close, with bronzed skin and hints of sun damage on the high points of his cheeks. Gray eyes bore into me as he clasps my elbow and drags me up.

I stumble up, nearly crashing into his large frame as my knees give out. My limbs are still wobbly from the stunner blast in the Amery basement, and it can’t have been more than a few hours since I regained feeling in my fingers and toes.

August lifts me like I’m filled with straw, setting me heavily on my feet with an irritated grunt.

“I’m up, I’m up,” I insist, wrenching my arm from his grasp and just barely managing to keep my balance.

“Him next,” Calliope says, pointing to Rook.

August reaches down and grabs Rook by the biceps, pulling him up without being too gentle about it. I wince as Rook groans, but he manages to stagger to his feet, his hair falling into his eyes. It hasn’t been the thirty minutes Vess said he needed, but I’d wager Calliope hardly cares about that.

Rook hunches over, hands planted on his knees as he sucks in deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

Calliope scoffs, the corner of her pretty, bow-shaped mouth curling up. “Fuck, she even sounds rich, doesn’t she?”

Rook’s eyes widen at me as if to say See, I told you, bringing me back to the night we first kissed outside the ballroom at the Society swearing-in ceremony.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

I’m verging on hysterical, and I nearly bark out an inappropriate laugh. Instead, I roll my lips together, choking it down, and vow to keep my mouth shut until we get away from these people.

If that’s even possible.

“What do you want, Cal?” Rook asks, one hand pressed to his side. “If you’re taking us to Fisher, do it. Otherwise, we have places to be.”

I blink at the casual use of Calliope’s shortened name.

Rook obviously knows this woman well enough to speak to her this way. And now that I really look at her, I realize she’s closer to our age than I initially thought. Her confidence, combined with her role as the leader of a small army, made her seem older.

Calliope regards Rook for another cool second. “Where do you think you’re going in this state?”

She has a point.

“Cal,” Rook says with obvious exasperation. “Do we have to do this?”

She silences him with a scathing look. “Fisher will want to know what you’re doing out here and why you’re with a Crust.”

He opens his mouth, but she cuts him off.

“Save it. I’m not interested in whatever lies you’ve prepared. He’ll get the truth out of you.”