It’s irresponsible of me to try to intervene without first talking to the witches in charge of this area, but there’s no time for that. I wait for Sang to say as much, but instead, he just looks at me.
“It’s your call,” he says. “What do you want to do?”
I know it’s dangerous. I know I could get in a lot of trouble. But the storm beckons to me, reaches for me.
“I want to try.”
I grab Nox from Sang and hand him to Kevin. “Please keep him safe. Get to the assembly hall, and I’ll do everything I can out here. And don’t tell anyone you saw us.” Kevin holds Nox close to his chest, and the boys rush off the field.
Another strike of lightning brightens the sky. My clothes are soaked through, and my ankle is throbbing, sending shots of pain up my leg.
“You should get out of here,” I yell to Sang.
“It’s too risky,” he says. “You need someone here in case things get out of hand. I’ll watch and make sure you’re never at risk of depletion.”
If I get stuck in the same feedback loop as the boys, feeding magic into a storm I have no hope of stopping, I could be depleted and stripped. And I’m not ready for that. Not yet.
I nod and tilt my head upward. Lightning splits the sky in two, followed by a deafening thunderclap when the air crashes back together.
“Where the hell are you?” I whisper to the witches who are supposed to be handling this. But all I get in response is another bolt of lightning.
Chapter Six
“The tornado does not care where it touches down, only that it does.”
—A Season for Everything
Two thunderstorms hang above me, absorbing the daylight, casting darkness over campus. Rain pelts down, and I wipe my eyes. I raise my hands, and my body responds, energy coursing through me like a river rushing toward the ocean.
The first cumulonimbus cloud shifts and settles directly over me. The thunderstorm in the distance rages on, getting closer.
I close my eyes and focus on the storm right above me. Wind tears through my hair, wet strands of red slapping across my face. Blood rushes in my ears, mixing with the sound of the moving air. I sense every part of the thunderstorm. The updrafts and downdrafts. The hail forming high above us. The rain and the electricity.
The downdraft is what I want.
I single it out and push with all my strength. My muscles burn, and my arms shake. But the cloud responds. I keep my left hand outstretched, guiding the downward air toward the ground, and move my right hand in circles, faster and faster.
All at once, the air understands what I’m asking of it and dives toward the earth.
“It’s working!” Sang yells from behind me.
With all my might, I pull my magic away from the downward air and throw it toward the upward current. I hold my hands steady, making a slow, constant motion that keeps the air from rising.
And when the air can no longer rise, the cloud fades.
The second thunderstorm lurches toward me, trying to grab hold of the cloud I’m working on, but it’s too late.
The rain turns light, only a drizzle, and very slowly, the thunderstorm vanishes from bottom to top.
The second storm cannot meet it, cannot dance with it, cannot form a tornado.
I breathe out, long and heavy. I’m exhausted, every inch of me begging to sleep, to rest my weary muscles. My ankle is so swollen that the edge of my shoe cuts into my skin.
But the first storm is gone.
The remaining thunderstorm gets angry. It’s heavier, darker, and pelts us with hailstones.
“Clara?”
I turn to Sang, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s looking into the distance, beyond the remaining storm. He points, and my eyes follow his finger.
I see it at the same time the thunderstorm senses it. The storm turns away from us and reaches for a new storm behind it.
A storm I hadn’t noticed.
I shoot my arms out in front of me, try to pull the thunderstorm back, away from the other. But I can’t. It’s too large. Too severe. And it wants nothing to do with me.
I keep trying.
I pull and shake and pull some more. The storm gives a little, drifts back toward me, and I relax my hold for one second.
It’s a second too long, and the storm drives forward with renewed force. I can’t pull it back.
Maybe if I’d let Eastern train me the way Ms. Suntile wants to, let them push my power to the limit, I’d have the strength to fight this storm. But I don’t know how to use all the magic inside me, and I’m terrified of letting it loose and causing more damage.
And now I’m paying for it. Our entire campus is.
I’m not strong enough.
Sang sucks in a sharp breath as we watch the two storms meet.
Their collision causes instability in the atmosphere. I feel it in the tightness of my chest, in the twisting of my stomach. My magic begs for release, but the storm is too powerful.
Then a change happens. The winds begin to move in a different direction.
They get faster.
A horizontal spinning motion takes over, and the rising updraft crashes into the spinning air, tilting it.
It tilts.
And tilts.
And tilts.
Until it is vertical.
A funnel forms and stretches toward the earth. I should be scared, should run and seek shelter, but I’m stuck to the ground beneath me.
Amazed.
The tornado touches down, a tall, dark, violent tunnel of wind that roars in the distance.
I reach for the cloud above it, try to form a connection, try to break it up. I’m shocked when the cloud responds, a tangible weight in my hands, inviting me in.
“We have to go!” Sang yells.
The tornado barrels toward us, but the cloud is letting me control it, and I have to try.
I’m dripping wet. My muscles are so tense I’m sure they’ll snap from the bones they cling to. But the cloud
