The Breaker's Promise (YA Urban Fantasy) (Fixed Points Book 2) (18 page)

“Yeah,” I answered. “Fate’s sort of a bitch like that.” I sort of wanted to hug her, which was totally not the impulse I usually got in Dahlia’s company. But this was different. We were all in this together, and the Council had just cut us deep. “But you don’t have nothing.  You have Echo, and-and-“

“If you say that I have you, I’m going to throw you into this lake,” she said.

“Actually, I was going to say that we can fight this. This can’t be the end. Weathersby is your home, and we’re going to get it back. We just have to wake Echo up, come up with some sort of a plan, and-“

“Fates alive,” Dahlia muttered. “I wonder if I was ever so delightfully naïve. You don’t fight the Council, Cresta. People who try; they don’t fare well. “

“My mom fought them,” I said defiantly.

“Your mother ran. She faked her own death and lived the rest of her life in obscurity. Unless, of course, you’re speaking of your biological mother; who at this very moment is probably cowering in a dark corner somewhere, or nursing some farfetched plan that she’ll never enact.” Dahlia stepped closer to me. “Don’t be like them, Cresta. Don’t spend your life pushing against a mountain you’re never going to move. This is the way of things. You love, and you lose; and you live as the Council sees fit. That’s the way it’s always been, and the way it will always be.”

Standing there, looking at the dark rings that circled Dahlia’s eyes, I realized how tired she must be, and just how tired I was of everything.  This place, it was killing us. And if I stayed here, I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. For some reason, Wendy’s words came trickling back into my mind.

“Tell me about Mother’s man,” I said flatly.

“Who?” Dahlia asked.

“Renner, the man with the gray eyes,” I answered.

She flinched, like the name was a knife and I had just stabbed her with it. “How do you-“

“Wendy came to me in a dream. She told me about him; said that all of this would only end if I found him.”

“Cresta…” Dahlia sighed.

Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out the Poe letter. “I broke into your office. I know I shouldn’t have, but I needed answers, and when I came to you at Wendy’s grave-“

She jerked the letter from my hand and glared at me with more disgust than I had ever seen in her face before; which was saying a lot. “How did you find it?” She asked.

“I screwed with the shade,” I admitted.

Dahlia sighed again. “I do hate your powerset.”

“Look,” I shook my head. “I know that you’re mad at me for invading your privacy.”

“At this point, I expect you to invade my privacy. I’m mad at you for being unimaginably stupid. Though, I suppose I should expect that too.” She looked down at the letter. “Any Breaker with a particular set of skills could have hacked their way into your dreams, used my daughter’s face as a mask, and told you those things. You have no idea whose game you’re playing.”

“No,” I shook my head. “She knew things; things only she would know.”

“Whoever this person was had access to your brain. They’d know whatever you know. You should have come to us, Cresta. We could have helped you.”

“No. You’re wrong. I know Wendy. It was her.”

“My daughter is dead,” Dahlia said.

“Just tell me who Mother’s man is!” I said.

“Someone I loved!” She answered loudly. “Though not in the common way you probably assume. He was my best friend; my only friend at one point. I know you probably don’t find this surprising, but I was rather prickly as a child.”

“He was your Casper,” I muttered as flashes of red hair and crooked smiles bounced through my mind.

Dahlia groaned. “I suppose you could think of it that way…if you must.”

“So what happened?” I asked.

“He did something horrible and was banished. You can add him to the ever growing list of things I’ve lost in my life.”  It surprised me when Dahlia handed me the Poe letter. “Here, see for yourself.”

“I can’t read it. I tried already,” I admitted, sheepishly taking the letter. “It’s weird. I can usually see through most of those things.”

A small grin cracked Dahlia’s pursed lips. “This was our own language; just for the two of us.” She waved her hand and the jumble of symbols suddenly shifted, making them readable.  “Go ahead,” Dahlia nodded.

My hands tightened around the letter as I scanned its contents.

Dal,

Okay. So, right off the bat, that was weird. Even Echo wasn’t familiar enough with his wife to call her Dal. Whatever. I shook my head and started over.

Dal,

I know that you don’t understand everything that happened, or even why it happened. They’ve probably told you horrible things about me. I’m sure they’ve called me a traitor or a murderer; probably both. And, I wish I could tell you that they were wrong. I wish that I could say that I hadn’t done the things they’re accusing me of and that the child was safe somewhere; living his life blissfully unaware of the tragedy that’s tied to him.

But I can’t. Those would be lies, and I care too much about you to lie. You’ve always been there for me. You’ve always understood the parts of me that no one else seemed to. So, I hope, with everything in me, that you’re capable of understanding this.

He wasn’t just a child, Dal. You know he wasn’t. You saw his eyes. You know what they mean. They were bird eyes, Dal. And they named him Poe for fate’s sake. They knew. They had to know!

And what was I supposed to do; just sit there and let it happen? No Raven means the Bloodmoon is weaker. Yes, I know that everyone was looking for a female Raven. I know they think I’m insane for even suggesting that the Bloodmoon could be a woman. But I’m not Dal. This kid was the Raven and, Council approval or nor, he had to die.

Now, I know that I’ll never see you again and, more than that, I know there’s a chance you’ll never forgive me. But hopefully, if I’m lucky, one day (years from now, if it takes that)you’ll open this letter, think of me, and smile. And that’s enough Dal.

Have a good life. You deserve it.

Your friend always,

Renner.

He killed him. That little baby in the picture; he killed him. And it was all because of me. He thought he was the Raven; thought that, if he strangled the life out of him or something, it might stop me from coming.

“…Jesus,” I muttered. My hands had clamped around the letter so tightly that it was creased between my fingers. “He killed a baby.”

“He thought he was doing the right thing, but yes; he killed a baby,” Dahlia said. “But the reason he was banished was because he went against the Council’s wishes in doing it.”

“You people are disgusting!” I said, throwing the letter back at Dahlia and marching away. I had spent all this time wondering about who Poe was; what he might have to do with my future. And it turns out that he was nothing more than a marker from my past; a corpse that served to remind me how much damage I caused by just being alive; and how much the Breakers would do to remedy that should they ever become aware.

“I can’t say I disagree with you Cresta,” Dahlia said from behind me. “But it looks like you’ll have to learn to control that disgust. I hear congratulations are in order.”

I stopped and spun around.  “We’ll see about that.”

“You should be more open, Cresta; especially given the fact that, like me, your hands are tied,” Dahlia answered. “Besides, you could do worse. I actually taught your betrothed in his younger days, before we took up residence at Weathersby. He’s was a sweet boy.”

“Sevie’s an awesome guy, but that’s not the point.”

“You’re right,” Dahlia sighed. “I’m afraid the point is that fate has played its hand, and we’re powerless against it. Though, when you marry him, I suggest you use his given name. At least until he’s ordained as a Breaker.”

“Sevie isn’t his name?” I asked my brow furrowing.

“When they were young, Owen had trouble pronouncing his brother’s name. It always came out ‘Sevie’. So they started calling him that, and it stuck.”

“Oh,” I answered. “Well, what’s his actual name?”

Folding her letter up and placing it carefully into her pocket, Dahlia said, “His name is Sebastian.”

Sebastian isn’t who he says he is.

I bolted away from Dahlia, which probably made her think I was crazy, or-at the very least- more unhinged than she usually did. But I didn’t care. I needed to see Owen, and I needed to see him now. Sevie was Sebastian; owner of the enigmatic name Wendy told me about in my dream. He wasn’t who he said he was; Wendy told me so.

I was huffing as I cleared the hill and made my way into the Hourglass’ paved main are, though whether that was from the running of all the crap running around in my head, I couldn’t have said. Looking around, I realized that I still had no idea where the Council’s chambers were and, though at this very moment, I really couldn’t have cared less about those stuffy bastards, that was where Owen was going to meet me, so I needed to get there if I wanted to find him.

I spun; which was a nice reflection of the way my mind was feeling. Though I hadn’t spent a lot of time in this area of the Hourglass, I should have known it better than this. I shouldn’t be making 360s in front of an old library with lemon lime looking Breakers staring at me. But I couldn’t focus. This was all too much. I needed Owen. I know that I had pushed him away, that I had actively avoided him when things got weird. But this was different. I needed my rock; for him to tell me that we were gonna get through this and come out the other side okay.

“Where is the Council?” I asked to someone, anyone of the Breakers as they passed me. They looked at me like I was crazy; like I had just asked what sauce best accentuated the taste of charred baby flesh. “Where is the Council?!” I repeated.

“You’re her, aren’t you?” A little girl, no more than five with pigtails and a stumpy nose looked up at me. Her green shirt was a little long on her and hung halfway to her knees. “You’re the new girl.”

She said the word like it was scandalous. New.

“Anybody else would know where the Council was,” she grinned.

A woman, perhaps her mother, came rushing up from behind her. “Come Isla. Leave this nice woman alone.” Was-wait- were they afraid of me?

“Just tell me where the Council is,” I answered as the woman pulled the little girl away from me. Still grinning, the girl pointed to a small alley shooting off the main street. It was tiny, and didn’t look wide enough to house what was surely a huge decorative building, but I shot off anyway. To my surprise, Owen was the first thing I saw when I rounded the corner. He stood at the end of the alley. He was standing next to a small green door with his arms folded and his foot tapping nervously against the brick. For some reason, the first thought I had upon seeing him was how much he looked like his father in this instant. The thought left a bad taste in my mouth, like moldy peaches. “Thank the fates,” he muttered when he saw me, but his body tensed, which broke my heart a little.

I pushed past it though. Everything had changed now. The awkwardness didn’t matter. Weatherby was gone. It was a memory, and Sevie was Sebastian. Everything was different.

“They took Weathersby.” My words came tumbling out breathlessly. “They just took it.”

“I know,” Owen answered quietly. “Everyone does. It’s-it’s all over the Hourglass.” He wore the same Sprite inspired ensemble as the rest of us but, in typical Owen fashion, he managed to make it look good somehow. “We have to go,” he said. “We’re already late, and the Council doesn’t take kindl-“

“Sevie’s name is Sebastian,” I said, cutting him off.

He sighed, his chest deflating. Lookingat me, then at the brick underfoot, he said, “I know that.”

He did? Wait, of course he did. Sevie’s his brother; of course he knew what his name was.

“Why didn’t you tell me what his name was?”

“Because it didn’t matter,” he answered.

“The hell it didn’t!” I said. “You knew-“

Suddenly, the entire alley started to shake. I stumbled, shirking back against the wall. I had never experienced an earthquake before. Turns out I didn’t like it too much. For his part, Owen didn’t seem too affected. Maybe the Hourglass was in the deep woods of California somewhere. Maybe it existed on a fault line and this sort of thing was commonplace for the Breakers, because he seemed really used to this as he marched toward me.

“What’s happening?” I asked as he scooped me up in his arms and steadied me. In truth though, I didn’t really care what was happening. If it took the earth shaking to get him to hold me, then let the whole damn place spin like a top.

“They’re ready for us,” he whispered, though his words lacked the warmth I was used to. “The Council is ready.”

The green door swung open, revealing a modest concrete staircase running down into darkness and not much else. There didn’t even seem to be anyone behind. So who had opened it?

“This can’t be where the Council is. This is a dump.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Owen answered and pulled away from me. He looked me up and down, something distant and worrisome flashed in his eyes. “Especially these days.”

With that, he turned away and marched down the stairs toward the Council. I didn’t want to follow, but more than that, I didn’t want to see Owen going down there, disappearing into the dark of the stairwell. I wanted to finish our conversation and to come up with a plan like we always did. But I knew this wasn’t like always. This hurdle was higher than any we had jumped before. This canyon was wider, and there was no guarantee we were going to make it to the other side.

Reluctantly, I followed where Owen led. No sooner had my foot touched the first step that the green door swing closed behind me, leaving me in the dark.

“Owen,” I called out into the black. “Owen, I can’t see.” But he didn’t answer. Feeling along the walls, I was slow to make my way down the steps. What kind of place was this? Why would the Council of Masons; the most powerful sect of the most powerful race in the entire world, hide themselves at the bottom of a dark staircase at the end of a dank alley. “Owen,” I repeated. But again, he didn’t answer. I knew he could hear me. I was at the bottom of the staircase. He couldn’t have been that far in front of me.

I stepped off the last stair and suddenly the room was filled with light. I gasped taking it in. The room was huge and oval. It was made entirely of glass accented with golden lining. On the other side of the glass, I could see the most gorgeous field I had ever seen in my life. Deer ran past, hopping over a babbling brook that shimmered in the sunlight. But that couldn’t be right. I had just descended the darkest staircase anyone had ever seen. That couldn’t be outside. That couldn’t be the sun. Instinctively, I backed up. Feeling behind me, I realized the door was gone. It was just a wall now. In fact, looking around, I saw that there were no doors in this entire room. No way in, and no way out.

The Council, or who I assumed to be the Council sat in the middle of the room; three strange looking people sitting on three strange looking chairs; also glass accented with gold. The man in the center chair was twice as wrinkled as the old woman who directed us to the crone. His face was brown and wrinkled, like a catcher’s mitt, with shocks of silvery white hair sticking out in a dozen different directions. The woman to his left had hair the color of fire, with matching lips and red rimmed glasses. One look at her, and I could feel the pull of her shade. It pricked at me like a million little fingers. She was the one I would have to deceive. The man to the right surprised me. Unlike his Council member counterparts, he was young; r
eally
young. With tan skin and cheeks that you just wanted to pinch, I literally had to resist the urge to bounce him on my knee.

“Be well,” Owen said from beside me, bowing like he was in some kung-fu movie. He shot me a look and I bowed too.

“Be well,” I muttered, having gotten the feeling that that was the sort of thing you did around the Council.

“Be well,” the three said in tandem. The mitt faced man in the middle lifted his hand, gesturing for us to rise. As I stood, I could feel the pull of the woman’s shade dance around me. It wanted to get into my mind, and undoubtedly, to get into Owen’s mind too. I pushed it away, watching it swarm like bees and regroup. This chick was fierce. I had my work cut out for me.

“You may speak freely of your failures,” the man in the middle said. “Give credence to your actions. Start at the beginning.”

My eyes narrowed. “I wanted to save my mother,” I said, though I wasn’t sure why. I hadn’t meant to say it. I was going to let Owen take the lead and just mumble incoherently in the background, fighting off the shade and hoping that everything turned out well. So why had I opened my mouth just now?

“The woman who raised you was a traitor. Death was a merciful end for her, and one she did not deserve,” the toddler in the middle answered in a surprisingly articulate fashion.

“How dare you?!” I said. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. I wanted to say that, but my mouth wasn’t cooperating. My words just came out as a weak little whimper.

“Tell us what you know of your biological parents,” the woman with the fire hair demanded.

“Their names,” I said, and this time, my voice worked just fine.

I turned, looking to Owen for guidance, but I found him in a similar situation. His mouth parted, but no words came out. God, they were screwing with us. We couldn’t say anything unless it was to answer their questions and, I realized with a sickening burn in the pit of my stomach, I had to answer them truthfully.

“What else?” the man in the middle asked.

I turned to Owen again. It was so strange.  I had complete control over my body. I could move anyway I wanted to. I could have turned tail and run-you know- if there had been a door to run through. But I couldn’t say anything; anything other than exactly what they wanted to hear.

“They sent me to live with their best friend,” I choked out.

“Why?” The toddler asked.

“You know this!” I said.

Owen’s head snapped toward me. I saw a fear in his eyes that wasn’t present even in our darkest hours. It made the words catch in my throat.

“I just-I don’t-“

“She’s right,” the mitt-faced man said. Slowly, and with the help of a dark red cane, he stood. He was shaky on his feet and much shorter than you might imagine a man of immeasurable might be. “We do know all of this. And what’s more, every man, woman, and child within our walls know all of it too.” He coughed; wet and full of phlegm. “You may be a Breaker, Cresta Karr, but you are also a forbidden child. The fact that you are alive is testament to the insolence of your parents. The fact that you were allowed to grow to adolescence without us being aware of you is a shame that all of us must bear equally. The fact that, somewhere in this great big world, your parents live their lives unpunished is a travesty that, I promise you, will be remedied.”

A promise? I wondered if it was a Breaker’s promise; the kind you can’t break, even in death.

“And your existence, little girl,” he continued, “ is an affront to the authority of the Council itself. “ Creakily, he sat back down. “But you do have your bright spots. By merit of existing, you have helped us root out the only known security breach our kind has suffered in the whole of history.” He coughed again; this one was loud and dry. “The fact that the security breach would not have existed in the first place had you never been born is a slight we are inclined to forgive.”

“Very big of you,” I muttered.

The old man’s eyes lit up. “I don’t think I’ve ever been present for such unabashed disrespect.” He looked over at his cohorts. “It’s quite refreshing. Shows moxie.” He grinned at me. “Do people still say moxie?”

“Did they ever?” I huffed.

“Cresta, please,” Owen warned from beside me. But I didn’t care to listen to him. If I was going to be judged by an old man, a reject librarian, and a kid who was probably going to have to be excused for a potty break pretty soon, I was going to let them know I wasn’t a fan of it.

Look at that; turns out I do have moxie.

The redhaired woman’s shade pricked at me again. I fought it as best I could, but I had never experienced force like this; not even from Dahlia. This woman’s shade was like oil. It spread and seeped everywhere. I could steel myself and Owen up all I wanted to, but what good would it do. No matter how hard you try to fight it, when you’re dipped in water, at least a piece of you is gonna get wet.

“She thinks we’ve changed; that we’re different than what she remembers from the boy’s memories,” the red haired woman said. She was right. When I surfed through Owen’s mind, the Council I saw was much bigger than this. There was a dozen people then, and now there were only three. Of course, I suppose that could have all been an illusion. It’s not like the scenic backdrop I was being treated to now was real. That hardly mattered though. I didn’t care about seeing things that weren’t there; at least, not near as much as I cared about the fact that that flame-head seemed to have just read my mind.

“That’s my mind, bitch,” I muttered under my breath, focusing all the energy I could muster, I pushed against her shade. Her eyes went wide and I could feel her long mental fingers extract themselves from my thoughts.

“She pushed me out” She said, though her tone lacked the playful discovery that laced the old man’s. Maybe she didn’t like moxie. “You’re quite impressive, aren’t you?”

“Or perhaps, you’re losing your edge, Ilsa,” the old man laughed.