The Breaker's Promise (YA Urban Fantasy) (Fixed Points Book 2) (7 page)

I found myself walking around the grounds of Weathersby, trying to pretend that I didn’t know exactly where I was going, and replaying my dream over and over again. Something about some dude named Sebastian; how he was dangerous, how he wasn’t who he said he was. Something about some doctor searching for something, and, of course, Mother’s man. It won’t end until I find him; that was what Wendy said. But who the hell was he; some old dude with grey eyes who I had never seen before? And whose mother was she talking about; her own, mine? And if she was talking about mine, which mother did she mean? A chill ran down my back as I realized that the man with the grey eyes might actually be my father; my biological father. Calling him Mother’s man would certainly be a way of complicating the simple; which had always been a Wendy trademark.

I shook my head. Wendy was dead. Seer or not, there was no way she was communicating with me now. Was there? I was a hundred yards from Wendy’s headstone when I finally admitted to myself that I needed to go there. I wasn’t sure what I was going to find, other than a quiet place to sit. But the last time I received a letter like that, none of it got better until I found Wendy, until I did what she asked of me. Maybe if I sat there, if I tried to listen, the answers might come to me.

As I rounded the corner, nearing the grotto where Wendy’s tomb was found, I saw that I wasn’t the only one who yearned for a little clarity. Dahlia sat cross-legged in front of her daughter’s tombstone. I cringed when I saw what she was wearing; a bright white shirt with matching pants and hat. White was the color or mourning, the color of absence; for the Breakers at least. Since Wendy’s death, Dahlia had seesawed in and out of the color. As was custom, she wore nothing but white for weeks after the funeral. The whole compound did. It was only fitting for a seer. Slowly though, bits of color dripped back into her wardrobe; until she was back to normal. Every now and then though, there were times when she’d dipped back into the deep end of her sorrow. Those were the white days, and apparently, this was one of them.

I froze when I saw her.

“Don’t bother, I sensed you coming an acre away,” she croaked, still looking at the headstone in front of her. It was so strange, just how precisely the image on the stone looked like Wendy’s face. It had the same mysterious eyes, the same low hanging bangs, the same pursed lips. It was like looking into a granite colored portal to the past.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize anybody was here,” I stammered.

“Ha,” she chuckled harshly. “Really? Of all things,
that
is what you’re sorry about.”  She turned to me. Her eyes her cold, but rimmed with red.

I set my chin and stared to back away. “Look, I just wanted to pay my respects. I’ll come back another time.” I turned.

“Why?” Dahlia’s voice sounded over my shoulder. I turned to find her standing up. She looked smaller, much less assuming than her usual. “That’s the piece of all of this that I can’t make fit. She was best I had ever seen; the best anyone had ever seen. She saw everything, so I know she saw how this would end for her. Why did she allow herself to be taken from us?”

Fresh tears had pooled in her eyes and I realized I was being faced with one of those rare times when Dahlia was more a mother than her people’s matriarch. She was in pain, and she just wanted answers.

“She said it was her choice,” I said, walking back toward her. That awful day came back to me in flashes of blood, tears, and daylight. “She said she was tired of living her entire life on the outside and that, if she had to die, that it was worth it.” She also told Casper that she loved him and that it wasn’t over for them, but those bits of information wouldn’t do anything to put balm on Dahlia’s wound, so I left them out. “If it makes it any easier, she was at peace. Wendy was happy.”

Dahlia’s face got hard. Her eyes dried and her body stiffened. “That’s quite a selfish way to look at life, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think-“

“And I’ll thank you not to call her Wendy. You’ve done enough by besmirching her tombstone with the moniker. I won’t have you doing the same to her memory.”

“She chose that name,” I said, suddenly defensive.

“It was not her choice to make. Just as allowing her life to be cut short was not her choice to make.” She leveled a withering gaze at me, her hand at the dahlia pin on her throat. “I don’t expect you to know what the first thing a Breaker learns is; given how incredibly lacking your upbringing was. Suffice it to say, it is of such importance that we teach it to our children in their cradles. We whisper it in their ears as they drift to sleep in our arms. We tell it to them so often and with such fervor that we mourn if it isn’t their first words.” She stepped closer. “Duty. Comes. First.”

I balked. She was still walking toward me; advancing even though there was no room left between us. Was she trying to drive me away from Wendy’s grave?

“But they were my daughter’s first words; my seer daughter, my special daughter. She understood this principle. It was in the fabric of who she was. I know because I put it there. So I had been wracking my brain trying to understand how my daughter, who was so perfect that fate saw fit to bless her with the rarest of gifts, could have forsaken her birthright and allowed her flame to be extinguished so long before its time. And the only thing I can think of, the only thing that makes any sense at all, is that it’s your fault.” She pointed, jabbing her finger into my chest. “You got into her head somehow. You’re a disease, Cresta Karr. You may not be the Bloodmoon, but you ruin everything you touch just the same.”

The backs of my eyes started to sting. Was she right? My mother was dead. My father was dead. Casper was an amnesiac who I would never see again. Owen and I were always a heartbeat away from running for our lives. And what the common denominator there? Me. No! Even if she was right, I couldn’t let her see it, not now. I would not cry in front of her. She didn’t deserve my tears.

“You know, here I was feeling sorry for you,” I said, batting her finger away from me. “But you’re not in mourning for Wendy at all, are you? You’re in mourning for yourself! You know that now, nobody’s ever going to look at you and think you’re important or special. Nobody’s ever going to say ‘There goes Dahlia, the seer’s mother’. And that’s what you miss, isn’t it? Have you ever thought that, if you’d have treated Wendy less like a tool and more like your daughter, maybe she wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to get herself killed.”

I regretted the words as soon as they were in the air. They were too real, too harsh. But by then it was too late. The look in Dahlia’s eyes was like the worst hurt you ever imagine plus lemon juice. I wasn’t surprised when she reared back and slapped me.

“How dare you?!” She yelled.

I couldn’t turn back now. I needed to remember why I came; for answers. “Who’s Mother’s man?” I asked.

“What?” Dahlia scrunched her nose.

“The man with the gray eyes. Who is the man with the gray eyes?”

Her face cleared like a chalk outline on pavement after a rainstorm. “I…How did you..I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

But she did know what I was talking about and, as I turned, leaving her to grief and her daughter’s grave, I knew what I had to do about it.

“You want us to break into Dahlia’s office? Have you lost your mind?” Owen’s electric blue eyes were wide and full of questions. He had paced grooves into the floor of my shared bedroom with Flora; who herself was sitting in the corner quietly, pulling at her hair like a nervous cat.

“It’s a definite possibility,” I conceded, watching Owen settle in front of me.

“Okay, okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right. You want us; the same us who have spent every waking minute of the last four months trying to fly under the radar, to risk everything and weasel our way into Dahlia’s office, just so you can find evidence that may or may not exist about a man, who also may or may not exist. And you’re basing all of this on the advice of a dead girl who came to you in a dream.”

I waited a second, just long enough to let it all settle on Owen. “That’s about the sum of it,” I nodded. “Though, if you could have seen Dahlia’s face when I asked her about, you’d definitely agree with me.” I lifted my hands, trying to explain. “It was like fear.”

“Perhaps you’ve misunderstood,” Flora said from the corner. “You’re actions seem irrational, and judging from what I’ve learned in my  Advanced Human Nature classes, people fear the irrational. So, how can I put this? Maybe you freaked her out.” Flora’s gorgeous hair was in tangles around her fingers, and she pulled at her shirt so much that it was little more than a creased purple rag at this point. But at least she was visible.

“No, this was a different kind of fear; like she knew I knew something I wasn’t supposed to.”

“And let’s say she did,” Owen answered, tapping an index finger against his lip. “Let’s say that, at some point in her life, Dahlia knew a man with gray eyes. That doesn’t prove anything. A lot of people have gray eyes.”

“And the fact that Wendy, Dahlia’s own daughter, called him Mother’s man; that doesn’t raise a giant freaking red flag for you?” I asked.

His finger slid down his lips as he answered, like a slide whistle playing a sad tune. “Sweetheart, Wendy is dead.”

“I know that.” I threw my hands in front of me. “Of course I know that. It’s just, what if-what if-“

“What if it doesn’t matter?” He finished my sentence. “I promise you, Cresta, it matters. There’s never been a verified medium in all of Breaker history, not since the beginning of time. Ghosts don’t exist. Once you’re dead, you’re dead. I don’t know if there’s anything beyond this world, Cresta, but I like to think that, if there is, it’s the kind of place you don’t walk away from, not for anything.”

I didn’t want to, but I thought about Mom. Maybe Owen was right. Maybe Heaven was just beyond my line of site, and my mom and dad were there; so blissfully happy that, when I finally do show up, they won’t even have realized they missed me. Maybe Wendy was there too. That would certainly be a preferable fate to being stuck delivering dream riddles to me for the rest of her afterlife. Still, I couldn’t forget what I saw, or the fact that it wasn’t the first time I had seen something like it.

“I had dreams like this before, back in Crestview,” I said.

“The one with the sevens. I remember,” Owen tightened his stance. I had told him everything in the days that followed that horrible night in Crestview; about how the dreams had plagued me, how I had never been able to make sense of them and, how finally, they helped me free him from Allister Leeman’s control.

“Right, so you know what I mean,” I folded my arms.

“I’ll admit, something was going on there; and if you really feel strongly about this, you know I’m behind you. But what you’re talking about doing is very dangerous. If we get caught, it could spell the end of our time here at Weathersby, and who knows what life be like at some other facility; or even if we’d wind up together.”

I blanched. The thought of not being with Owen, of not being able to see him every day, was enough to send this morning’s cold roast beef back up. But I needed to be strong. Wendy said this wouldn’t end until I found Mother’s man and, dead or not, I had learned enough to know that when Wendy speaks, you’re almost always better off to listen.

“I do feel strongly,” I answered. “I believe in this.” I put my hand on Owen’s arm and let the steadying warmth of his nearness flow through me. “And I have a plan.”

“Really? I hope your plan takes into consideration the fact that the woman we’re trying to deceive can pull memories out of the walls,” Owen answered.

“That does seem a bothering bar to clear,” Flora said, pulling at her shirt. Her edges began to soften, which was the first step of disappearing.

“Have faith,” I said, and slapped Flora on the shoulder, and startling her into full visibility. Sure, Dahlia’s special Breaker ability allowed her to pick up on psionic fragments left behind in places and things. She could pick up a hat and likely tell you everything about the person who owned it; maybe even the people who made it. But I had taken that into consideration; at least, as far as you could take something like that into consideration.

“I heard some of the younglings complaining about Dahlia forcing them to go on an extra credit hike around the perimeter tonight,” I said. “That’ll be our chance. Echo’s predictable. With Dahlia out, he’ll be-“

“Having coffee by the lake,” Owen and Flora finished in tandem.

See, predictable.

“Right, which will give us the perfect opportunity to get in and out without anyone being the wiser.”

“Until they check the security tapes, or the coaster on Dahlia’s desk tells her our secret,” Owen frowned.

“I’ve got that covered,” I answered with a snap. “The cameras won’t be able to see our friend Flora here.”

“You want
me
to do it?!” Flora stood.

“I want you to take me inside,” I clarified. “So long as you’re invisible, and we’re holding hands or something, I should be invisible too, right?”

“Theoretically,” Flora grimaced and looked at the floor.

“Good enough for me,” I answered. “And with me on the inside, I can work my shade shaping magic, and stop Dahlia from being able to gleam what we’ve been doing.”

“You sure you’re up for that?” Owen asked with an arched eyebrow.

“I can handle it,” I said, though I wasn’t really sure which one of us I was trying to assure.

“Fine,” Owen said through pursed lips. “But where does that leave me in your little plan?”

My eyes fluttered a little. This was the part of things that I really didn’t like. “With Dahlia and Echo out of the way, that just leaves one person we need to keep tabs on.”

“Merrin,” he answered, already knowing what I was going to say. “You want me to keep her busy?”

“Trust me, I don’t
want
you to do it,” I admitted, stuffing my hands back into my pockets. “If I had it my way, she’d never get near you again. But she’s always around. I mean, it’s a wonder she isn’t here right now.”

“She’s questioning some of the other students about the night you got here,” Owen explained. “For the Council.”

“Of course,” I grimaced. “Anyway, the chance of her coming to look for us while we’re in Dahlia’s office is too great. She’d ruin everything. You have to keep her occupied. You’re the only person who can.” I cleared my throat. “And don’t make me say why.”

“Fine. I’ll bring her some ice cream. We’ll reminisce.” He walked closer, and wrapped me up in his arms. “You just have to promise me you’ll be careful.” He looked between Flora and me. “And don’t get caught.”

It rained that night, which could have theoretically been a problem. Luckily, Dahlia was still pissed at me, and willing to take it out on the freshman class. So, instead of giving them the night off, she dressed them in parkas and forced them into single file lines. Crappy for them; great for me.

Owen shot me a wink as he headed toward the main chambers (now Merrin’s room) with a pint of rocky road. Something akin to a sting ran up my chest. I hated the idea of Merrin canoodling with my boyfriend over ice cream, but she had just spent the last two hours following me from Dr. Static’s Merits of Social Media class down to Home Economics. So getting rid of her for a few minutes was definitely a must.

I glanced out the hall window as I passed. There was Echo, just as expected; a mug of coffee in one hand and an open book in the other, sitting by the lake. I’d swing by my room in just a minute and pick up Flora, but first I needed to do something.

Making sure the coast was clear; I slinked into the janitor’s closet. Pushing through the mops and cleaning supplies, I found the sliver of Casper’s sweater that remained to me and stuffed it into my pocket. My plan was a good one; at least it seemed like a good one to me. But even good plans didn’t always work. There was a chance I was going to get caught. And if that happened, if I had to run or if they moved me somewhere, I wanted to make sure that I had what I needed to see Casper again, even if it was just a few more times.

Surprisingly, Flora was actually visible when I walked into our room. She lay on her bed, staring at a picture in her hands. “It’s my little brother,” she said, though I hadn’t asked.

“He’s adorable,” I said, noticing his buck teeth and dark bangs.

“He’s dead,” she answered. “But thank you.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and sat down on the bed beside her. I had no idea that Flora had suffered a loss like that in her immediate family. I was an orphan, and loud about it. I wore my loss bright and bold across my chest. It permeated everything about me; the way I moved, the way I spoke, the things I said. But Flora had always been so light and free. The only strange thing about her was her shy nervousness, and that certainly didn’t seem to lend itself to mourning. It never occurred to me that she could have been through something like the death of a little brother and still be-well, her.

“It was a few years ago,” she answered. “And fate’s will. So it could not be stopped.  I appreciate the underlying sentiment though.”

And that was it. I never asked her what happened, how he died. It was fate’s will. That was all that seemed to matter to Breakers. I patted her hand. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you; for everything, I mean.  You kept my secret; what you’re doing for me tonight. You’re a good friend Flora.”

She folded her picture up and slid it into her back pocket. “Let us wait and see how tonight ends before you thank me.” She gave me a nervous smile. “Now stand up. If I’m going to make us invisible, I’d rather it be in an upright position.”

“Is it easier that way?” I asked, standing.

“No. It just seems more appropriate.” She grabbed my hand and closed her eyes. In an instant, she was gone; her edges softening first, so that she looked like a photoshopped version of herself. Then she became wavy, like her own reflection in a pool of water. And then she was no more.

“What about me?” I asked.

“What about you?” the invisible mass that was just Flora asked. I looked down to find that I too had vanished. Turned out looking down at your chest and seeing all the way down to the floor was a dizzying experience, because I almost fell flat on my face. Luckily, Flora held tight to me. “Be careful,” she said. “If we lose physical contact, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep you hidden.”

“Got it,” I said, steadying myself, and we made our way out the door. Being invisible within the walls of Weathersby was a trippy experience. People walked by us, never knowing that two girls were beside them. And you’d be surprised what people will do when they think no one is watching. When we took a left toward the common area, we found Dr. Static tucked into a corner, watching the students enjoy their free time, and I’m pretty sure he was picking his nose. Jackson, Casper’s insta-friend and the lonely little boy who helped me take down the dragon when I first got to Weathersby, had finally found a clique of his own and was explaining how to simplify numeric equations with your fingers to some dark haired girl. She seemed enthralled. Of course, that didn’t stop him from sneaking a peek down her shirt every time she leaned across the table.

Casper would be proud.

By the time we made it to Dahlia’s office, at the opposite end of the common building, my transparent state was starting to get to me. To think that Flora lived most of her life this way, privy to people’s secrets, to their most relaxed moments, made me insanely uncomfortable. This was akin to dipping into somebody else’s mind. It felt dirty and not completely on the up and up.  Of course, I had no reason to believe that Flora used to abilities to gather secrets. What she learned about Owen and I, she got completely by accident. Still, the implications of what those powers of hers could do made my skin crawl.

“This is her door,” Flora whispered to me. “Which means you should get busy.”

I looked around, making sure that the hall was completely empty, and slowly pushed the door open. The shade within Dahlia’s room hit me like an eighteen wheeler. It lurked forward. Every bit of information on the walls, the chairs, the desk, even the half eaten apple that sat in her waste paper basket; it all tried to tell me something. It was as though these items had been trained to give their secrets up, and they didn’t intend on disappointing.  I stumble a bit as we entered.

“Are you okay?” Flora asked, holding steady to my hand.

“I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting so much blowback,” I answered.