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

  “Save the opinions, okay Dahlia?” I said, marching toward her. “I should have known it was you who stopped the illusion. You just couldn’t stand to see me win, could you?”

  She scoffed, literally scoffed at me. “If you think your little games interest me at all, then you haven’t been paying enough attention. I couldn’t care less how many times or in what ways you succeed at your little make believe endeavors, not when you’ve failed at the real ones so spectacularly.”

  “You know what?” I said scowling. “I’m done with this.” I spun around, walking back to my teammates. Dahlia grabbed my arm though, and turned me toward her.

  “Do you think me petulant, child? The fact that I’m here, even speaking to you after what you did to my family should tell you all you need to know about the graveness of this situation.”

  “What?!” I blurted out. “What could be so important that you’d lower yourself to grace me with your presence?”

  She leaned in, closer than she had ever been to me, and through gritted teeth, whispered the words that I had been dreading for months. “They’re here. The Council of Masons is here.”

  Chapter 2

  Punctuality over Appearance

  My heart pounded as I followed Dahlia through the halls and into the common area, toward Echo’s office. Although I knew that the Council coming to research all that had happened was a near certainty, I had still spent every waking moment of the last four months praying that it wouldn’t happen. The Council of Masons was the governing body of the Breakers, one of the oldest legislative bodies in the country, and- to hear Owen tell it, a fearsome thing to tangle with. His parents had went up against them years ago when, thinking their son was about to die, they beseeched them for assistance. I watched that memory while inside Owen’s memories, feeling every stab of pain as he watched the Council tell his mother that his death was a fixed point and, as such, there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

  Feeling Owen’s breath on my neck as he walked behind me to meet them brought me comfort. The Council had been wrong at least once. They could be wrong again; wrong about me. But all that was in some far off future, and I needed to deal with the now. Up ‘til now, I had managed to keep what had happened after the night in Crestview, the night my mother died, a secret. No one, save Owen and I, knew the truth; that it had been me driving the night my father died, that my birth mother had taken those memories away from me in order to keep me safe, that I had, in fact been responsible for someone’s death and, as such, met the prophesized requirements of being the Bloodmoon.

  But the Council of Masons was different. They were powerful. They were strong. With Owen’s help, my ability to manipulate shade was enough to fool Dahlia, Echo, and the Weathersby crowd. But who was to say if it would be enough to deceive the most powerful Breakers in the world?

  Don’t worry. You can do this, Owen said, directly into my head. It was like he was reading my mind, and maybe he was. It certainly wouldn’t have surprised me at this point.

  I’m glad one of us is optimistic, I responded.

  You have nothing to worry about, he responded; his breath still warm and heavy against my neck. You’re powerful. You’re special, and besides, we have home field advantage.

  I knew he was trying to be supportive, but the description struck me as strange. This place, Weathersby; it was not my home. My home was Crestview. It was Chicago. It was watching my mother try (and fail) to do my laundry. It was sneaking into the Val-U Cinema with Casper, making corny jokes during the movie, and then acting completely belligerent when they asked us to leave. Weathersby was fine and, in the last few months, I had even grown comfortable here. But it would never be home.

  “Whatever you’re doing, I need you to stop it,” Dahlia said, as we made the last turn through the common area toward Echo’s office.

  “W-what are you talking about?” I stammered.

  “You’re closed off,” she said, turning to me. She was a vision in her too formal gown; which now made sense to me. She wanted to look good in front of her bosses. Who wouldn’t? But it didn’t do much for her demeanor. All of her signature coldness still rested in her eyes and along her cheeks. “I understand that you’re likely nervous, and you have reason to be. But I can’t read you, and while such blocks won’t prove an issue for the Council, it may give them the impression that you have something to hide.” She settled in front of me, smelling of lilac and conformity. Crossing her arms, she added, “You have nothing to hide, Cresta. Your shortcomings are on display for all to see, and as astounding as they are, they aren’t world threatening. Don’t give the Council reason to believe that what happened that night was anything other than an ill-conceived and botched attempt to do the right thing.”

  I wished that’s all it was. If what Dahlia had just described was all that had happened, then we’d be home free. I’d march into Echo’s office, meet the Council, and give them an all access pass to the old noggin. But, as it stood, doing that would reveal the fact that I was the Bloodmoon and, if Dahlia’s prior thoughts on the issue mirrored the Councils even a little, it would mean my head would be fitted with a fetching new spike.

  “We’re going to see Echo first, and then we’ll meet with the Council,” Dahlia said, and opened the door to Echo’s office. In the days following that awful night in Crestview, I had made a place for myself right beside Echo. Wendy’s funeral, adjusting to my new life in Weathersby; through it all I leaned on Echo as my mother told me to the day she first sent me here.

  “Morgan Montgomery is a good man,” she had said, and he was. He was too good of a man. After everything that happened, he had started to dote on me. He was protective and caring. He favored me in ways he shouldn’t have. He gave me guidance and support that any other student under him would have killed for. He allowed me to lean on him too much. At first, I thought it was because of what I had been through and, maybe-because I was Ash’s child (or at least because she had raised me), that he felt some sort of obligation to her to make sure that I came out of this okay. But it was more than that.

  Soon, I realized that the reason he had taken such an interest in me was because he was lonely. He had lost a daughter and, in some ways, I think he might have looked to me to fill the void. And who knows? I had lost my parents too. Maybe I was looking at him to do the same thing. But it couldn’t continue. I wasn’t his daughter and, regardless of the relationship he had with my mother in the past, he wasn’t my father, either. And I had seen enough Dr. Phil to understand that both of us would have to learn to accept our losses if we were ever going to move on. So I explained it to him. I asked to be treated like any other student and, to his credit, that’s just what he did.

  The smell of oranges assaulted me as I entered Echo’s office, but not regular oranges. This was the ‘cleaner’ citrusy smell; the sort you’d expect to encounter in a hospital or an old folks home; very industrial. As I took in the rest of Echo’s office, I understood why. Where his stacks of boxes and files of messy papers used to be, there was now nothing. The entire area had been scrubbed spotless. Echo himself looked very dapper, dressed in a three piece suit with his hair slicked back.

  “This is what they’re wearing?” He asked, pointing to Owen and I as we entered.

  “There wasn’t much time dear,” Dahlia said curtly. “Certainly, if we had been given some notice of this development, I’d not only have dressed them properly, but I’d have had a mop taken to this entire place; not just your quarters. As it is, I figured the Council would value punctuality over appearance.”

  “Of course you’re right,” Echo answered, pulling at his hands nervously. “If we keep the Council waiting too long, they may think we’re trying to cover something up.”

  “I knew you’d get there eventually,” Dahlia smirked triumphantly, running her hand down the front of her gown to smooth it.

  Watching Echo and Dahlia’s nervous ticks made me all the more anxious. If these two seasoned Breakers who had absolutely not
hing to hide were this apprehensive over a meeting with the Council, what kind of chance did I stand to get out of this with my head still attached.

  “Why are they here?” I blurted out. “I mean, I know why they’re here, but why are they here now? It’s been four months, and not a word from them. You’d think that, if they were really that interested in all that went on, they’d have gotten around to seeing about it by now.”

  Echo barely looked at me as he answered. “There have been a few developments that have kept the Council busy. Allister Leeman’s capture has led to the reveal of some of his cohorts within the Hourglass itself. No one knew how far and deep his connections ran, or how high his followers had climbed. It’s been a real awakening and, if my contacts are to be believed, it’s shaken the Hourglass to its core.”

  While the idea of the Hourglass being shaken or whatever didn’t really do much for me one way or the other, I knew that to get at Allister Leeman’s secrets the Breakers would have to employ one of their nasty (and extremely intrusive) mental scanners. And the thought of Allister Leeman going through the same sort of hell I watched Owen deal with when he was subjected to one; that was almost enough to keep me smiling forever.

  “And I suppose they’ve worked that out?” Owen asked from behind me. Even though I couldn’t hold his hand, couldn’t even look at him really for fear of Echo and Dahlia finding out about us, just hearing his voice steadied me a little.

  “They’ve worked it out enough to turn their attention here, and that’s what matters,” Dahlia answered.

  “And what are they looking for exactly?” Owen continued.

  “For answers to questions,” Echo answered. “To place blame, to confirm or deny identities once and for all, to assess damage and count what’s lost. The Council will do what the Council always does. They will rummage through the mess we’ve made, find fate’s plan within it and, depending on what that plan is, they will work as hard as needed to either ensure or derail it.”

  “I’m more concerned with what that has to do with us,” I admitted, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my apparently too casual pants.

  “Were you not listening?” Dahlia asked with raised eyebrows. “We’ve all fallen short here. Did you think we wouldn’t have to answer for that?”

  “Unless I’m misheard things, we were responsible for taking out a major threat to the Breakers and rooting out some imposters along the way. From what I can see, the stupid Council should be throwing us a parade,” I muttered.

  Echo, finally making eye contact, leveled a stare at me that made me feel all of five years old. Then, in a voice so soft and unassuming that it was almost a whisper, said, “Then I’m afraid what you’re seeing is very shortsighted. In addition to the accomplishments you just listed, we were also responsible for breaking over a dozen age old laws, endangering the school as well as its one hundred and thirty seven students, and withholding essential information from the Council.” He bit his lip, looked away, and added, “Not to mention allowing the death of a seer; which is perhaps the most severe crime any Breaker can commit.”

  The hurt in his voice was thick and palpable. It squeezed at my chest like a vice grip. “That was my fault. I did that, not you. Tell them, if they have to blame someone, then let them blame me.”

  “You did what you had to,” Owen said, and placed a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged away from him, half because I didn’t want Echo and Dahlia thinking too much of it, and half because I didn’t feel like I deserved it. Regardless of my reasons, what I did caused this. Wendy was dead because of me.

  “Our daughter knew what she was getting into,” Dahlia swallowed hard. “She saw the ending from the start, and she did it anyway. She’s hardly the first seer who’s wanted to throw herself on the sword for the greater good. The fault is with us for allowing it to happen.” She turned her back to us, and put her hands over her face. It was strange, seeing this kind of emotion come from Dahlia; especially considering that the daughter she was now grieving had spent most of her life locked in a tower that her parents were complicit with building. But who was I to belittle her pain? Maybe it was just a Breaker thing that I didn’t quite understand yet. Turning back around and, having gathered herself, she added, “Besides, that’s not the only thing they’ll be looking at. During this debacle, certain things about Owen’s past came to light.”

  “You mean about the tattoo?” Owen shuffled beside me. “About me being the dragon.”

  “You know things like that can’t be conformed until it’s decided by the Council,” Echo interjected. “And that’s part of what they’re doing here, trying to figure out what, if anything, that tattoo on your back means.”

  “And what laws my parents broke in giving it to me,” Owen finished. Though I didn’t turn to him, I heard the flinch in his voice. Though Owen never spoke much about his parents beyond the normal everyday stuff, I knew how much they meant to him. I felt it when I sifted through his memories; the unconditional love for his mother, the deeply ingrained need to please his father. It was as much a part of him as his eyes or his ears. And he could just as easily part with it.

  “As hard as it may be for you to understand, your mother and father’s fates aren’t your concern now,” Echo said.

  A rush of heat pooled in my cheeks. “They’re his parents!” I said indignantly. “Of course they’re his concern.”

  Dahlia walked closer to me, and I caught a whiff of her lilac perfume. It mixed with the orange cleaner scent to form a sickeningly sweet smell. “It can’t be his concern,” Dahlia said flatly. “Like you, he hasn’t that luxury. From the instant you walk through those chamber doors,” Dahlia pointed to the left. “Until the second they are out of sight, the Council will be watching your every move. It would be wise of the both of you to occupy yourselves with appeasing them. Open yourselves up. Let them in. And you,” she leveled a purple painted finger in my face. “You will treat the Council with the respect that a governing body of their importance deserves.”

  “Fine,” I muttered, resigning myself to kiss old dude ass for the foreseeable future, so long as it kept them off my scent. “Wait a sec,” I said, as a thought hit me. “The only chambers to the left are your chambers; the master bedroom,” I said to Dahlia.

  “That’s correct,” Dahlia smirked. “You see what I mean about respect?”

  “Yeah yeah, you’re a regular Miss Manners. But how is the entire Council going to stay in your bedroom?” I thought about the vision of the Council I saw in Owen’s memories; at least a dozen old men and women. “I mean, I get that you’ve got the biggest bed in the school, but-“

  Dahlia rolled her eyes and sighed audibly. “Sometimes I forget how irritatingly new to all of this you are.”

  Echo came forward, his fingers tapping against the fabric his pants. “The Council doesn’t come when it comes.”

  “Well, that makes sense,” I answered.

  “The Council is busy. There is never a time when their presence in the Hourglass isn’t mandatory. As such, when the Council is called to investigate, they do so with the aid of a representative, or a vessel, as they call it,” he explained.

  “They send a lackey?” I asked.

  “Yes and no,” Echo answered, his fingers still tapping. “As I said, they send a representative, but not in the traditional sense; at least, not the traditional human sense. The representative’s brain activity is monitored. Everything they see, hear, even think is recorded and transmitted to the Council in daily intervals.”

  “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” I answered, my eyes narrowing from shock. “And this is coming from the girl who got kidnapped, slapped in a wedding dress, and almost married off to some crazy guy she’d never seen before.”

  “That being said, you should treat the vessel as though it was the Council, as though they were standing in front of you, inspecting everything you do, say, or do not do or say; because, in every way that matters, they are.”

  A jolt of fear
, like ice, ran up my spine.

  It’ll be okay, Owen said directly into my head. We can do this.

  “I’m glad you think so.” In my nervousness, I said it out loud.

  “I know so,” Dahlia said, and marched past me. “Now we’ve kept the Council waiting long enough. Follow me.” Dahlia left the office, turning left toward her chambers, where the Council’s vessel sat waiting to judge us.

  Sorry, I said to Owen in our mind speak. I slipped.

  It’s okay. Just don’t do it in front of the vessel.

  We followed Dahlia, with Echo behind us. Every muscle in my body tensed. My breaths came short and shallow.

  Calm down, Owen said.

  I’m trying.

  It’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise, he answered.

  How can you be so sure?

  A Breaker’s promise isn’t like a normal promise, Owen answered and, moving around me, brushed my arm ever so slightly. It was a small thing, but it was enough to let me know he was there. A Breaker’s promise is special. It has to be kept. So, when I promise that I won’t let anything happen-

  I love you, I interrupted. I know this isn’t the best time to-

  I love you too.

  I gave Owen one last look as Dahlia pushed through the doors of her chambers. I had only been in Weathersby’s master bedroom once before, and not at all since I gave Echo the ‘boundaries’ talk. The sight of it took my breath away. A sprawling area with a bed as big as a midsized Rhode Island town, it had a mini bar, minus the ‘mini’, a dresser, an armoire, a running couch, and, in the center, a hot tub.

  Lucky bastards.

  Owen’s declaration had actually made me feel better as I made my way to the running couch, where the Council’s vessel sat, turned away from me. I could do this. We could do this. Owen promised me, and not just any promise; a Breaker’s promise.

  I could tell from the shape of her head as well as the sheet of ink black hair that ran from it, that the vessel was a woman. I wasn’t sure how to feel about this. On one hand, women were stereotypically less threatening than me. But, if my experiences so far with Breaker women were any indication, they could be twice as fearsome as any man.