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

  “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.

  “Is it too much?” Flora asked. “Should we get out of here?”

  “No!” I said too loudly. Yes, there was a lot of energy to bat about in this room, but we had come this far, and I wasn’t about to give up without even really trying. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry.”

  Dahlia’s office was neater than Echo’s. There were no boxes lined up against the wall. The trashcans weren’t filled to capacity, and the desk was free of strewn paper and folders. This was the space of a woman who had everything in order, everything under control. There was something about the neatness here that worried me; like even the smallest change- say, bumping into a table, would have been instantly noticeable to Dahlia. I pushed back against the shade as we made our way to Dahlia’s file cabinets. Flora’s hands
were overly sweaty and her arm seemed to be shaking nervously.

  “We’re gonna be fine,” I told her. “In and out, I promise.” She didn’t respond. Well, maybe she nodded or something but, since I couldn’t see her, I had no way of knowing. We pulled at the file cabinets with our free hands, ripping into Dahlia’s marked folders.

  “This would be easier if we knew what we were looking for,” Flora said.

  I was pushing back a particularly large wave of shade, so I tried not to grunt as I answered. “Well, in the dram, Wendy called him ‘Mother’s man’, so maybe it has to do with Dahlia’s own family.”

  Flora jerked me toward the left end of the file cabinets. “Here family name is Adamas. They’re an old name. Not as old as mine, but there should be plenty to look through.”

  She wasn’t wrong. It turned out three entire shelves were filled with Adamas family dossiers. Flora and I went through them as fast as we could, scanning for pictures and buzzwords, but found nothing.

  “We don’t have time to look much longer. Dahlia will be back soon,” Flora said. Instinctively, I looked toward the clock. We had been in this office for almost twenty five minutes, and if anything, I was more confused than ever.

  The shade kept pushing at us. It wanted to touch us, to record our activity so that it deliver it to Dahlia like a faithful dog giving its master his slippers. But I kept pushing, keeping it at bay. Still, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that for much longer. The constant pushback was wearing on me. “We have to keep looking,” I said. My teeth were gritted.

  “Looking where?” Flora asked. “We have nothing to go on. It would take us days to search through all of these records. “

  I turned, hoping to see something in the open files that might spark an idea. What I saw was much more telling than that. The shade in Dahlia’s office moved in circles. It both radiated from, and protected, every inch of this space-every inch but one. I noticed that there was absolutely no shade radiating from the portrait hanging behind Dahlia’s desk, behind the file cabinets. It was a messy, almost abstract, rendition of a ship that had set sail onto stormy seas. The captain was on dock, pressing forward. His men were behind him, quivering cold and scared.

  “Help me move this painting,” I said, and pulled Flora toward it.

  “We don’t have time for this,” she warned.

  “Just help me, okay,” I said. Pulling at either end, we set the picture on the floor, revealing a safe behind it.

  “Fine, but how are we going to get into it?” Flora asked. But I already knew. The numbers had already started speaking to me, yielding their secret combination. I followed their instructions and the safe popped open with ease. Inside it sat a stack of letters. As I took them in my hands, I saw that they were handwritten, and obviously more personal in nature than anything in her filing cabinet. Sandwiched between them was an old photograph. A young girl; Dahlia without the coldness or hardened edges that life had brought her, was standing on a hill in a flowing green dress. She had a smile on her face and standing beside her, similarly smiling, similarly young, was the man with the gray eyes.

  “This is him. This is the man from my dream,” I said. Flipping it over, I read the faded scribbled inscription on the back.

  Dahlia + Renner . Before the Coupling.

  So he had a name. Mother’s man was Ezra. I shuffled through the rest of the letters quickly, hoping to find another picture, or something that would tell me just why it was that I needed to find Renner so badly.

  The shade began to move though. I started to rumble and shiver against myself. It funneled back to its original position and sat there; it’s fingers of energy waving toward the door. It was as though it was preparing for something, like it expected someone to come through the door, like it could feel-

  “Oh God, Dahlia’s coming!” I realized. I was about to stuff the letters into my pockets and make a break for the door, but the envelope I found myself holding was inscribed with something that took my breath away. My lips quivered as I took in the name across the front.

  POE

  I hadn’t told anyone about Poe, not even Owen. I had nothing to tell. All I knew was that, when my mother’s locket finally opened a picture of me and this Poe person as babies came falling out of it. I was curious for a long time about who this person was, about what he might have to do with me. But there was so much going on, and I had no way of finding any answers. The idea that those answers might sit in an envelope in my hands was too much to pass up, even if Dahlia was on her way.

  “Come on!” Flora pulled at me. “We have to get out of here.”

  “I need the letters,” I said, still staring at the ink black name in my hands.

  “I can’t keep me, you, and the letters invisible all at the same time, Cresta. It’s too hard. We know where they are. We’ll come back for them.”

  “What about just one?” I asked, holding Poe’s name out toward her.

  “Fine. Whatever,” Flora said, and just like that, the letter vanished within my hand. I slammed the safe door, leaving the other letters inside. Flora and I put the painting back in its proper position, closed the file cabinets, and headed for the door. But we were too late. I could feel the shade lurch forward happily as the door swung open and Dahlia walked in. My heart froze solid. Could she see us? Could she sense we were here? I had done my best to keep the shade from touching us, but what if my best wasn’t good enough.

  She stood right in front of us, her parka drenched from the rain, her dahlia pin clasped at her throat. She’d have us expelled for sure if she found out about this; expelled or worse. The shade encompassed her, like hungry moths to a flame. She took it all in, letting it feed her. It was so strange watching Dahlia’s abilities at work; strange, but also sort of beautiful.

  She looked around, and I couldn’t tell from the look on her face whether she realized something was wrong or not. She started walking, checking things out, and I started to feel the same jackhammer pressure in my head that I felt when she came up against me at the 7-11. I almost crumpled; probably would have if Flora hadn’t kept me standing. She pulled me toward the still open door. We moved to it slowly, cautiously. Dahlia was pacing the room, the shade giving her all the information it had. Though, judging from the fact that she hadn’t turned toward us and went ballistic; it hadn’t given her any information about us yet.

  We were in the doorway when her head snapped toward me. I could have sworn she was looking me square in the eyes. I was just about to break down and start apologizing when she turned back away, and Flora pulled me into the hall.

  We ran-literally ran down the hall and through the common area, toward our room. We had made it out without getting caught, and I actually had something to show for it; even if I had no idea what that something meant. Flora and I both went visible as I opened the door to our room. I was about to collapse onto my bed and open the letter in my pocket, but then I saw Owen.

  He was pacing the floor, red rings around his eyes, his face a mask of white horror. When I looked beside him, I saw why. Merrin sat tied to a chair beside my bed. Her mouth was gagged and her eyes were blindfolded. My gaze went wide and I thought the words would stick in my throat as I asked, “Owen, wh-what happened?”

  He looked at me and, with shaking hands, said, “Something bad.”

  Chapter 8

  Like a Drag Queen at a Tractor Pull

  “Owen, tell me I’m seeing things,” I said. I was afraid to move, afraid to do much of anything. Merrin, the girl whose eyes had been turned into slideshows for the Council of Masons, was tied to a chair, bound, and gagged beside my bed. “Tell me this isn’t real. This is shade or something, right?”

  “She figured it out,” Owen said, pacing beside his onetime perfect, now captive. “I don’t know how, but she did. We were just sitting there, talking about stupid stuff. Then she leaned in. I thought she was going to kiss me, but her eyes got huge and I knew she knew.”

  “Fate’s hand!” Flora muttered. “D
o you realize what this means?”

  Of course I realized what it meant. It meant that Merrin and, by proxy, the entire Council of Masons now knew that I was, in fact, the Bloodmoon. They knew that the prophecies that they had worked for hundreds of years to avoid were undeniably about me. And their laws would be clear about what to do from here. They would kill me, cut my head off and mount it to a spike probably. And Owen would certainly be punished for his role in all of it; Flora probably too now.

  “We have to leave! We have to get out of here now!” I said, rushing to my dresser. I started yanking clothes out of the drawers in a hurry and stuffing them into the suitcase my mother gave me the day she sent me to Weathersby. “Hurry! The Council’s probably on their way right now,” I yelled, looking at Flora and Owen. It wasn’t fair to do this to them, to pull them into my drama, but they were already in. And it didn’t look like an exit ramp was going to present itself in the foreseeable future.

  “Her daily extraction doesn’t happen for another hour,” Owen said, staring at Merrin, bound in front of him. For her part, Merrin wasn’t making a sound. No moans, no cries for help; she just sat there like a good little soldier. “Which means the Council won’t know what we’ve done; they won’t know that you’re…you for a little while. It gives us a chance to decide what we want to do.”

  “There’s nothing to decide. We have to leave,” I said as matter of factly as if he had just asked me if water was wet. “She knows my secret; the secret that we both agreed would prove fatal if anyone found out. She’s proxy to the Council of Masons, and she knows Owen; not to mention the fact that you assaulted her like drag queen at a tractor pull. What other options do we have?”

  “I didn’t assault her,” Owen said. His voice was low, and he sounded wounded by the accusation. “I told her I was going to subdue her and tie her up, and that’s what I did. I would never hit her.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you would. I just don’t know what we can do besides run,” I answered. I heard a spitting sound and watched as a waft of white cloth went flying across the room and landed at Owen’s feet.