“I told her to stay, and she said she wouldn’t. Simple as that,” I groaned. Though it was a lie, tears began to burn at the back of my eyes. I hadn’t asked Cresta to stay. Even with Sevie barely clinging to life, I told her to run. I begged her to keep the bloodmoon in the sky, the same bloodmoon that was draining the life out of my brother, so that she’d be safe.
The fact that she vanquished the bloodmoon-Well, that was just evident of the fantastic heart that beat inside her beautiful chest. And the fact that she got out of the Hourglass after she gave away the biggest card she had was a testament to just how kickass my girl was.
But what did it say about me? She was willing to let herself die to save my brother’s life. But me, I was too afraid of what might happen to her. And maybe that was the reason he was still lying here. Maybe if I’d have actually convinced Cresta to do what the Council asked when the Council asked, it would have been enough to spare Sevie what he was going through now.
Of course, if I did that, she’d likely be dead and I’d definitely wish I was.
“As thrilling as that recount was, I’m afraid you’ll have to give it in a more official manner,” Chant answered. “The people of this world, the Breakers of the Hourglass, have suffered greatly because of your indifference and incompetence. You, and all those who bear the Lightfoot name, must be made to answer for that.”
“Would you just shut up and get the hell out of my house!” My tone was not only accusatory, it was damning. These people, the Council and all it stood for; they were the reason I was suffering. It was because of them that Cresta was lost to me; darting around Fate knows where with only Casper, Echo, and that damned teenage cowboy to keep her safe.
They had brought this into fruition. Couldn’t they see that? If not for them, we’d be back in Crestview, watching Netflix and struggling through geometry. They pushed Cresta to this point. They brought out the Bloodmoon within her. Could she really be blamed for any of it?
Chant’s eyes widened and then narrowed. It was obvious that my words were a slap in the face to someone who was not used to such treatment.
“Because I am a gracious man, I will give you thirty seconds to amend your ludicrous behavior before I treat your words as an act of hostility.”
“Why don’t you take it as a middle finger, you sadistic son of a bitch!” I yelled.
So, obviously, I’ve had enough of these bastards.
He didn’t react. In fact, apart from blinking, Chant was a statue; blank and motionless. Flora began to advance behind him, an obedient guard dog. But Chant rose his hand slowly, stopping her where she stood.
“You wish for me to leave your house. Is this correct?” He asked, licking his aged lips. He didn’t give me time to answer before he continued. “Perhaps you would be kind enough to show me where this house of yours is.”
I looked up at him confusedly. Was he playing with me? “You’re in it,” I said through gritted teeth. “Maybe if I toss you out on your wrinkled cranium, you’ll get the picture.”
Threatening any Breaker with unsubstantiated physical violence was a punishable offence. Doing it to a Council member could result in a death sentence. But I didn’t care about that. Cresta was gone. For all intents and purposes, Sevie was gone. I loved two people in the world more than myself, and I had lost both of them. So let them kill me. Besides, if this wasn’t substantiated, I obviously didn’t know the meaning of the word.
He didn’t react the way I thought he might though, the way I had been trained to expect a Council member to deal with such unimaginable insubordination. He shook his head lightly, smug satisfaction coloring his eyes.
“Your house? Do you truly believe any of this belongs to you?”
“My father’s house then,” I growled. “Either way, I want you out of it.”
“Bring me a chair. I’ll be staying awhile,” Chant answered, looking back at Flora. Dead eyed, she snapped to it, leaving me alone in the room with my comatose brother and pretty much the worst person I had ever known. “This house, Dragon, belongs to neither you, nor your father, nor any member of your treacherous little family or bloodline. This house, these sticks, bricks, and mortar are property of the Breakers. We own it all, every one of us. We own everything and everyone within the Hourglass. And we all have a say in what happens with our property.” His unsteady hands shook so much that he had to hold onto the foot of the bed to keep sturdy.
Instinctively, I wanted to push him away. His hands shouldn’t be so close to my brother. But what good would that do? He was right. This house belonged to the Breakers, and the Council spoke for the Breakers. It had always been that way, since the very beginning. But that wasn’t all he was getting at. He said everything and everyone.
“You don’t own me,” I muttered, staring at my brother. “And you don’t own him either.”
A smile spread across the old man’s face. “Oh Dragon, of course we do. You should be thankful,” he said. His arm reached out and grabbed Sevie’s ankle.
This time I stood. “I will break that hand off if I have to. I swear to Fate I will.”
“And what good would that do you, Dragon?” he asked, squeezing harder onto Sevie’s ankle. “He would still be in this bed. The Bloodmoon would still be at large. And you, Dragon, you would still be mine.” His smile twisted into a sneer. “Do you have any idea how many people would have given everything they had to be gifted the way you are? A thousand people over a hundred years, and each and every one would have given their lives just for Fate to favor them the way she has you.”
“Well it looks to me like that bitch made a poor choice then,” I muttered.
“You will not disrespect that by which we live our lives, Dragon. I don’t care who you are,” Chant said calmly. Then, with a twist of his hand, I heard Sevie’s ankle snap.
“You son of a bitch!” I shot to my feet. But Sevie didn’t. He just lay there, unfeeling, unresponsive. “I warned you!’ I yelled, rearing my fist back. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. No one had ever struck a member of the Council. Well, Cresta might have after I got shot. That whole thing was more than a little fuzzy. But the point was, it would likely result in me losing my hand. But that didn’t matter to me now. The only thing that made a difference, the only thing I cared about was my brother. He was all I had, and I’d rather be dead, be handless than let this bastard abuse him at a time when he was powerless to defend himself.
I move toward he wrinkled waste of space, but Flora entered the room like a blur. She had a chair in her hand. Well, it was in her hand for a second. After that, it whooshed through the air and collided with my face.
I fell back in a swirl of blood, splinters, and hurt. The floor caught me hard and I saw stars as Flora stood over me, pieces of the chair still clutched in her hands.
I blinked hard, looking up at her. There was nothing there; no light, no expression. She was little more than a vessel for Chant’s whims and wants. He had hollowed her out somehow. That brightness, that purity; it was all gone.
“You’re a monster,” I murmured.
“She’s just a pet,” Chant answered, inching up behind her.
“I wasn’t talking to Flora. She was your niece. How could you do this to her?” I asked.
“It is precisely because she is my niece that this happened to her,” he said. “Treason is traditionally paid with death, but that would be too easy an ending for her. People would speak of my bias, begin to whisper of weakness. I had to show them that no one, even the blood of my blood, was exempt of the consequences that their actions bought them.” He looked over at Sevie. “You’ll understand that one day, Dragon.” Chant’s hand traveled to Flora’s shoulder. “Get the boy some ice for his brother’s ankle, and then some more for his face. We wouldn’t want him swollen when he makes his statement to the Council.”
“I’ll die before I help you,” I said defiantly, tasting metal in my mouth.
“Oh you’ll do it,” Chant answered, not lowering himself to loo
k at me. “That is, if you ever want to know how to wake your brother up.”
Chapter 4
Wildcard
“You don’t have to do this,” Mother said, standing dangerously close to me at the entrance of the Council’s chambers. The time was that just walking by this place would have set my hands to shaking. For a young Breaker, there was no greater honor or horror than being called to these chambers; dependent, of course, on the reason for the call. But now, after everything the last year had put me through, it seemed almost anticlimactic.
My hands were rock steady as I answered. “Tell that to Father.”
She sighed. She knew, as I did, that my father would sooner see me in the ground than watch me disrespect the Council again, especially after all I had done. It was obvious in the way Breakers passed me on the streets of the Main Area, eyes on the ground, careful to keep their distance. I was equal parts disappointment and enigma these days.
I was the Dragon. For all intents and purposes, I was a hero to these people. I was a tool of justice, of righteousness. I should have been celebrated and, if things had gone differently, I likely would have. But things did not go differently. When Cresta left the Hourglass, it was as though she took all the air in it with her. With the Bloodmoon gone, the end of days seemed realer somehow to the people within these walls. She was gone, out in the world and capable of anything. And it was all my fault.
But none of that mattered right now. My father’s wishes, what these Breakers thought of me, even the designs of the Council were all irrelevant now. They all paled in comparison to the real reason I was here.
“We’ll find another way,” Mother said, though the gesture was so halfhearted that it took all she could do to even finish the sentence.
“You know that isn’t true,” I answered. “Even if we could come up with a way to wake Sevie up, I wouldn’t risk it. We have no idea what sort of damage this coma is doing to his body, much less what his mind is going through with him under like this. If I had the join the Fate forsaken Council just to spare him a minute of that, I wouldn’t even hesitate.”
“Then why are you hesitating now?” Her voice was soft and not as accusatory as the question might have implied.
“I don’t-” I started, but stopped quickly. My hands curled into fists at my sides and my body went still. I was hesitating. All these questions, all this grandeur; it only served to keep me here, standing outside the entrance of the chambers. And I couldn’t do anything to help my brother out here.
I started toward the door before feeling Mother’s hand tug at mine. “That’s not what I meant,” she amended quickly. “I didn’t mean that you should just…”
But words failed her too, and she was left staring silently at that gaping and horrific door. And then it came to me. She was stalling too. The last time she had faced the Council, they had told her son would die. And, in what must have been the biggest middle finger in Breaker history, she took matters into her own hands.
Guess I know where I got it from.
But she had never answered for that. Sure, the Council threatened my parents with a trail. They even threw the word ‘banishment’ around like a rusty switchblade. But there had been too much going on. The world itself was at stake, and taking the time to punish two morons for what they did to save their little boy probably wouldn’t have looked too productive to the throngs of concerned Breakers who were, even at this moment, growing more and more concerned.
“Mother,” I said, taking her hand into mine. “There’s nothing to worry about. They’re figureheads. They can’t do anything to us.”
It was a lie, and a rather shoddy one at that. But I did her the courtesy of saying it, and she did me the courtesy of pretending to believe it.
Steadying herself, Mother followed me through the entrance and into the chambers of the Council of Masons.
The thing I had learned about the Council, the thing most people would never learn- given that proceedings that occurred within the chambers were absolutely forbidden from discussion- was that it never looked the same.
You might go in there one day to find yourself staring at the back of the waterfall, and the very next day you’re on the literal inside of a volcano. It wasn’t real, of course. We were Breakers. Even the best of us played in perception. But perception was a strong thing, and more times than not I found myself lost in the illusions they shoveled at me.
Today the illusion I found myself in was particularly engrossing.
Mother and I stepped through the entrance and found ourselves outside. We stood at the end of a quaint little Main Street. Stores, most of them closed, lined either side of the street. There was nary a car in sight and what little light came from the antique looking street lamps was augmented only by a pale full moon and a dotting of stars.
People crossed the street leisurely, positive no oncoming vehicle would top the hill because-well, this was a quiet town on a quiet night. And that sort of thing didn’t happen in places like this.
I would know.
My hand tensed in my mothers.
“What’s wrong? What is this place?” Mother asked, spying the general store and butcher’s market.
“It’s Crestview,” I answered, near breathless.
“We wanted you to feel at home.”
The voice came from my left. I turned to find the trio of Councilmembers sitting on an unassuming bench with their arms folded, much like the old women in Crestview would, much like they were probably doing right now.
Chant sat in the middle, cane lying flat across his lap. Isla, dressed all in red, sat beside him with Felix on his left, sucking his thumb.
“Crestview isn’t my home,” I answered.
“Is the Hourglass?” Chant asked instantly, raising his brows.
“You asked me to come here and I came,” I said through gritted teeth. “These games are unnecessary.”
“Really?” Chant asked, slowly getting to his feet. “I assumed you would like games, given the incredibly long one you’ve been playing as of late.”
“I could walk out this door as easily as I walked through it,” I threatened. It was a lie, of course. Sevie was still lying unconscious in that bed. Taking my proverbial ball and going home wouldn’t do anyone any good. But I couldn’t let them push me around, not after everything I’d given up.
“Let’s keep our heads about us now.” Ilsa stood up, motioning toward me in a peaceful manner. Covered from head to toe in red, she looked younger than I remembered her being. Her hair was longer than before too, pulled behind her ears and hanging slick down her back. How much of this was her and how much was shade meant to trick me into seeing, hearing, and feeling exactly what they wanted me to?
“I’d like to speak to you in private, Mr. Lightfoot,” Ilsa asked, moving toward me fluidly. “If I may.”
The last part set me on edge. The Council didn’t ask for anything. They commanded. So the idea that Ilsa would be so submissive in the way she now spoke set my flashers off.
“And why would that be?” I asked, tensing up.
A smile parted her blood red lips. “We’ve tried it one way Mr. Lightfoot, and I think we all can agree that it’s getting us nowhere. Perhaps the situation requires more of a woman’s touch.”
As the words left her mouth, the tips of her fingers (also painted red) graced my shoulders. The world slipped away. Crestview was gone, replaced by a beach at sunset. The sand felt real and warm as it squished between my now bare toes, and a light breeze tickled my forehead as it played its way into my hair. But that didn’t make this any less jarring.
“Mother!” I said loudly, when I realized Ilsa and I were alone now. Panic shot up my spine. They could be doing anything to her. For all I knew, the instants that had passed for me in this dreamscape were weeks in the outside world. Mother could very likely be rotting in a cell by now. Or worse. “I demand that my mother join us.”
Her smile reduced to a smirk. No ne made demands of the Council. It was a pr
osecutable offense. But her eyes softened, and she relented.
“No harm will come to your mother, Owen. May I call you Owen?”
Again with the asking. What was she up to?
“I would still feel more comfortable if I could see her,” I answered firmly.
“And how could you know what you were seeing was real, Owen?” She winked at me. “Oh, that’s right. You’re in flux. You’re abilities are morphing in unforeseen ways. Why, I bet you could see through the shade of even the most gifted Breaker.” Her eyes caught mine menacingly. “If you were taught, that is.”
“My mother,” I repeated.
“Fine,” she sighed. “You may leave here. You may take your mother’s hand and march back to your farmhouse. I won’t stop you. But if you will indulge me, then I will make it very profitable for you.”
“Chant has already promised to exchange my testimony for information about how to wake my brother. Other than that, you have nothing that I want.” My words held the stonewall certainty that came from a man who knew, without reservation, that everything he ever wanted was, at this very moment, miles away and untouchable by the Council.
The sands chilled under my feet so much that it felt as though I was standing on refrigerated glass. Was that an indication of Ilsa’s reaction? If so, she didn’t express it in any other way. Her face remind calm. Her arms continued to hang lazily at her sides.
“I can offer freedom,” she said bluntly.
“I don’t care to be free,” I answered immediately. What was the point? I could never see Cresta again, not really. The Crone’s proclamation made sure of that. So what was the point of being free when I knew I would never be happy?
The Breaker's Resolution: (YA Paranormal Romance) (Fixed Points Book 4) Page 3
