The Breakers Ultimatum (YA Urban Fantasy) (Fixed Points Book 3)

by Conner Kressley

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head and reading my seriousness. He leaned in closer, so that a little of his ‘I’m in it for the money’ Hans Solo t-shirt dipped into the frosting. “Do you think I’m stupid, Cress?”

  “I don’t-I don’t want to play this game, Casper.”

  “No game,” he said flatly. “Just a simple yes or no, do you think I’m stupid?”

  “Of course not,” I answered lowly.

  “And, that Becky Thompson transgression from last year aside, do you think I have particularly bad taste in people?”

  I pushed the now frosting laden square of the shirt away from the cupcake. He grabbed it, ran his finger across it, and stuck it in his mouth. “It’s peach. It’s delightful. Now answer the question.”

  “No, I don’t think you have bad taste in people,” I answered like it was the answer to the world’s simplest math problem.

  “Correct!” he said, running his finger across his shirt again and going in for seconds. “Now, knowing that I’m not stupid and, as you just said, I have an impeccable eye for people-“

  “I never said that,” I interrupted.

  “Knowing all that,” he pressed on. “Do you really think my best friend in the entire world would be a bad person?” He pushed the cupcake toward me. “I think not.”

  I looked at the cupcake, at its droopy frosting and sad lumps. Casper must have worked hard on this. I did not deserve that.

  “Do you know why I was pushing so hard to find the Damnatus?” I asked with my eyes still pinned on the dessert.

  “’Cause you want to put an end to things,” he said without even having to think about it. “Something was happening to you. Something is happening to you. I’d want to get to the bottom of it too.”

  “I wanted to leave the Hourglass,” I said.

  “Uh, yeah,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re literally trying to murder you at this very moment. Wanting to get away from them doesn’t make you bad. It makes you normal.”

  “That’s not why I wanted to leave. I mean, it’s not the only reason. I figured that, if we had to go right now. If we had to drop everything and figure out who the Damnatus was, then I’d be able to convince Echo to go get Owen. He wouldn’t leave him here, not forever.” My fingers rested impotently on the table. “And the thing is, after Echo explained everything to me, after he told me the awful, horrible reason I could never try to find the Damnatus, I still thought about it. I still wanted to.”

  Casper looked at me for a long minute, something like pity spiking his expression. “Cress…” he finally said. But I couldn’t let him tell me it was okay, not this, not now.

  “Kids, Casper. All those kids, every kid in the world, and I’m going to be the one who kills them.” I had thought about the prophecy a lot lately. It was practically the only thing (other than Owen) that ever graced my mind. But it was different before. The end that it had always spoken of was something distant and vague. This, child murder, was a real thing, and it was really too much for me to handle.

  Sickness rose in my gut and I thought I was going to upchuck all over Casper’s ill-proportioned cupcake.

  “What do you want me to say, Cress?” He asked with his brows arched. “Want me to tell you it sucks? I can, ‘cause it definitely does. Want me to tell you it’s unfair and that you don’t deserve it? I can do that too. But what’s the use? You know this stuff, Cresta. We’ve been through it. These idiots have been spouting garbage about you since the day they came to pull you out of your house.” He pointed at me. “And don’t forget that. They came for you, not the other way around. We were happy stealing root beer from the general store and kicking rocks alongside the train tracks. Well, maybe not happy,” he grinned. “The point is, none of this touches you. You know you’re not some world destroyer, and you sure as hell know that you’re not the type to take out a bunch of children. So I’m not gonna waste my time telling you that, not when your cupcake is getting soggy.”

  “Can cupcakes get soggy?” I asked, inspecting the ugly lump.

  “Let’s not find out,” he said, and pushed it even closer to me.

  “Tell me I’m not a bad person, Cass,” I said.

  “Nope,” he shook his head. “Not gonna do that. I’ve gained a little perspective in my time away. And that perspective has taught me that we, you and I, are not the people who should be questioning ourselves. They’re the bad guys, Cress. I don’t care what they’re stupid prophecies say. We’re through defending ourselves to these people, Cresta. Never again.” He ran his finger over the icing and licked it. “Now eat the damn cupcake.”

  One overly frosted (and somehow soggy) cupcake later, and I made my way out the door. I wasn’t feeling much better per say, but Casper had tried hard. So the least I could do was plaster on a fake smile as I went out for some fresh air. It probably didn’t fool him. He was Casper after all, but he knew me well enough to know I needed a little more alone time. So he didn’t stop me as I marched down the hallway toward the front door.

  I took a left, trying very hard not to let my mind rest on the idea of a childless world or the notion that I was the one who made it that way.

  “I don’t know why you gotta be like this!” Royce’s twang sounded from a door to my left. It was slightly ajar and, though it was probably none of my business, I stopped and peeked inside. Hey, on the list of awful things I could or maybe would do, eavesdropping barely counted. He was standing over a bed with a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. The old man lying down was unfamiliar to me at first. But, as I studied his weathered and weary features, I realized it was Renner.

  He was bedridden? But that didn’t make any sense. Royce told me he was getting better. He looked awful, like he one foot in the grave. What was this better than, dead?

  “Uncle Renner, you gotta eat. I know you don’t want to. I know you feel sick, and I know that, whether you want to admit it or not, there’s a piece of ya that don’t wanna do this just ‘cause you know it’s pissing me off. But I promise, you’re gonna eat this or I’m going to sit here and recite John Wayne’s life story to you.” He plopped down on a stool beside the bed. “The whole thing.”

  He extended the spoon, which looked to be full of soup. But Renner wasn’t having any of it. The older man just turned his head away.

  “Have it your way,” he said, slamming the spoon back into the bowl, which splashed over with soup. “Marion Mitchell Morrison was born on May 26, 1907 in Winterset, Iowa. It was unseasonably warm that day. Real sticky, y’know?”

  I’m not sure why, because it wasn’t necessarily funny, but the whole thing made me chuckle for some reason. I threw my hand in front of my mouth. Realizing that I had just made noise and probably given myself away, I bolted before Royce could look up.

  I figured he mustn’t have heard me by the time I made it outside, sighing as a cool breeze made its way across my bangs.

  “You spying on me now, Sweetheart?”

  No such luck. Turning around, I saw Royce leaning against a nearby tree. His mouth was twisted into a crooked smile and his eyes, while sleepy, lacked the concern they held just minutes ago.

  “You know, you coulda just said hey.”

  My face reddened. “I didn’t- you seemed busy,” I answered.

  “He’s a handful these days. I ain’t gonna deny it.”

  “You said he was better,” I reminded him as he pushed off from the tree and came swaggering toward me. As he neared, I felt my body react to his closeness. Shade, the shade that I had built up just by being here, started to leech off of me, flowing into his body in a sweet, aching movement. I did my best not to shudder.

  “I didn’t want you to feel bad,” he shrugged. “You seem to have this knack for making everything about you, and I didn’t want you blaming yourself for something you couldn’t help.”

  “It is my fault,” I answered. He was right. It was almost instinct now, to blame myself for the bad thi
ngs that seemed to always happen to anyone who got close to me.

  “There ya go again. You know, I’d tell you this ain’t your fault, that all this garbage would be moving whether you were you or not, but it wouldn’t do any good. You’re head’s as hard as Monday morning, girl. There just ain’t no getting’ through it,” he sighed. Moving even closer, it took all I could do not to reach out and touch him. It wasn’t that he was particularly tempting; though, with his swept over sandy hair and deep, mysterious eyes, I could certainly understand if he caught a girls attention. This was about something different, though. He was right about what he’d said before. My body did react to his. For whatever reason, our abilities fit together. I needed him, like fate was trying to make sure we never got too far apart. And that really pissed me off.

  “Well, you’d know about stubborn, wouldn’t you?” I asked, turning away and trying to mask the real reason I was so on edge.

  He moved around me and, even though I didn’t see it, I felt him. I actually felt him move, the pull of his body to mine shifting as he did.

  “Aww, don’t be like that, Sweetheart.” He gave me a wink. “Besides, I know what’s going on. You’re all hyped up.” He extended his hand. “Come on and let Royce make you feel better before he leaves.”

  I pulled away from him, disgusted not only because he seemed to be enjoying the idea of having me over a barrel, but because he was right. Of course, I wasn’t about to admit that.

  “You don’t have to go anywhere,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest as though that might block me from him somehow. “I decided not to worry about the Damnatus. There are… circumstances.”

  “The kids thing?” He tilted his head. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, reading my face. “I know about this stuff. Old Royce is smarter than ya give him credit for.”

  “Well he’d have to be, wouldn’t he?” I sneered, but my tone was lacking its usual bite.

  “Don’t tell me I’m gonna have to talk ya outta blaming yourself for that too. It ain’t even happened yet, Sweetheart.” He crossed his chest with his arms too, mirroring my stance with mock sadness.

  “Why does everybody keep telling me that?” I asked, shaking my head. “Why are you all acting like it’s not a big deal? Every kid in the world might die!”

  “World’s a dangerous place, Sweetheart. You could take a wrong turn and get hit by a truck.” He glanced around. “Well, not here, but you get what I mean.” He leaned closer, causing my body to almost pull close to him. “The point is, nothing’s done ‘til it’s done. You ain’t who they say you are until the minute you become that person. Until then, you’re you. And here’s a secret. No matter what they say, they’ve got no power over you, otherwise they wouldn’t be wetting their pants trying to find you.” He gave me a pat on the shoulder, which sent sparks through my chest. I dared to look at him for an instant, wondering if he felt that too. If he did, he didn’t let on. “The only way you become the Blood Moon is if you believe you are.”

  “You might be right,” I conceded, looking at the ground. “But it doesn’t matter. Right or not, I’m not going to risk it. So you don’t have to go.”

  Royce laughed so loudly that it was almost a howl. “You’re a self-centered little junebug, aren’t cha?”

  “Junebug?” I asked, my nose crinkling.

  “I’m trying it out,” he shrugged. “Point is, you ain’t the only reason I’m going. There are people back there, people who have risked a lot to do what’s right. They deserve to know that we didn’t lose. They deserve to know that you’re okay and that Uncle Renner is okay, more or less. And besides, whether you want to do anything about it or not, the Damnatus happened, and our side,” he motioned to myself and him. “Needs to know what their side knows.”

  “How close to do you have to get?” I asked.

  “Close enough to make it interesting,” he said as a breeze parted his swept hair. “Why do ya ask?” A wide smile draped across his face.

  I ran a hand through my hair, hating myself for what I was about to ask. “Your people, they’re close enough that they know everything that’s going on, right? “

  “They’re our people, but yeah,” he answered.

  “Do you think they’d know what’s happening with-“

  “You want me to find out what’s going on with your boyfriend,” he finished, his jaw setting.

  And there it was. I knew this would upset him. He had sacrificed so much. His uncle was at death’s door. But what could I do? I had to know. I just had to.

  ‘They have him, Royce. The Breakers have him. They could be doing anything!”

  “Look,” he threw a hand up to stop me. “You know how I feel about this whole thing. The Dragon is bad news, and sooner or later, he’ll bite you. But if this is what it’ll take, knowing what’s happening with him, to maybe help you get over it, then I’ll do it. But make no mistake, Cresta. The people who have him aren’t Breakers. He ain’t either.” It was the only time I could remember Royce actually using my name, which let me know he meant business. “Those people, the way of life their living, that’s got nothing to do with real Breakers. They’re nothing but shadows of what they used to be. An abomination is what they are. The people who sent me here, they’re real Breakers. The people on the inside, risking their lives to get us Intel, they’re real Breakers. The man in that bed who’s too proud to let some snot nosed kid spoon feed him, he’s a real Breaker. So, I’ll find out what you want to know, and then I’ll find out what we need to know…under one condition.”

  He glared at me for a moment. I was unsure whether it was anger or amusement that flickered across his bright eyes. This is what I hated about Royce; that smugness that seeped into everything he did. Was he mad at me for being concerned about Owen, or was he secretly laughing at me for being stupid enough to still hold on to this hope? Is this who I was to him; some lovelorn little girl who didn’t know what was best for her? Who didn’t know enough to stop touching the fire after she’d been burned?

  “What is it?” I asked, my narrowed eyes studying him cautiously. “What’s your condition?”

  A big, infuriating smile spread across his face. God, I hated him. He walked, almost skipped over to a nearby tree. His arms flexed as he pulled at one of the low hanging branches. Still smiling at me, he broke it over his knee, snapping it into two three foot pieces.

  Before I could ask what he was doing, he threw one of the branches at me. Without time to think, instinct took over and I grabbed it. It wasn’t that long ago when I was the ‘duck from flying objects’ sort of girl. Turned out Breakers and circumstance had changed that.

  “What is this?” I asked, letting the branch sit heavy in my hands. The bark was thick and rough, but it didn’t feel as foreign as it should. And, with the threat of the Blood Moon still very much alive in my mind, something about that made me uneasy.

  “It’s a duel, Sweetheart,” he grinned. “I’m sure it’s high noon somewhere.”

  “You’re not a cowboy,” I scoffed.

  “Don’t look like I'm'ma have to be one to take you out. You barely know how to hold that thing.” He nodded it at me cockily. “Here are the rules, you knock this out of my hand and I’ll find out anything you want to know about your little boy toy.”

  ‘And if you win?” I asked, adjusting the wood in my hands.

  “Then you gotta kiss me.’ His grin exploded into the most absurd of smiles.

  I glared at hm. “Why would you-“

  “Those are my conditions, Sweetheart. Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”

  “Fine,” I muttered, and tightened my grip.

  Before I had even had a chance to ready myself, Royce was rushing toward me. He was fast, faster than fast; faster than Owen even. The branch lifted over his head as he neared me. He wasn’t going to really do this, was he? He wouldn’t really hit me?

  The answer came as Royce swung the branch down at me. I threw mine up, letting his collide with it. My hands shook hard
as the pieces made contact.

  “Didn’t think I’d do it, did ya?” He asked, spinning around me. I turned, suddenly tense. My blood was pumping, my body was alert. “Why’s that? Cause your boyfriend wouldn’t?” He swung at me again, but this time I ducked away. “Well, I ain’t your boyfriend, Sweetheart. And the truth of the matter is, he ain’t doing ya any favors.”

  My eyes narrowed as a spike of anger rose in my gut. “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, lifting the branch over my head and bringing it down on him. A surprised smile flickered across his face. He was enjoying this. “I’m supposed to respect you because you’re willing to attack a girl?”

  He darted away at the last second. The branch hit the ground hard, sending a shot of pain up through my arms.

  “You ain’t giving yourself enough credit,” he said, sizing me up slowly. “We both know you ain’t just a girl. And it ain’t the attacking that’s important. It’s the arming.”

  He launched toward me and this time, when the branch came at me, it was aiming for my head.

  I duck but, no longer the girl satisfied to stay on the defensive, I rammed the brunt of my branch into Royce’s stomach, sending him stumbling backward.

  “Arming?” I asked breathlessly.

  “He’s afraid of ya,” Royce grunted, obviously winded. “Sure, he thinks he loves ya and wants to save you and all that predictable nonsense. But the truth is, he don’t even know ya. And what’s more, he doesn't want to.” I was about to protest, given that what he was saying was the stupidest thing I had ever seen, but Royce came at me again. “That boy would piss his pants if he ever thought you were actually gonna become the Blood Moon.”

  “You’re an idiot,” I said, blinking. The world was shade now and I could see it all. My shade poured like an open faucet from me to Royce. It was different than anything I had ever seen, though. For all the shade I was producing, and it was a lot, none of it seemed to stockpile inside of Royce. But, if it wasn’t, then where was it going?