She had sat there, on her ridiculous crone throne, and uttered the words that shook me to the core. “Your brother is not who he says he is. Your brother is also not who he thinks he is. In truth, he never was. The future will be kind to none of you. But it will be worst for him. When the truth comes, it will devastate him. And, if you are not here to pick up the pieces, the world will see one less Lightfoot.”
“What about it?” the crone asked. “What about what I said?”
“I’m here,” I answered. “I’m here to pick up the pieces, like you said. I just-I gave up so much. I need to know that it’s enough.”
“That’s not a question,” she said.
“Is it enough!” I screamed. “Will there be one less Lightfoot?!”
“Yes!” She answered, screaming herself. “One less, and one more.”
My mind started to spin. What the hell did that even mean? Before I could ask her though, the crone grunted and shook, as though some unseen force had just slapped her in the face.
“Stupid girl,” she muttered.
“What is-“
“It happened already. There’s no more time to dally. Your goons will be here for you in a second, so it’s time for you to ask the big one, Blue Eyes. Ask the third question.” Her eyes leveled at me; those knowing eyes, seer’s eyes.
I thought about asking for a hint, some sort of guidance about what my last question should be. But, like the crone said, there wasn’t much time. She probably wouldn’t be much help anyway and honestly, there was only one question that mattered. It was the one thing that colored every second of my waking (and sleeping) life. The thing that loomed overhead, threatening to crash at any moment and destroy everything I cared about.
“The end of the world,” I muttered, swallowing hard. “Can we stop the end of the world?”
She leaned in, brushing my cheek with her lips. “Oh Blue Eyes, not on your life.” She leaned back and, giving me a soft smile said. “And unfortunately, not on mine either.”
“Sir, we found him.” The voice from behind startled me. I spun to find my guards, back to their regularly scheduled lameness, standing frantic and disheveled. “What are you doing out here?” one of them asked. His voice was strained, but I could tell he was working hard to keep his temper in check.
“I was talking to-“ I looked back, but the crone was gone. All that was there was stalk after stalk of corn. “To-to myself,” I finished.
Sighing, the first guard said. “Come, something’s happened. The Council needs you at once. “
“What is it?” I asked, a ball of strain rising in my throat. Cresta flashed in my mind. Certainly they hadn’t found her. What if they drug her back there, bound and gagged, and they were calling for me to deliver the death blow?
“It’s her,” he said, and my heart plummeted. “It’s the crone. She’s dead.”
*************
My mind moved in a thousand directions as I made my way to the Main Square. I moved quickly toward the alley, to the deceptively simple entrance that led to the Council’s sacred chambers. It had been such a production the first time I entered here. Cresta’s eyes, those beautiful eyes, filled with wonder and fear. I did my best not to let her see that mine were filled with the same thing. But now, after everything that happened, it was almost an afterthought.
The doors opened quickly, without incident, and I swept into them, barely even registering how great an honor most of the contemporaries would consider this.
“Chant!” I yelled as though this was my living room and not the area where every decision that affects the Hourglass, and ultimately the world, was made. “Chant what is going on here?”
The room was different this time. The first time Cresta and I had found us in a glorified throne room; I had now stepped into a modest Japanese inspired area. The walls were paper and dotted with ornate decoration. Chairless tables lined the floor, and a narrow running stream crisscrossed the floor.
The three members of the Council, ancient and crotchety Chant, buttoned up and stern Ilsa, and the demented toddler Felix sat cross-legged and staring at me.
“What’s going on?” I repeated, ignoring the extreme changes that had happened to the place since last I’d seen it. It didn’t matter. All of this was most likely shade. It could be changed at a whim.
“Nice of you to join us, Dragon; sit and join your family,” Chant said. Waving a wrinkled hand, shade shimmered in the air, revealing mother, father, and Sevie sitting across from the Council.
I hadn’t seen them when my guards guided me here, but that didn’t count for much. This was the Council. I couldn’t trust what I saw.
“Are they really here?” I asked.
“They are,” Chant answered.
Sevie looked back at me and gave me a half smile. Suddenly, I was at ease. If this wasn’t my brother, then it was a damn good copy.
“The crone is dead,” Chant said as I slid in between Sevie and Mother. Cups of hot tea lined the table. One appeared for me as I settled in.
“I know,” I answered. “The guards told me.” I stayed quiet other than that. I wasn’t sure how much they knew, and there was little point in telling them that I had experienced some sort of posthumous vision if they weren’t’ already aware. There was no telling what they’d do with that.
Sevie leaned into me. “I forgot to say it before, given all that was happening, but I’m happy to see you.”
“Me too,” I answered, brushing my shoulder with his own. “Just stay close to me, okay?”
“Of course,” Sevie nodded. He answered much quicker than he would have a few months ago. Like me, he had come to understand that the Council wasn’t as infallible as we had been bred to believe. Though she hadn’t particularly planned to do it, we both had Cresta to thank for that.
“Did they happen to mention what killed her?” Chan cocked his head. The fact that the other Councilmembers were so silent irked me; like they were completely in tandem.
“She was old. I assumed it was that,” I said, realizing how insane that would have sounded to Cresta if she had still been standing next to me. The crone was twenty-seven, maybe twenty-eight. In the outside world that was nothing. Even for Breakers, that was young. But Seers had different rules for everything.
“The prophecies are intricate. When they shift, it can be taxing to those on the front lines. The crone’s powers had almost been exhausted. But even she felt this. That’s how large it was. And it was too much for her frail body to take.”
The blood chilled in my veins. Shifted? How had it shifted? I wouldn’t allow myself to think that this might be a good thing, that Cresta had been deemed ‘not the Blood Moon’. I knew better than that. Fate didn’t work like that. This shift, it would be to something even worse.
“Have you ever heard of the Damnatus,” Chant asked solemnly.
“No,” I said instinctively.
“The Damnatus is-“
“I know what the Damnatus is,” I interrupted. “I mean no, this isn’t happening. The Damnatus is out of play. That end was ruled out years ago.”
“Things have changed,” Chant answered. “It’s back in play. The crone-“
“The crone was wrong. You said it yourself. Her powers aren’t what they used to be. She must have had some sort of relapse of an old vision. Certainly that’s happened before,” I said flatly.
“It certainly has not.” There was acid in his voice now. “And, though you neglected to allow me to finish my sentence, I’ll inform you that it did not end in a question mark. The Damnatus is in play. The Council has reviewed the evidence and confirmed it.”
“That end is gruesome. Cresta isn’t capable of that.”
Ilsa sighed, as though she had been waiting for me to say something like that. “You assured us he had been broken of this way of thinking, Chant.”
“It’s a process,” Chant answered, his eyes burning into mine. “Regardless of what youthful exuberance tells you, you know nothing of the way the
world works, Dragon.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “But I do know about Cresta. That knowledge, knowing how she works, the way she thinks, it could be useful to you.” I was lying, of course. Nothing in this world could have made me turn on Cresta. Nothing. But I needed to get them on my side. I needed to know what they were thinking, what moves they were planning so that I could do my best to shut them down.
“And perhaps if you’d have come to us earlier, we might have used that information to sidestep this whole mess. We may have even been able to spare your little girlfriend. Alas, that time has passed now.”
He was lying. I knew that, but maybe my parents didn’t, maybe Sevie didn’t. I opened my mouth to rebut him but was silenced by Felix.
“You have disgwacd your bwoodwine with your constant betwayals,” he said, all stunted and childlike. “You have one chance to redeem youwself.”
“Okay…” I said, not quite sure how to respond to a toddler berating me.
“As you know, there is a cost to betrayal. And, to ensure balance, all costs must be paid.” Chant looked past me. “Bring her in.”
I turned, watching shade shimmer behind me in the distance.
“You cannot be punished in the way you deserve, Dragon. Fate has seen to that. But that does not mean balance will not be restored. As such, we have invoked the laws of displaced reparation.”
“What?” My brows crinkled. “That’s insane. Displaced reparation is archaic. No one uses that. Besides, my entire family is sitting here. Who could you have possibly placed my punishment on?”
He chuckled hard. “Have Neanderthal emotions really clouded both your judgment and observation so much? Are you really blind enough not to realize that the most immediate of your family members is not among our company?”
A lump rose in my throat as the shimmering shade took the shape of a person. I didn’t need to wait for it to settle. I knew who he was talking about.
“Merrin,” I muttered, shuffling to my feet. It was the first time I had seen her awake since that awful day back in Crestview, when I did something unimaginable to her. Tears burned at the back of my eyelids. I hadn’t thought about her, not really. She could have been dead for all I knew, and I didn’t even think to ask. I had three questions with a clairvoyant for God’s sake, and the idea of asking about Merrin never even entered my mind.
She looked worse for wear. Her clothes were tattered, her skin was pale and sickly and her hair was in drab, dead knots on her head. As beautiful as she had always been, she looked almost dead now. What had they done to her?
“Merrin!” I repeated, yelling this time, and rushed toward her.
“That’s enough!” Chant sad loudly and an invisible force pulled me backward, wrestling me to the ground. “How predictable,” Chant said. “Now that the Blood Moon is gone, you go rushing back to your perfect.”
“You can’t do this! You can’t punish her for me!” I screamed.
“No Dragon. We can’t punish you for you. Her, on the other hand; she can be punished until we are fully satisfied.” Chant came into my line of vision, hunched over and decrepit. “And whether or not we are satisfied is up to you.” He looked up at Merrin and then back to me. “The Damnatus has intensified things, if that is even possible. The decisions that come next will be more difficult than you could ever imagine, and the time for sitting by passively is gone. You are the Dragon. You will be made to prove that. But we have to be certain that your allegiance is on the right side. You will be made to prove that as well.”
“What are you saying?” I asked shakily.
“The punishment for betrayal is not incarceration, nor is it torture. The punishment is death,” he said calmly.
My eyes flickered to Merrin.
“You can save her, Dragon. You can fulfill your destiny, both of your destinies. Join with her, as is your duty as a Breaker. Immerse yourself in the path you were born into, and all will be forgiven, but if not…”
“You can’t be serious,” I muttered.
“Dead serious, I’m afraid,” Chant said. “Marry the girl, or she dies today.”
Chapter 14
Essence
Cresta
Two days before the Blood Moon rose, I had just got the craziest news of my life. I stared at Casper for a long time after that. Watching the way his chest heaved up and down as he stared at the picture.
“You don’t have a kid,” I said, and it wasn’t a question. Casper was my best friend. There was nothing in the entire world that I didn’t know about him. He couldn’t have knocked some girl up and kept it a secret from me. It wasn’t possible. Except that it was. I had sent him away and made it possible. The truth was, I still didn’t know anything about what Casper’s life had been like in Clarity. Aside from Liv, the girl he had a thing for, and the fact that Wendy had somehow managed to send his letters from beyond the grave, the whole thing was one huge blank slate. “You don’t have a child,” I repeated. “You are a child.” The others were still unconscious and scattered on the floor. They could have been comatose for all I knew. It didn’t matter right now. “Casper, what’s going on here? Is that Liv? Did the two of you-“
“No,” Casper shook his head. “Liv and I never even kissed, let alone…” his voice trailed off. “There’s a college right outside of Clarity. A couple of my friends and I sneaked into a bar one weekend. One thing led to another and,” he cleared his throat. “Her name is Sarah. She’s a biology major, and a senior.”
“A senior?!” I balked. “How old is she?”
“Twenty-two,” Casper said.
“But you’re only seventeen.”
“I know, right,” he said, and there was a hint of lightness in his voice. “She didn’t love me or anything. She doesn’t love me. We were gonna give the baby up.”
“You knew about this?” I asked, jerking to my feet. For some reason, I had assumed this was news to Casper, like my drawing had outed this girl as having a bun in the over. But no, he knew the whole time. He knew and he kept it from me. “How could you not tell me about this Cass?”
“I didn’t want it to be a thing,” he said shaking his head.
“You didn’t want the fact that you’re having a kid to be a thing? Are you out of your mind?”
“No, I didn’t want it to be part of this thing,” he said, standing to meet me. “When I got my memories back, I knew I had to come to you. Wendy’s letters said as much. You needed me here, and so I came. But that didn’t mean my kid had to.”
A pang of the strongest guilt I had ever felt skewered me. Not only had I pulled Casper away from his new life, I pulled him away from his child. I stole that from him. Suddenly, a darker thought settled on me. “The Damnatus. The children. All the children. Your child.” The fragments were all I could manage, but they were all I needed.
“I don’t believe that. I never believed that.” He said firmly. “It’s just, I had made my peace with sending the kid away, with giving the little guy a life that might be worth something. But this, Sarah being the Damnatus, it pulls my kid into this nightmare. Allister Leeman’s people are going to try to kill her. God Cresta, they’re going to kill them both.”
“They won’t,” I said, trying not to sound as helpless as I felt. “I won’t let that happen. We know who the Damanatus is now. We can go get her, keep her and the baby safe. We’ll leave right now Cass, today.”
“I’m afraid it won’t be that simple.” The voice that came from behind me wasn’t instantly recognizable, which put a huge knot in my stomach. Had someone managed to find us here?
I spun around, totally ready to either fight or die, probably both. But I found Renner slumped against the wall. His face was gaunt and soaked with sweat, and he seemed to be barely managing to stay upright. But he was out of bed and, as far as I could tell, that was a definite improvement.
“Are you okay?” I asked; my eyes wide.
“None of us are okay,” he said, clutching at the wall. “Now, one of you help me to
a chair. We have a lot to discuss and not a lot of time to waste.”
Casper rushed over to him, clutching my drawing like it was a prize. He sidled beside him, throwing the older man’s arm over his shoulder and helping him through the kitchen.
“Wake them up,” Renner said as Casper helped him into a small wooden chair.
“Are you talking to me?” I asked, looking around at Echo, Dahlia, and Royce; still splayed across the floor unconscious.
“Well, I certainly didn’t mean the helpful ginger,” he answered.
“Hurtful, dude. Way hurtful,” Casper said.
“You’re the one who put them to sleep. You can wake them up,” he continued.
“I can’t control the shade, not like that,” I said sternly.
“Rubbish,” Renner balked.
“It almost killed me the last time!” I said.
“It really did,” Casper confirmed. “She slept for a long time, just; many, many moons....”
“It comes from you. You can control it,” Renner said. He turned to Casper. “Get me a knife.”
“Sure,” he quipped, heading to the drawer. Stopping short, he said, ”I guess I am helpful.”
He pulled a blade from the drawer and handed it to Renner, who held it shakily in his still weak hand.
“What are you doing?” I asked, narrowing my eyes nervously.
“Proving you wrong, Cresta,” he said, and launched the knife at Royce’s sleeping head.
“No!” I screamed. Instantly, the world turned to ribbons of shade again. Without time to think, I simply reacted. Tugging at the shade around the knife, I pulled it to a stop.
“That’s good,” Renner said. “Now go deeper. Look past the shade. Look at where it comes from.”
My head started spinning. I was faint, dizzy even. But I pushed through it. The shade began to move and shift. It shimmered and blinked and soon I was looking at something else entirely. Dots lined the air. No, it was more than that. Dots made up the air. Dots made up everything. All different colors, all different shapes. They moved in a thousand different directions all at once, passing through each other harmlessly like shadows dipped in water.
The Breakers Ultimatum (YA Urban Fantasy) (Fixed Points Book 3) Page 12
