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

by Conner Kressley

  I had caught up with Sevie about halfway to the farmhouse; a feat given that he was about a foot taller than me and seventy percent leg.

  “This is fun,” he giggled, panting. “I haven’t had anyone to run with since my brother left.”

  Flora flashed in my mind’s eye; holding her little brother’s picture, and then explaining away her hate for the Council by citing his death. It seemed like, even though they did all they could to squash romantic love, familial ties was something that the Breakers could not undo.

  We reached the farmhouse seconds later; both of us slamming into the white wooden door at the same time. “This is it; your new home, at least for a while.”

  “This is nice of you Sevie, to let me stay here. But you don’t have to do this,” I said, breathless from the running.

  “Yes I do,” he answered, brushing his windswept blond hair out of his eyes. “And so do you. The Council ruled on it while you were unconscious.”

  Of course they did. It looked like everything in the Hourglass, right down to where people slept, fell under the jurisdiction of the Council. “Well, I guess it’s not as nice of you as I thought then,” I answered.

  Sevie just kept smiling and opened the door. He let me enter first, and what I found was a simple house without much in the way of adornment. Whatever it was about the Breakers, they didn’t seem to be too keen on decorations. The room we walked into was long and flat, with one couch, one chair and, like the room I woke up in, no TV, stereo, or even a clock on the wall. The kitchen, sitting to the right, looked similarly old fashioned. There was no electric stove, no dishwasher, and no microwave. From the outside, it looked like whoever did the cooking did so on a wood burning stove. A fireplace sat in the middle of the main room, and all the lighting seemed to come from lit lanterns that hung from the walls.

  “This place is so trippy,” I muttered. “It’s like, you people are the most advanced race on the planet, and you live like it’s colonial times.”

  “We live simply, so that others may simply live,” Sevie answered without missing a beat. “It’s in our code.”

  Again with the damn Breakers’ Code. I have got to read that thing.

  “And what’s with the clothes?” I asked. “I get that you don’t wanna be flashy, but why does everybody have to wear the same thing?”

  Sevie looked at his clothes with a bit of wonder, as though he had never considered them before. “We are all pieces of fate’s plan. The part we play in that plan is as inconsequential as it is out of our control. No one person is more or less important than anyone else in the eyes of fate. Dressing alike helps us to remember that, in all the ways that matter; in the eyes of fate and the future, we are all the same.”

  If that was true, you guys wouldn’t wanna kill me so hard, I thought, but before I could say anything, a rustling came from the other room. A man, broad-shouldered man with salt and pepper hair and a face full of hard lines came in from the hallway. There were no doors separating the hall from the main room, or the main room from the kitchen. Remembering Sevie’s spill about privacy and secrets, I was willing to bet that there probably wasn’t more than two or three doors in the entire house.

  “This is her, I presume?” The man’s voice rumbled like throaty gravel. He folded huge arms in front of an equally huge chest.

  Sevie’s back straightened. His smile cracked in half. “Yes sir,” he answered. “This is Cresta Karr. Cresta, this is my father, Petar Lightfoot.”

  “Nice to meet you, sir,” I said, and walked toward him, extending my hand.

  “Karr?” He asked stone-faced. “Are you in a Blut, in truth?”

  I stopped; half because the question took me by surprise and half because he hadn’t offered his hand to me. “I was raised by a man with the name Karr. I consider him my father. Besides, from what I hear, the Bluts aren’t too thrilled at the idea of me.”

  “It would seem stubbornness is a family trait then. It would serve both you and the Bluts well to accept the past, given that there is no changing it,” he groaned.

  I turned back to Sevie, but his eyes were on the floor.

  “That’s enough Petar,” a women’s voice sounded from the hallway. She walked out from the same corridor Petar had. She was tall and lithe, but beautiful; with ink black hair and the bluest eyes I had ever seen on a person, save for one. There was a familiarity about her, like I had seen her somewhere before but couldn’t put my finger on it. She smiled at me; the same sort of innocent smile Sevie had been giving me all morning (if it was, in fact, morning). “Cresta has had a rough enough day as it is. She doesn’t need a lecture from you.”

  “I disagree Celeste,” Petar answered, his eyes still planted on me. “Perhaps if I had given more of these lectures, none of us would be in this position.”

  “Your choices put you in this position, and they’re certainly older than this girl. Besides, given the opportunity, can you honestly tell me you’d do anything differently?”

  “You know I wouldn’t,” he said, finally looking at her. Celeste ran a hand down his arm lovingly. “That doesn’t mean I have to appreciate their consequences though.”

  “I suppose not,” Celeste smiled, squeezing Petar’s shoulder. I could tell from the way they moved around each other; their loving comfortable nature, that they were husband and wife. And what was more than that, as Breakers, they were each other’s perfects; their genetically ideal partner. It was right there in everything they did; in the way Petar’s prickliness deflated with Celeste’s touch, in the smile that now seemed to erase the lines on his face. Is this was perfects did; complement each other down to a cellular level? Sadness pinched at my throat. The whole thing made me think of Merrin. She was Owen’s perfect. Had I robbed him of this sort of happiness?

  “Cresta, don’t mind my husband. He still has a bit of the old law in him. My name is Celeste, and we are thrilled to have you here with us. Look at her,” Celeste turned to Petar. “She has her mother’s eyes.”

  “Let’s hope they aren’t as roving,” Petar answered.

  “That’s enough from you,” Celeste said. Walking over, she patted me on the shoulder. “Let’s get you settled in.”

  “Tell me about my mother; my birth mother, I mean.” I’m not sure where that came from. While, the idea of Dr. Conyers as my mother wasn’t anything new to me, I had never really had any desire to learn more about her. I had a mother; an awesome mother. She was dead and, as far as I was concerned, I wasn’t looking for a replacement. Still, listening to Celeste talk about my eyes, and being in this place, where my mom and dad had grown up and fell in love against all these odds; I guess it was getting to me.

  “I know you have many questions. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through or how confused you must be,” Celeste said. Her face was close to mine now. Her hand was in the center of my back, as if to steady me. “But I think it’s best if you got settled in first. There will be plenty of time for answers later, and my family has a few issues of their own to deal with. My son will show you to your room for now. It’s the one with the door,” she gave me a smile and a wink. “There’s no need in changing too much too soon.”

  It wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear, but what could I do? I was a guest in this house and at these people’s mercy. Still, the idea of a door and a little privacy where I could collect my thoughts didn’t seem half bad. I turned to Sevie, waiting for him to direct me.

  “No, no,” Celeste turned me back toward the hallway. “Our other son.” A figure appeared in the corridor. My heart leapt as it took shape. That black hair, those electric eyes, that perfect nose.

  Owen smiled at me, leaning against the doorway. “Hey Cress, you feel okay?”

  I wanted to wrap my arms around him, to kiss him a bazillion times and to never ever let him go. But I couldn’t. We were in the Hourglass, and our secrets had to be kept; especially here, and especially from…his family?

  I looked at Celeste again. Of course, now the familiar tingle
I got when I looked at her made sense. I had seen her in Owen’s memories. She was the woman begging the Council of Masons to spare her son’s life. She was the one comforting him as he got the tattoo that eventually saved it. She was older now, and a bit more worn, but definitely the same woman.

  This was Owen’s family; his loving sacrificing mother, his hard and harder to love father, and…

  I turned back to Sevie, who seemed to be barely able to control his excitement at the sight of Owen. He was his brother. Owen had a brother?

  Sevie bounced toward Owen, scooping him up in a big bear hug. “Settle down!” Owen howled, laughing. Sevie spun him around before putting him down.

  Owen hugged him again before looking him up and down. “Look at you, Sevie! You’re huge!”

  “Well, you’ve been gone a long time,” Sevie beamed.

  “I suppose I have,” Owen said, a splinter of hurt passing through his eyes. “But I’m back now.”

  Petar cleared his throat, and the boys separated, like they were being called to attention. “I’m confident that this display can wait until after we’ve talked about certain things,” he said, looking between his sons.

  “Yes sir,” Owen said. He turned to me. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.” Given the obvious fear he had of his father, it didn’t come as a surprise that Owen chose not to take my hand as he guided me toward my room.

  We rushed down the hallway, toward the only covered doorframe I could see. In the back of my mind, I wondered about the bathroom situation. Because, if there were no doors for that, I was probably going to have to make different arrangements.

  The second we were inside the room, with one of the only doors in the house shut tight behind us, Owen scooped me up into his arms. “You okay?” He asked. “You didn’t answer me out there.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, kissing him on the cheek and letting the warm familiarity of his presence flow through me. “I was a little surprised to see you, is all.”

  He kissed me, squeezed me tightly and them let me go. “Yeah, I wanted to warn you, but there was no time.”

  “So that’s your family?” I asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

  He gave me a nervous smile and nodded.

  “And you have a brother!” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a brother?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, running his hands through his hair. “When we first met, I couldn’t tell you anything real about myself and, by the time I could, I had messed things up so much that I wasn’t sure that my family would ever want to see me again.”

  I remembered the slow dread of his father that I felt while surfing through Owen’s memories. Trying to imagine what that dread must have turned into when he realized how badly Allister Leeman had duped him was almost impossible.

  “Well, they obviously do. You saw how happy Sevie was to see you out there. He could barely contain himself,” I answered.

  “Sevie’s always been sweet. He looks up to me, you know? I’ve always known that, no matter what happened, no matter how badly I screwed up, he’d only ever see the good in me.”

  There was something about what Owen said that pinged at my heart. Maybe it was the fact that most of the people in my life who had looked at me that way were either dead or gone. Maybe it was that Owen himself looked at me that way. Or maybe it was the fact that him looking at me that way made his life so much harder.

  “That’s fantastic,” I muttered.

  “Yeah, well, he’s a fantastic little brother,” Owen answered. “Though he isn’t so little anymore. That’s the thing,” Owen looked at the floor. “I haven’t seen my family in two years, and Sevie is the only one who even bats an eye when I walk through the door.”

  “Your mom and dad are thrilled to see you,” I said, squeezing his hand. “They love you. I mean, look at what they did to save you. They broke ancient laws, or some junk. What more proof do you need?”

  He smiled, though it was smaller and less enthused than I would have liked. “I guess you’re right. Look, just make yourself at home. Take a nap. Take a bath. I don’t know. I have stuff to talk with my family about; stuff I’m not entirely looking forward to. I’ll be back in a bit, and then we can make a game plan.”

  “About the Council?” I asked.

  “About everything,” he bit his lip. Then, looking around, he added. “This used to be my room, you know?”

  “Wow,” I leaned in. “First I meet your family and now I’m in your bedroom. This relationship is moving awfully fast.”

  He smiled. “Not near fast enough to suit me.” He kissed me gently on the lips and then walked out, shutting the door behind him.

  When he was gone, I collapsed on the bed. Sevie’s electrolyte wash must have been wearing off, because I was starting to get tired again. What was more, my head started to ache just a little. I stared up at the blank uniformity of Owen’s ceiling and then at the similarly bare room. This might have been where Owen spent his nights growing up, but you couldn’t tell by looking at it. Like the rest of what I’d seen in the Hourglass, there was absolutely nothing about this room that spoke to any sort of individuality. And something told me if I walked over to Sevie’s room, I’d probably find the same thing; albeit sans the door.

  I closed my eyes, thinking about taking Owen up on his nap idea and hoping the renewed ache in my head might go away.

  “I suppose you’re just a useless slug then, aren’t you? Can’t say that I’m surprised.”

  A woman’s voice, a familiar voice, shook me from my almost sleep. My eyes shot open and I saw Merrin sitting on the foot of my bed. She was wearing the same clothes she was in the last time I saw her, the day she slipped into her coma, and her face was resting in her hand; a sour expression painted across it. I jumped.

  “Merrin! You’re awake?” The thought filled me with a sort of dual relief and terror. Yes, Merrin being awake would mean that Owen and I weren’t responsible for her death and the body count that could be attributed to my existence wouldn’t go up any higher. But, if she was awake, it would also mean that the Council of Masons were aware of my identity as the Bloodmoon and, you know, were probably gonna kill me dead.

  “Oh, so you can hear me now? Fine timing for that,” she huffed and stood up. I watched her as she paced circles around the room.

  “How did you even get in here?” I asked, standing to meet her.

  “I came in with you,” she answered, which, of course, was ridiculous, because if Merrin would have followed me in here, I’d have seen her, wouldn’t I?

  “That’s-“

  “Insane, impossible, confusing as possible? Yes, it is, but it happened nonetheless,” Merrin interrupted, rolling her eyes. “And don’t bother calling for Owen. Unlike you, he’s observant. If he had the capacity to see or hear me, he would have done so by now.”

  My head was pounding like a jackhammer against a block of ice now. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about what you did to me,” Merrin shot back. “When you strapped me into that chair and almost fried my brain. When your perky little friend very nearly ended my life. “ She laughed a bitter little laugh. “And you’d think that would be the worst part. Oh, but you’d be wrong. This-This is by far the worst thing that could ever happen to me.”

  I shook my head, trying to dislodge the crazy and stop the pounding. “Merrin, just tell me what is going on.”

  “I’m stuck, Cresta!” She stomped. “When you tried to fix your mess, when you touched me, hoping to save me, all you did was make things a thousand times worse.”

  “You’re stuck where?” I asked.

  Her eyes were wide with anger as she responded. “Where do you think, you walking calamity?! I’m stuck inside of your head!”

  Chapter 11

  Around To See It

  I would have passed out or screamed or something, but if the last few months had taught me anything, it was that none of that would do any good. Merrin was trapped
inside my head; literally inside my head and, judging from the look on her face, it wasn’t the sort of thing that the Breaker’s had a ready solution for.

  “What do you mean inside my head?” I asked, wishing I had my trusty steering wheel cover to pick at.

  “I’m not sure how many different definitions that phrase could have. I am inside of your head; inside your brain, stuck in your inadequate and hopefully late blooming body, privy to your childish thoughts and desires, and completely unaware of how to remedy the situation. Does that clear things up for you?”

  Oh God. Merrin could read my mind.

  “Yes, I can,” she said, shaking her head. “Though trust me, there isn’t much of interest in there.”

  “What the hell happened?!” My voice morphed into a high shrill thing, like a howler monkey had stubbed its toe.

  “The answer to that question could be traced back to four months ago, to two years ago, to sixteen years ago, if you’re so inclined. What happened? The same thing that always happens whenever anything in my life goes horribly awry. You happened, Cresta Karr.” She glared at me with all the hatred you’d expect to see from someone after you’ve stolen their boyfriend and trapped their consciousness inside of yourself; which was to say, a lot of hatred.

  “There has to be a way to fix this. You people are the most evolved creatures in the entire world. Certainly there are contingency plans for this sort of thing,” I said, grasping for straws and pulling at my hair in desperation.

  “I doubt this sort of thing has ever happened before. Though, if there is a solution, you’re likely to find it with the Council.”

  “We can’t go to them,” I said, shaking my head instinctively.

  “And how did I know you were going to say that?” Merrin mused, tapping her finger against her chin in a mock act of concentration. “Oh I know, because you’re a selfish narcissistic creature who cares about no one but yourself.” She walked closer to me, so that our noses were almost touching; if she was the sort of thing that you could touch anymore. She gritted her teeth and said, “and before I forget, let me throw this little tidbit on top of the’ Cresta Karr description’ pile. You ARE the Bloodmoon!”