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

by Conner Kressley

  I just couldn’t face him, not with the specter of his brother hanging over us. But that wouldn’t matter much longer. The Council was going to haul us into a room and force us to answer questions about that night in Crestview as well as the day Flora betrayed us. We’d have to talk about Merrin, Wendy, and my mom. We’d probably have to talk about my bio folks, even though I didn’t have much to say about them. And, if we were lucky, we’d get out of there with our secrets intact. It was strange. I had been stressing about this day for months. It had kept me awake more nights than I cared to count. But now that it was happening, I was strangely unaffected; at least in comparison to everything else going on.

  Getting out of bed, I shuffled toward the door. Opening it, I found a cellophane clothes bag hanging on the other side. Looked like yellow and green were today’s universal colors of choice. Grabbing them, I noticed a covered plate sitting at my feet. Picking it up, I sighed, reading the letter.

  Happy Good Morning

  -Sevie

  Happy good morning? Seriously? Pulling off the top, I saw that Sevie’s idea of a nutritious breakfast was a plate of lasagna with a side of slightly burnt garlic bread. Another note was taped on the inside of the cover.

  Once coupled, perhaps we can do something to fix your appetite’s internal clock.

  …Or not. Whatever you like.

  -Sevie.

  Curiously enough, something between a groan and a chuckle flew from my mouth. Pursing my lips, I dropped the platter beside my uneaten dinner waffles and grabbed my clothes to change. Five minutes and one hideous color scheme later, I was headed toward the door.

  “Cresta!” Sevie’s voice clawed at me like nails on a chalkboard. Why did he have to be so into this? I turned. He was dressed in that weird wedding suit again; complete with breast pocket handkerchief and necklace. It was, without a doubt, the fanciest clothes I had ever seen a Breaker wear; and that was counting the Halloween party back in Crestview when Casper dared Owen to dress up like a ‘disco age Jedi’.

  “Okay Sevie, I’m just gonna ask, what the hell are you wearing?” I asked.

  “It’s a coupling guise.”

  I shuddered, not because of the name, but because the person saying it wasn’t Sevie. I turned toward the voice. Petar, Sevie’s father, stood watching us. His scolding last night rang in my head. “It’s the suit he’s going to wear when the two of you are married.”

  Guise? The word struck me; like it was mask he was wearing, like Sevie was playing dress up in his dad’s clothes. And I was expected to follow suit. “Well,” I started, clearing my throat. “Why is he wearing it now? I thought Sevie told me there was a three month engagement closet or something.”

  “Betrothal window,” Sevie smiled. “And there is. This is just for fitting purposes. Given the fact that that horrible man had you in a traditional guise just a few months ago, it was deemed unnecessary for you to try one on. I was going to do it last night but, given your reaction, I thought it was best to wait until after we’d had a productive talk.” He grinned wide. “Also, I think it looks rather dashing on me.”

  He wasn’t wrong. For an outfit that supposedly needed alterations, the coupling guise fit Sevie like a glove; an extremely flattering glove. Still, as cute as he was, with his sandy hair and chocolate-gold eyes, he wasn’t Owen, and that’s what mattered.

  “A productive conversation? I see that productivity has abounded since last night,” Petar said. “I’m glad to see that the two of you have begun your bonding.”

  I shuddered, not because of Sevie. Honestly, any girl would be lucky to have a guy as sweet and giving as him. Plus, it didn’t hurt that he wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes. But I wasn’t any girl. I was me, and I had my guy.

  “Where’s Owen?” I asked, not sure whether or not I actually wanted to see him.

  “He left before sunrise,” Sevie said cheerfully.

  “Why?” I stammered.

  “Why do you think?” Petar scoffed. “His intended is, as we speak, in a hospital bed in critical condition. The fact that he’s spent even a second away from her side is a travesty. Lightfoots tend to their own. That’s a lesson I taught my sons from an early age, and a lesson I’ll teach you before it’s all over.” He picked up an apple from a nearby table and took a bite. Juice splattered everywhere; on his stupid face, on the counter, even on the floor. Watching him chomp away at that apple, I realized how much I hated him. I hated the way he looked at me; like a piece of property that he had just acquired from some bizzaro flea market. I hate the way he spoke to me; like he was trying to teach Spanish to a dog. Most of all, I hated his hypocrisy. He walked around here like he was top dog, like he had never done anything wrong in his whole life; spouting life lessons like ‘ Lightfoots always take care of their own’, and expecting everyone to forget that, when the chips were down, he was nowhere to be found. Why didn’t Lightfoots take care of their own when his son had been condemned to die? If he was so big on family values, why did his wife have to take matters into her own hands, keeping him in the dark the entire time?

  No, I hated Petar Lightfoot almost as much as I loved his son (the one I wasn’t engaged to anyway). But, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t tell him that now.

  “Of course,” I answered. “As it should be, I guess.”

  He smiled and took another bite of his apple, but I could tell he wasn’t really buying it.

  “Was your breakfast acceptable?” Sevie asked, straightening the tie on his coupling guise.

  “Sure,” I answered. “I mean, it was lasagna at seven in the morning. But sure.”

  “Owen left a message for you,” Petar said through a mouthful of fruit. “You’re to meet him outside of the Council’s chambers at midday. You’ll be going in together, and you’re not to keep the Council waiting.”

  “Midday,” I nodded, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “Does anyone have, like, a pocket watch or anything?”

  Sevie scrunched his nose, like he had no idea what that mysterious ‘watch’ thing I was talking about might be.

  “Just watch the sun,” Petar scoffed.

  “How will I know what midday looks like?” I asked, leaning so I could look out the window.

  “When it looks like it does now,” Petar started. “You’re already running late.”

  Yep. No habla espaniol, Rover.

  “Oh…” I muttered. “Well crap.”

  “I can take you!” Sevie said, practically beaming at the prospect.

  “That’s okay,” I answered instinctively. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

  “I am not,” he assured me.

  “Oh. Well, I mean- like your dad said, I’m already late. You’d have to change and-“

  In a flash, Sevie shrugged off his jacket. In another, his shirt was unbuttoned and over his head. For the second time in a handful of days, Sevie was bare-chested in front of me with his shirt in his hand.

  “Sevie!” I said, when he went for the pants. “Seriously. I’m good. I’ve got it.”

  “But you do not know where it is,” he said, pulling his belt off in one smooth ‘Magic Mike-esque’ motion.

  “I’ll ask someone!” I said. “Just stop stripping. I don’t have any dollar bills.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said, tilting his head.

  “It’s humor, son.” Petar said. “Or, at the very least, an excuse for it.” He shot me a cringe-worthy look. “The two of you aren’t coupled yet. Let Cresta have some time for herself, Sevie. So long as she realizes that it’s a dwindling commodity.”

  Heat rose in my face, but I squashed it down. I needed to get out of here; jump from one viper to a whole nest of them. And sparring with Petar wouldn’t help my cause anyway. “Put your clothes back on, Sevie,” I said, walking out the door. “You were right. They look very dashing on you.”

  Okay, so I had absolutely no idea where the Council’s chambers were and, though I also had absolutely no idea how to tell time from looking at the sun, I knew I nee
ded to book if I was going to make it there in time and keep the (almost certainly) pissy little Council members from throwing a tantrum.

  So I marched up the grassy hill that Sevie guided me down, running as free as a kid on a playground, the first day I got here. The main area of the Hourglass was up ahead and, so long as I looked for the hugest, most ostentatious, doucheiest looking building in my line of vision, I figured I’d be fine.

  My mind was spinning, but only half because of the Council. In truth, where I was leaving was every bit as stressful as where I was going. The Sevie revelation had changed everything. All of a sudden, deceiving the Council wasn’t the obvious endgame anymore. A three month engagement- plus the fact that Sevie was the type of Breaker who spent all his time inside these damn walls- meant that, unless Owen and I could find a way around this ‘perfect’ thing, I was going to be stuck inside the Hourglass for the foreseeable future. And that simply wasn’t an option.

  But how could Owen and I find a solution to this when we weren’t even really speaking. First I was avoiding him, sticking behind my locked door like a spoiled child. And now it was him; out the door at the crack of dawn just to make sure our paths didn’t cross. Somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind, Merrin was cackling with joy.

  The main area of the Hourglass had just come into view, with its plain brick roads and mostly modest buildings, when I heard a weird noise coming from my left. It was soft, a sort of quiet whimpering. Was an animal hurt? Did they even let animals roam around in this place?

  I didn’t have time to investigate whatever it was. The Council would be expecting me. Owen would be expecting me and, given the way the direction my luck was headed in lately, a horrible twist of fate that would knock me on my ass was likely waiting for me too. But the thing was, I had never been one to walk away from tears; whether they were coming from an animal or not.

  Walking toward the noise, I found that, not only was the thing making that noise not an animal, it was Dahlia. She was sitting cross-legged beside the most gorgeous still lake I had ever seen in my life. Dressed in the same lemon lime rags that we had all been forced to wear, with her head in her hands, she looked like she could be a painting; sorrow beside beauty.

  I hadn’t moved since the moment I saw her sitting there, but somehow, Dahlia knew I was watching her. “We have to stop meeting like this,” she sniffled. Then, with a ridged wave of her hand, motioned me toward her.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. Unlike before, at Wendy’s gravesite, I didn’t wait for an invitation. Instead, I sat down beside her.

  “What isn’t?” She sighed. Wiping her eyes, she continued. “You know, I don’t even know how I got here. One minute, I was standing in front of the Council, and the next, I was here.” She brushed a strand of blonde-gray hair behind her ear. “Perhaps I walked.”

  “You saw the Council already?” I asked. For some reason, I assumed, like with the Crone, the four of us would see the Council together. Though, judging from the decimated look on Dahlia’s face, maybe it was better that I wasn’t there.

  “That I did,” she said, vacantly staring off into the lake. “They took Weathersby.”

  “They did what?!” I asked, standing from the pure shock of it.

  “They said we were no longer fit to run it. New Headmasters will be appointed. Echo will live out the rest of his life in disgrace, as a shamed shopkeeper or farmer; and I’ll be his equally shamed wife.”

  “No, that can’t happen,” I said. “Where’s Echo? Does he know?”

  “Oh he knows,” she said. “He was right beside me when the Council leveled its ruling. He was outraged. I begged him not to, but he lashed out at them; called them self-righteous and decrepit, said they were out of touch with the real world and what it needs from us.” She closed her eyes tightly, as if she were trying to hold back tears. “They held him in contempt and knocked him unconscious. He’s sleeping it off in our new home; a cramped loft that sits above a bakery.” A wry smile spread across her face. “I think I’ll refer to it as ‘cozy’ in mixed company.”

  “They can’t do this to you!” I said. “They can’t do this to Echo. Weathersby is where you belong. It’s your life’s work. It belongs to-“

  “The Breakers, Cresta. It belongs to the Breakers; all of us. And the Council of Masons rules the Breakers.” She stood to meet me. “So I assure you, they most certainly can do this.” She turned back to the lake. “You would not believe the memories I’m getting from this. This lake isn’t manmade. It was here before the Hourglass came to be, so it knows all our secrets.” She sighed, and I felt her deflate like a balloon. “I don’t care about the wasted time. I don’t even care about the shame of it all. Well, that’s a lie. I do care, but I’ll get over that. The thing that really crushes me about all of this, the thing that I know will keep me up at night for the rest of my life, is not being able to see you children again.” She cleared her throat. “I know you may not believe this, but I only ever wanted to teach them. I just wanted to make them the best people they could be, so that their lives could be as full and spectacular as possible. Even you, Cresta. And now, all of that’s gone. Weatherby is gone. My daughter is gone. And the children are gone now too. I literally have nothing left.” She looked over at me, another wry smile stretching her face. “And to top it all off, fate has seen fit to allow me to come to this realization in front of you.”

  “Yeah,” I answered. “Fate’s sort of a bitch like that.” I sort of wanted to hug her, which was totally not the impulse I usually got in Dahlia’s company. But this was different. We were all in this together, and the Council had just cut us deep. “But you don’t have nothing. You have Echo, and-and-“

  “If you say that I have you, I’m going to throw you into this lake,” she said.

  “Actually, I was going to say that we can fight this. This can’t be the end. Weathersby is your home, and we’re going to get it back. We just have to wake Echo up, come up with some sort of a plan, and-“

  “Fates alive,” Dahlia muttered. “I wonder if I was ever so delightfully naïve. You don’t fight the Council, Cresta. People who try; they don’t fare well. “

  “My mom fought them,” I said defiantly.

  “Your mother ran. She faked her own death and lived the rest of her life in obscurity. Unless, of course, you’re speaking of your biological mother; who at this very moment is probably cowering in a dark corner somewhere, or nursing some farfetched plan that she’ll never enact.” Dahlia stepped closer to me. “Don’t be like them, Cresta. Don’t spend your life pushing against a mountain you’re never going to move. This is the way of things. You love, and you lose; and you live as the Council sees fit. That’s the way it’s always been, and the way it will always be.”

  Standing there, looking at the dark rings that circled Dahlia’s eyes, I realized how tired she must be, and just how tired I was of everything. This place, it was killing us. And if I stayed here, I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. For some reason, Wendy’s words came trickling back into my mind.

  “Tell me about Mother’s man,” I said flatly.

  “Who?” Dahlia asked.

  “Renner, the man with the gray eyes,” I answered.

  She flinched, like the name was a knife and I had just stabbed her with it. “How do you-“

  “Wendy came to me in a dream. She told me about him; said that all of this would only end if I found him.”

  “Cresta…” Dahlia sighed.

  Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out the Poe letter. “I broke into your office. I know I shouldn’t have, but I needed answers, and when I came to you at Wendy’s grave-“

  She jerked the letter from my hand and glared at me with more disgust than I had ever seen in her face before; which was saying a lot. “How did you find it?” She asked.

  “I screwed with the shade,” I admitted.

  Dahlia sighed again. “I do hate your powerset.”

  “Look,” I shook my head. “I know that you’re
mad at me for invading your privacy.”

  “At this point, I expect you to invade my privacy. I’m mad at you for being unimaginably stupid. Though, I suppose I should expect that too.” She looked down at the letter. “Any Breaker with a particular set of skills could have hacked their way into your dreams, used my daughter’s face as a mask, and told you those things. You have no idea whose game you’re playing.”

  “No,” I shook my head. “She knew things; things only she would know.”

  “Whoever this person was had access to your brain. They’d know whatever you know. You should have come to us, Cresta. We could have helped you.”

  “No. You’re wrong. I know Wendy. It was her.”

  “My daughter is dead,” Dahlia said.

  “Just tell me who Mother’s man is!” I said.

  “Someone I loved!” She answered loudly. “Though not in the common way you probably assume. He was my best friend; my only friend at one point. I know you probably don’t find this surprising, but I was rather prickly as a child.”

  “He was your Casper,” I muttered as flashes of red hair and crooked smiles bounced through my mind.

  Dahlia groaned. “I suppose you could think of it that way…if you must.”

  “So what happened?” I asked.

  “He did something horrible and was banished. You can add him to the ever growing list of things I’ve lost in my life.” It surprised me when Dahlia handed me the Poe letter. “Here, see for yourself.”

  “I can’t read it. I tried already,” I admitted, sheepishly taking the letter. “It’s weird. I can usually see through most of those things.”

  A small grin cracked Dahlia’s pursed lips. “This was our own language; just for the two of us.” She waved her hand and the jumble of symbols suddenly shifted, making them readable. “Go ahead,” Dahlia nodded.

  My hands tightened around the letter as I scanned its contents.