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

by Conner Kressley

  “No, Owen!” The voice called. It was loud and full of dread. And, what was more, I finally recognized it.

  Sevie stood beside me now. He panted and sweat fell in drops from his hair. His eyes; brown and tearing up, looked straight ahead, straight at the symbols. Though he didn’t say it, I could tell from the look on his face that he knew what they meant. And it wasn’t anything good.

  “You can’t read them, Owen,” he said, batting back tears. “If you read them, we can’t ever go back again. Nothing is the same if you read them.”

  “Sevie,” I said, turning to him. Pain flashed across his face and, just like it had since we were kids, his pain hurt me more than my own. “It’s gonna be okay. I’d never let anything happen to you.”

  He pulled away from me, his jaw setting and his face twisting into a mask of anger. “Then why would you bring me here?! I don’t belong here, Owen! I don’t care what they say. I’m not what she told you!”

  My heart sank, and then broke into so many pieces that I forgot this was a dream. I was standing here, really standing here, watching my brother plead with me about something he had no business knowing.

  The crone had told me so much when I went to see her. She told me that I was the Dragon, something I already knew. She told me that I’d have to let Cresta go if I wanted to see her survive, that after I did, the next time I saw her would be the day I killed her, and she told me something about my brother; something I’ve tried to forget every minute since then.

  “Sevie, it’s okay,” I said, trying to pat him on the shoulder, the way I did when we were young and he used to get down about one thing or the other. But not only did he pull away, he swatted at me, knocking my hand back. It was the first time he had ever hit me. Sevie and I weren’t the type of brothers to tussle with each other. He was too soft for that, too loving. In fact, the idea of hurting him was the thing that plagued me the most when Cresta, the others, and I went up against the Council. It wasn’t getting killed, or being branded a traitor again. It wasn’t even losing her which, for me, was more of a certainty than a possibility. It was the look on Sevie’s face, the prospect of him having to attack me, and the grim necessity of having to fight back.

  But I should have known better, that it wouldn’t come to that. I should have known that someone like him would have seen what was right.

  “You’re my brother. You’re not anything else,” I said, surprised at the sheer amount of tears that now rolled down my cheeks.

  “You know that’s not true. We both know that’s not true,” he wept openly. Running hands through his light hair, he looked at me; his dark eyes cutting deeper into me than any of the Council’s machinations ever could. Unless, of course, this was one of them. Could this be one of the Council’s tricks; using the visage of my brother to weasel their way past my defenses. Then, a darker thought crept into my mind. Sevie was a dreamwalker. It was the way the shade manifested in him. For Breakers, that was a passive ability; considered less than useful, considering that there were those who could lift cars off the ground or make people pass out with little more than a wave of their hand.

  But Sevie’s powers had their uses. He could creep into people’s dreams, mess with their minds, and affect their subconscious. And it also meant that there was a more than fair chance that the person standing in front of me, crying and pleading, was actually my brother.

  But how would Sevie have known what the crone said to me? Those sessions were private. Not even the Council was privileged to their contents. If this really was my brother, come to confront me after learning an awful truth, then that meant the Council extracted the information from the crone; going against centuries of sacred law and probably giving her a hell of a headache. But would they do that? Would they really abandon their principals and ancient rules just to get me on their side? I didn’t need to think much about it? Of course, they would. The world was at stake, and they weren’t planning on losing it.

  “Sevie, what did they tell you?” I asked, careful to keep my distance.

  “Everything,” he sobbed. “Who I am. Where I come from. Where I belong.” His fingers were tracing the jumbled symbols now, making small circles around the edges.

  “And where is that, Sevie? Where do you belong?” I asked. My voice cracking, I was sure I didn’t want to hear the answer.

  “Right here,” he said, looking at me and pointing to the dead center of the symbol. He choked back tears as he continued. “In the strangest of places.”

  My body bolted straight up in bed. Sweat poured off of me in sheets. I hated seeing Sevie in my dreams, especially now, knowing that I couldn’t see him in actuality. My hands shook as I reached for the water beside my bed. Grabbing the glass, I tilted it to my face and took a huge gulp. The water, colder than it had any reason being given that it had been sitting out, steadied my hands but did little to calm my nerves.

  Lying back against my now soaked pillow, I did what I had taken to doing when things got to be too much.

  “Taylor Swift’s music isn’t even country anymore. Vanilla Coke isn’t as popular as it should be. The finale of Lost sucked.”

  The words left my mouth in a mumble. Sure, they were nothing, stupid observations that didn’t really matter in any situation, much less the one I found myself in now. But that was the point. Reciting these simple, ridiculous truths reminded me of whom I was, who I really was.

  I wasn’t the Dragon. I wasn’t the Breaker who betrayed his heritage. I was Owen, the kid who played football because he thought he was supposed to. The guy who watched Pulp Fiction a hundred times because he liked the way some girl smiled at the gruesome parts. I was the person I learned to be in Crestview and, even though I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I would never see Crestview or any of the people I grew to love there ever again.

  ‘Hardees is also Carl’s Jr. Valentine’s Day is February 14th. Airheads are the best things in the world.”

  This always worked. So why wasn’t it working now. I sat back up in bed, glancing out the window. Total darkness, it wasn’t even close to morning. Reaching over for my water glass, I took another chug. Except it wasn’t water now. It was- it was vinegar.

  I wretched hard, coughing and trying to spit the stupid stuff back up. My throat burned, my eyes stung but, most of all, my mind raced. I hadn’t had condiments since they put me here. My food came dry and unaccompanied. So where the hell did vinegar come from, and why was it at my bedside where my water glass was supposed to be?

  I should have known the answer, given where I was. And maybe I would have if I wasn’t so tired; tired of being here, tired of being away from the girl I loved and my family, and just tired ‘cause it was the middle of the night.

  The glass fell from my hand. Bracing for it to shatter against the floor, I was more than a little surprised to watch it disappear completely. A song, some stupid Lumineers tune about a girl with flowers in her hair filled the air. This wasn’t right. Breakers didn’t listen to this sort of music. But that wasn’t the reason it was being played. The song, this song, was blaring in my ears because Cresta loved it, because I had a particularly fond memory of her singing it softly in my car with the wind in her hair and the future in her eyes. And because, at this very moment, some bastard of a Breaker was ripping through my mind, looking for things to use against me.

  “What’s going on here?” I asked, whipping the covers off and standing upright. The music screeched to a halt. I huffed. I’m not sure why, maybe it was all the alone time, maybe it was the dream I had just had of Sevie, or maybe it was the fact that I really hated vinegar and had just struggled through a mouthful of it, but I was done with this. Being locked away was one thing, but being jerked around on the inside of some shade nightmare was another.

  I paced around my bed, letting my bare feet hit the floor. “I don’t know who you are,” I said to whatever Breaker the Council had working their mojo inside of my head. “Though, I suppose you think you know me. I’m the Dragon, right? I
’m the Breaker who didn’t know any better than to let himself get tricked into running away, the boy who was stupid enough to fall in love with the girl he’s destined to kill, the son whose parents would have been better off to let him die.”

  Light started to trickle in through the window; strange given that, just instants ago, it was pitch black outside. I didn’t take the time to notice that, though. I was too busy preparing my argument, readying myself to tell this Breaker just how wrong they were about me. I wasn’t what they, or anyone else, thought I was. But, as I opened my mouth to speak, the words that came out took me by surprise.

  “You’re right,” I said in a small voice, realizing that they were. “I did all of those things. I let myself be duped, maybe because part of me wanted to be duped, wanted to get away. And maybe I found solace in a girl when I was promised to someone else.” Thoughts of Merrin and subsequently, what I did to her filled my mind. “But if you knew what it felt like to be in love, if you had even the slightest idea of what that meant, I don’t think you would blame me.”

  Light grew brighter in the window, illuminating the room. “And frankly, I don’t care if you blame me! You want me to tell you that I was wrong? Fine, I was wrong! I was stupid and foolish, and I was only thinking about myself! I admit it. But you want me to say I regret it? You might as well cut my tongue out, because that’s never going to happen. I take ownership over all of my actions, all the betrayals, all the mistakes, all the lies and deceptions. They’re all mine. But so are the good things. So is the fact that I am a brave man; brave enough to risk my life for the things I love and for what I believe in.”

  I was screaming now, and the light from the window was so bright that I could barely hold my eyes open. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered; not what they had done to me, not what they wanted to do to me. All I cared about was getting this off my chest. They could keep me here forever if they wanted to, but I was going to speak my piece and they were going to listen.

  “I have known love, real love! I have known life and struggle, victory and defeat. But most of all, I have known love.” Tears pooled in my eyes, but I couldn’t stop now, not when I finally felt alive again. “I became a man pressed against the heart of Cresta Karr, and it has made me stronger than I could have ever been otherwise.”

  The light overcame me, stripping every piece of the world away and replacing it with sharp, unyielding brightness. When it left, and after my eyes adjusted, I saw that I was no longer in that room- if, in fact, I ever was.

  I now sat chained to a chair. I was outside, in the center of the Hourglass’ Main Square. I must have been on some sort of platform, because the people surrounding me, and there were many, looked up at me from the ground below. My still stinging eyes traced them, looking for anyone familiar.

  But before I had a chance to find Sevie or Mother, or even Father at this point, something new stole my attention. Appearing before me out of shimmering, changing air stood the three members of the Council of Masons.

  “I told you all he needed was a push,” Chant said. He was hunched over, looking even more aged than the last time I saw him, if that was even possible.

  “You think he’s ready now?” Ilsa asked, her red eyes peering over at me.

  Leaning heavy against his cane, Chant looked me over, his eyes taking in all my complexities. “You say you’re stronger now?” He leaned forward, talking directly to me now. “Stronger than you could have been otherwise? That’s good, Dragon. You’ll need that strength. You’ll need everything Cresta Karr gave you.” A wide smile spread across his wrinkled face. “For what you really are.” His eyes shot downward, and I followed them with my own.

  Looking down, I saw that Chant was staring at my feet, everyone was. Leaning forward as far as my bindings would allow, I glanced down to see what all the fuss was about.

  Gasping, I jerked back. The light made sense to me now, the way it grew brighter and brighter until I couldn’t stand it anymore. It wasn’t coming from some window, or even from the Council’s shade. It was coming from me. And how did I know? Because my feet were on fire.

  Chapter 6

  Witness

  It turned out that, while everything I had just said about Cresta making me stronger, and braver, and all that was absolutely true, it doesn’t apply to all situations. Because the instant I saw flames dance around my feet, licking up my legs, I started to panic like a fat turkey in November.

  I pulled hard against my bindings. They looked like ordinary rope, but that must have been a trick of the shade because, no matter how hard I pulled, they didn’t budge an inch. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I always knew there was a chance that the Council would punish me for what I had done. But this, publicly burning me alive like some misjudged witch, was too far even for them. This was barbaric, the sort of thing the Council outlawed a century ago. And what was more, it would kill me. How could they do this? I was the Dragon. I was needed. If they wanted a chance at killing Cresta, they’d need me alive and healthy. Every decision I had made, sacrificing myself to get Cresta out, had been based on that fact.

  And the people in front of me, the crowd of Breakers huddled around underfoot, they were here to watch an execution, the gruesome ending of a life.

  The flames climbed up my legs now, burning bright and devouring my Council appointed clothing. Whatever adrenaline my body had produced upon seeing the fire was melting away, because I could feel it now. The heat tore at my skin, chomping at me, teeth against the tissue. I screamed despite myself. It was a low, guttural thing and the fact that I had given them even that much made me sick.

  I would not beg for mercy from these people. I was better than that, or at least, too stubborn for it. Besides, on the off chance that they might actually reconsider their decision and spare me, is that what I really wanted?

  Dying today meant that Cresta was safe. It meant that I, as the Dragon, couldn’t one day snuff out the life that I had come to treasure so much. And maybe that was enough. Besides, what did I have to live for anyway? I had made a mess of this life. That could never be fixed. And now, because of what the crone said, I could never leave it. Did I really want to be a tool for the Council, trapped in some luxurious stasis until they decided I was needed?

  A memory of Wendy came to mind. Maybe she had the right idea. She had lived the way she wanted to, even knowing that she was going to die for it. If I had known how all of this would end, if I’d have known that meeting Cresta, that living a life with her- even for a short time- would mean my death, would I have still done it? Would I have changed anything?

  “Not one damn thing,” I muttered to myself as the fire began to devour my chest. There was no turning back now. It was happening. This was the end of the line for me. At least it had been a good life.

  “Do you want to die, Dragon?” Chant asked, seemingly deciphering what my utterance meant.

  It was then, like a pinprick from irony herself, that I saw Sevie. He had made his way up to the front. His eyes threatened to spill over with tears, and his jaw shook violently. He had always been soft, too good for this life. And where would he be now that I was leaving him?

  “Did you hear me, Dragon? Do you want to die?” Chant repeated, moving closer to me and letting his cane slap hard against the floor.

  My eyes were pinned on Sevie now, entrapped by love and responsibility. Why couldn’t he have been with Cresta? At least then, like her, I could imagine he was safe. I could let death take me with an idea that the people I loved would be okay.

  “Do you want to burn to death, Dragon?” Chant asked again, as I felt the fire trickle hungrily up my neck.

  “No,” I said through pained, gritted teeth, still looking at my brother and declining to say just why. “No, I don’t.”

  “Then make it stop,” Chant said loudly.

  “What?!” I asked as the devouring flames inched up my chest and onto my shoulders and neck. Everything was heavy now. Every breath was a labored, excruciating thi
ng.

  “You heard me, Dragon. You did it. You can undo it.” Chant’s words were daggers into my burning flesh. I didn’t do this. My abilities had no connection to fire. In fact, physical manifestations, fire included, were one of rarest of Breaker abilities. It had gone almost extinct given the thinning out of our number in recent decades.

  “I-I didn’t!” I yelled as the fire climbed up my throat and burned against my chin and cheeks. I couldn’t hold back anymore. Though I hated it, though the idea killed me, I couldn’t stop from screaming. My pain must have echoed off every hall and dwelling in the entirety of the Hourglass. It was that loud.

  “”You did it. You can undo it!” Chant repeated, louder this time. I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t do anything but scream and writhe. I never knew anything could hurt like this, that pain could reach into you and strip away everything that made you who you were, until all that was left was a pile of scar tissue and agony, begging to die. “It won’t end until you make it end,” Chant said. I couldn’t see anything. I may never have been able to see anything again, given that it felt like my eyeballs had melted away. But Chant’s vice was clearer now; not clearer because he was closer. I was sure he was much too smart to lean into an inferno. No, he was inside my head, the way Cresta used to be. ; the way I wished she still was.

  “If you want the pain to stop, if you want your family, your brother, to remember you as something more than a mound of ash, then you’ll undo it!”

  Chant’s voice cut through everything, even the agony. He had been wrong about so much, but he was right about this. I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving my brother, the idea of him spreading my ashes across the Lightfoot family plot because there wasn’t enough of me left to bury. He had been through so much, lost so much. He wasn’t going to lose me too, not if I could help it.

  I tried to breathe slow and steady, hoping a bit of calm resolve might help with the pain. It didn’t, but there wasn’t much time. I could feel my hair begin to singe as the fire encompassed me totally. Reaching deep within myself, I attempted to pull at it. But I wasn’t Cresta. I couldn’t control shade the way she did. And I had no idea what I was looking for.