Tears pricked at his gray eyes. “You need to take care of him, Cresta. And what’s more, you need to let him take care of you. Life is hard, and yours will be downright impossible. Don’t let it destroy you. Don’t let it destroy either of you.”
“Renner,” I said, near breathless. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong idea about Royce and me.”
“Sure I do, Sweetheart,” he said, and I heard an echo of Royce in his voice. I guess now I knew where he got it from. “Just promise me, okay. Promise me you won’t give up on him.”
Owen’s voice flashed through my mind.
“A Breaker’s promise,” I muttered.
“A Breaker’s promise,” Royce answered. “I like your shirt,” he added, looking down at the moon marked red and black gift that Royce had now presented me with twice.
“I-I think I want to be alone for a bit, maybe finish this walk on my own,” I said, turning away from Renner.
I scuttled away, trying hard not to think about the undeniable truth that I was basically abandoning an invalid in the middle of the woods. He’d be fine. This place was protected by anchors. And besides, I really needed to get out of here. I didn’t want to think about the fact that Renner had pretty much come to terms with his own death in front of me and, as a last wish, tried to bond me with Royce forever. Talk about a guilt trip.
I pushed into the woods, getting as close as I could to the edge of the grounds without having to worry about setting off the anchors. Everything seemed to be coming to a head and, as much as I hated to admit it, the pieces of fate’s puzzle looked like they were falling into place before my eyes. Owen and I were on different sides of things; both literally and figuratively, now he was married. I was the proud owner of a new power set that threatened to break both the entire world and my fragile teenage psyche. And the person who knew me best in the world just told me that he was sure I had developed feelings for the guy the prophecies told me I would end up with. Only a giant Blood Moon floating in the sky could have painted a clearer picture, and we were only a day away from that.
I leaned against the trunk of a tree, letting my body rest even if my mind wouldn’t. My eyes fluttered closed as I let my mind drift to simpler days. A couple of years ago, just after we moved to Crestview, Mom took Casper and I on a conference trip to Savannah, Georgia. She wasn’t really keen on letting him tag along since we were all going to have to share a room and he was a guy (well, technically anyway). But after I explained the thoroughly platonic nature of our relationship and after watching Casper eat chili in front of me (no guy would ever eat chili the way Casper did in front of a girl he was trying to seduce), she decided it was okay.
During the day, while Mom was at the conference, Casper and I walked through downtown. We settled at this huge cemetery right in the middle of downtown, apparently it’s pretty famous and supposedly haunted. It was full of weeping willows and faded headstones marking people who had passed away a hundred years ago; kids who had died from yellow fever or soldiers who had given everything for what they believed in.
I wasn’t sure why, but I felt sort of at home there; like there was a piece of me that connected with those kids and soldiers. And maybe there was. I hadn’t died, of course. But Dad had. He had died right in front of me. And maybe that did make me more like these people than I could fully understand.
We were leaning against the willow, Casper and I, when I told him how much I dreaded the idea of going back to Crestview. I still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of living in a town that was half the size of my old closet, and being somewhere that had both a north and a south Starbucks made me long for the life I had left behind.
“I don’t want to leave,” I had told him solemnly.
“Then let’s stay forever,” he answered, pulling a switchblade from his back pocket. “At least a little.”
Digging into the willow’s trunk, he carved ‘C + C ‘ and, under it, carved a lightning bolt because “lightning bolts are badass”.
I wasn’t sure why my mind picked that memory to drift back to. Maybe a piece of me wished I could be back there, when things were simpler, because how I wish I was there now... looking at that tree. Maybe some symbolism about the faded headstones and our impending doom had mingled in my head. Or maybe I just wanted to think about a good time I had had with a great friend. Either way, it brought me some strange comfort to know that, no matter how tomorrow played out; our initials would still be on that tree. C and C existed somewhere in the world and, so long as that tree stood, there was nothing the Council could do about it.
When I opened my eyes, the sun had set fully behind the great wall of the Hourglass. I wasn’t sure how long I had been standing there, but it was long enough so that my mind was settled and the pattering of my heart had slowed to a more manageable beat.
Sure, nothing was better. The end of the world was still coming, and the Council was sure as hell still coming. But I felt a bit better, a bit like the events of the world might one day be smaller than me again. And that counted for something didn’t it?
I pushed myself off the tree, feeling a little rested and wondering just how long I had been standing there. One way or another, this would be my last night inside the Hourglass. It would more than likely be my last night alive, but there was little need in letting that truth bog down my mind; not when the night was so peaceful and I had finally stumbled onto an ounce of inner peace.
Leaves crunched underfoot as I continued my walk around the anchor laden boundary. Like before, I could feel their energy calling to me, begging me to soak it up and leave us exposed and defenseless. Royce wasn’t around to siphon it off, and neither was the weird figment girl who had unloaded me before. But I was pretty sure I could handle this little bit of energy. And if it got to be too much for me, I’d throw myself at Royce for a little bit of release. Something told me he wouldn’t protest too hard.
A song came to mind and I started humming along with the tune stuck in my head.
“Dooont wooorrryyyy baaabbyyyy,” I mumbled out of tune. Dad loved the Beach Boys.
“Pure genius,” he used to call them. “The way their harmonies lift right up into the air.”
Part of me felt like he was here with me now, watching over me the way a normal dad might if his daughter was on the way to her prom or going off to college. I wasn’t normal, of course. And I guess neither was he. He knew what I was; that I was the Blood Moon. But we never got a chance to talk about. What would he have said to me if he was still alive? Would I even be here now, or would he have been able to save me from this; from what’s to come?
“Everythiiiing will be aaalllriiiggghhtt. Dooon’t wooorrryyy baa-“
My mindless singing was cut short by the sound of rustling in the nearby leaves. Stopping short, I remembered how my powers had messed with the anchors before and cursed my proximity to them now. My fingers began to tingle, and I balled my fist up, as if that might somehow stifle my abilities and keep me hidden.
Slowly, I made my way to a nearby tree and settled behind it. If my abilities did render the anchors useless then maybe I could hide the old fashioned way. I cringed, knowing better than that. Breakers were trained to hunt. They were pretty much trained to do everything. And with only a day or so of preparation under my belt, if this took a turn for the worse, I was going to be in real trouble.
I crouched as low as I could to the ground and still have a clear view of everything, wrapping my hands around the tree for dear life. The rustling grew louder, finally producing a pair of booted feet from the darkness. I followed them up, absolutely sure that they belonged to a Breaker who wanted me dead. Dahlia had warned about this. The Council knew that the Blood Moon phenomenon would weaken the anchors and, as such, they’d know that it would be the only time we’d be able to reasonably make a break or it. It didn’t surprise me that extra troops had been deployed.
I traced up the Breaker. Stylish jeans followed the boots, followed by a black belt and fitted white tee shirt. As
I made it upwards of the Breaker’s chest though, something curious tugged at me. There was something very familiar about this person, about the shape of him and the way he moved. My eyes jolted up to his face as he fully cleared the shadows, exposing his features to the pale moonlight.
A lump the size of a boulder formed instantly in my throat as I took the Breaker in. Of course he was familiar. I’d know that face anywhere. Those enticing lips, that swirl of mud-colored hair, those eyes that were electric blue; it was the face that filled my every dream. It was the face I never thought I would see again.
Standing in front of me, contradicting everything I knew to be possible, was Owen.
I couldn’t believe it. It didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t supposed to be here. This was his wedding night. He should have been…otherwise occupied. But he wasn’t. He was here, looking for me. Maybe I had been too hasty before. Maybe I had misunderstood and Owen hadn’t been ready to move on. Of course, he hadn’t. Suddenly I felt very guilty. I was supposed to know Owen better than anyone. He was my one true love. And I had allowed myself to lose faith in him so easily. Thank God he was here, that he had somehow managed to slip away from Merrin, and the Council, and whoever else was watching him and make his way to me against all odds. Love had, in fact, found a way. And I felt more than a little ashamed at ever doubting that it would.
I stood quickly, releasing the tree and walking toward Owen. My steps quickened as I neared him, deciding that I didn’t care whether he was alone or not. He was here with me now. We’d face down anything that came so long as we were together. And, stupid crone prophecies aside, I was never letting go of him again. Not for as long as I lived.
“Owen!” I yelled, my walk morphing into a run. He couldn’t hear me, of course. The anchors made perception within them impossible for anyone who wasn’t already looking for them. And, since Owen hadn’t made it to the ‘hidden cabin’ portion of our previous escape, I’d have to make it past the border before he’d be able to hear or see me.
The fear, anger, and frustration melted away as I neared him. It was as though the mere sight of him, the knowledge that soon we would be breathing the same air, was enough to make one of the worst days of my life one of the best.
“Owen!” I said again, and this time, I took a huge and defined step outside of the border. I was like Neil Armstrong with that whole ‘one small step’ spiel. Or at least, that’s the way I felt. “Owen! I’m here!” I said, and tears broke through my delicate façade.
He turned toward me, his eyes widening and his body tensing. He did not, however, move toward me. Instead, he stumbled backward a little, his right hand moving to a place on his waist that I soon realized housed a pistol. This was definitely not how I imagined our reunion going.
“Owen, what are you-” I started. He reached for the pistol and held it out toward me, his hands shaking as though I was something to fear.
“I found her,” he said, obviously into some sort of communicator. “I can’t believe it, but I found her.” A shimmer moved across Owen’s face, and his features twisted and changed. He-he wasn’t Owen at all. It was a trick, an illusion meant to draw me out by preying on the thing I wanted the most in the world. And I fell for it. How very cliché.
I stumbled backward, back through the anchors’ boundaries. But their effect had been nullified. Faux Owen knew that I was there. He knew where to look and, as such, I was as visible and conspicuous as if I was standing under a ‘Cresta’s Right Here’ billboard.
His shaky hands still pointed the pistol toward me as he repeated into his communicator. “I found her. I have the coordinates of the Blood Moon.”
And now everyone else did too.
Chapter 21
An Act of War
“Remain where you are!” Faux Owen yelled! His voice lowered and, with hard blinking eyes, he said, “Request permission to eliminate the threat.”
Threat? He was the one with the gun.
I studied his eyes, studied his hands. Neither of them seemed too forceful and, if pushed, I wasn’t even sure this guy had it in him to shoot me. Since his Owen face had melted away, I could now see that he was no older than thirteen, a definite youngling and someone who had probably never even been in the field before, let alone actually killed someone.
He didn’t want to have to hurt me. That much was clear. What wasn’t clear was how close he would come if the Council requested it of him. Breakers were trained to follow orders, and the Council was considered infallible. Their words were as close to fate’s own tongue as anyone other than a seer was likely to ever hear. It wouldn’t pay to underestimate what this kid would do for the Council should they ask.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to compose myself. I needed to concentrate in order to shape the shade and get myself out of this situation. My mind wouldn’t allow it though, not right now. There was too much panic running through it, too much shame weighing down heavy on my shoulders. So I’d have to do this the old fashioned way; by begging.
“What’s your name,” I asked in my best quiet non-threatening tone.
His eyes flickered up at me in surprise, as though he never imagined that the Blood Moon would actually ever talk to him. Maybe Royce was right about these guys being scared to death of me. This kid obviously was.
“I’m not allowed to speak to you,” he said quickly. “I said I have the whereabouts of the Blood Moon. Requesting permission to eliminate the threat. Why aren’t you answering?”
“They can’t hear you,” I said, noticing that he had inched his way into the anchors’ boundaries. The Council (or whoever he was talking to) didn’t know about the cabin or the anchors. So they couldn’t hear his pleas or questions while he was inside. Of course, if I told him that, he’d just back up three feet and I’d be good as dead, so I added, “I’m blocking your communications. It’s um; it’s one of my Blood Moon things. Now, what’s your name?”
“Tennison,” he answered. His voice was cracking and his hands were positively jerking now. I hated the idea of scaring this kid, but this was war and it wasn’t like I had much of a choice.
“Are you going to kill me?” He asked. To his credit, though he was shaking, there were no tears in his eyes.
“You’re the one pointing a gun at me,” I answered, motioning toward the pistol.
“I have to do my duty,” he said, and it sounded as though the prospect pained him.
“No, you don’t, Tennison,” I answered, moving closer to him slowly, the way one might do to an especially skittish deer, careful not to spook it. “No one knows you saw me, Tennison. I blocked the transmission. You can just walk away, go back to your patrol, and pretend none of this ever happened.”
“No!” He yelled through gritted teeth. “You’re trying to trick me! You think I’m afraid!”
“No Tennison, afraid would be doing exactly what the Council wanted you to, even though you know in your heart that it isn’t right.”
That was sort of a risky game, assuming that there a piece of this kid who was having second thoughts about the whole ‘Blood Moon’ thing. But he had kind eyes and a lilt in his voice that made me think he’d be happier going through the motions than actually making any sort of difference.
“You don’t know what’s right,” he said, biting on his bottom lip. “You’re the Blood Moon. You’re the worst- the worst thing that has ever been.”
Well, that’s complimentary.
‘Is it hard?” I asked, playing a hunch and going a different direction. “Doing what they say no matter what? Being who they say you have to be, regardless of what you want, of who you know you really are? Tennison, I-”
“Stop saying my name!” He screamed, his face growing red and frustrated. “Do you think I want to kill you? Do you think that’s what I want, to be some murderer? But I don’t have a choice. You’re going to bring about the end of the entire world. Every person living on the planet will suffer horribly if I don’t do this. You have to understand that.”
> “I had a friend once,” I said with images of Sevie flashing through my mind. “He was a good person, maybe the single best person that I’ve ever known. But his life wasn’t easy. See, he felt like he didn’t belong anywhere; like he was trapped in this world that didn’t value him, where he’d never be the sort of person he needed to.” Tennison’s bottom lip started to quiver, and I knew that he was relating to the story I was telling. “He lived every day of his life like that, Tennison, feeling like he was less. That wasn’t fair to him, and it’s not fair to you either.”
“You don’t know me,” he said, lip still shaking. “Requesting permission to eliminate the threat,” he repeated uselessly.
“They can’t hear you, Tennison.”
“Stop saying my name! You don’t know me!” His eyes trickled down to the red moon splattered across my chest. “It’s an act of war,” he said. “Just you being here is an act of war. We learned about you in our studies, about what you’re capable of. You’re going to do horrible things.”
“I do know you,” I answered, basically ignoring the ‘you’re gonna end the world, you horrible monster you’ thing that had become a standard greeting for me as of late. “I know what it is to be pigeonholed, to be forced into some box where you don’t belong just to satisfy some idiot’s idea of what the future should look like. A really smart woman once told me that there was a reason for everything, and I think there’s a reason for this, Tennison, for you being the one to find me here.”
The Breakers Ultimatum (YA Urban Fantasy) (Fixed Points Book 3) Page 18