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

by Conner Kressley

  “No offense,” I muttered. “But your dad sounds like a dick.”

  Sevie turned to me. There was a smile on his face so wide that I could have counted every one of his teeth. “Your candor is refreshing. I feel as though I should apologize for what happened earlier. You’re a guest in our home. You should not have been subjected to my family’s personal issues.”

  “I told you, I didn’t hear it,” I said, smiling.

  “You may feel as though my father doesn’t care, but in truth, it is the opposite. It is because he cares that he acts the way he does.” For once, Sevie’s face was a stonewall. His tone was dark and serious.

  “It’s none of my business Sevie, but are you really gonna give me the whole ‘he beats me ‘cause he loves me’ thing?” I walked nearer to the bale. “I know you’ve never been outside of these walls, but in the real world, you don’t have to agree with someone if they’re wrong just because the guy happens to be your dad.”

  Sevie hopped down from his bale. The moonlight caught his hair and set it shimmering like spun gold. “It is more complicated than it appears, Cresta. The intricacies of our lives are difficult to comprehend for someone who wasn’t raised with them. In many ways, our lives are not our own. We have duties; responsibilities to fate, to the future, to our families and our people. And if we are selfish, Cresta, even in small matters, those responsibilities could be compromised. We must learn who we are so that we can become who we are meant to be. It is Father’s place to teach us that, and often the learning can be hard.”

  I looked deep in Sevie’s eyes, chocolate and kind. “He was gonna let your brother die, Sevie. Are you okay with that?”

  Immediately, I wished I hadn’t asked the question. Sevie’s eyes got wide and filled with tears. Where, in a situation like this, Owen’s hands would have clenched into fists, Sevie’s stretched out wide at his sides. “My brother is my best friend. Without him, the person I am would not exist.”

  “He’s the best,” I said, taking Sevie’s hand in my own. He looked down at it, as though it was foreign, as though no one had ever touched him like that.

  Suddenly, he whipped his hand away. “He is the Dragon, Cresta. Fate answered my parents’ action with actions of its own; as did the Council.”

  Owen’s words the day Merrin came back to Weathersby came crashing back into my mind. “They’re investigating your family.”

  “They are,” Sevie answered.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But your mother did what she had to do. The Council will understand that.”

  “I hope.” Tears spilled from Sevie’s eyes. “But if they do not, Cresta, then my parents will be criminalized. They may even be exiled. My name of my bloodline will be sullied through the ages and, what’s more, I would be forbidden from ever seeing my parents again.”

  “It’ll be okay,” I said, and though I wanted to take his hand again, I didn’t.

  Sevie cleared his throat and looked away. “We should go. The sun will be up soon and we both should get some sleep for the coming day.”

  I wasn’t sure how Sevie knew the sun would be up soon; given that the sky was still pitch black, the huge walls surrounding the Hourglass precluded us from seeing anything outside of it, and I still hadn’t seen anything close to a clock here. Still, he was right, because no sooner had we snuck back into the farmhouse that Petar came bursting into my room (without knocking) and told me to get up for the day. I was going to tell him that, since I hadn’t seen any of my stuff since getting here, the only clothes I had were the ones on my back, and that I was essentially always ready. But Owen’s mom came in with an outfit that looked exactly like the one everyone in the Hourglass wore yesterday, save for the fact that the shirt was red instead of white.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, but as she handed it to me, I saw my toothbrush from Weathersby sitting on top; which pissed me off because everyone knows when you travel, you should have one of those toothbrush traveling kits. But more importantly…

  “You have my stuff?” I asked.

  “Your things were delivered while you slept,” Owen’s mom answered, handing me the pile. “Petar determined that the majority of your things were unsuitable, so I went out and got you some of the standard fare.”

  “You went through my things?” The idea twisted in my stomach like sour milk.

  “Of course, dear,” Owen’s mom answered. With a smile, she added, “You didn’t have anything to hide, did you?”

  “Uh, no,” I mumbled.

  You know, unless you count everything.

  “Good. Usually, Petar wouldn’t go as far as all of that; though usually he wouldn’t have to. You’re the first outsider to enter into the Hourglass since its formation. As such, that makes you something of an enigma. When the Council decided that, because of your connection to our son, it would be best to house you here until your familial issues have been settled, Petar took it upon himself to prove that you were trustworthy; seeing as how you’re living in our home. I hope you understand.”

  I did understand. I understood that, even in Owen’s house, I was surrounded by the enemy. I was going to have to watch what I did and said, in order to keep my secrets (which seemed to be piling up at an alarming rate) safe. More importantly, I was going to have to keep the Poe letter and Casper’s sweater piece on me at all times. If they found Casper’s sweater, then maybe they’d be able to find him, and I hadn’t said goodbye to him just to have him pulled back into this mess. And who knew what was in the Poe letter. Things had been happening so fast that I still hadn’t gotten a chance to open it. And, given what I knew of Owen’s parents (his father especially), I was going to have to be careful about where and when I did dig into it.

  “Of course,” I grimaced. “So, I’m gonna get dressed now. Are you gonna step out or is that something you wanna watch too?”

  Owen’s mom smiled. “You may not be her daughter, but there’s something of Ash in you.”

  A quick change, a bland breakfast, and a half an hour later, me and the Lightfoots were on our way from the rural hills of their home to the more crowded area of the Hourglass that I woke up in yesterday.

  “Why are there no cars here?” I asked, sandwiched between Owen and Sevie, walking down a hill. Owen’s folks had taken a horse and carriage but, given how close the main area was, and the fact that I didn’t want to be in any more confined spaces with Owen’s dad than was absolutely necessary, I decided I’d rather walk.

  “The Council outlawed automobiles within the walls of the Hourglass soon after their advent. They were deemed wasteful and unnecessary,” Sevie answered. He, like Owen, wore the same red and brown ensemble that their mom had handed me a few minutes before; though I couldn’t help noticing that mine fit a little tighter than theirs.

  “That’s sort of ridiculous,” I answered. “This place is huge. How do you get around it?”

  “Traveling between pavilions within the Hourglass is expressly forbidden without the leave of the Council,” Sevie nodded.

  “What?” I asked. “What if you wanted to take a walk or something?”

  “You could,” Owen said. His hair shone like glistening tar in the morning sunlight. “You’d just have to turn around at a certain point. See, we’re taught very specific things here. As Breakers, we’re meant to blend in with our surroundings, to really embody the people we’re portraying. And, to do that, we live certain ways so that we can learn certain things. There are five pavilions within the Hourglass. In this one, we study Western civilization as well as world history, foreign language, progressive mechanics, rocket science, social ramifications; you know, that kind of stuff.”

  “I’m going to forget the fact that you just told me you were a rocket scientist, because, coupled with your eyes, that just makes you too intimidating,” I grinned.

  Owen shot me a look, half playfulness and half warning. Pretty instantly, I knew what he meant. Sevie was right there. I didn’t need to go flirting with Owen, even slightly, in front of his
brother.

  “What do they do in the other pavilions?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “We have no idea,” Sevie said. “Knowledge isn’t passed between the pavilions. It helps each of us to better focus on the tasks ahead of us without distraction. Only the Council is aware of each pavilions purpose and inner workings.”

  This time I shot Owen a look.

  How very South Korean of them, I said in my head before realizing that he couldn’t hear me anymore.

  Ten minutes of walking later, and we met Owen’s parents at the start of what looked like the town square. Petar had tied the carriage up near a stable surrounded by other identical carriages. It was strange. In the Hourglass, even the horses looked just alike.

  “Tell me who the crone is again,” I whispered to Owen as we neared his parents.

  “A seer is constantly full of power. It’s hard to maintain. So, when they grow older, his or her powers begin to dwindle. They can’t see the future with the same wide scope that they once did. Still there are echos of that power left and, they can use those echos to read people’s destinies. Sort of like tarot card reading, I guess. It’s a place of honor; it means a seer has lived their life well and has fulfilled their divine potential.”

  “You honor them by calling them crones?” I scrunched my nose.

  Owen shrugged. “I didn’t make up the name.”

  Not being as dizzy or disoriented as the day before, and without Sevie dragging me behind him, I had time to get a better look at the Hourglass. It was strange, and not the type of strange you’d expect from the most advanced sect of people in the world. This place looked dated, like I stepped back in time somehow. The buildings were quaint and, aside from a street lamp or two, there didn’t seem to be any electricity on display. There were bakeries, but no restaurants; produce stands, but no convenience stores; first aid stands, but no hospitals. Teenagers walked the streets; all dressed in the same red and brown uniform as Owen, Sevie, and me. But unlike the kids in Crestview, the Breaker teens had nothing in the way of cell phones. It was so weird, watching people not text.

  “It’s like somebody put the Little House on the Prairie crew in a cult,” I muttered to Owen, who chuckled under his breath. It didn’t make any sense. Weathersby had everything; including at least a half dozen things that I had never seen before and wouldn’t have believed existed. There were illusionary light mazes, for God’s sake. And here we were, in the hub of all Breaker life, and I bet I couldn’t have found an electric razor.

  Petar stopped in front of the smallest of the street’s modest buildings. He stared at us with folded arms, letting the scowl that perpetually stained his face, linger a little. Finally, he said, “Each member of your group will see the crone separately. You are to treat her with the honor and reverence befitting someone of her stature.” His eyes rested on me, like an accusation.

  “Fine, I’ll lick her feet,” I muttered.

  “Once in the presence of the crone, you are to remain silent, and only speak should the crone ask you something directly. She will read you, and then, depending on what it is she gleams, she’ll tell you the pieces of your future that are prudent for you to be made aware of. “

  A piece of me; Well, most of me, thought that I had the right to be made aware of all of my future, not just some part that some old woman decided I should. But knowing what I did about Owen’s father’s disposition, as well as the nature of what my future could be, I held my tongue.

  “The crone’s words to you are sacred. What she says can never be repeated. We take this trust so seriously, that even the Council is not privileged to your session with the crone. It is simply for guidance, to allow you either comfort or contestation; whichever your particular future warrants, and perhaps a star to follow along your way.”

  Owen had already told me this part, how the crone was like a lawyer or a priest. And how, even if she saw that I was the Bloodmoon, she’d never say it. She believed in all of this crap way too much for that.

  “Go,” Petar pointed to the modest (and doorless) building. “The other members of your group are waiting inside for you.”

  Owen gave me a nod and started toward the building. I shot Sevie a look too. Even though he had lived with the guy his entire life, I didn’t like leaving him alone with his father. He was a sweet kid, and almost too innocent. The idea of Petar screwing that innocence up or seeing it as a weakness really pissed me off. I winked at him, and followed Owen.

  Though the building didn’t have a door, a black curtain hung over the archway. Owen brushed past it and I followed, revealing a tiny waiting room with a dirt floor, two cement benches, and not much else. To my surprise, Echo and Dahlia sat on the left bench, talking with each other quietly. They both wore the same red and brown standard issue garb that the rest of the Hourglass had on today, but theirs were adorned with a single golden stud that rested over their hearts.

  Echo stood when he caught sight of us. “Thank the fates,” he muttered. I could tell he was happy to see us, and that feeling was definitely reciprocated. It must have said something about how out of place I felt in the Hourglass that even Dahlia’s face was a welcome one. “How have you been settling in?”

  “Crappily,” I said, not even considering the possibility that he might be talking to Owen. “Is crappily a word? I hate this place. It’s like a jail.”

  Echo grinned, and that warmed something inside of me. Though I had pushed Echo away, though I had made sure the lines I expected him to stay behind were clear and pronounced, there was something about him that always made me feel safe. He knew my mother. He loved my mother, and my mother told me that he would always help me. And the thing was, I really believed that. Maybe I should have come to Echo with the truth about who I was. He wouldn’t have turned on me, not Echo. I could see it in his eyes.

  “That may be your opinion, but some of us call this prison home. Remember that when you decide to speak your mind.” And there she was, Dahlia; the reason I could never seriously consider telling Echo the truth about me. If she knew I was the Bloodmoon, Dahlia would spearhead a campaign against me that wouldn’t stop until I was cold and in the ground. Hell, there was a good chance she’d be the one who put me there.

  “I thought you hated this place too,” I shot back.

  “I said some people,” Dahlia answered, looking at her nails. “I didn’t say me.”

  “This place takes some getting used to, even to those of us who were raised here. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you,” Echo said, smiling but decidedly not coming any closer. “Are you nervous?”

  “About this?” I asked, pointing to the long stone hall that sat at the edge of this room and obviously led to where the crone was. “Not really. I don’t really care about what some old lady has to say about my future.”

  “A Breaker through and through,” Dahlia muttered, still looking at her nails.

  “It’s a tradition,” Echo answered. “All of us saw the crone before we left for the outside world, and it’s customary for those Breakers who can to see a crone every five years. It helps with guidance and absolution.”

  “Absolution?” I asked.

  Finally, Dahlia looked up from her nails. “There are those whose futures are dark. Destiny doesn’t always lead us down a path that is good for us, but those parts are just as important as the heroic ones. The crone helps Breakers who are destined for those things; for early deaths, for painful lives, or just for those destined for rather unspectacular existences, to come to grips with what the future holds.”

  “But if you know what’s coming, can’t you change it? Isn’t that your whole mission statement?” I asked. “I mean, who’d want to die all tragic and early if they could avoid it?”

  I absolutely did not look at Owen. This question wasn’t for him, even though he had a pretty intimate experience with the subject matter.

  “Some things that can be changed are not meant to,” Dahlia said coldly.

  Echo interrupte
d, looking from me to his wife and back again. “What she means is, the future is a delicate balance. Yes, all of us want long and happy lives with the people we love; but sometimes our sacrifices can go toward the greater good. Sometimes our deaths, or the things we go through that are so much worse, is necessary to procure a favorable future for hundreds or thousands of other people. “

  I thought about Wendy, as I’m sure he was. The pain he felt was still evident in everything he did, but maybe he had at least come to terms with the fact that she did what she thought was best. Maybe that gave him a little comfort.

  He cleared his throat and continued. “We give so that others may take. We die so that others may live. And in the end, when it’s so dark that no one can see, we will stand so that others might not fall.”

  I bet that’s in the damn code too.

  “That’s kind of beautiful,” I said. Echo smiled and nodded. Suddenly, the clip clop of shoes against stone began to fill the room. Someone was coming. A figure took shape in the hall at the edge of the room. It was an old woman wearing a long silver gown. Her matching hair sat in a severe bun on her head and her wrinkled skin sagged at the cheeks. Was this the crone? If so, she certainly lived up to the name.

  “You,” she pointed to Dahlia. “She will see you now.”

  Dahlia stood and straightened her shirt. Even wearing the Breaker equivalent of government issued rags, Dahlia wanted to look her best. She looked at Echo,” I’ll see you at home.”

  I’m not sure why I said it, maybe because I was starting to get nervous, but I nodded in Dahlia’s direction and said, “Good luck.”

  She scoffed. “Luck has nothing to do it with, Cresta. Not one damn thing.” Then, she followed the old woman into the darkness.

  “We won’t see her again: Dahlia, I mean?” I asked, once I was sure they were both gone.