The Breaker's Promise (YA Urban Fantasy) (Fixed Points Book 2) (19 page)

“Be serious, Chant,” the woman I know knew to be Ilsa groaned. “The powers Echo and Dahlia detailed for us have obviously been downplayed. The girl is most definitely a Shaper.”

Owen sighed heavy beside me. Whatever a Shaper was, he didn’t want me classified as one.

“Why are there only three of you?” I asked through gritted teeth. All the muscles in my body were clenched, trying to keep Ilsa and the other Council members out of my thoughts.

“As the number of Breakers have dwindled through the years, so have the number of Council members,” the toddler said. He was stoic, but he pronounced it ‘numbwers’, which was adorable. “We are all that is left, because we are all that is needed.”

“Well said, Felix,” Ilsa said.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Imagine how composed he’d have been if you burped him first.”

“Are you
trying
to get yourself killed?” Owen whispered.

“Like you’d even care,” I whispered back.

His face morphed into a mask of confusion and hurt, and I immediately regretted being so harsh. Navigating this new ‘Sevie drenched’ landscape with Owen was proving to me more difficult than I thought; which was saying a lot, cause I figured it was gonna be pretty damn impossible.

“Now, if you insist on continuing to interrupt with your benign questions and flat comments, I’m afraid we’ll be forced to mentally silence you,” Felix the toddler said. I would have totally laughed at ‘interrwupt’ and ‘mentawwy’, had he not just threatened to turn my brain off.

“Oh don’t be so dry,” Chant answered smiling. “I find the quirky banter to be a welcome change of pace.” His eyes danced between me, Ilsa, and Felix. “Besides, if the girl really is a Shaper, I doubt either of you could do half of what you’re threatening her with.” He leaned in closer. His smile grew, revealing a mouth that was only speckled with teeth.  “You’re something of a commodity, little girl. But before we get into that, I’ll ask you one question; the only question that matters; the question that will shape the rest of your life-or lack thereof. Listen closely. Unlike those defects at Weathersby, I’ll only ask this once.” He leaned in ever closer; so far that I thought his cane might snap and send him flying to the floor. “Cresta Karr, are you the Bloodmoon?”

Chapter 17

My Daughter

This was it. There are moments in life, usually the ones that you play out in your mind over and over again as you wait for them to happen, that don’t feel real. The last time it happened to me was back in Chicago. I was seven and Mrs. Dulbury had forced me into the school play, even though I assured her that acting was not among my skillset. I was supposed to be the rock in a forest scene. Davey Tanner, the lead, was going to come and sit on me and, when he did, I was to utter my one and only line: ‘Hey watch the pebbles!’

I was ridiculously nervous about the whole thing. Mom and Dad helped me run lines for a month and a half, preparing for the big night. But the thing was, when the moment came, when Davey Tanner plopped his lead actor ass onto my silver cardboard costume, a weird sense of calm washed over me. It was like I had lifted out of my own body and, because of that, nothing I did mattered. I was a ghost. How could a ghost screw things up?

That was the feeling that came over me now. After months of stressing over this moment, after countless nights waking up in cold sweats after horrible nightmares, I was here. Chant, Ilsa, and Felix; the ever feared Council of Masons was asking me the one question I couldn’t answer honestly. And, for whatever reason, I was as cool as a kid in a rock costume.

“I told you I wouldn’t repeat myself, and I won’t,” Chant said, still smiling, still leaning toward me. “So answer the question, or my friend here will rip the answer out of you.” He turned to Ilsa, who was staring at me in a very ‘not happy to see me’ manner.

Her prickly shade danced around me like the tentacles of an octopus. Even now, months after my powers first manifested, they were still strange to me. I didn’t so much see the shade as feel it. I could sense it, and every once in a while, if it was strong enough, I could smell. Smelled like chalk, actually. But I was the only one who could. Owen, Dahlia, even Wendy; none of them could affect shade created by other people. Echo told me that made me rare. Was it also part of the reason I was the Bloodmoon?

“I’m Cresta Karr,” I answered.

“Just answer the question,” Ilsa said.

“I did. I’m Cresta Karr,” I said.

Owen was terrified. His eyes were wide, his mouth agape. “She-she didn’t kill Allister Leeman! She didn’t kill anyone that night. If she didn’t kill anyone by dawn on her sixteenth birthday, then she’s not the Bloodmoon, right?”

He still couldn’t lie. He said I didn’t kill anyone
that night
. And Owen wasn’t above lying for me. He had done it too many times in the past. I took a deep breath, settling my stance. I needed to fix this, to break through the Council’s shade like I had done to Echo’s back in Weathersby, so that Owen and I would be able to lie and actually get away with it.

“She can speak for herself,” Felix squeaked. He hopped down from his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He looked like a spoiled kid about to have a tantrum because he wasn’t tall enough to ride the rollercoaster. “And speak, she will.” He lifted his short stubby arm toward me. More shade, strong shade stabbed at every inch of me. I was wrong. I thought Ilsa was the power player. I thought she was the one I’d have to look out for. But this pissy little toddler could hit me with more power than I thought was even possible. Before I knew what was happening, I was on my knees. The pain was horrible; worse than the worst thing I could think of.

“Cresta!” Owen’s voice was muffled beside me. His hands might have been on me. He might have been holding me. But all I could feel was the pain. I felt like I was in a well, that everyone and everything I had ever known was outside and I was stuck; deep down in this dark place.  “Cresta!” Owen was a whisper now. A new surge of pain blossomed inside my chest as I realized what was happening. When Chant said he was going to rip the truth out of me, he didn’t mean Ilsa was going to dig around until she found it. She had tried that. My weird nature as a Shaper made that impossible. This is what he meant. He was going to torture me until I admitted the truth, until the pain forced it out of me.

I crumpled, from my knees onto my back.

“I..I’m Cresta Karr,” I muttered. I still couldn’t say anything but the truth. Though I didn’t think it was possible, the pain intensified again. I heard Owen, but only barely. Whatever he said was drowned out in a rush of anguish that I was sure would be the last thing I ever felt. I opened my mouth to speak again, to tell them my name; the only bit of information they were going to get from me. But the pain hit again, and then there was just darkness.

I woke calmly, almost comfortably. As I opened my eyes, letting them adjust to the sunlight, I realized I wasn’t in the Council’s chambers anymore. I was in bed; my bed…the one back in Crestview.

“Are you going to sleep all day?” I recognized the voice instantly. It was a knife in my gut, the voice my thoughts took on whenever I was about to do something I knew was dangerous or wrong. My mother stood at the foot of bed, a basket of laundry in her hands. Her hair was pulled back. Hey eyes were glowing. A smile lit up her already luminous face.

“I…” I couldn’t speak. My mother was standing in front of me, in my old bedroom. And she was alive.

“Unless the rest of that sentence is ‘going to get ready for school this instant’, I’m not really interested.” She turned and headed out the door. “Come downstairs when you’re ready. I have a surprise for you.”

I sat up. Was this real? Was it possible that I was really back in Crestview, and that everything was back to normal? Could all of it have really been nothing more than a bad dream? God knows I had wished for this very thing to happen enough times. Maybe, somewhere out there, someone had finally made that wish come true.

I walked downstairs. I didn’t get dressed, finding that I was in my Avengers tee and flannel pjs; just like the day all of this started. And, just like that day, the unfamiliar smell of breakfast ala my mother invaded my nostrils.

“There she is. I told you she didn’t have anything to do with the other thing.” Casper smiled at me from the kitchen table. He had a big bowl in front of him, and he was spooning something red into his mouth. “Hey Cress,” he smiled at me. His teeth were a mesh of pink stained pebbles in his head. His shirt was white with the word ‘Killer’ written across it in red. He spooned another helping of red goodness into his mouth.

“It’s really good to see you, Cass,” I said, walking into the kitchen. It was just like before. Maybe this was real. Maybe all the insane stuff was just that; insane. I could have dreamt it all up, What if the biggest thing I had to worry about was my mother burning the bacon? I could get used to that. “How have you been?”

“No, no, no!” Mom said, appearing on my periphery. Her laundry basket had been replaced with a skillet. Gray meat crackled and burned on it, even though it wasn’t over any heat. “He can’t talk with his mouth full. He knows that.”

“Oh…” I answered. “What is he eating anyway?”

Mom smiled and leaned in. “The same thing he was eating yesterday, but he doesn’t realize it yet.” The gray meat caught fire on the skillet, just as my heart sank.

“This isn’t real, is it?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.

“Of course not,” Mom said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not important.” The skillet vanished, leaving her hands empty.

“It hurts,” I said. The pain came rushing back. I would have fallen, but somehow, I was able to stand here.

“It always hurts, Baby,” Mom said. “That’s part of life. It’s the deal we strike with our Maker.”

“I want it to stop,” I admitted; tears stinging my eyes.

“It can,” she said, circling me. She walked behind Casper, who was still shoveling piles of red goo into his mouth. His shirt didn’t say Killer anymore. Instead, it read ‘Fallen’. “Life can be whatever you want it to be. The pain will stop as soon as you let them in. Give them what they want, and it’ll all be over. All the pain, all the questions, all the uncertainty; it’ll all melt away. All that will be left is this. You don’t have to fight anymore, Cresta.”

She leveled a look at me that cut through all the walls I had built around it since her death. “But you will. My daughter doesn’t give up. My daughter fights until she can’t stand up, and then she fights some more. My daughter is better than all the damn Breakers in the whole world put together, and she knows it.”

The pain pulsated inside of me again, but with it came a strength.

“Tell them who you are, Honey.” Mom said. “Don’t ever let them forget it.”

“I love you, Mom,” I said, somehow knowing that if I waited, I wouldn’t get the chance.

She smiled. “Tell them who you are.”

Suddenly, Mom and Casper were gone, and I was back in the Council chambers. The room still spun. Felix still stood over me with his chubby cheeks and his pain inducing little hand stretched out. But the pain was almost entirely gone. I could feel the power inside of me pushing it out like poison being purged from my system.

“Are you the Bloodmoon?!” Chant yelled. I could hear everything now. I could see everything; and not just what was in front of me. I could see the shade, actually see it. I leaned up. Owen, crouched down beside me, whispered into my ear.

“Just tell them. We’ll figure it out. This has to stop.”

“You’re right,” I said. Throwing my hand out in front of me, I repelled the shade. It bounced back, black like shadows, and ricocheted off the walls and floor. Felix fell hard on his butt and I could tell from the looks on the faces of the Council of Masons, that this sort of thing was unheard of.

“What are you?” Ilsa muttered.

I stood with Owen’s help, and planted myself firmly in front of them. “I told you. I’m Cresta Karr.” I waved my hand again, and all of the shade dissipated from the room. Suddenly, I saw everything as it was. The glorious throne type chairs the Council members sat on were, in actuality, old wooden seats that didn’t even have paint on them. The beautiful outdoor view with deer prancing across it was a concrete wall. In fact, the only illumination in the entire room came from a solitary hanging light bulb.  It was all very basic.

Felix stumbled to his feet, fighting back sniffles like the baby he was. “You’re not a Shaper at all, are you?” Chant said, looking me up and down. “You’re something else altogether.”

“I really wouldn’t have any idea how to answer that question,” I said through gritted teeth. “But if you’re done with your little questionnaire, I’d like you to let us leave now.”

Ilsa chuckled, looked over at Chant, and asked, “Has her moxie gotten old yet?”

“Shut up,” Chant growled. From his ‘decidedly less glamorous than originally thought’ perch, he said, “You’ve blocked us from your thoughts since the instant you came in here. His too,” he pointed to Owen. “You’re hiding something, and this is not a political climate in which secrets can be allowed. Every day more and more traitors are brought forward. Do you have any idea what it’s like to find a new fox in your henhouse on a daily basis, Ms. Karr? We’re an old group, an ancient group even. And, in all the days, decades , and centuries since our kind has been protecting this world, we have never once had to deal with dissention in the ranks; especially not dissention that we, as the Council, were not aware of.” A sloppy tongue ran over his dry wrinkled lips. “All that changed with you. Regardless of who or what you are, you lit a fuse that has exploded inside our home. So, whatever you know, you
will
tell us. Whatever secrets you’re hiding, you
will
give them up. Now. I am no longer asking.”