The Breakers Ultimatum (YA Urban Fantasy) (Fixed Points Book 3) (5 page)

I studied her face, really wanting to believe her, but knowing that I probably couldn’t. I’d have pressed, but there was little point. If she was lying to me, then she was doing so with the blessing of the Council, and there was no way I’d be able to get her to renege.

“I know you,” I said, trying to go at things at a different angle.

“I’m flattered,” she said simply.

“How?” I asked firmly.

“You do know I’m under no obligation to answer your questions,” she said, a smirk tugging at her aged lips.

“I understand that,” I answered. “Tell me anyway.”

She stared at me for a long instant, and then said,” I was in Weathersby for a while. I took lead on the Blood Moon’s imprisonment there.”

“Mulva,” I muttered, remembering a story Cresta had told me about a woman she thought might be Dahlia’s mother. I decided not to tug at that thread. Dahlia had been called upon to take care of my brother from time to time when we were younglings. But I had never been close with her, and I had no interest in her parentage. “I’d like to speak to my mother,” I continued, clearing my throat. “She’s my chosen council and, invoking my right to council of the accused, I-“

“Yes, we’ve heard your pleas,” Mulva gave me a dismissive wave. “Unfortunately, those rights only apply to people who have actually been accused of something. You, Dragon, are not a prisoner.”

“What?” I asked, blustering. “Of course, I am. I’m a traitor. I’m locked in here. If I wasn’t a prisoner, you wouldn’t be keeping me.”

Another smile, this one more fiendish, spread across her lips. “Unless, of course; you were a flux case.”

I wasn’t sure if my eyes bugged out or narrowed, but I was flabbergasted as I answered. “A flux case; like a Seer?” I almost let go of my sheet, as stunned as I was, watching her glare at me. “We both know I’m not a flux case, Mulva.” It was ridiculous. Of course, I wasn’t a flux case. Flux cases were Breakers whose powers showed signs of mutation like they might evolve into Seers. They were very rare, and my powers hadn’t changed since they manifested.

“You would have to take that up with the Council,” Mulva nodded with mock kindness. “As you know, they’re the only people who can deem a Breaker to be in flux.”

“I know why they’re doing this, Mulva, and it won’t work!” I said through clenched teeth. “Flux cases have no rights, and they think that, if they deem me one, they can keep me here indefinitely without cause or council.”

“Well Dragon, “Mulva said, looking me up and down with an intensity that made me very self-aware. “I’m not saying that you’re correct in your assumptions about the Council’s motives. But, seeing as how you are here indefinitely, and that you are currently without council, I’d say that if that, if you were, then it most certainly would work.”

“I want to see my mother,” I said through clenched teeth.

“I’m sure,” Mulva answered, folding her arms over her chest. “But do you think she wants to see you? You’re a traitor. You said that much yourself. And, maternal instincts aside, your mother is under no obligation to serve as your council.” She chuckled. It was a sharp and callous thing, and reminded more of my childhood, of the hardnosed lecturers from primary education, than anything I had experienced in years. “Not that you even warrant council because, as I said, you’re a flux case.”

Blood boiled up in my face. She had me and she knew it. There was nothing I could do here, trapped in this luxury dungeon and dressed in elf’s clothes. I opened my mouth to speak, to say something brilliant and revolutionary; or at least to say one of those stupid sarcastic remarks that Casper had always been so good at. But nothing came.

“You have no one to blame for this but yourself, Mr. Lightfoot.” The look on Mulva’s face, like I was a child whose hand had been caught in the candy jar, infuriated me. I was a grown man; two years past that in Breaker time. If I had stayed, if I had seen past Allister Leehman’s machinations, then I would have had my Breaker name by now. I’d be a full-fledged agent. Of course, I would have never met Cresta either. I’d never have known love, or even that I wanted that sort of love. I wouldn’t know myself, not really. But the thing was, looking at Mulva’s smug eyes peering over at me, I wondered how much good any of it had done.

I would never see Cresta again. I knew that much. Her path and mine could never cross, not with what the crone told me.

The next time you see her will be the day you kill her.

Those words had echoed in my head since the crone spoke them. They were all I could think about; playing on a constant loop between my eardrums. It had been this thought, in addition to another dark truth the crone saw fit to lay on me, that had colored Cresta’s last days with me. If I could have those back, if I could have used them to tell her how much she meant to me, how I would live the rest of my life thinking about her, hoping she was okay- then maybe I wouldn’t hate myself so much.

But I had spent those days the way I’d spent every one since the truth about who she and I were to each other came out. I had spent so long trying to dodge the future, trying to undo what the Seers say must be done, that I forgot one of the most basic truths of what it was to be a Breaker.

We were fixed points, Cresta and me; fixed points set in opposition with each other. And fixed points couldn’t be changed; not ever, not without death.

So it was better that I never saw her again. I could imagine she was safe, maybe even happy.  Maybe she’d settle down with someone; have a family and a life. Even if it was Royce, or Poe, or whoever he was. I think I would be okay with that, so long as she was happy.

“Did you hear me, Dragon?” Mulva moved around me, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You are to blame for this. You knew the end. You knew there was only one way this could ever go.” She clucked, almost like a chicken, before she continued. “I’ll never understand this exuberance, to think your childish emotions could ever come before the good of all. You should be ashamed.” She moved toward the door, much more gracefully than I would have imagined a woman of her age was capable of. It swung open as she neared. “But you’ll have plenty of time to think about that.”

  I thought about darting toward it, but it was no use. There was no doubt in my mind that I’d never make it out of here. The door would either slam shut or my body would go limp; a victim of the Council members- who were no doubt watching me right now.

And even if I did manage to get out, what good would it do? I was trapped inside the Hourglass; surrounded by people- my family included- who would never understand why I had done the things I did. I was better off in here, better off away from them. At least this way, locked up like an animal, I couldn’t be used to hurt Cresta. But, as the door slammed shut, leaving alone again, something deep inside told me that the Council would never leave it at that.

Chapter 5

The Strangest of Places

I didn’t see anyone for days after that. The sun would come up and it would go down. I would go to bed, get up, and go back to bed again. Sometimes I would beat on the door, demanding justice, or family, or an explanation. But never mercy; no matter what, I would never ask them for mercy.

The doors never opened, of course; save for three times a day, when it would creak open, revealing a covered plate that sat unattended on the floor. The door would stay open until I grabbed the dish. No matter how long I waited; a minute, an hour. After a few days, I made a game of it, inching the plate through the threshold a bit at a time. But I must have pissed off whoever was watching because, after a few minutes, a gust of frigid air blew the door closer and the covered plate on my lap; splashing its contents, chicken pot pie, all over me.

I never saw Mulva again. She had said what she needed to, I guess; telling me how wonderfully screwed I was, and how I was never going to get out of this place – not unless I did what they wanted me to. They were going to smoke me out with solitary confinement, I supposed. Because no one came. The door swung open, leaving me my food, and then it closed. Sometimes, I’d get a fresh pair of clothes with the food. On those days, the room would morph and a shower would appear in the bathroom; which meant that not only was I not able to see the room as it really was, but that someone was very likely watching me bathe.

All I could think of was how much I wanted Cresta around, and not for the obvious reasons. Okay, well not only for the obvious reasons. If she was here, she’d be able to look through this shade. She’d know what was going on, and she’d probably be able to get me out of it. Although, if she were here; the Council would very likely be trying to force me to kill her. So, I guess a couple of Breaker peeping Toms weren’t the worst things in the world.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been there when the dreams started; a couple of days, a couple of weeks. It all started to blur after a while. They were soft at first; a gentle calling that I shrugged off as nothing. But after a few days, the noise became louder, and then it became cleared. It was a Monday, I think, when I finally recognized it. A person, a man was calling my name over and over again. I called back the next night, finding myself standing in a large stone tunnel. No one answered though, and then the dreams stopped completely.

As I lay here now, watching the stars twinkle from my barred window and cursing the new moon and what it meant, I realized how much I missed those dreams. It was laughable really. I had no idea what they meant; probably nothing. They were very likely just the products of my under-stimulated mind. But that was the thing; the dreams, those echoes and yells, they were the voices I ever heard. It was the closest I’d come to a conversation since Mulva left. Though, no matter how lonely I got, I couldn’t manage to make myself wish she’d come back.

There was a time when I was never alone, when even my mind was shared with someone else. But I hadn’t been able to hear Cresta in there since I’d sacrificed Merrin. She was awake now. Or she was last I’d heard, at least. I wondered if she hated me. Fate knows I’d hate her if our roles were reversed. She was my perfect, the one person in the world that I was meant to protect above all others. But I didn’t protect her. I put her at the greatest risk I could think of. Still, what choice did I have? My intentions were noble and, if fate was good, maybe she’d understand that someday.

I hadn’t realized my eyes had closed until I felt myself drift into sleep. And then, as though it had never left, the dream returned to me. My name was the first thing I heard, soft and distant; like from the far end of a tunnel.

“Owen!”

It didn’t take more than once this time for me to respond. “I’m here!” I yelled. I had no idea who was calling for me but, at this point, I’d have spoken to Allister Leehman himself so long as he was willing to listen.

The voice sounded again. “Owen!” And with it came a light that illuminated my surroundings. I was in the tunnel again. Stones surrounded me, arching overhead.  Torches sat lit in intervals along the walls, allowing me to see symbols carved into the rock. I moved closer to them, tracing them with my fingers and trying to decipher them. But they were foggy and unreadable.

“Owen!” The voice was closer now, and I almost recognized it.

“I’m here,” I muttered, but my attention was on the symbols. They called to me, begging to be read, asking to be unraveled. But the more I looked at them, the foggier they became. And I knew I’d never be able to read them, not here, not like this.

“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.