The Breaker's Promise (YA Urban Fantasy) (Fixed Points Book 2) (23 page)

I peeled my face from the sheen of leather, Royce’s jacket, and found it wet and sticky. Oh great, I had been drooling on him. I looked up in time to see that we were barreling toward a tree. “Oh God!” I yelled an instant before Royce jerked out of the way of the oncoming trunk.

“Hey there, Sweetheart. You dream about me?” Royce asked, eyes straight ahead. I could hear the grin in his voice, and it really ticked me off.

“It would have been a nightmare,” I assured him. “Now pull over!” Royce ducked and dodged around tree after tree. How long had I been asleep? Was it possible we were in the same forest we had been in when he knocked me out?

“Not gonna happen,” Royce said. “I told you before, we got miles to cover.”

“And I told
you
before; I’m not leaving without Owen!” I said, yelling to talk over the wind and the roar of Edgar’s engine.

“Nope. The Dragon’s no good for ya. I’m making-what do they call it- an executive decision. Edgar don’t stop til we get where we’re going. So you might as well lay back and enjoy the ride.” He took my hand and pressed it harder against his steel corded stomach. “And whatever other attributes you might find to be to your liking.”

I pulled my hand away. What I was about to do was crazy, but for the last few months, I had lived crazy. I had ate crazy, slept crazy, and wore crazy around like one of those ridiculous hats with the furry ball on top. What was one more thing, especially considering everything I had to lose? “I’ve got other plans,” I muttered. Taking a deep breath, I hurled myself off of the bike.

My heart leapt as I soared through the air, but only for a second. An instant later, I slammed hard into the base of a tree trunk. I thought I heard something crack as I slid painfully to the ground, but my ears were still ringing from the wind and Edgar’s engine, so I couldn’t be sure. It definitely felt like I broke a rib or two though.

I stumbled hastily to my feet, holding the tree trunk for support, just in time to see Royce try to swing back toward me. His body was contorted though, like he had tried to grab me when I jumped, and he didn’t have time to steady himself (or completely turn the bike around) before he and Edgar went careening into a nearby tree themselves.

The bike bent around the frame of the tree, as the sickening crunch of metal and plastic sounded throughout the forest.

Come to think of it, that’s probably not the best way to keep a low profile.

Royce’s shoulder clipped the tree, but otherwise, he tumbled to the ground without issue. He was on his feet-and in my face- before I had time to steady myself.

“Damn it, Girl! You beat all. Do you know that?!” Bubbles of spit formed at the corners of his mouth as he turned from me to his mangled bike and back again. “Look at what you did to Edgar. There’s no way he’s gonna run now. And the noise! You might as well have shot a flare gun or hired a skywriter to write ‘Here I am’ with a little cloud arrow pointing down at us.” He ran his fingers through his sandy hair and then down his face, letting them linger against his bottom lip. “What the hell were you trying to accomplish anyway?”

“I told you,” I said, my hand pressed against my side. “I’m not leaving without Owen.”

“The goddamn Dragon,” Royce huffed. “I swear they could fill a cement truck with all the crazy in your head. He’s bad news. You know that. Think of it this way, if I knew that I was the most delicious thing in the world to an alligator, I’d stay away from the lake.”

“It’s not that simple,” I said.

“Stay out of the damn lake, Cresta!” He screamed. Then, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath, he seemed to calm down. “It doesn’t matter. The Dragon was at your almost wedding when the sirens went off. They scooped him up, for sure. Probably getting him ready to put a skewer into your chest at this very moment. There’s no getting to him now; no matter how big a death wish you’ve got.” He looked down at the placement of my hand, as if he was seeing it for the first time, and sighed. “You’re hurt. I’ve got a first aid kit in Edgar; or, in what’s left of Edgar. I’ll patch you up.” He turned and walked toward the mangled bike. Halfway there, he turned back to me and said, “If you try to run away, I’ll catch you.” It didn’t seem like a threat, more of a promise. He didn’t have anything to worry about though. My side was hurting too much to run, and where would I go anyway? Truth be told, even when I jumped off the bike, I had no plan other than some vague want to find Owen. Like it or not, Royce was my best option now.

A few seconds later, he came back with a roll of gauze and a small white bottle. Kneeling down in front of me, he said, “Lift your shirt.”

I hesitated for a second, since I’ve never really been the type of girl who shoves her midriff in just anybody’s face. I lifted my shirt just far enough so that he could see the puckered pink area where my ribs were.

“Yeah, that’s gonna get ugly,” he muttered to himself.

“You think?” I asked, wishing, for some reason, that he had used a different word.

He popped the top off of the small white bottle and squirted lumpy looking cream into his palm. “That’s what happens when you throw yourself headlong into a birch tree,” he answered. He lathered the cream in his hands and then started rubbing it along my side. I flinch a little, half because the cream was cold and my side was tender, and half because I’m not sure anybody had ever touched me there before. All of my extracurricular activities with Owen were strictly ‘over the shirt’ at this point. And, other than him, there had never been anybody else.  “Calm down,” he muttered. “It’ll help with the pain; the soreness too as soon as that sucker bruises over.”

“What is it?” I asked, watching him rub along my bare stomach. “A blend of herbs. You’re momma made it actually. She’s good at that kind of thing.” He unspooled the gauze and began to circle me with it. His touch was surprisingly gentle.

“You know my mother pretty well?”

“Your momma saved my life,” Royce said, tying off the gauze and stuffing the excess into his bag. “Truth is, I don’t know where I’d have ended up without her. I owe that woman a lot. I promised her that I would keep you safe; that I’d get you to her in one piece, and I ain’t about to let her down.”

Leaves crackled in the distance. Royce shot up and threw himself in front of me. Someone was coming, probably more than one someone; probably an entire fleet of them.  “Stay still. I need to see what we’re dealing with,” he said, with one hand on my arm.  The rustling grew louder. There was no denying it anymore. “Listen to me,” Royce huffed, his eyes darting everywhere but back at me. “When they come, I want you to stand back. Don’t try to fight them. If I fall, you run. Don’t wait for them to kill me. The instant I’m off my feet, I want you gone. I slipped a compass into your back pocket while you were asleep. You need to go Northwest. It’ll take you a couple of days on foot, but you’ll be fine so long as you stay off the beaten paths. You’ll see a cabin in the woods. It’ll have a red door with a crescent moon on it. It’ll look abandoned, but it’s not. Knock three times, wait thirty seconds, and then knock twice more. A man will come to the door; that’s my uncle. He’ll ask you how the weather is. You tell him ‘It’s nice, but it looks like there might be a storm brewing’. You tell him that exactly, Cresta.  Don’t adlib, not add to it. Just say what I told you to. Tell him what happened to me. He’ll keep you safe.”

“I won’t just leave you,” I said with the rustling growing louder still. “Let’s run. We can make it.”

“You will,” he answered. “If I slow them down. And that’s what matters. Now you do what I said, Sweetheart. Don’t let all of it be for nothing.”

The rustling was so close that whoever was coming was certainly almost on top of us. “Hide behind that bush,” Royce said, giving me a light shove in the opposite direction. I backed away, still not sure if I could actually abandon him. Could I really let someone sacrifice themselves for me, even if that person was as annoying as Royce?

“And Cresta,” he said, turning to me. “Promise me you won’t go after the Dragon. He’s bad news. No good will ever come from you being with the Dragon.”

“That’s interesting,” a voice said in the distance. I looked up suddenly to find an achingly familiar sight coming over the hill, his electric blue eyes pinned on me. Owen tilted his head, looked at Royce, and said, “I was just about to say the same thing about you.”

I shouldn’t have been this happy. The Council of Masons knew the truth about me. At this moment, the entirety of the Hourglass’ Breaker population was out to get me, and I had just wrapped the only advantage I had in this situation around a very stubborn (and hard) birch tree. But, as it always did, seeing Owen brought everything together. Something about him always seemed to calm me down. Just knowing he was here was enough to make me feel like everything was going to be alright.

Unfortunately, it turned out Royce didn’t share my sentiment.

“You…” Royce muttered under his breath. “How many people did you bring with you, Dragon? It better have been a lot if you expect to walk away from this.” Royce’s whole body stiffened. His hands contracted into fists and he leaned forward, onto the balls of his feet, ready to spring into action.

“He didn’t bring anybody,” I said, walking forward. Royce raised his hand, as if to keep me back. But I was having none of it. This was Owen, not some league of assassins ready to sell my scalp to the highest bidder. He was the man I loved, and if there ever came a day when I had to worry about getting close to him, Dragon or not, that would be the day I’d know I had done something horribly wrong.

Royce’s eyes got wide as I passed him and marched toward Owen, but he didn’t move. Instead, he stood still as a statue, surveying every inch of my boyfriend, probably looking for weaknesses.

“I told you,” I said, reading Royce’s eyes and trying to alleviate his concern. “I know Owen. I trust him. Whatever some stupid prophecy says, it doesn’t change what I…know about him. And I promise you, he absolutely did no bring anybody here. Isn’t that right?” I said, looking to Owen.

Owen’s brows crinkled. “Well…not technically.”

Okay. So, not the answer I was hoping for.

Before I could answer-you know, maybe to ask him what he was talking about, Royce jumped into action. And, because he was Royce, he did it literally. In an instant, the boy with the sandy hair, Southern drawl, and killer stare, soared over me, landing between me and Owen in a really kickass ninja-like stance.

The kid has skills.

“This is not a fight you want to have,” Owen said, inching forward and bridging the testosterone filled gap between them.

“You might be right, but then again, you might not,” Royce said in a tone much more playful than Owen’s. “Tell you what, how’s about you get your lanky troublesome ass out of here and I won’t show you why I’m the baddest son of a bitch you’ve ever met? Sound good?”

“Lanky?” Owen muttered. Then, shaking his head, he looked past Royce, and asked me, “Who is this jackass?”

“He saved my-“

“Too late,” Royce butted in. He rushed Owen, battering him with a flurry of body blows and face hits. His fists were so fast that they were little more than a blur, but somehow, Owen seemed to be able to block most of them. Still, Royce had the momentum and was forcing Owen backward. Mixing it up, Royce connected with a sweeper kick that made Owen stumble but not fall.

“Stop it!” I shouted. If they could hear me, they were too stubborn or stupid to respond. What it is about guys? It’s like they get stupider in pairs. I wonder what would happen if you got them into a pack.

Owen threw an elbow that collided with Royce’s face. He faltered backward, and suddenly the momentum was on Owen’s side.  He slide into Royce, shoulder first, and hit Royce in the gut, knocking him off his feet. If I was to take Royce’s instructions seriously, this would be the part where I would run, use the compass he slipped into my back pocket while I was sleeping (the perv), and try to find his weird uncle who lived in an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Why did it sound so much less crazy when he said it?

But this was Owen. He didn’t pose me any threat, and if I could get either one of them to pull their heads out of their butts for long enough to take a breath, maybe I could explain that. Royce swept Owen’s legs out from under him, and suddenly they were both on the ground; leaves crunching and dust swirling around them.

“You’re a lunatic!” I heard Owen grunt. There was a crunch and then a thud, but they were rolling around now, and I couldn’t tell who was getting the better of the fight. There was a yell, and then blood. Owen’s blood, Royce’s blood: I couldn’t tell. It covered both of them. Oh God, they were going to kill each other over nothing.

Somehow, Royce managed to throw Owen off him. He sprung up in an instant, not even using his hands to get to his feet. I looked over. Owen struggled, trying to get to his feet. Now that they had separated, I could tell that the blood that stained both of them was definitely Owen’s. Royce must have popped him in the nose, because it was a gushing red geyser. And now Royce was charging toward him, ready to literally kick him while he was down.

“Stop it!” I said, but Royce was still coming. There was no way Owen would make it to his feet in time. “Stop it!” But neither of them was listening to me. Owen grabbed a stick from the ground and reared back, ready to strike Royce; who, even after registering the weapon, still wouldn’t stop.  “I said NO!!!”

I’m not sure what happened, but a rush of anger later, and both Royce and Owen were flying through the air; Royce hard to the left and Owen (a bit more gently) to the right. They collided to the ground at roughly the same time, and I rushed between them.

“I don’t know what you idiots think you’re doing, but we do
not
have time for this! We have got to get out of here and, so help me, if the two of you don’t get it together, I’m gonna start cutting off stuff. And I promise, it’ll be stuff that you’ll miss.”

“He’s the Dragon,Swee-“

“I don’t care!” I yelled in Royce’s direction. “And now is not the time to be calling me sweetheart.”

“When is?” Owen muttered, rubbing the top of his head. His nose was still bleeding, so his other arm rested against it; the white fabric of his shirt soaking the blood up.

“Just” I shook my head. “Never mind that. Time for Cliff’s notes. This is Royce. He saved my life. He knows my mom. He’s here to take me to her. Oh, and Allister Leeman’s dead.”

I turned to Royce. “This is Owen. We know each other well. He’s saved my life too; way more times that you. And I not leaving him or letting you hurt him. Dragon or not, he’s staying.”

“If you trust him so much, then why don’t cha ask him who he brought here,” Royce said, dusting himself off.

That’s right; Owen said he wasn’t alone. But, with everything as delicate and dangerous as it was, why would he bring someone here? And for that matter, how did he find us in the first place? Even I didn’t know where we were.

“That would be me.” Another voice; familiar, but neither Royce’s nor Owen’s, sounded from beside me. I looked over, and saw…absolutely nothing. Now, just a few months ago, I wouldn’t have been afraid of nothing. My stomach wouldn’t have soured for absolutely nothing. My whole body wouldn’t have tensed up for absolutely nothing. But that was before I knew what nothing might hold.

“Flora.” My teeth gritted. In a shimmer that warped the air around her, Flora appeared; her newly shorten red hair ruffling in the wind. “You brought her!”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Owen answered quickly.

“Usually I’d say that those are the traditional last words of a loser, but in this case, he’s right.” Royce nodded toward Flora. “She’s with me.”

“No she isn’t,” I said, ready to finally deliver the knuckle sandwich I promised this bitch at the lake. “She’s with Allister Leeman. Or she was, before Ezra put a pole through his heart.”

“What?” Owen asked. “How did Ezra even get in here?”

“One annoying question at a time,” I raised my hand. “How is she with you?” I asked Royce.

“Your mom recruited her a few years ago. The Council had just let her brother die; typical douchebag Council behavior, and she was ready to pitch it all.”

“I was going to run away,” Flora said. “But your mother found me. She told me that not all Breakers thought the way the Council does. She said there was a place where people were fair; that I didn’t have to live under tyrannical thumbs. And then she told me about you.”

Listening to Flora talk about my mother hurt in about a dozen different ways. First off; because I hated Flora; and secondly, because it meant that she knew my mother, the woman who gave birth to me, way better than I did.

“That’s when I promised I would do whatever was necessary to keep you safe,” Flora continued. “But she didn’t
tell
me I had to do it. She didn’t force me. It was my choice.” She beamed, like the idea of actually choosing something was an accomplishment in itself.

“Keep me safe?” I balked. “You’re the reason we’re in this situation in the first place. If you hadn’t betrayed us-“

“Then the Council would have found out about you sooner. I was just trying to keep your secret Cresta.” She looked from me to Owen. “All of your secrets.”

“Faking allegiance to Allister Leeman was a failsafe. In case she got caught; which she did,” Royce said, giving Flora a playful pat on the shoulder. “That’d keep the Council from finding out about us.”

“I couldn’t tell you the truth. The less you knew, the safer you were,” Flora said, looking at me with green puppy dog eyes. “I hope you can understand that.”

“I…We need to get going,” I said with a sigh.

“You need to give me a second,” Royce said. “There’s something I need to take care of.” He turned and started marching toward a nearby hill. Turning back around, he shot a glance at Flora. “Keep an eye on him.” He motioned to Owen. “I’m just a holler away.” Flora nodded, and Royce disappeared behind the hill.

Flora turned to us, pulling at her fingers like we were back at Weathersby. Suddenly, she was that nervous girl again; though now, her trepidation made a little more sense. She was always looking out for me; always worried that she was going to get caught or fail somehow.  “He’s really not that bad once you get to know him.” She grimaced.

“Flora, Cresta and I need to talk,” Owen said. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Oh, w-well I’m really not supposed to,” she said, looking over at the hill Royce had vanished behind. “But I mean-Yes, of course. You-you are my friends, and I imagine you have some catching up to do.” She looked at me and made a weird kissy face. I didn’t respond. Even if everything she did was actually for me, I wasn’t ready to be friendly with her again-not yet. “O-okay then. I’ll just be over here,” she said, and shuffled behind a tree.

“Ezra killed Allister Leeman for some woman named Isis; said she had a change of heart,” I started.

“Okay,” Owen said flatly.

“Well?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Well what?” He countered, and I couldn’t help but notice his tone was less than happy.

“Well, do you know who that is?”

“Can’t say that I do,” he said, backing away from me and leaning against a tree. His nose was still bleeding, and I wanted to help him. But something about his body language told me that wouldn’t be welcomed.

“How did you find us?” I asked, edging closer to Owen.

“Flora and your brutish friend-what’s his name- Royce? They have trackers that give one the other’s coordinates.” Owen folded his arms and set his jaw. “She told me what she said to you… and what you did.” His words cut off curtly. “What were you thinking?”

Wait. Was he angry with me? I had been so happy to see him; happy enough that it made the rest of this garbage fade away into the background, and he was actually angry. “Honestly? I wasn’t thinking,” I admitted. “I just knew I needed to find a way out of this.”
 

“Out of marrying my brother?” He asked with his eyebrows raised.

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

He gritted his teeth; actually gritted his teeth at me.  “Of course it’s a problem. Look at where we are, Cresta. Look at what’s happened because you refused to-“

“Refused to live my life without you!” I said, much louder than I probably should have, given that we were technically in hiding.

“Don’t put this on me,” Owen said. “You certainly weren’t thinking of me when you asked Allister Leeman to build you an exit ramp.”

“The first thing I did was ask about you!” I was purposely yelling now. Let the slew of Breaker assassins find me, so long as I got to be right. “The absolute first words that came out of my mouth when everything went to hell were about you.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he muttered bitterly, looking at the ground.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked. It was funny. The tone of his voice did way more to take the wind out of me than the motorcycle crash had.

“What would you have done if Ezra hadn’t shown up; if Allister Leeman had actually offered you a way out of here? “

“I’d have come for you,” I answered.

“You’re smarter than that,” he answered, shaking his head like he didn’t believe me. “I’m the Dragon. There’s no way in fate’s underbelly that Allister Leeman would ever let us leave here together, and you know it.”

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Would you rather if I just came out and said it?” His words were venom.