The Breaker's Resolution: (YA Paranormal Romance) (Fixed Points Book 4) (3 page)

But it wasn’t a trap. It was a letter and, to my dismay, I recognized the handwriting almost immediately. I had seen it for the last two years…on my prescriptions.

“It’s from Dr. Conyers,” I gasped. “It’s from my biological mother.”

It had been weeks since Cresta left, and Sevie still wasn’t awake. Hour after hour passed of him just lying there, sweat pouring off him in sheets, his brow knitted together continuously. Worry built up in me like flowing water pooling up against the other side of a dam. Without some relief soon, it would burst and all the feelings that had been safely tucked away would pour out like some awful, regretful torrent.

I kept thinking about everything Mother had told me about Sevie’s birth; about the way he stopped breathing, the way he died in front of her. I thought about the blond woman who seemingly appeared offering her a chance to bring him back. Then I thought about Sevie’s eyes, and the fearful and feverish things he said to me when I was sure the bloodmoon was going to kill him.

‘Can I still be your brother?’

The Council called for me several times while my brother lay motionless in bed. After it was clear just how much I was going to ignore those calls, they began to command me.

When even that went unanswered, the Lighfoot farmhouse was graced with a visit from none other than Chant himself; highest and most infuriating of all the Council.

That’s twice in one cycle. Father must be brimming with pride.

When Chant walked into Sevie’s room, where I had taken up permanent residence as of late, my stomach soured. Something about him being in this place, walking so close to where my defenseless brother lay, was akin to stomping through holy ground in combat boots.

His cane clanged heavy against the floor and, when I saw what was left of Flora, dead eyed and shuffling around behind him, my stomach went from sour to sickened.

“You’ve been a naughty Dragon,” the old man said. His voice lacked its usual macabre playfulness, which was to be expected given the devastating blow they had just been given in losing the Bloodmoon.  “I’ve been calling for you.”

“I’ve been a little busy,” I answered, not moving from the spot right beside Sevie’s bed.

“You can thank your girlfriend for that,” he said flatly.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” I answered, eyeing the ancient etchings that now ran up my arm and signified my unbreakable and unending union with Merrin. “You made quite sure of that.”

“Yes, the tribulations of the married life. It’s a sign of growth, if you ask me.”

“I don’t remember asking you anything,” I barked.

“Not yet,” he grimaced. “But you will.”

My eyes darted up at him as he crept closer, circling around to the foot of Sevie’s bed, cane in hand. His face looked even more weathered than usual, all sunken in eyes and hollow cheeks. Still, his expression looked as determined as ever, and that scared the hell out of me.

“We need a report of what happened,” he said, his gaze resting on Sevie.

“You had people at every inch of the Great Wall. Surely you don’t need me to tell you how the Bloodmoon escaped,” I said.

“We’re well aware of what happened on the outside.” He tapped a wrinkled finger across his equally wrinkled temple. “We’re more concerned about what happened on the inside. You were using Sebastian’s abilities when the departure was committed.” His mouth turned down disgustedly. “You were commanded to communicate with the Bloodmoon, to convince her to turn herself in and put an end to the abominations she wrought.” His cane clanged heavily against the floor again. “Obviously, you were unsuccessful. But the exact nature of your failure is still a mystery, as are your true motivations. Now, given that Allister Leeman’s blasted psionic barriers are still in place within your mind, the Council has no way of extracting the truth from you.” His eyes slid from Sevie to me. “With that in mind, we’ll need you to give us an official report of what happened between you and Cresta Blut.”

“I told her to stay, and she said she wouldn’t. Simple as that,” I groaned. Though it was a lie, tears began to burn at the back of my eyes.  I hadn’t asked Cresta to stay. Even with Sevie barely clinging to life, I told her to run. I begged her to keep the bloodmoon in the sky, the same bloodmoon that was draining the life out of my brother, so that she’d be safe.

The fact that she vanquished the bloodmoon-Well, that was just evident of the fantastic heart that beat inside her beautiful chest. And the fact that she got out of the Hourglass
after
she gave away the biggest card she had was a testament to just how kickass my girl was.

But what did it say about me? She was willing to let herself die to save my brother’s life. But me, I was too afraid of what might happen to her. And maybe that was the reason he was still lying here. Maybe if I’d have actually convinced Cresta to do what the Council asked
when
the Council asked, it would have been enough to spare Sevie what he was going through now.

Of course, if I did that, she’d likely be dead and I’d definitely wish I was.

“As thrilling as that recount was, I’m afraid you’ll have to give it in a more official manner,” Chant answered. “The people of this world, the Breakers of the Hourglass, have suffered greatly because of your indifference and incompetence. You, and all those who bear the Lightfoot name, must be made to answer for that.”

“Would you just shut up and get the hell out of my house!” My tone was not only accusatory, it was damning. These people, the Council and all it stood for; they were the reason I was suffering. It was because of them that Cresta was lost to me; darting around Fate knows where with only Casper, Echo, and that damned teenage cowboy to keep her safe.

They had brought this into fruition. Couldn’t they see that? If not for them, we’d be back in Crestview, watching Netflix and struggling through geometry. They pushed Cresta to this point. They brought out the Bloodmoon within her. Could she really be blamed for any of it?

Chant’s eyes widened and then narrowed. It was obvious that my words were a slap in the face to someone who was
not
used to such treatment.

“Because I am a gracious man, I will give you thirty seconds to amend your ludicrous behavior before I treat your words as an act of hostility.”

“Why don’t you take it as a middle finger, you sadistic son of a bitch!” I yelled.

So, obviously, I’ve had enough of these bastards.

He didn’t react. In fact, apart from blinking, Chant was a statue; blank and motionless. Flora began to advance behind him, an obedient guard dog. But Chant rose his hand slowly, stopping her where she stood.

“You wish for me to leave your house. Is this correct?” He asked, licking his aged lips.  He didn’t give me time to answer before he continued. “Perhaps you would be kind enough to show me where this house of yours is.”

I looked up at him confusedly. Was he playing with me? “You’re in it,” I said through gritted teeth. “Maybe if I toss you out on your wrinkled cranium, you’ll get the picture.”

Threatening any Breaker with unsubstantiated physical violence was a punishable offence. Doing it to a Council member could result in a death sentence. But I didn’t care about that. Cresta was gone. For all intents and purposes, Sevie was gone. I loved two people in the world more than myself, and I had lost both of them. So let them kill me. Besides, if this wasn’t substantiated, I obviously didn’t know the meaning of the word.

He didn’t react the way I thought he might though, the way I had been trained to expect a Council member to deal with such unimaginable insubordination. He shook his head lightly, smug satisfaction coloring his eyes.

“Your house? Do you truly believe any of this belongs to you?”

“My father’s house then,” I growled. “Either way, I want you out of it.”

“Bring me a chair. I’ll be staying awhile,” Chant answered, looking back at Flora. Dead eyed, she snapped to it, leaving me alone in the room with my comatose brother and pretty much the worst person I had ever known. “This house, Dragon, belongs to neither you, nor your father, nor any member of your treacherous little family or bloodline. This house, these sticks, bricks, and mortar are property of the Breakers. We own it all, every one of us. We own everything and everyone within the Hourglass. And we all have a say in what happens with our property.” His unsteady hands shook so much that he had to hold onto the foot of the bed to keep sturdy.

Instinctively, I wanted to push him away. His hands shouldn’t be so close to my brother. But what good would that do? He was right. This house belonged to the Breakers, and the Council spoke for the Breakers. It had always been that way, since the very beginning. But that wasn’t all he was getting at. He said everything
and everyone.

“You don’t own me,” I muttered, staring at my brother. “And you don’t own him either.”

A smile spread across the old man’s face. “Oh Dragon, of course we do. You should be thankful,” he said. His arm reached out and grabbed Sevie’s ankle.

This time I stood. “I will break that hand off if I have to. I swear to Fate I will.”

“And what good would that do you, Dragon?” he asked, squeezing harder onto Sevie’s ankle. “He would still be in this bed. The Bloodmoon would still be at large. And you, Dragon, you would still be mine.” His smile twisted into a sneer. “Do you have any idea how many people would have given everything they had to be gifted the way you are? A thousand people over a hundred years, and each and every one would have given their lives just for Fate to favor them the way she has you.”

“Well it looks to me like that bitch made a poor choice then,” I muttered.

“You will not disrespect that by which we live our lives, Dragon. I don’t care who you are,” Chant said calmly. Then, with a twist of his hand, I heard Sevie’s ankle snap.

“You son of a bitch!” I shot to my feet. But Sevie didn’t. He just lay there, unfeeling, unresponsive. “I warned you!’ I yelled, rearing my fist back. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. No one had ever struck a member of the Council. Well, Cresta might have after I got shot. That whole thing was more than a little fuzzy. But the point was, it would likely result in me losing my hand. But that didn’t matter to me now. The only thing that made a difference, the only thing I cared about was my brother. He was all I had, and I’d rather be dead, be handless than let this bastard abuse him at a time when he was powerless to defend himself.

I move toward he wrinkled waste of space, but Flora entered the room like a blur. She had a chair in her hand. Well, it was in her hand for a second. After that, it whooshed through the air and collided with my face.

I fell back in a swirl of blood, splinters, and hurt. The floor caught me hard and I saw stars as Flora stood over me, pieces of the chair still clutched in her hands.

I blinked hard, looking up at her. There was nothing there; no light, no expression. She was little more than a vessel for Chant’s whims and wants. He had hollowed her out somehow. That brightness, that purity; it was all gone.

“You’re a monster,” I murmured.

“She’s just a pet,” Chant answered, inching up behind her.

“I wasn’t talking to Flora. She was your niece. How could you do this to her?” I asked.

“It is precisely because she is my niece that this happened to her,” he said. “Treason is traditionally paid with death, but that would be too easy an ending for her. People would speak of my bias, begin to whisper of weakness.  I had to show them that no one, even the blood of my blood, was exempt of the consequences that their actions bought them.” He looked over at Sevie. “You’ll understand that one day, Dragon.” Chant’s hand traveled to Flora’s shoulder. “Get the boy some ice for his brother’s ankle, and then some more for his face. We wouldn’t want him swollen when he makes his statement to the Council.”

“I’ll die before I help you,” I said defiantly, tasting metal in my mouth.

“Oh you’ll do it,” Chant answered, not lowering himself to look at me. “That is, if you ever want to know how to wake your brother up.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Mother said, standing dangerously close to me at the entrance of the Council’s chambers. The time was that just walking by this place would have set my hands to shaking. For a young Breaker, there was no greater honor
or
horror than being called to these chambers; dependent, of course, on the reason for the call. But now, after everything the last year had put me through, it seemed almost anticlimactic.

My hands were rock steady as I answered. “Tell that to Father.”

She sighed. She knew, as I did, that my father would sooner see me in the ground than watch me disrespect the Council again, especially after all I had done. It was obvious in the way Breakers passed me on the streets of the Main Area, eyes on the ground, careful to keep their distance. I was equal parts disappointment and enigma these days.

I was the Dragon. For all intents and purposes, I was a hero to these people. I was a tool of justice, of righteousness. I should have been celebrated and, if things had gone differently, I likely would have. But things did not go differently. When Cresta left the Hourglass, it was as though she took all the air in it with her. With the Bloodmoon gone, the end of days seemed realer somehow to the people within these walls. She was gone, out in the world and capable of anything. And it was all my fault.

But none of that mattered right now. My father’s wishes, what these Breakers thought of me, even the designs of the Council were all irrelevant now. They all paled in comparison to the real reason I was here.

“We’ll find another way,” Mother said, though the gesture was so halfhearted that it took all she could do to even finish the sentence.

“You know that isn’t true,” I answered. “Even if we could come up with a way to wake Sevie up, I wouldn’t risk it. We have no idea what sort of damage this coma is doing to his body, much less what his mind is going through with him under like this. If I had the
join
the Fate forsaken Council just to spare him a minute of that, I wouldn’t even hesitate.”

“Then why are you hesitating now?” Her voice was soft and not as accusatory as the question might have implied.

“I don’t-” I started, but stopped quickly. My hands curled into fists at my sides and my body went still. I
was
hesitating. All these questions, all this grandeur; it only served to keep me here, standing outside the entrance of the chambers. And I couldn’t do anything to help my brother out here.

I started toward the door before feeling Mother’s hand tug at mine. “That’s not what I meant,” she amended quickly. “I didn’t mean that you should just…”

But words failed her too, and she was left staring silently at that gaping and horrific door. And then it came to me. She was stalling too. The last time she had faced the Council, they had told her son would die. And, in what must have been the biggest middle finger in Breaker history, she took matters into her own hands.

Guess I know where I got it from.

But she had never answered for that. Sure, the Council threatened my parents with a trail. They even threw the word ‘banishment’ around like a rusty switchblade. But there had been too much going on. The world itself was at stake, and taking the time to punish two morons for what they did to save their little boy probably wouldn’t have looked too productive to the throngs of concerned Breakers who were, even at this moment, growing more and more concerned.

“Mother,” I said, taking her hand into mine. “There’s nothing to worry about. They’re figureheads. They can’t do anything to us.”

It was a lie, and a rather shoddy one at that. But I did her the courtesy of saying it, and she did me the courtesy of pretending to believe it.

Steadying herself, Mother followed me through the entrance and into the chambers of the Council of Masons.

The thing I had learned about the Council, the thing most people would never learn- given that proceedings that occurred within the chambers were absolutely forbidden from discussion- was that it never looked the same.

You might go in there one day to find yourself staring at the back of the waterfall, and the very next day you’re on the literal inside of a volcano. It wasn’t real, of course. We were Breakers. Even the best of us played in perception. But perception was a strong thing, and more times than not I found myself lost in the illusions they shoveled at me.

Today the illusion I found myself in was particularly engrossing.

Mother and I stepped through the entrance and found ourselves outside. We stood at the end of a quaint little Main Street. Stores, most of them closed, lined either side of the street. There was nary a car in sight and what little light came from the antique looking street lamps was augmented only by a pale full moon and a dotting of stars.

People crossed the street leisurely, positive no oncoming vehicle would top the hill because-well, this was a quiet town on a quiet night. And that sort of thing didn’t happen in places like this.

I would know.

My hand tensed in my mothers.

“What’s wrong? What is this place?” Mother asked, spying the general store and butcher’s market.

“It’s Crestview,” I answered, near breathless.

“We wanted you to feel at home.”

The voice came from my left. I turned to find the trio of Councilmembers sitting on an unassuming bench with their arms folded, much like the old women in Crestview would, much like they were probably doing right now.

Chant sat in the middle, cane lying flat across his lap. Isla, dressed all in red, sat beside him with Felix on his left, sucking his thumb.

“Crestview isn’t my home,” I answered.

“Is the Hourglass?” Chant asked instantly, raising his brows.

“You asked me to come here and I came,” I said through gritted teeth. “These games are unnecessary.”

“Really?” Chant asked, slowly getting to his feet. “I assumed you would like games, given the incredibly long one you’ve been playing as of late.”

“I could walk out this door as easily as I walked through it,” I threatened. It was a lie, of course. Sevie was still lying unconscious in that bed. Taking my proverbial ball and going home wouldn’t do anyone any good. But I couldn’t let them push me around, not after everything I’d given up.

“Let’s keep our heads about us now.” Ilsa stood up, motioning toward me in a peaceful manner. Covered from head to toe in red, she looked younger than I remembered her being. Her hair was longer than before too, pulled behind her ears and hanging slick down her back. How much of this was her and how much was shade meant to trick me into seeing, hearing, and feeling exactly what they wanted me to?

“I’d like to speak to you in private, Mr. Lightfoot,” Ilsa asked, moving toward me fluidly. “If I may.”

The last part set me on edge. The Council didn’t
ask
for anything. They commanded. So the idea that Ilsa would be so submissive in the way she now spoke set my flashers off.

“And why would that be?” I asked, tensing up.

A smile parted her blood red lips. “We’ve tried it one way Mr. Lightfoot, and I think we all can agree that it’s getting us nowhere. Perhaps the situation requires more of a woman’s touch.”

As the words left her mouth, the tips of her fingers (also painted red) graced my shoulders. The world slipped away. Crestview was gone, replaced by a beach at sunset. The sand felt real and warm as it squished between my now bare toes, and a light breeze tickled my forehead as it played its way into my hair. But that didn’t make this any less jarring.

“Mother!” I said loudly, when I realized Ilsa and I were alone now. Panic shot up my spine. They could be doing anything to her. For all I knew, the instants that had passed for me in this dreamscape were weeks in the outside world. Mother could very likely be rotting in a cell by now. Or worse. “I demand that my mother join us.”

Her smile reduced to a smirk. No ne made demands of the Council. It was a prosecutable offense. But her eyes softened, and she relented.

“No harm will come to your mother, Owen. May I call you Owen?”

Again with the asking. What was she up to?

“I would still feel more comfortable if I could see her,” I answered firmly.

“And how could you know what you were seeing was real, Owen?” She winked at me. “Oh, that’s right. You’re in flux. You’re abilities are morphing in unforeseen ways. Why, I bet you could see through the shade of even the most gifted Breaker.” Her eyes caught mine menacingly. “If you were taught, that is.”

“My mother,” I repeated.

“Fine,” she sighed. “You may leave here. You may take your mother’s hand and march back to your farmhouse. I won’t stop you. But if you will indulge me, then I will make it very profitable for you.”

“Chant has already promised to exchange my testimony for information about how to wake my brother. Other than that, you have nothing that I want.” My words held the stonewall certainty that came from a man who knew, without reservation, that everything he ever wanted was, at this very moment, miles away and untouchable by the Council.

The sands chilled under my feet so much that it felt as though I was standing on refrigerated glass. Was that an indication of Ilsa’s reaction? If so, she didn’t express it in any other way.  Her face remind calm. Her arms continued to hang lazily at her sides.

“I can offer freedom,” she said bluntly.

“I don’t care to be free,” I answered immediately. What was the point? I could never see Cresta again, not really. The Crone’s proclamation made sure of that. So what was the point of being free when I knew I would never be happy?

“Not for you Owen,” she answered as her eyes trailed me up and down. “We both know you’re too integral to ever be fully let go of. I won’t insult your intelligence by suggesting otherwise. The freedom I speak of is for your mother.’

The sand heated just a little.

“What?” I asked, my brows shooting upward.

“Your mother faces several counts of insubordination. She defied fate and her own sense of loyalty and duty to save her sons. And while that fact might make her actions forgivable, it does not make them excusable.” Now it was her brows (red as flame) that were arching. “But you could.”

I stared at her for a long moment. “I’m listening,” I answered in a low, reluctant voice. She had me over a barrel and she knew it. With so much going on, the investigation into my parents had sort of taken a back seat. But it was still there, an ever present axe ready to fall.

“Listen to what will be said. Right here and now, hear it all with open ears and an open mind, and I assure you that no harm will come to your mother by hands of the Council. In fact, in the quest for friendship between us, I’ll go so far as to ensure that your parents are never tried or held accountable for the actions in which they have been investigated. The slate will be clean, Owen. No more wondering.” She placed her hand on my shoulder. “And all you have to do is listen.”

“I-I don’t believe you,” I said. “How do I know you won’t break your word?”

“Aside from the fact that a Council member’s word is the same as a law or decree?”
She asked. “It is a promise,” she relented. “A Breaker’s promise. And it will be kept.”

Even if she had been wrong about the first part, the second would have been all the convincing I needed. A Breaker’s promise could not be broken. To do so would be inconceivable. It would be to spit in the face of our people, of our history, of our home, and of our lives. And if proof surfaced that a Breaker had indeed broken that sacred vow-well, it would be the last thing he or she ever did.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Is this some sort of mind game? You’re going to play ‘good cop’ to Chant’s son of a bitch? It won’t work, and not only because I don’t want it to. She’s gone.” I splayed my hands out in front of me. “I don’t know where she is, and I couldn’t get her back if I wanted to. I might be the Dragon, but for all intents and purposes, my wings have been clipped.”

Her mouth straightened into a line. She wasn’t angry, at least not in the way Chant would have been. Ilsa was deeper, and she was playing the game from a different angle.

“The last time you were in our care-”

“You mean when you were holding me prisoner?” I snapped.

A patent and calculated smile draped her face. “It should come as no surprise to know that you were monitored for the entirety of your stay. You spoke in your sleep, Owen.” Her fingers made soothing circles in the fabric against her thigh as she continued. “You spoke of your desires. You spoke of saving her.”

“And I did save her,” I said instinctively. “It might have cost me all I had, but I saved her.”

“Escape is not the same as salvation, Owen. It never has been. And what you did only served to prolong what would already be an intense and horrible process.” She shook her head. “There are ways to save her, to truly save her. But none of you are interested in that. You see things as children do, in black and white, in right and wrong. You have no regard for the truth that lay in between.”

“Right and wrong-”

“Is a lie,” she interrupted me. “Built on the perceptions and egos of lesser men. We as Breakers are called to see past that. And you, as the Dragon, are called for even more.”