Free Dawnbreaker: Legends of the Duskwalker - Book 3 by Jay Posey

repeatable.”
    “Yeah, well,” jCharles said. “You being Three’s kin makes it a little easier to swallow. If you’d given me any other explanation, I’d have blown you right back out that front door. But Three used to pull some of that same business. Spooked me then, still spooks me a little now.”
    “Serendipity, Coincidence, Destiny, Providence,” said Haiku, his eyes twinkling. “The convergence of random events leading to seemingly meaningful moments has many names. Sometimes we just get lucky.”
    “Yeah,” jCharles said with a smirk. “I’ve heard a few folks cheatin’ at cards say things about like that.” Haiku just smiled in response.
    The mood of the room had altered with the ending of the tale. It had been a solemn time, almost sacred. Now there was an almost casual air, as if everyone were glad to return their focus to the mundane tasks of everyday life. Like after a funeral, when one of the bereaved laughs at some quiet joke, and gives everyone else permission to breathe again. For Wren, however, the sanctity of the story lingered dreamlike. The images and emotions had been refreshed and would not quickly fade. The others seemed like they were speaking too loudly, too quickly.
    “So you got your story,” jCharles continued. “What now?”
    “An excellent question,” Haiku said. “I’ve been on this journey for so long, I’d not given much thought to what might come after.”
    “Well,” jCharles said, “you’re more than welcome to stick around here until you get it figured out.”
    “Thank you, but no,” answered Haiku, “I’ve disrupted your lives far too much as it is.”
    jCharles casually pointed at Haiku and glanced over at Mol. “Now who’s that remind you of?”
    Mol smiled and nodded. “Brothers for sure.”
    “So that’s settled then,” jCharles said. “You’re stayin’ for dinner.”
    “Thank you, but it’s really all right,” Haiku said in mild protest.
    “It’s not a request, Haiku,” Mol said, rising to her feet. She bent and kissed Wren on the head without hesitation, as if he were her own, and he accepted it as readily. “You made demands on our time, now we’re returning the favor.”
    Haiku smiled and bowed his head in acquiescence. Mol turned back to look at Wren, and ran her fingers through his hair. “Wren darling, would you like to help me in the kitchen?”
    Wren knew the offer for what it was. She didn’t need the help, but had over the past days found ways to involve him in her daily affairs, keeping him occupied and giving him reason to keep close. Normally he would accept the invitation. At that moment, though, his whole body felt completely spent. A great weariness settled on him.
    “Actually, I think I’d like to lie down for a while,” he answered. “If that’s all right with you, Miss Mol.” Her smile trembled at that; Three had always called her “Miss Mol”, and Wren realized she too must be feeling the weight of sorrow anew.
    “Of course, you must be exhausted,” she said. “Just be quiet as you can, Gracie’s sleeping back there.”
    Wren nodded and started towards the back room, where jCharles and Mol had made a pallet for him in an alcove off their bedroom.
    “Wren,” Haiku called. Wren turned back. “Thank you again.” Wren nodded, but he had no more words to give. He silently slipped into the back room and crept to his alcove. It was his intent just to lie there, to get away from everyone else, to let his mind swirl and hopefully settle. Instead, sleep came, swift and heavy.
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    I n the dream , and he knew it was a dream while he dreamed, Wren saw Mama, alone, crouched in a strange place. It was Morningside, or rather, was supposed to be Morningside, though the look of it was wrong and was no part of the city he recognized; no part of the city he once ostensibly ruled over. The sky above was dark with clouds. Or smoke, perhaps, oily and thick, swirling with strange currents and lit from within by a sickly