Free The Breaker's Promise (YA Urban Fantasy) (Fixed Points Book 2) by Conner Kressley Page B

I wasn’t supposed to.”
    “And let’s say she did,” Owen answered, tapping an index finger against his lip. “Let’s say that, at some point in her life, Dahlia knew a man with gray eyes. That doesn’t prove anything. A lot of people have gray eyes.”
    “And the fact that Wendy, Dahlia’s own daughter, called him Mother’s man; that doesn’t raise a giant freaking red flag for you?” I asked.
    His finger slid down his lips as he answered, like a slide whistle playing a sad tune. “Sweetheart, Wendy is dead.”
    “I know that.” I threw my hands in front of me. “Of course I know that. It’s just, what if-what if-“
    “What if it doesn’t matter?” He finished my sentence. “I promise you, Cresta, it matters. There’s never been a verified medium in all of Breaker history, not since the beginning of time. Ghosts don’t exist. Once you’re dead, you’re dead. I don’t know if there’s anything beyond this world, Cresta, but I like to think that, if there is, it’s the kind of place you don’t walk away from, not for anything.”
    I didn’t want to, but I thought about Mom. Maybe Owen was right. Maybe Heaven was just beyond my line of site, and my mom and dad were there; so blissfully happy that, when I finally do show up, they won’t even have realized they missed me. Maybe Wendy was there too. That would certainly be a preferable fate to being stuck delivering dream riddles to me for the rest of her afterlife. Still, I couldn’t forget what I saw, or the fact that it wasn’t the first time I had seen something like it.
    “I had dreams like this before, back in Crestview,” I said.
    “The one with the sevens. I remember,” Owen tightened his stance. I had told him everything in the days that followed that horrible night in Crestview; about how the dreams had plagued me, how I had never been able to make sense of them and, how finally, they helped me free him from Allister Leeman’s control.
    “Right, so you know what I mean,” I folded my arms.
    “I’ll admit, something was going on there; and if you really feel strongly about this, you know I’m behind you. But what you’re talking about doing is very dangerous. If we get caught, it could spell the end of our time here at Weathersby, and who knows what life be like at some other facility; or even if we’d wind up together.”
    I blanched. The thought of not being with Owen, of not being able to see him every day, was enough to send this morning’s cold roast beef back up. But I needed to be strong. Wendy said this wouldn’t end until I found Mother’s man and, dead or not, I had learned enough to know that when Wendy speaks, you’re almost always better off to listen.
    “I do feel strongly,” I answered. “I believe in this.” I put my hand on Owen’s arm and let the steadying warmth of his nearness flow through me. “And I have a plan.”
    “Really? I hope your plan takes into consideration the fact that the woman we’re trying to deceive can pull memories out of the walls,” Owen answered.
    “That does seem a bothering bar to clear,” Flora said, pulling at her shirt. Her edges began to soften, which was the first step of disappearing.
    “Have faith,” I said, and slapped Flora on the shoulder, and startling her into full visibility. Sure, Dahlia’s special Breaker ability allowed her to pick up on psionic fragments left behind in places and things. She could pick up a hat and likely tell you everything about the person who owned it; maybe even the people who made it. But I had taken that into consideration; at least, as far as you could take something like that into consideration.
    “I heard some of the younglings complaining about Dahlia forcing them to go on an extra credit hike around the perimeter tonight,” I said. “That’ll be our chance. Echo’s predictable. With Dahlia out, he’ll be-“
    “Having coffee by the lake,” Owen and Flora finished in tandem.
    See, predictable.
    “Right, which