The Breaker's Resolution: (YA Paranormal Romance) (Fixed Points Book 4) (23 page)

The biker reached the end of the alley and took a left as it spilled out onto another road.

Sparks burst from either side as I did the same thing. The windows were crushed now, and I had no doubt the sides of the car were ruined.

Ooops…

I floored it again, trying to bridge the gap. But there, standing off the road just a step, was the blond woman I saw back in the woods in the Hourglass, the one no one else could see, the one who was responsible for bring us to the Damnatus in the first place.

We made eye contact for a split second and, as she mouthed something I couldn’t make out, she pointed back…back toward Laurel’s house.

Looking back at the biker, he seemed different now. He flickered. He was almost transparent, like he was a hologram. Like he was shade.

I waved my hand and he dispersed into thin air.

“What the hell!” Royce said, sitting back down beside me.

“He wasn’t real, Royce,” I said, my heart jumping into my throat. “He was distraction!” I turned to him with terror in my eyes. “We have to get back to the house!”

**********

My heart leapt into my throat as we skidded to a stop in front of Laurel’s house. It all looked normal. There were no screams, no blood, and no bullets. Maybe we had actually gotten here in time.

I put the car in park, leaving the ruined heap running and rushed toward the front door. Royce was hot on my trail and I pushed on the door. It was locked. I didn’t like that.

“I didn’t leave it locked!” I said, looking to Royce.

He didn’t answer. He just leveled a boot into the door, knocking it backward and sending splinters flying in the air.

Dahlia appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, fists lamped and ready for action.

“Thank Fate,” she exclaimed.

I rushed toward them, doing away with the barrier as Royce and I came through.

Laurel now lay cross the bed, still unconscious but visibly breathing.

Royce ran to her, settling beside her and kissing her on the forehead. It still seemed strange to me, but I pushed that feeling down.

“Her color is better,” I said to Dahlia.

“Thanks to you,” she answered.

Casper and Sarah were in the corner. The woman sat cross legged on the floor. Casper stood behind her, his hand in hers.

“What happened?” he asked, brushing red hair out of his eyes with his free hand. “The biker dude, is he…”

“No,” I shook my head. “What we were chasing was an illusion. He’s still out there somewhere.”

Sarah sobbed hard and I found myself moving toward her. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this under control,” I lied. It was the same lie Commissioner Rivers had told me only a few moments ago.

“It’s…It’s not that,” Sarah said, her teeth gritted together. “It’s that.” Looking down, I saw a puddle of water laying around her.

“Oh God. Is that what I think it is?” I turned to Dahlia. “She’s having the baby!”

“I’ll take care of it,” Dahlia answered, touching my shoulders and looking me square in the eyes. “But there’s something you need to know. I managed to get some information from this room when I scanned it. The biker, he’s-”

“Now, now,” A voice sounded from the living room. “Don’t give away all my secrets.”

Spinning, I saw him. The biker, still clad in his helmet with the visor pulled down, strode toward us.

Sarah whimpered again, and this time I was pretty sure it
was
because of him.

“Don’t worry,” I said, settling in the doorway. “I got this.”

I threw my hands in front of me, manipulating the shade so that it created a barrier in the doorway, effectively blocking the biker from getting to us.

“That’s impressive,” he said, not breaking stride. “Watch this.”

He moved through my barrier with ease, like someone settling into a warm bath.

“That’s not possible,” I stammered.

“Guess it is,” the biker said, and threw a punch into my gut.

I bowled over, pain shooting up my spine.

“You done went and done it now,” Royce yelled.

He jumped into action, hopping through the air, and unleashing a flurry of punches and kicks at the biker.

It was no use though. For all of Royce’s moves, the biker had a counter move. Royce punched. He blocked. Royce kicked. He side stepped it.

I stood up, gathering my strength and funneling shade toward him to knock his ass backward. I unleashed it, a wave of energy. But it moved right through the biker. Instead, it hit Royce hard, throwing him against the wall.

“It doesn’t work,” I said to Dahlia.

“I know,” she answered. “Stay behind me.”

Dahlia lunged toward the man, but he leapt into the air. A foot hit Dahlia’s face, knocking back toward me. I caught her.

Casper roared toward him, a lamp in his hand. To his credit, Casper actually managed to strike him, knocking his helmet with the lamp, sending shards of glass to the floor and causing him to stagger backward a little.

The biker turned to him with a furry.

“No!” I screamed letting go of Dahlia and battering into him. I knocked him backward, but he elbowed me in the face. Blood poured from my nose.

“You’re gonna with you never did that!” Casper screamed, fists raised. But the man threw himself backward into a cartwheel kick that hit Casper right on the chin. He crumpled to the ground.

We were all on the ground, scattered and broken. The biker’s head moved toward Laurel. “She’s still alive?” He asked, his voice muffled by the visor. “That’s a shame.”

Then, pulling the pistol from his side, he pointed it at Sarah.

She screamed.

“No…” I said weakly. “Please don’t. She’s pregnant.”

“I know,” the biker answered me. “Tell them when they wake up that I’m coming back for my daughter. You’ll do that for me, won’t you Cresta?”

“How do you know my name?” I asked weakly.

“Because I gave it to you,” he said. Then, lifting the pistol, he shot Sarah twice in the chest.

“No!” I screamed.

The biker tossed the pistol on the floor and hopped over me, rushing out the door and disappearing back out into Clarity.

I began to crawl over to Sarah. She gasped hard as blood spilled from her in buckets.

“The baby,” she gasped. “Please save the baby.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I remember it all now. I remember everything. Tell Casper I’m sorry. Tell him that it should have been his. I wish it would have been his.”

Dahlia moved around me, her face bloody and cut. “I will Sarah. I’ll deliver your baby. Don’t worry. I promise it’ll be fine. You can rest now.”

A weak smile graced Sarah’s face as her eyes closed. The Damnatus was dying. The world was ending. And I couldn’t stop it.

“I think…I think the biker is the baby’s father,” I said, settling beside her with every muscle in my body screaming. “He said he was coming back for his daughter.”

“I don’t think he was talking about the baby, Cresta,” Dahlia said, ripping Sarah’s blouse and revealing her bare belly.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, tasting blood and metal.

“I told you I read the room. The biker left an energy signature; a signature that I’ve only ever seen once before in my life.”

“So you know?” I asked wearily. “You know who the biker is.”

“Yes Cresta,” Dahlia nodded. “The energy signature made it clear, but it doesn’t make any sense. The man on the bike, the man who just killed the Damnatus and cemented the end of the world; it’s your father.”

The End

Cresta Karr will return in The Breaker’s Conclusion (Fixed Points Book 5) Coming Soon!

Check out the rest of the USA TODAY Bestselling Fixed Points Series!

The Breaker's Code (Book 1)

The Breaker's Promise (Book 2)

The Breaker's Ultimatum (Book 3)

And if you’re all caught up on Cresta’s adventures, check out an entirely different universe with Winston Cobb and the time bending Hourmaker series

The Hourmaker (Book 1)

The Hourmaker’s Wife (Book 2) – Coming Soon!

Ways to get in touch with me!

Facebook

My website

Join the Mailing List for Updates on All My Upcoming Releases!

Now, for a special treat, enjoy a teaser for Masque; a new book by debut author J.B. Hill!

Masque

Written by  J.B. Hill

When I was a child, I saw the world as a child. Naturally I had to grow up, but for me that happened very early in my life.

Growing up has nothing to do with age, but the disillusion of the dream you believe the world to be. When the weight of reality finally starts to set in on you. It’s often theorized that it’s that small time frame that shapes your future. Maybe that’s why I, under the codename Masque, wound up being one of the world’s top twenty Super Villains by the age of Twenty-Three.

My name is Emily Holt. I am Twenty six now, and according to all records of me i’ve done nothing with my life so far aside from school and a lot of temp or off-hand small jobs. As of six months ago, I am a part time secretary for a lawyer at a medium sized firm in the middle of one of the largest cities in the world. Naturally I stand out about as much as a worker ant in a full-fledged colony. Even to my family I look like a struggling entrepreneur. My mother calls it a ‘waste of potential’ and that I shouldn’t pour my time and energy into silly hobbies, I should be doing something grand with my life. Granted she thinks my hobby is a variety of artistic things, like photography, that she never put much stock into. But being ordinary and un-noticed has it’s hefty advantages for what it is that I actually do. Letting people think little of me is a small price to pay.

Don't get me wrong the life of a villain isn't an easy one. It's full of dangers that the average F class villains succumb to every day. The average super, hero or villain lasts on average 15 months. I, however, am able to avoid the perils of this line of work due to the amount of consideration I put into things. Very few have the same level of mortal awareness. Anywhere I go there’s no evidence that could connect me as Emily to me as Masque. I use a synthetic wig that’s secured under a high tech mask and a full body costume. There isn’t an inch of my skin that’s showing and both the fabric and the mask are hard to break or rip open. Plus I’m not idiotic enough to think that I can’t be caught, overpowered, swarmed, or even killed.

That’s why I plan. And the plans are why after three years I’m still going strong, still….

‘Should we begin?’

I heard the voice speak as clearly as someone standing right in front of me, and for a moment I leaned back in my chair to admire the great leaps ALI had taken since the simple AI program I had made as a child. Back then I made her to be my friend, and she was nothing more than a personality on my phone to keep me company. By now she was communicating by computer chip and a thin strip of a polymer that fit comfortably inside of my ear canals. Her code and programming had expanded quite a bit and she was capable of remote access. A cloud based lifeform that was far beyond a simple artificial intelligence program.

“In two minutes.” I responded, using my feet to spin myself around in the rolly-chair I was still precariously leaning back in. I was in a small security room that was equipped with nothing more than a desk, a few chairs, and a wall of around 15 monitors linked to a rather vast amount of security cameras. Those were the simple part, of course. This place was a storage facility, so it wasn’t like breaking into some uber important government facility. Six guards, at most, and a camera system that I had more than the capacity to trick.

Tonight was a fairly rainy night, a little wind nothing too harsh. It’d been raining all week, so that made everything even easier. I looped the camera system to playback the footage from a couple of nights ago, and the guard supposed to be monitoring this room was sound asleep thanks to a simple dosage of some powerful sleep aids.

If his buddies came by, they’d all be none the wiser.

And this,
this
was exactly the reason why I am an excellent villain. Doing this might not get me further on the ‘top 20’ super villains list, but it accomplishes my goals. I am well known, sure, because I’ve survived longer doing all of this than a lot of others on both the hero and villain side. But that’s because I don’t flaunt much. Anything I can keep quiet, keep private, is safer for me. Less heroes hunting you, and less interruptions to my world altering plans.

The only variable in my performance this evening that isn’t run directly by me, is the inclusion of one of my dark market contacts by the name of Mitch. He was thankfully only moving equipment, nothing that was of any real value or risk. It was just an additional hit to this place. The items stored here were for the purpose of supplying the Netton Corporation, one of the major corporations that fund the falsification of this world.

Nowadays Superheroes are everywhere and half of them are more gimmick than they are of any use. Commercials, Television, Advertisements, books, toys,
snacks
.
A world of marketing, a world designed to try and inspire the world to be better but with the sole purpose of selling more. 'Buy this to be Super' They're even trying to figure out the scientific formula to create children gifted with superpowers. Thankfully
that
hasn't spewed out into the world, though the Netton Corporation are on their way to doing it.

I’ve taken out a good majority of their existing factories, or suppliers for some of those parts. The world the way that it is now, needs to change. People with abilities different from normal shouldn’t be shunned, caged, idolized, or used as pawns to market and sell trivial or material things.

Sabotage, such as this, is only one small step in the measures I’m taking to turn the world into something that it should be. To save the gifted from the fate of persecution that they are subjected to in all facets.

‘Security lines are still being monitored. No current activity to report. Countdown has begun for the disruptors.’

“Thank you, ALI. Time to move, then. I’ve connected into Mitch’s phone. It should trigger an alert when he’s near. Make sure we have everything ready by then.” I stood up and adjusted my gloves, sliding my fingers over the bottom frame of the mask to make sure the latches were set in and secured. No wiggle room meant a lessened variable for mistakes. “ALI, increase vocal distortion. The levels sound too low on this set.”

I set my right pointer finger against the temple area on my mask and waited for the tracer light to trigger. A faint blue line ran almost like a vein down my finger and spread out through the rest of my arm, mimicking the appearance of a vascular system. But it wasn’t mine, it was a way of monitoring and controlling my machines. Typically this was assisted by ALI as well, who monitored and adjusted the robots under the condition that I couldn’t. She played support to me, which helped under certain circumstances.

I patted the sleeping guard on the head as I walked out of his office and out into the cold, wet rainy night. My getup prevented me from getting wet, but eventually the cold would start to seep in. Assuming that everything went according to plan, I wouldn’t be out here long enough for that to happen. I passed by the rest of the office doors until I reached the end of the main building, which curved to the left and opened up into an enormous warehouse. Only the auxiliary lights were on, but with the assistance of the tech in my mask I didn’t need the full lights on to know where I was going. I could see fairly well on my own, even without activating night vision.

Here there was one machine to destroy, half a room of supplies to either break or have moved. I extended my hand, gesturing to send the robots to the parts. I would handle the machine. Then Mitch would come for the ones I didn’t have the equipment to destroy and the remaining pieces my robots couldn’t get to. He arrived on time, followed my precise directions, and got to make a hefty profit off of what he could scrap or sell from these runs.

Win win.

It took me precisely thirteen minutes to modify the machine so it would ‘malfunction’ to the point of complete worthlessness after a short time of use. Again, not obviously sabotage. The only thing they would know for sure was that lots of inventory was missing for no reason, and all those broken parts would cause malfunctions and continue ruining the company name.

Pretty soon they’d have the quality reputation of moldy cheese.

‘The GPS on Mitch has not yet activated, but I have evidence of him approaching the location. Attempts to ping the device has failed. Malfunction percent remains at 3.2% by my calculations.’

Not all nights went perfectly. I sighed with annoyance, something that with the vocal distortion sounded more like an auto-tuned hiss. “I’ll handle it. Which entrance will he arrive at?”

‘He is approaching the southwest entrance.’

I did not like deviations from my plans. In every single one of these warehouse missions the area furthest from the freeway was the one selected as the primary entrance/exit. In this area, it was the North. Facing the freeway meant that there was an increased variable chance of something going wrong. Employees passing by and seeing the activity, traffic crews accidentally passing over, any number of possibilities even remote chances were things I did not want to deal with. My device on Mitch could have malfunctioned, yes, and he could have idiotically gone for the wrong entrance. But my gut told me that wasn’t the case. Mitch wasn’t exactly smart, but he was smart enough to know what would piss me off. And if his phone was broken, he’d make some other attempt to contact me.

Deviating from the plan was either meant to flag my attention to trouble or it meant Mitch was needing to be replaced.

“Set four of the mechs to destruct on my cue, two will come with me, and the rest to prepare escape plan three.”

‘Of course, Emily. I will prepare the response systems to malfunction on your cue as well.’

See? Such a good support player, I didn’t even have to ask. I headed to the far entrance to see exactly what was going on. I motioned for one bot to stay at the door and the other to go in front. It opened the door for me and with the smooth rotation of gears swung around from behind me to return to my side. Unfortunately what happened became clear as I took just a few steps out. I could feel the faint effects of a calm, relaxing warmth touch my fingers. “Oh Mitch, Mitch, Mitch. What have you gotten yourself into? If you were so eager to meet with me,
Elite8
, you should have thrown me a bigger party. Oh, and nice try Purple. That won’t work on me.”

The Elite 8 were one of the few groups of heroes to be not completely incompetent. Publicly there were 8 members, all with some accent color that was thematic. In reality there were loads more than 8 members, but they sorted themselves into correlating sizes and all wore the same type of costumes. So far I was up to a count of thirty-two. Few people would notice a two inch height difference in the Silver Two, or a cup size on the ladies that were Purple. The idiot public just assumed they were mega superhumans with a laundry list of powers and couldn’t see past the colorful costumes.

This particular Purple, however, was one of the first. She did have her own sets of powers and one of them was the ability to chemically affect the mood of others. Typically for her this was a quick and simple way to dissolve complicated situations.

“It’s always worth it to try, Masque.” She slipped out of Mitch’s vehicle and folded her hands in front of her as if she weren’t standing in front of me, one of her enemies. That weird calmness was part of every aspect of this Purple. When she spoke it was always unsettling. There was never a deviation from the collected and overly-professional tone. Sweet and somehow managing to sound sincere no matter the situation. People loved that about her. But me? It made my blood curl like hearing nails on a chalkboard.

“Ahhh, there’s one. No sense hiding the rest. I’m going to guess…. The arrogant red one has slipped off to go around the other side of the building. You probably didn’t think I’d come out here because Mitch would have told you that I don’t meet with him personally. But, I like to be spontaneous sometimes.” Pfffft. Like I’d tell them what they did wrong with coming up here to get me. “Clearly he’s not going to catch me in there
.
Really, you shouldn’t stick so closely with that one.”

               “Just stop what you’re doing here, Masque. Come with us. Lets just—“

“You’re joking, right? I know exactly what awaits me going with the likes of you. No offense, but you alone can’t stop me and your heavy hitter is inside looking for me.” A blur sped in front of me and stopped with a familiar looking half hop next to Purple. The Silver Two was typically one of the wild cards of the group. This one was, apparently, very fast. Probably new too, because the only speedy one i’d seen before was one of the Purples. “I know what you’ll try to say, but i’m not an idiot. I know that your best efforts to help me will still wind up with me in prison for life or dead. I’m not going to magically change my mind and stop what i’m doing. And now it’s too late for you people to stop me.”