Page 10 of Saving Destiny

Although I can’t see the difficulties Garrett faces with Kodi, they’re expected. If Kodi is unresponsive, Garrett can’t bring him back. The ghost can’t feel, smell, or be touched. He can hear perfectly fine, but it sounds as if our enemy has removed this sense as well.

Walthers’ strange, vampiric magic drew me to this building, but I can’t see the magical trail Zosia refers to as a leash. This bothers me, but I don’t want to worry her by admitting it. Magic typically requires the energy of its user and bears the same shade as the origin’s aura. If the leash is invisible to my senses, is it a different kind of magic? Is it actually magic? The question nags at me with favorable and unfavorable answers.

I enter the building and follow the directions Zosia gave me. I’m unsurprised that her location correlates with Walthers’ presence. As I breach the wards of the building, I suck in a horrified breath. The vamp-mage must spend an inordinate amount of magic on glamours that disguise his aura or I would have noticed his sickness earlier. His energy is so tainted that I can sense the rot and corruption through the stone and wood separating us.

Yesterday was not the first time I’d met the man because my duties as an indentured servant for Dighit had occasionally involved him. I’ve always sensed something peculiar in his presence, but I’d assumed it was a reaction to his position and abuse of power.

Walthers is the known bogeyman on campus. Every employee, and many of the students at Apocrypha, understand that he can influence or erase their status and privilege with a wave of his hand. His position on the Supernatural Council, commonly known as the OSC, has inflated his ego with power. Like Addington, he often uses bribes, rumor trading, or threats to diminish an individual’s status, and he has a reputation for ruthlessness despite the pettiness of a dispute. I regret that I didn’t pay more attention to the inter-campus politics. If I had, I would be more useful to my new employer and friend.

The halls and rooms of the classroom building are mostly empty because the term hasn’t officially begun. It’s unnecessary to dodge the few students milling around because they scurry away the moment they see or sense me. I don’t bother hiding my fangs, and I believe it’s the first time I’ve brandished them as weapons. My goal isn’t to hurt them, but they’ll be safer if they leave the building. The startled screams and gasps that accompany their darting energies indicate that I'm accomplishing my goal.

I’ve memorized the floor plans of every building on campus, and I locate the staircase without difficulty. Almost every object in existence gathers bacteria. I’ve trained my sight to ignore the faint glow of these tiny specimens because it’s often distracting, but their presence guides me when I have nothing else. Many of the existing stone stairs have been reconstructed with wood over time, and the handrails appear green from the multitude of live bacteria and viruses. I take care not to touch them as I bound toward my prey.

My senses heighten and my gums ache from the pressure of my canines as I near Walthers’ office and the antechamber where his assistant works. The young supernatural is weak and scared; they’ve most likely been forced into servitude. The assistant startles at the sight of me and scurries halfway under their wooden desk before I whisper a command to run. They comply, leaving a fear-scented trail in their wake.

I won’t be responsible for collateral damage, especially since that is Walthers’ specialty. When anything untoward happens, he pins it on the nearest scapegoat. Dighit stayed clear of him because of this, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Dighit might lack intelligence, but he compensates with a knack for self-preservation.

The rooms reek of death and unnatural magic, and my stomach nearly reacts before I regain control. For a single minute, my mind puzzles out the riddle presented to me. Has Walthers grown bolder, are his protective wards fading, or am I growing stronger? Any of these is a plausible explanation for why I’ve overlooked Walthers’ foul magic and scent, but the last is most likely. The ambitious vamp-mage doesn’t strike me as someone who takes a chance on his safety and secrecy. I assume that the contract I signed with the library has already empowered me, and I whisper words of gratitude that she probably can’t hear from this distance. The Hidden Library of Western Gaia is the closest I'll ever be to a godlike power. I vow not to devalue her favor.

I don’t have the time or fortitude to speculate on the horrid deeds that might have corrupted the magic permeating both rooms. The possibilities make my mind rebel and my stomach protest.

Concentrating on the present matter, I consider my options. I don’t carry a weapon because I don’t usually need one. My body acts as a blade, but I refuse to sully my mouth with Walthers’ pestilence. His blood would sicken me, and I shiver at the mere prospect of touching him. Although his death would benefit the world and us, I can’t risk the dangers to Zosia. Walthers possesses powerful allies. The suspicion and trial for the murder of an OSC delegate would take me away from her and the library.

The door that separates me from Walthers glows with a spell, but I don’t believe the wards will deter me. They appear outdated, and I easily identify the weakness in the magical energy that powers them. No spell is foolproof when I can visualize its makeup.

Feeling a need to speak with Zosia before I rush in, I seek her golden energy. It’s a soothing balm compared to Walthers’ putrid decay.“Zosia?”

“Yes?”Her tone is anxious, and I regret not sending her an update as I ran through the building.

“The perpetrator is Walthers,”I confirm, although she’s likely reached the same conclusion.“His energy is foul and polluted, and I believe he’s circumvented the natural laws of magic. You must use care when dealing with him; he’s more powerful than he appears.”Sudden fear robs me of breath. I do not fear for my mortality, but I won't have a life with her if I don't succeed. The disappointing dread is one I rarely felt when my life wasn't under my control.

“Before I enter, I want to thank you. If Walthers manages to best me, I will die a free man who has known beauty. It is all thanks to your kindness. You saw my worth the moment we met, and I will never be able to repay you for the gift of being seen.”

“Avery!”Her mental voice is a wail and a plea for me to wait.

I can’t. A sharp twist in my chest at that second suggests Kodi is fading, and a sickening revelation accompanies the pain. Walthers is draining his essence through the leash instead of tethering him like we assumed.

“Tell Garrett where I am. Together, we might be able to break his hold on your ghost.”My words require increased effort to send as I focus on unraveling the door's protective spells at the same time.

There isn’t a soul on campus that would oppose Walthers except for another guardian. Although I couldn’t see Garrett’s beast, the students had spoken about a griffin with apparent shock. It’s unbelievable that two legendary beings have found each other. Aside from sphinxes, griffins are the rarest shifters. I don't think it's a coincidence; unknown forces are involved.

“He’s flying to the window!”Zosia shouts into my mind. A second later, Garrett’s indigo aura hurtles toward the nearest outside wall. Perhaps I shan’t die today, I muse as the spell shatters.

The doorknob doesn’t turn, however. Walters hadn’t relied only on the magic spell because he’d locked it as well. I lift my booted foot and slam it into the wood with the force of my vampiric strength behind it. I target a part of the door that holds the least energy. Perhaps the spot aged more quickly than the rest or always presented a structural weakness due to a knot in the grain or an improper joint between the planks.

As a child, I’d been fascinated by the amount of power wood retained centuries after it was felled. The differing processes they undergo after being chopped down alter their energy, however. The wood used inside the library is older than any I've ever encountered but has also retained the most power and energy.

The wood splinters at the point I target and the metal knob rattles. At the same time, an inhuman shriek echoes through the room I’m attempting to enter. Is that Garrett? The sound is deafening and might be considered a weapon in and of itself. Its deadliness increases when it accompanies the screech of talons scraping against glass. I have to restrain the urge to cover my sensitive ears with my hands. Another kick clears a hole wide enough for me to fit my hand through and unlock the knob from the inside.

I hope Garrett is distracting Walthers; I’d hate for the vamp-mage to amputate my trespassing appendage. I have plans for my hands that I’d like to see to fruition. Almost all of them include the lovely sphinx and her bed. The thought makes me even more resolved to end this and return to her.

Fabric rips and a large splinter of wood lodges into the soft skin of my inner forearm. Thankfully, I’d left my expensive suit jacket behind. It would have provided another layer of protection, but it was also one of my favorites. The small wound is preferable to losing the jacket.

The sound of shattering glass echoes in the room beyond. I wait for the last shard to tinkle onto the floor before I shove the door open. My ears struggle to separate the sounds of Walthers’ movements and curses through the sudden gust of wind that sends papers and debris flying. The flap of enormous wings adds to the noise. I stand in the doorway to prevent Walthers escape.

Our enemy’s infected energy fills the corner farthest from the window and door. I wish I could see whether he cowers. “Release Kodi now,” I hiss past the intrusion of my fangs. I assume Garrett can’t speak in his shifted form. There are no other hybrid man-beasts in existence except Zosia. The distinct musk of a feline accompanied by the flap of wings and the earlier shriek suggests that the rumors are correct. I decide that the beast suits Garrett.

“The ghost belongs to me,” Walthers snarls stubbornly. I recognize the lisp of his lowered fangs, but I’ve never considered him a vampire, and the most powerful vampires don’t accept him, either. I begin to question whether his fangs are false because he doesn’t act or think like anything but a mage. When hybrid magics clash, one of them generally overpowers the other. Walthers’ magic is more powerful than his vampiric traits, and I’m surprised he’s able to withstand sunlight. I doubt he drinks blood. In the end, I decide it doesn’t matter what he is; he’s an abomination and his magic is vile.

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