Page 15 of Saving Destiny

The emotion I saw in his eyes barely enters his voice. The only time I hear a hint of it is when he speaks of his sister. Otherwise, he sounds dejected and uncaring, and the shrug he offers at the end of his contribution echoes the sentiment. His apathy rips me in two.

Right now, I don’t care about sinister plots, evil masterminds, or the fate of the world. I’m losing my connection to my best friend, and it feels like dying.

Chapter 9

Bren

Iwant to comfort Zosia and determine the best way to kick some sense into the ghost, but I also empathize with his mood. Someone manipulated our lives before we reached any sort of conscious awareness and our existences contribute to a sinister plot. It doesn't matter that we didn't consent or have any knowledge of it.

I’ve felt an inevitable sense of doom since my first vision of the future. It took me a while to understand that the events I foresee aren't set in stone, but I’m beginning to wonder why I care.

“I’m sure that Walthers’ definition ofmore successfulmeans submissive and undamaged.” My tone is bitter as I return my attention to the table’s maze-like grain pattern.

For the first time in days, my thoughts aren’t bouncing around inside my skull like balls in a pinball machine, but I can’t say that this state is preferable. Periods of depressed melancholy usually cloak me after an episode, which is Garrett’s word for when my magic attempts to overcome my pathetic control.

I almost lost it entirely when Kodi was captured a second time. The devastating futures in my visions almost provoked me into a furious, catastrophic despair. I could have destroyed the library, everything inside it, and the only sphinx in existence. Perhaps we're going about this all wrong. Perhaps I'm the greatest threat, not Addington and Walthers.

Everyone’s attention is on me. I don’t think I need to spell it out, but I elaborate. “Avery lost his sight. Kodi’s magic was erratic and unreliable, just like mine is. Garrett is dyslexic, but maybe there are flaws we’re unaware of or he’s the one they got right. He might be perfect, but Addington screwed it up by losing his heir’s loyalty.” I shrug, but I don’t bother meeting anyone’s gazes. “It’s understandable that the formula or the process wasn’t refined twenty-three years ago, but they might have worked out all the kinks by now. They could be creating a dedicated, healthy army of mages and shifters as we speak.”

Does anyone in the room even care? Do I?

The timelines appear improved, but they’re not great, and I’m scared to evaluate them too closely. I am one disappointment away from sinking into a deeper depression. The events of the last day proved that we’re not ready to fight our enemy. Kodi went off half-cocked and almost lost his eternal soul. If Walthers had succeeded at the task, Zosia wouldn’t have recovered. Garrett and Avery could have been hurt or caught by Walthers, and my magic could have destroyed the library. As potential saviors, we're pretty pathetic.

“I may not be able to read, but there’s nothing wrong with me, and I don’t give a shit if those assholes put something in me before I was born.” Familiar anger echoes in Garrett’s tone. He’s told me several times that my moments of moping make him feel helpless and uncertain. He hates it. “Why are we having a pity party? We may not have destroyed Walthers and the source of his tether, but the ghost is here and safe. I’d call that a step in the right direction.”

“I agree,” Avery replies with his usual calm. The two of them will be our anchors, but the storm could still capsize us.

Movement in my peripheral vision shows Kodi fading back through the wall into his room. His wordless exit is the last straw for Zosia, and she wheels herself toward her room. The muffled sounds of her sniffling tears reach us until she disappears into the shielded apartment.

Garrett growls with frustration, and Avery deflates at the loss of our guiding star. The goblins have been conspicuously absent since Gilly brought the first aid kit. Are they upset with how we’re handling the situation? I don’t blame them if they are. We’re relatively young and our traumatic childhoods didn’t prepare us for mature, responsible roles. Maybe we aren’t the right ones to undertake this task.

When I feel this horrible, it's like I have an illness or infection. I have no control over my dark thoughts or actions. I don’t want to feel this way, but the combined weight of our possible futures crush me into nothing. I’m exhausted from seeing the world die over and over. Each new ending is worse than the one before.

“Bren,” Garrett says my name in the softest tone he can manage.

I brace myself for a lecture when he sits down at the table across from me. I don’t have the energy for a brotherly pep talk. I open my mouth to tell him this, but he speaks first.

“I want to change our last name. I mean, you can decide whether you want to or not, but my mind is made up. I don’t want his name anymore.”

His words surprise me into lifting my head. A brief spark of energy shoots through me and chases away a small amount of the fog clouding my mind. I nod. “Let’s do it. Let’s disown him.”

Garrett grins, but it’s not a nice smile. It’s made of hard edges and resembles a satisfied predator’s. “What should it be? Or do you want something different than mine?”

I shake my head. “I want the same last name as you.” My features form a scowl as the most obvious option pops into my head. “I don’t want my mother’s maiden name, though; she’s always been Addington’s wife more than my mother. What about your birth mother, Rhett? You never mention her.” I pause for a heartbeat before I ask the question that’s probably been on his mind. “Do you think she gave Addington permission to experiment on you? Do you think he did?” I’m still uncertain whether Garrett is like Kodi and me. His griffin could be a fluke and not a byproduct of stolen, illegitimate power.

Garrett’s stiff shrug indicates he’s bothered, but I don’t know which idea bothers him more. “She married him so he must have had some control over her. I can't even guess at how or why he influenced her.”

We lapse into silence as I contemplate the thousands of surnames available to us. A simple name change can’t alter who sired us, but it might make us feel like we have some control over our fates. The identity shift might convince us that we aren’t powerless. It will also serve as a statement of allegiance to our allies and foes. I’ll gladly accept any opportunity to distance myself from the monster that raised us.

When I was very young, Addington perfected rare moments of sweetness that opposed the majority of my other memories. It was always an act to tempt me into cooperation; it never felt as genuine as the compassion Garrett showed me. My older brother’s affections never came with strings attached. He’d selflessly be there to help me up when our father shoved me down, literally and metaphorically. He’d often take the brunt of the alpha’s anger to deflect it away from me.

A smug voice in the back of my mind insists that it doesn’t matter what name I choose because it’s temporary. Eventually, I’ll accept Zosia’s without any hesitation. I’ve belonged to her since the first time I saw her in my visions. She doesn’t have the same feelings for me yet, though, and pushing her will only scare her away. The bond will form naturally when she’s ready.

Garrett’s gaze drifts around the library as if seeking inspiration, and I'm immediately worried. What if he suggests something like Booktable or Strongman? His brain doesn’t work with words, and he lacks the imagination for creative possibilities.

Avery approaches the table with obvious hesitance. “Forgive me for intruding, but I couldn’t help but overhear. Would you like assistance?”

I smile in response just as Garrett opens his mouth. He’s about to say something insulting. Addington encouraged him to be a bully, and Garrett doesn’t know how to react to the vampire’s formality. When Avery is nervous, he speaks as if he’s just time-traveled two centuries into the future. It sounds condescending to my older brother, who isn’t book-smart. I help the shifter remember his manners by kicking his shin under the table. He sucks in a breath and glares at me, but he also swallows whatever he'd been about to say.

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