Page 2 of Saving Destiny

Most importantly, they’ll finally convince her that she’s beautiful despite her injuries. Their honesty will manifest in their touch regardless of whether they signed a contract that discourages lies, because she’llfeelthe truth.They’ll caress her mangled legs and their desire will overcome her stubborn insecurities. They’ll accomplish what my words never could … she’ll start to believe in herself.

Although it might not be sane, my mind is present in a way my body will never be. There are no second chances at life. My soul might have survived Jonathan Addington’s destruction of my body, but I am not alive in any sense of the word. I have no solidity with which to touch her, and the momentary lapses into a semi-solid state were nothing more than a shared hallucination. I can’t recreate it, so I’m convinced they weren't real.

I hover uncertainly above the countryside while my mind wanders and attempts to strengthen me for my return. I’ve risen higher but not so high that the ground resembles a patchwork quilt like in the books I’ve read. However, some of the objects below me are almost unrecognizable as flat, geometrical shapes.

Far above me, a plane roars, and its passage distracts me. Why do the magicless insist on a potentially dangerous travel method when it’s safer to use a supernatural portal? They probably trust magic less than fabricated materials and technology.

My existence is a prime example of the intersection betweennormal,magicless humans and supernatural powers. It’s not exactly the same, but my mind insists on finding the negative parallels. When magicless babies are infused with magic, abominations are born. Some of these abominations do horrid, nightmarish deeds, and some are so sick that they slowly decay from the inside-out.

The reminder of this knowledge persuades me to begin my return again. Although I feel like Zosia’s judgment might kill me, I can’t die twice. Leaving her vulnerable to attack in my absence would be worse than anything I might endure.

I release a sigh that carries no air and turn my attention in the direction of the library. I can’t see it hidden among the trees, but I could find it in the dark. An invisible string connects me to the building and its caretaker. Unlike every other collar and yoke I’ve borne, I remind myself that I voluntarily chose this one.

My ghostly state has convinced me that an afterlife doesn’t exist. Instead, I will confront my personal hell when I face Zosia and recite my crimes. I owe her this much; I owe her everything. In life, she’d provided me with purpose and a ray of light when I’d all but given up and surrendered to my circumstances. She’d saved my ghostly afterlife as well when she removed the tether that blasted vamp-mage used to drain me of my ghostly essence. Regardless of the contract between my soul and the library or my useful memories, I belong with Zo.

I’m halfway back to Apocrypha and see the dome shining between the treetops when a presence takes hold of me. It’s cold, final, and familiar. My ghostly fingers scrabble ineffectually at my neck. No… Not again ….

Jerome Walthers’ harsh laughter rings in my ears. It sounds like he’s beside me, but that’s impossible.

“Foolish specter. You’re even more gullible in death than you were in life.” Walthers’ voice echoes around me. The sinister quality of it brings another memory to the surface. Just when I thought I’d faced them all, more waited to greet me. This man, who masquerades as Apocrypha’s liaison on the supernatural council, was also in the dungeon of my youth. He’d been eager to do Addington’s bidding, and he’d provided the collars that robbed supernaturals of their magic. The devices had been a perverse mix of magic and electronic chips – something I’d always considered impossible.

I shiver, but it’s a habit or reflex, like my sighs and laughter. I can’t feel cold or the physical sensations that accompany fear, but I imagine the tether slipping around my neck. My wispy body convulses.

Addington and his followers don’t stealjustmagic. A supernatural’s power isn’t contained in a particular place in their bodies. It saturates their being, forms the shape of their souls, thickens their blood, and fuels their sinews and bones. When they – we – stole their essence, everything that made them alive andrealfaded away. They became similar to what I’ve become … I exist without consequence or meaning. Shawnessy, the man who called himself my father, told me the procedure turned them into magicless humans, but that was a lie. The truth was so much worse.

“You’ve always been naïve,” Walthers continues. “You ate up everything we told you. We were all surprised when you rebelled and helped the Abram bitch escape. We didn’t think you had it in you.”

Anger floods through me. I’d been coerced, cheated, and tricked by the adults who’d claimed to care for me. As much as it irritates me, he’s right, though. I’d fallen into their trap again. The vamp-mage is somewhere on Apocrypha’s campus, and he’s using his magic to speak to me. I feel the leash tighten around my neck as it draws me toward him. It’s not afeeling, exactly, more like aknowing. His mistake is that I’ve already been tethered once, and I escaped.

The greatest difficulty is forcing my mind to concentrate. Without a physical body to anchor me, my thoughts and attention are erratic and difficult to contain. I want to fly toward Zosia, scream for help, and rage at Walthers for insulting us, but I need to devote every atom of my existence toward my escape.

“Addington knew you’d succumb and leave the safety of the library if you thought your sister was alive. She died hours before you, though. If you'd known, you might have lived. Your sister was always weak, nothing like you, but many of our earlier experiments failed. Not every fetus imbued with magic survived without apparent flaws. You were one of our rare successes, but you didn't display the submission we’d hoped for. You weren’t any easier to control than the ones that failed. We’ve learned from our failures, though. It’s almost a pity you won’t be around to see how much we’ve progressed from our early subjects.”

Why do villains insist on rambling monologues? They do it in books and movies, but I’d thought them too smart to do it in a realistic setting. Evidently, I’d been wrong and those fictional accounts had been based on real events. Perhaps it's because they're megalomaniac narcissists who seek credit and validation everywhere, including their enemies and prey.

Focus!I chide myself while Walthers babbles.

“We can’t allow you to live, though. You know too much, and your essence is too powerful to waste. I promise, however, to keep you aware long enough to watch us destroy the sphinx, her pitiful harem of idiots, and the library. You’ll become nothing after you've realize that you died for nothing.” He sounds amused, but I ignore him.

Walthers’ leash continues to pull me, but it’s starting to war against the library's pull. Both look like glowing strings, and the tug-of-war in my chest causes the first real pain since I died.

I list the reasons why I need to fight and survive. Zosia is first. I focus on her beautiful eyes and visualize how they glow with golden power when she connects with the library. I picture her fierceness when she faces her enemies and remember how hard she fights to stand when everyone is constantly trying to keep her down. I recall how she plays with her hair when she’s reading or blushes hotly when she’s having dirty thoughts. I imagine the feel of her soft skin and the way she makes up funny swear words when she’s nervous. I visualize her sphinx form – the strange hybrid combination of human, eagle, and lioness.

Then, I picture the library: the towering stacks of books that seem to stretch into infinity and depict a million different languages or themes, the library goblins that are a mash-up of an ugly butterfly and a garden gnome, the apartment that was personalized for us.

Thoughts of Zosia’s other guardians creep in as well because I’ve accepted that the library isn’t complete without them. I liked Bren the moment I met him. His erratic nature buzzes with vibrant energy and childlike joy even as he recites quotes with the preciseness of a living encyclopedia.

Avery is just as strange but in a different way. The vampire is so unlike Walthers that I can't believe they're the same species. His emotions are hidden carefully behind proper manners and a formal way of speaking, which makes him seem centuries older than he is. He’s so graceful that he makes less noise than I do, and I have no substance.

I’ve even come to respect Garrett even though he acts like an ass sometimes. He looks at Zosia as if she’s the answer to every question he’s ever asked. I know he’d destroy the universe for her and Bren, and I want to watch. I don’t blame them for having Addington as a father. If I did, I’d be the biggest hypocrite in the entire galaxy.

Although I don’t deserve it, I’d started to yearn for the future I’d have with them in our new home. I wanted to be part of the magic they share. I wanted to wake up next to Zosia even if I couldn’t sleep or hold her in my arms. I wanted to spy on her as she explores the sexual nature she currently satisfies with romance novels and moments alone in the bathtub. I wanted to scare the shit out of the snooty students who attend the elite university. For a brief moment in time, I’d believed my afterlife had a future.

I still want all of that. I can’t leave the library. I swore an oath. I can’t abandon Zosia and her men like I did my sister.

The string that guides me toward the library pulses with every desire and hope that I dare to form in my mind. Meanwhile, the leash that Walthers yields seeks to tear my head from my body as it tugs me in a different direction. I wail with anguish as the pain and frustration grows. I won’t fail again ... I can't.

I made a promise, and I have to keep it.

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