Page 21 of Saving Destiny

“Zosia Abram! You beautiful, insufferable, badass lion-woman! Wake up!” I combine the staccato bursts of my loud commands with the static shock of my body as I drift close enough to touch her. I’d forgotten that the bedrooms were soundproof and I could be as loud as possible.

My target startles awake with a choked gasp and bolts upright. I fly backward reflexively even though I know she can’t hurt me – not physically. Her wide eyes, still wet from crying, shine like jewels, and she gapes at me in surprise. It's as if she’s seeing a ghost … of a ghost. I strive to erase the agony of her distress with my usual sarcasm and humor, but it doesn’t work this time.

“Kodi, you’re here.” Her tone is part moan and part breathless murmur because she’s still half-asleep.

I know I fucked up in life, but this still seems like a cruel punishment. It’s my own personalized hell. I’ve fallen in love even though I’m dead, and I can’t even touch the woman who holds my useless, motionless heart.

I probably loved her in some way before I died, but this revelation doesn’t make me feel any better. She deserves the best, and I was cruel to her. Every day, I see her struggle under the restrictions, torment, and discomfort that her injuries inflict upon her. I should have prevented them. I should have saved her long before I did.

“You’re here,” she sighs. Her lashes flutter as she blinks rapidly and realizes she’s no longer dreaming.

I can’t bear to look at the vulnerability and yearning in her expression, so I turn my head away. “You were having a nightmare. But now that you’re awake ….” My tone is stiff.

“Don’t leave me alone again, Kodi. Please stay.”

I don't think I've ever heard Zo beg – not while I was alive and not after I died. She’s too proud to beg, but she’s doing it right now. My mind provides a million reasons why I should leave, but I continue to hover uncertainly.

If she doesn’t understand why I shouldn’t stay, I need to enlighten her. “You should forget about me, princess. You have three other guardians. You’ll find a fourth to take my place after I’m gone. Anyone else will be stronger and less gullible, and they won’t be a constant reminder of your past. I can’t protect you and I’m a liability. I’ve been tethered twice now, for fuck’s sake. I’m not even good company because I’m such a bitter asshole.”

“Shut up.” Her sharp tone interrupts the recital of my numerous negative character traits. I bristle, but she continues before I can protest. “Isn’t that what you said when our positions were switched? How often did I want to quit and give up? When I was moping, you told me to shut up.”

The question is a challenge that I force myself to meet. When Zo was fifteen, she battled several months of severe depression after being bullied online. I didn’t have access to the internet before I died, but she explained how it worked when the local school gave her a laptop to finish her coursework.

Her loneliness prompted her to create a social media account, and she’d met girls her age who were local. They said they wanted to be friends and her disabilities didn’t matter. It was all a lie. The idiot teenagers thought having a friend in a wheelchair would make them look better to the boys they wanted to date.

When Zosia realized their true intentions, the girls were blunt and mean. Instead of being angry, she’d been almost heartbroken. Her enforced isolation as a child didn’t offer her any chances to make friends, and she’d taken her first female friendships seriously.

I’d taken the slight against my best friend just as seriously. Zo still doesn’t know, but I tracked every single one of those bitches and terrorized them until they cried. Looking back, I'm not particularly proud of my impulsive actions, but I couldn’t grant them mercy or absolution when they’d intentionally abused my best friend.

For a few months after she'd discovered the betrayal, Zosia had retreated into herself. It had been so serious that she didn’t even read; she’d just slept the days away. During her lowest moments, she’d sobbed about feeling useless and wanting to die. The old hag that ran the orphanage made things worse. Mary told her she’d be a burden to anyone who tried to get close. The cruel words had poured gas on the fire caused by the insults and whispers that followed her wherever she went.

She’s not wrong in her accusation, though. I’d repeatedly told her to shut up when she was overwhelmed by her emotions. I’d also told her to fight – that she couldn’t just surrender after everything she'd been through. Although neither of us had faced our memories at the time, we’d instinctively known that her injuries weren’t caused by an accident.

Lost in memories, I don’t answer. After several minutes of heavy silence, she continues. “You know that I wanted to die, Kodi, but you wouldn’t let me. You said that only cowards give up when life gets difficult. It’s more complicated than that, I know, but maybe you said exactly what I needed to hear at the time. Where would the library be if you hadn’t saved me from the dungeon? I was ready to give up. Shawnessy had started to draw out my magic when you arrived. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here now. I owe you everything.” Her words are so vehement that I feel a stubborn inclination to argue.

“That was different … you’re different. I was drawn to you and knew you were special the first time I saw you. It didn't matter that I didn't know why. They wanted me ignorant, and I was. I was clueless about sphinxes, supernaturals, and magical libraries. You were nothing more than a feral, matted ball of fur and the weirdest supernatural I’d ever seen. It didn’t matter that you were hungry and weak, though; you growled and fought with everything you had. You didn’t belong in that place.” No one belonged there, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make right now.

“You’re special, too,” she counters. I snort at the irony. I might be special but not in the same ways.

“You’re special to me, Kodi. You’re important to me, and the things you did as a kid don’t matter anymore. I don’t know if you heard everything I said while you were unconscious earlier, but I meant every word. Someone else could have taken your place, someone else would have captured me, held me down, and tortured me …. But no one else would have read to me for hours, showed me compassion, or told me to keep fighting. You became my friend and gave me hope when I had nothing. Your presence gave me the strength to fight because you showed me a glimpse of the life I could have if I ever found a way to escape. I didn't surrender because you were with me.” Her tone is sincere, and it indicates she believes every word. It doesn’t mean they’re necessarily true, but they are to her.

“No one else would have dared to save me or sacrificed their life for mine,” she adds in a softer voice.

With her halo of golden hair and the false moonlight making her eyes appear more gold than blue, I can’t help but notice her beauty. I can’t allow it to distract me, though.

I take a deep breath that doesn’t pull in any air. It’s unnecessary, but it steadies me. Once she knows everything, she’ll change her mind, and she needs enough time to enlist a new guardian before the term starts. “I helped the others capture most of the supernaturals we imprisoned. It’s very likely that I captured or killed your parents.” I frown. The words feel strange – like I’m trying to say them around a mouthful of cotton.

Zosia shares my frown. “The library doesn’t think you’re telling the truth.”

How does the library know things I don’t know? If I believe something is true, wouldn’t it be the truth when I say it out loud? The contract vaguely addressed the topic of honesty, but the goblins explicitly said lies would be difficult to hide.

After examining my memories, I rearrange my confession. “Shawnessy told me that I helped capture your mother, the last sphinx before you.” This time, the words are easier to form.

“Repeat that, but say it as if you did,” Zosia commands in a bossy tone.

I roll my eyes. “It doesn’t work that way. If it did, nothing would be a mystery. We could just spout random facts and wait for the library to tell us whether they’re true or not.”

She shakes her head, and I wonder if she’s communicating directly with the building. I still haven’t grown accustomed to someone, or something, else in her head. It’s weird.

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