Page 48 of Saving Destiny

“A sphinx's genetics always overpowers other supernatural DNA. Our librarian bears magical abilities, but they’re specific to sphinxes and unlike other mages.”

“It’s unfair and almost sad that there’s only one child per generation,” Zosia murmurs. My griffin pants at the idea of a large family with several hatchlings, but the scent of her sudden fear concerns my human mind. “It seems so impossible that one person bears the sole responsibility to carry on an entire species.”

Fin nods gravely. “Your fear and worry isn’t unwarranted. The book dragons are similar, and they are the only two species with this duty. Sphinxes and dragons were created for the sole purpose of guarding knowledge – guarding the library.”

Anger fights against despair as the weight of destiny bears down on the room and my mate. Addington almost succeeded in ending the line forever. What would have happened if he’d done what he set out to do? What if he’d managed to produce a supernatural child but altered it in some way? What if he’d actually coerced me into mating with the younger sphinx – the sole survivor of an entire species? A growl escapes my throat before I can stop it.

Heads swivel in my direction and gazes demand an explanation. I sigh heavily, wanting to pace, but the room is too small. I settle for clenching and unclenching my fists at my sides. “Those fuckers came so close … too close … to succeeding in their mission. If Zosia had died or if they’d managed to steal her magic, the photographs would end here. She’s the last.”

The goblin nods again, but Bren and Avery are questioning my intelligence; they figured this out days ago. The ghost is starting to understand, though, and I’m relieved that I’m not the only slow-witted one in the bunch. I’ve never considered myself intelligent because book learning was a challenge, but I’d prided myself on my common sense. I should have connected the dots before now.

“When you saved Zosia, you saved the entire building and everything in it,” I tell the ghost. “When you left, you put everything in danger again.” I realize that my accusation is petty, but I don’t want to start an argument. I’m just trying to prove a point. Kodi scowls regardless.

“But can’t the library have other caretakers? Ansel has been watching over it since my grandmother … died … and he said he brought in a couple candidates, right?” Zosia asks, delaying an argument, but she also seems mired in denial. She’s having difficulty accepting that she’s the equivalent of a revered chosen one – even if her title is librarian instead of savior. It’s far more than that. A culture can be obsolete if it loses its history and heritage. Colonists realized this trick centuries ago.

“In a sense,” Fin replies slowly. There’s nothing inherently different about the goblin other than the strange accent that appears and disappears, but he commands more respect than his kin. A sense of humanity hovers around him and he’s clearly older, but I don’t know what any of that means. Have the goblins been around since the library’s creation? Do they also have a secret room that portrays their lineage?

“Although a librarian that isn’t an Abram sphinx can watch over the building, she isn’t herself without a sphinx. The arcane floor, this room, and the heart of the library where you met the one called Sage aren’t accessible,” Fin explains. “Her magic is weaker without a true librarian, meaning all of the advantages that you have – including your shifting quarters and the supplies that randomly appear and disappear – don’t manifest. Only a sphinx can mentally access the library’s resources, and the library gets strength from its librarian.”

The goblin is hiding something, and this isn’t the first time he’s left certain things unsaid. Avery’s frown indicates he agrees, but one thing is certain. It would be impossible to pry information out of Fin if he didn’t want to divulge.

“Are there pictures of the previous guardians? Why aren’t they displayed? They carry similar importance, right?” Zosia asks next; her curiosity is insatiable. She manages to make the trait appear endearing and I understand that her drive for knowledge is as integral to her character as my need to work out is to mine. She’s sitting by the center display case, taking advantage of the opportunity to rest her legs while we’re still. Her right leg doesn’t fold properly beneath her even in sphinx form, but the sprawling posture appears intentionally relaxed.

“You are correct to a degree,” Fin says slowly; his tone indicates he doesn’t agree. I don’t agree either; the sphinx’s guardians are protectors, supportive companions, and sperm donors. I’d consider us glorified gargoyles and easily replaceable, but I doubt Zosia would agree.

“The history of the guardians is similarly documented through photos and drawings, but they aren’t given space on the wall. They’re in a book.” The goblin rises from his perch with a single flutter of his strange wings and hovers over the glass display case. The elaborate combination of headdress and collar appears to be solid gold and it’s encrusted with precious gems. I’ve seen similar pieces in history documentaries but never in real life. It’s too ridiculous to be real, but I thought the diamond necklaces Addington bought for his wives were too lavish.

Almost invisible drawers were built into the case beneath the top display, but they don’t have any knobs or handles. Zosia cranes her neck forward eagerly as the goblin makes a complicated gesture with his hand that might be the tracing of a rune. A drawer slides open silently when Fin lowers his arms. While I expect the magical protection, I wonder if there’s a reason this book is hiding.

The slim book only has a few pages, and we crowd around Zosia to peer at the images with her. The ghost doesn’t need space because he floats directly above the case beside the goblin. It’s weirder for him because he’s the same size as a human, so I ignore his feet disappearing into the opposite wall. Before Fin opens the book, Zosia glances over her shoulder at the vampire who has remained behind.

“Avery, I can show you this if you come close enough to touch. I’m sorry I’m just now considering this.”

“Please don’t fret,mon trésor,” the vampire says as he steps between the sphinx and me. Although he protests, I can scent his happiness at being included.

Zosia’s tail wraps around her haunches to prevent anyone from stepping on it, and her expression displays obvious guilt. It might be mirrored on mine because I feel like an ass for not realizing sooner that his lack of sight probably makes the entire top floor experience lukewarm and awkward.

My griffin doesn’t protest as the others invade my personal space, and I hope this is the beginning of my beast’s acceptance. Before entering the library, my brother was the only one he allowed to touch me. I never would have crowded this closely with strangers.

Avery’s pale hand rests gently on the thick scruff of hair that covers the transition between Zosia’s animal and human forms. The shades of her fur and hair are similar, but a brighter gold highlights her long braid. When the air starts to shimmer at the place they touch, I blink because I think my eyes are tricking me. I can’t see magic, so this power must be different from a mage’s spells. I hadn’t noticed when Zosia had transmitted the image of the sphinx because I’d been focused on the threat Addington presented.

Fin seems to know when they are ready because he opens the book. The sepia photograph must be the most recent quad of guardians – Zosia’s grandmother’s mates. The grainy photo displays four men of varying skin tones and facial features. The only similarities they share are the vintage outfits and generally fit physiques.

“This would be your grandmother’s mates?” Avery asks and Zosia turns to look at the picture on the wall again before she nods. I realize she’s transferring the images she sees and I’m astonished. I’ve never heard of this kind of mind link. “She had a vampire mate.”

Surprised by Avery’s comment, I lean over the sphinx’s shoulder to inspect the image. How can he tell? They’re all in their human forms, and it’s not as if one is flashing his fangs.

“She did? Which one?” Zosia asks with equal confusion. I appreciate that I’m not the only clueless observer.

“The man on the far right,” Avery replies without hesitation. The guardian is slimmer, taller, and paler than the other three, but they all appear lightened by the photograph’s quality.

“How can you tell?” I ask after I’ve studied the photo for a few more minutes. It feels like one of those puzzle books Bren loves – spot the difference or some other bullshit. I’ve never been good with details. A glance at my brother reveals that he’s examining the intricate details with his lips pressed tightly together. Does he see this as one of his puzzle books too? Can he tell?

Avery frowns. He’s the prettiest male I’ve ever seen, but Zosia doesn’t seem to mind. “That’s a good question. I suppose it’s a hunch, and I may be wrong. Did I guess right, Master Fin?” The vampire’s insistence on formality hasn’t grown any less annoying, but I’m getting better at ignoring it.

“You are correct,” the goblin confirms. Does Avery win a prize?

Fin hovers to the side as we study the book, and I notice that they do so without expending much energy. Their wings barely move, unless they’re moving so that our eyes can’t determine – like a hummingbird’s. They choose to fly rather than walk almost all of the time, which might indicate flying isn’t as strenuous for them as it is for Zosia and me.

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