Page 21 of Gifted Destiny

I study the few differences between Etienne and his subordinate as the other beast approaches. The captain is noticeably larger, and his assigned position is front and central – he overlooks the library entrance and wide steps. The other gargoyles remain unmoving, and I wonder if they’re aware of the change in their ranks.

“Campus-facing positions are called upon more often, and the view offers the newly initiated a window into the memories they retain. Both attributes are either welcomed or not. Positions rarely change after they’re assigned. You’ll remain in yours after your memories fade.” Etienne speaks dispassionately, as if reciting something he’s been told.

George remains as still and silent as the statue he resembles when sleeping, and I wonder how or why he decided to retire. Was it even his choice? If he feels nothing, how could he tire of his existence?

“I understand and accept,” Ansel replies. I hadn’t heard a question in Etienne’s description, but perhaps he’d heard it differently.

“Can I interrupt his sleep to talk to him or ask him questions once he’s been transformed?” Although he’s technically my employee, I feel like I’m questioning an authority figure. I fidget with the ragged ends of my braid as I address the ancient creature.

The captain’s head pivots in my direction, and I think I sense slight emotion. It’s muffled, as if hidden inside a cave or under a pile of rocks …. The lame joke is obviously a product of my nervousness.

“You are allowed to wake him at your discretion, Mistress Librarian.”

I let the title slip this time; I can’t bring myself to correct the ancient creature.

After I nod, his head pivots back to Ansel and George. “Are you ready?”

The ominous question reminds me of an executioner’s request for last words, but a thread of emotion escapes. He’s giving Ansel a moment to say goodbye in his human form. The shifter is weak and can barely walk, so I maneuver my wheelchair closer to him.

Ansel barely resembles the distinguished gentleman who greeted me at the orphanage and presented this new life to me. His face is haggard and pale, and his dark hair is now completely gray. So little time has passed, but it has been charged and momentous.

I park my wheelchair in front of the shifter, and he offers me a wan smile. I return it nervously. Now that I’m facing him, I don’t know what to say.

“I made a lot of mistakes in this life,” Ansel offers bluntly. “I don’t regret loving your mother, though, even if she couldn’treturn the affection. If I hadn’t loved her, you wouldn’t exist. That would be a tragedy because you are a true gift to the library and the supernatural community. I know that you will be successful in your endeavors, even if they seem insurmountable. I am honored to be your father, Zosia Aviram Abram. I am equally apologetic, however, for the events I couldn’t prevent.” His slate-gray eyes, a very different shade than mine, flicker to my legs.

Tears prick the backs of my eyes as unexpected emotions well within my chest. Tremayne’s proclamation didn’t elicit anything, but Ansel’s words nearly slay me. They are heavy with what might have been, and my mind naturally focuses on arguing instead of accepting. He seems so sure that I’ll succeed, and I struggle to believe he’s actually honored to bemyfather. The library insists that he’s being honest, however, and I don’t want his last conversation as a human to be an argument with his estranged daughter.

“Thank you,” I murmur as I squirm with discomfort. Stars, I need a therapist … or a stack of self-help books. The library helpfully provides me with the location of several.

“Are you truly all right with this?” I glance at the waiting gargoyles as if he needs clarification.

“Absolutely. I think this is the perfect culmination to my life – both a blessing and a punishment.” His lips tilt into a smile, and I wonder if I inherited my sense of sarcasm from him. Still, he’s being honest.

“May I … hug you before I go?” The soft tremble of anxiety in his voice surprises me, but I still overthink his request. Does he truly desire a hug from me, or is he seeking one last moment of human contact? I decide the reason doesn’t matter.

With a nod, I lean forward in my chair. He’ll have to stoop to hug me, but he does so without hesitation. The embrace is brief but surprisingly comforting.

When we part, a gentle hand falls upon my shoulder. Avery’s compassion and empathy flow through his touch, and our bond immediately soothes me. After last night, contact with the vampire lacks the awkwardness I still encounter with the brothers on occasion. Kodi is obviously different because I can’t touch him as often.

The gargoyles watch impassively. How much of this world do they understand? It’s strange to think they used to be human.

Ansel faces the gargoyles with his spine straight as I turn my chair around.

Captain Etienne inclines his head again. “It is time. Ansel Briar, take the hand of the one you are replacing.” The gargoyle’s head turns toward his brethren. “The library is grateful for your bravery and devotion, George Durand. Your soul will be guided in its continued journey.” The words, although formal and inscrutable, carry more emotion than anything else the gargoyle has said.

Is this my first funeral? Who is dying? George or Ansel? The idle questions are a poor attempt at keeping my tears from falling.

The process is quicker than I imagined and better described as transference than transformation. When Ansel grasps the gargoyle’s stony hand, the rock adopts water-like properties as it flows from one to the other. Ansel’s pale skin turns gray and his clothes smooth into granite. Simultaneously, rock fades into ebony skin and outdated clothing. I gasp when I recognize George’s human face. He’s a former guardian, and his picture had been in the book Fin showed us. I can’t recall whether he’d been bonded to my great or great-great-grandmother.

Guardians can become gargoyles …. The discovery is more understandable when I remember what Sage told me. The former librarians’ and guardians’ bones remain with the libraryand add strength to her magic, although the method eludes me. This guardian chose to stay in a different form for a time.

Before my thoughts can reach any conclusions regarding their meandering, the swap is complete. Ansel is now a gargoyle, and George slightly resembles Kodi in his semi-transparent human body. That body fades as we watch, and Ansel sprouts wings as if they are the last gift from the departing soul.

George’s final death doesn’t involve a flash of light, a ray from the heavens, or a dramatic transformation into ash. The slow fade-to-nothingness reminds me of when Kodi was nearly drained. A lump rises in my throat at the unwelcome memory, and my gaze automatically seeks my best friend for reassurance. He hovers beside Bren and Garrett. The three men wear similar expressions of rapt amazement, and I subconsciously send Avery a glimpse of the moment, even managing to include the transformation. His hand twitches on my shoulder as his emotions express his gratitude.

When I turn my head back, my newly discovered father is gone. In his place is a gargoyle that is nearly indistinguishable from the others. Minor differences appear when Ansel flexes his wings and limbs as if trying on a set of clothes. An echo of his face remains, and his body is more relaxed. I guess that the gargoyles lose their human characteristics over time and wonder if the others are so nondescript because of their age.

The shadow of a smile crosses the new gargoyle’s face as he strides purposefully toward his perch; the crunch of stone accompanies him. Before he resumes his crouch, he glances back at us. His expression is light and eases my lingering guilt and worry.

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