Page 6 of Gifted Destiny

He’s speaking of more than just the orphanage. He’s also speaking of my childhood and my imprisonment. I sense that he’s searching for absolution, but I’m not ready to forgive him even if I understand his ignorance of my existence and his motives after I escaped.

When I don’t say anything, he continues. “I’m certain the library knew the moment Karasi conceived. I can’t speak to her as you can, but she told me what to do in her own way – even though it wasn’t until Kodi helped you escape.” His pained gaze meets mine. “I am only halfway through a natural lifespan, but I accepted the contract and its terms. It’s a penance for the pain and horror I didn’t prevent.”

Kodi begins to ghost pace again, floating back and forth in a looping circuit. I want to comfort my best friend, but he remains incorporeal and untouchable.

“Boo.” I murmur the nickname Kodi hates. His head whips around reluctantly. “Sage says he’s speaking the truth. She gave Ansel orders about what to do. If I had come here earlier than I did, the library would have fallen.”

This moment wouldn’t exist if I’d been recaptured. Addington hadn’t found me because he hadn’t looked among the magicless; he probably hadn’t realized I’d been injured so horribly. Kodi killed his father before Shawnessy could tell his boss, and Addington didn’t see me afterward. My blocked memories also helped to conceal me. As horrible as my past might have been, it still brought me here.

Ansel’s explanation leaves me with an unanswered question, however. “You said you knew who I might be when you saw me in the hospital. How did I get from Addington’s lair to the magicless hospital?” My memories hadn’t provided this clue because I’d been unconscious.

“I can’t answer that. The library notified me after you were already in the hospital. She gave me instructions and false identification papers. Although the orphanage wasn’t the best option, the caretaker was easy to manipulate and silence. Her ignorance of the magical community and lack of initiative prevented her from seeking better offers.”

I nod absently as I align his words with my memories. Mother Mary had sometimes done nonsensical things, such as sending me away whenever supernaturals showed up to inspect the orphans. If not for Ansel’s interference, I would have been found earlier.

“Perhaps it’s as simple as a laundry cart,” Bren suggests. “You told us that Kodi wrapped you in blankets and put you into a cart. It’s possible that the laundry service found you and called the hospital when they realized you weren’t dead.”

The very real possibility makes me flinch. The unsuspecting magicless human must have received the fright of their life when they’d unloaded the linen cart to find a broken, bleeding girl on the cusp of death. They would have found something else, though. “The collar,” I blurt. “The collar Addington used toextract my power was with me. Does a laundry worker have it now?”

“Probably safer in their hands than in a supernatural’s,” Garrett grunts. Although it’s amusing, he has a point.

Weariness makes my muscles ache. We’ve been talking forever, but nothing has been settled. The mental torment is nearly as nerve-wracking as the physical torture I’d endured in my childhood.

“Thank you for all the information. I knew nothing of my mother or grandmother.” My gratitude is sincere. “Speculation is fine, but you brought Tremayne because he can determine parentage. I’d like to know, and I’d like to revisit the offer I made earlier.”

The overwhelming list of tasks causes a heavy sigh. “Fudgesticks. There are too many things to do: find out if you’re my father, the making of a gargoyle, tell you what we’ve learned, Bren’s imminent capture ….”

My head drops to the table, and a slight thud resounds as my forehead makes contact with the wood. Sage must soften my landing, however, because it doesn’t hurt. My four guardians react with concern, speaking over one another.

“I’m fine,” I say firmly as I lift my head. It’s a lie, but it quiets their questions.

Tremayne’s comforting voice speaks into the following silence. “I might be able to provide some guidance.”

I nod eagerly, clinging to his offer like a lifeline.

“I can perform the parentage test, but it operates on energy. Right now, Ansel’s energy is depleted, so I propose that we visit another topic first.”

Avery’s breath wafts across my neck as he whispers into my ear. “Tremayne is speaking the truth. Allow the library some time to restore him.”

“This decision shouldn’t be mine alone. Are you all right with waiting?” I ask Ansel.

The older man offers a shaky smile. The table appears to be supporting his upper half as much as the chair supports his bottom half. “A reprieve might be best, but I hate saying so. You’ve been waiting a long time to learn the identity of your parents.”

I shrug, feeling simultaneously relieved and disappointed. “Which is why waiting another hour won’t hurt me. Sage suggests you eat a little. It’s easier to restore you through some sustenance.” Ansel’s expression is dubious because he lacks an appetite, but he obediently reaches for a piece of cheese.

“Let’s talk about what happened today,” I decide. “There’s too much I don’t know, and I need to prepare for the BSP’s return.”

Bren has been remarkably patient, but I’m worried on his behalf. He offers me a shy smile when I turn my attention toward him. “Although I don’t share Joyce Meyer’s religious zeal, one of her quotes is useful. ‘Patience is not simply the ability to wait – it’s how we behave while we're waiting.’”

Garrett groans. “Addington told you that, didn’t he?”

Bren’s calm expression morphs into a scowl. “Quite possibly, but he always did it wrong. He never credits the original author because he refused to admit that someone else could say something better than him.”

An inelegant snort escapes me. Is this the real reason why Bren repeatedly recites quotes? I’m certain Addington hated that other people could offer advice – his son parroting that advice must have made him irate. This small act of subversion makes me more infatuated with my mage guardian. It also makes the thought of losing him more unbearable. I squeeze his hand and brace myself for the bad news.

“Can they really take Bren away?” My question emerges as a pained cry. Have our efforts to build a life been in vain?

Chapter 5

---