Page 35 of Gifted Destiny

The juxtaposition of bittersweet irony and inescapable reality in this nugget of wisdom offers more comfort than it should. Instead of answering, though, I rise to my feet with him.

“The raw power of your cosmic magic will gift the sphinx with energy until you form your bond.” The goblin continues the previous subject as if we hadn’t detoured into philosophy.

I’m surprised the library doesn’t have excess magic, but the years without a librarian must have crippled her. This might be the true reason why Agustin disappeared. Robbing the library of a librarian seems like the coup ‘d’état for our enemies.

“Cosmic?” Kodi blurts. If the ghost were solid, I might hug him. Fin had ignored me earlier when I questioned his use of the word, and I’d nearly forgotten. “Those weird detectives called Bren a weather mage, Tremayne said atmospheric mage, and you say cosmic mage. Which one is he?” The ghost’s monotone gaze evaluates me as if he’ll find a label scribbled somewhere.

“Aye,” Fin replies. His unblinking gaze doesn’t give anything away, but I swear his lips twitch just before he vanishes.

“What in the actual …? Damn goblins,” Kodi mutters. “What’s a cosmic mage?”

“I have no idea,” I reply. I’m not as upset as I might have been because Fin’s wisdom is still with me. If I knew everything, life would be a tedious, purposeless affair. Garrett has always insisted that I’m a genius, but he must think differently now.

Still thrumming with magic, I scan the shelf’s titles. The goblin might think the books are unnecessary, but I welcome the steady reliability of black text on pale parchment. The texts might be a meal, but I can still scrounge for crumbs.

Kodi floats next to me. “If you overwhelm me, will it kill me?” His tone is worried and scared, but pouting is still his primary emotion.

“Something already dead cannot be killed.”

“You know what I mean,” Kodi whines. “Can you erase me? If I depart this plane as a virgin twice, I’m sure it will be some kind of historical record.”

He makes it seem like he’s only interested in sex, but it’s deeper than that. He loves Zosia as much as she loves him. He’s acting like his soul might be eternally scarred if they can’t explore the physical aspect of their love. It’s an adolescent’s mindset, but I don’t know enough about ghosts, spirits, or souls to reassure him.

I turn to face him, armed with one of the many books from the large selection.

“You’re going to hit me with a quote,” he pouts as my mouth opens. He staggers backward with his hands raised as if fending off a physical blow.

I blink. “How did you know?”

“Your face does the same thing that Zosia’s does when she’s about to tell me I’m an idiot.”

The comparison makes me smile. I know the look he refers to, but I define it differently. She’s beautiful when she accesses the library’s information and presents us with knowledge. “I consider that a compliment, and yes, I’m going to give you a quote. If I hold it in, it will hurt me.” The lie is a jest, but the library still flags it as dishonest. I continue, unperturbed. “Walt Whitman wrote, ‘Let your soul stand cool and composed before a million universes.’”

“That one is pretty, but it doesn’t answer my question. They never do, you know.”

I shrug. “That’s not why I recite them.” I open the book I grabbed and start scanning the text, but my eyes blur when I try to concentrate. My magic is humming too loudly for me to pay attention. “It’s not my intention to erase you. Not only would it upset Zosia, but I’ve also grown to like you despite your constant complaining.”

He complains that he doesn’t complain, but I ignore him and flip through the small book again. I only parse a few words, but it doesn’t matter. This particular book might have a title that refers to magical transference, but it’s actually a treatise on banding together for the common good. My lips tilt into a smile.

“Well played,” I murmur aloud. The credit might belong to the goblin, the library, or both, but it doesn’t matter. It only helps me make up my mind. The comment confuses Kodi, but I don’t give him time to question. “Are you ready, ghost?” I close the book and place it back into its original spot.

Kodi’s dark-gray eyebrows nearly reach his light-gray hairline. From the glimpses I’d gathered, he’s actually a redhead. In this form, though, he resembles a moving black-and-white photograph. “Wha- …? Right now?”

Fin believes that intention and attitude influence intention, so I inject my answer with confidence. “Why not? No time like the present. Let’s aim for a small amount and call it a practice run with three goals in mind. One, you’ll be solid enough to wake our lovely librarian. Two, the library can replace any energy she spends tonight. Three, she’ll have another bonded mate.”

Kodi flickers into solidity for a heartbeat. Apparently, he approves. “Is it safe?”

I chuckle. “Practice runs rarely are. But I have control over my magic right now, and it seems good to try when my magic isn’t on the verge.” My admission borders on a lie but still emerges with honesty. The manic energy within me suggests that a discharge will happen sooner rather than later. Trying to control it and transfer it is preferable to another explosion. If I lose control again, a contract won’t save me.

Kodi throws up his hands. “Fine. Let’s do it. What do I need to do?”

“We’ll go to the stairwell that leads to the roof. There aren’t any books to damage if something goes wrong, but it’s stillmagically protected as part of the library. The rooftop is also protected, but it feels too exposed.” I plan aloud as we walk and thank the stars that Garrett is occupied right now. He would hate this.

Kodi hovers so close that I’m practically giving him a piggyback ride. The static prickle of his magic is similar to my sparks. “You just need to be a sponge and open yourself up to absorb my magic. If you push it away, everything will fail. It will probably feel … strange … at first. Try not to stop me unless you feel like you’re slipping away. You remember what that feels like, right?”

Kodi nods. His expression is dark, but I can’t tell if it’s from the memory of being tethered and drained or if he’s worried. I can’t focus too much on his reaction or I’ll lose faith in myself.

In an effort to convince both of us that we’re on the right track, my lips begin reciting quotes. “‘Analysis kills spontaneity. The grain once ground into flour springs and germinates no more.’”

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