Page 36 of Gifted Destiny

“Another quote?”

“Of course. Credit is owed to a Swiss philosopher you’ve never heard of. His name is Henri Frederic Amiel. Another of his is – ‘Uncertainty is the refuge for hope.’ He should really be more widely known, especially when considering spontaneous risks.” I might be rambling but I speak the truth. The lesser-known poets and philosophers have provided more guidance than the famous ones.

Kodi doesn’t respond as we enter the dimly lit stairwell together. The click of the door behind us echoes in the stone passage. Magical runes glow inside the lines of mortar and etched on the steel railings. I don’t remember seeing them earlier today when we sought shelter here, and I consider it a signal proclaiming the library’s support.

The stone floor feels cold, and I look down with surprise. I’d left my shoes behind on the tenth floor. Oh well; they’re not necessary for this.

When I turn around, the ghost is only inches from my face. He takes a step back when he realizes this is our destination. I suck in a deep breath, delightfully surprised to inhale Zosia’s feline and human scents from earlier today. My brother’s smell also lingers, but I focus on hers. It reminds me why we’re doing this.

“Are you ready?”

“No?” Kodi’s answer isn’t an answer, but I sense cautious and hopeful excitement alongside his fear. We both need this to work.

“I need a moment to center myself,” I tell him as I close my eyes and recall every morsel of knowledge I possess. I need to focus on modulating the magic flowing through me. I must be a conduit rather than a generator. Magic is infinite and enigmatic, so I search for a reasonable comparison and settle on emotion. When I’m overwhelmed by intense emotions, I choose what to reveal and what to hide. It was a necessary survival skill throughout my childhood. Addington believed suffering qualified as a useful teaching mechanism and hurting me satisfied him. I’d learned how to bury my discomfort and release it slowly and carefully, like holding my breath underwater. I only released enough to ease the pressure.

My eyes pop open. “I know what to do. Remember what I said. Don’t push away the magic unless you feel like it’s causing you to fade. If you deflect my power, it might erupt again. If it does, the BSP will arrest me, and Zosia will never forgive herself.”

Kodi scowls but doesn’t call me out on my manipulative language. The library doesn’t flag them as dishonest, and he understands that she represents our motivation.

“I think you’ll know when you feel full. If I don’t stop on my own, imagine kissing Zosia. It should make you solid enough to punch me. Any physical blow will snap me out of it.”

Kodi nods. “Got it.” His newfound confidence is bolstered either by mine or in anticipation of spending the night in Zosia’s bed. The reason doesn’t matter.

“Good. I need consent.” When his eyebrows scrunch together, I shrug and expound on the impulsive idea. “Just give me permission to imbue you with magic. I feel like it’s important.”

“Okay. I, Kodi the ghost, hereby give Brennan Kennard permission to transfer some magic to – into – me.” He declares it like a medieval herald at a joust.

“And I, Brendan Kennard, give Kodi the ghost permission to accept my magic.” Our dramatic exchange feels like two kids on a playground exchanging a blood oath over a paper cut, but the words still carry importance. After they are spoken, I feel more prepared to begin.

With one last nod toward my partner in crime, I close my eyes and locate my magic. This part isn’t difficult. The bright, swirling nexus of power vibrates at a familiar frequency. Although the bulk of my magic is compressed just below my sternum, it exists throughout my body. An unnamed blood cell, the force hitches a ride through my arteries and veins. As a spare electron, it sparks between the electrical synapses of my nervous system. As a sixth or seventh sense, it provides me with sensory input and output.

When my power overflows, neon-blue sparks fly from my body. Earlier today, when I’d recovered enough awareness to study Zosia as she held me and calmed me, I’d noticed that her reddish-gold hair shimmered with bright blue light. I don’t know whether she’d absorbed the magic or it had simply been a reflection, but I use the color to help me visualize my power.

Intuition cautions me against justpushing, so I create a singular path for the blue current. With great care, I imagine my magic flowing from my chest to my right shoulder and down my right arm. When the river of magic nears my wrist, I open one eye. Kodi’s fingertips are close enough to touch if he were solid.

Infusing my will with intention, I create a picture in my mind’s eye. I see him accept and absorb my power. I see him gain enough solidity to bond with our shared mate. Then, I go a step further and envisage the library absorbing everything that the ghost can’t or doesn’t.

With my desired outcome firmly in place, I cautiously release the last tenuous hold I have over my magic. As I do, I include a silent, pleading prayer. The library is my higher power, as is Destiny. I beg them both for assistance. I ask only that they help me or stop me before I make a mistake that will harm others.

Chapter 18

Kodi

When Bren’s eyes and body begin to glow, I wonder if his face will be the last thing I ever see. It’s not so bad, especially since he’s somehow more gorgeous than usual. The bright shade shines on his black hair and erases any hint of blemish on his pale golden skin.

The sapphire halo expands, pulsing like a heartbeat, until all other light has been consumed. The color reminds me of the neon lights hanging in storefronts or spilling from the dance venues of the magicless. If I remember correctly, neon is a form of radiation.

What if we’re making a horrible mistake?

Bren doesn’t seem aware of his power, but the ancient, bearded wizard said that weather mages could destroy entire countries. The closer his magic creeps, the more horrified I am. The urge to disappear or block his magic rises within me, driven by the desire to survive. It doesn’t matter that I’m no longer mortal.

A prickle upon my skin reminds me that Bren said to punch him. I squeeze my eyes shut and imagine Zo, but my body refuses to materialize. Failing that, I decide to scream for Garrett or Avery. Before I can open my mouth, though, Sage soothes me.She doesn’t use words. Instead, I hear the melody of a lullaby my mother used to sing to me. It’s a reminder that I’m not alone. I need to trust.

The tension coiled tight within my energy spirals to a looser state just as Bren’s magic lessens in intensity. The blinding, white-hot blue mellows to the color of a cloudless sky. The mage’s eyes snap open as the light – themagic– condenses into one of his arms. He’s directing a power so astronomical that it could topple nations and make bullies like Addington piss their pants.

Bren is a fucking badass.

I can’t believe he’s going to be one of my best friend’s mates. I can’t believe that I’m included alongside these men. Avery is a lethal, unique vampire with none of the usual vampiric vulnerability. Garrett is a griffin. Even when he’s not in beast form, he could crush a man’s skull in one hand. And then there’s Bren.

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